The Drache Girl

by Wesley Allison

  “What are those things, for Kafira’s sake?” said the young woman, pulling back her hood.

  Saba had heard women described as breathtakingly beautiful before, and while on occasion women had in the past made it difficult for him to breathe, it was never until this moment because one was beautiful. The young woman now illuminated by a single flame of the oil lamp could have been the very definition of beauty—perfect lips, a well-formed nose, and large eyes—one hazel, the other deep brown. Her hair was a huge mass of waves in every color of blond, from the lightest ash to the deepest honey. Saba stared until he was reminded again of her question.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Velociraptors. Think of them as our wolves.”

  “Good God, and I was trying to coax them closer. I just thought they were birds.”

  “Well they are… sort of. Anyway, I figured it was something like that. They usually shy away from people, unless they’re injured or obviously weak. Once they get interested though, they can be pretty tenacious.”

  “They don’t actually kill people?”

  “Sometimes,” Saba nodded. “Almost always when they’re already hurt.”

  The young woman looked stricken.

  “Somebody should have given you the gen about them.”

  She looked toward her feet.

  “They might have. I’m afraid I wasn’t really paying attention. I just wanted to get out and see the countryside.”

  “New arrival, eh? Whom are you staying with?”

  “My aunt and I are renting a room from Mrs. Likliter. My name is Loana Hewison, by the way. Thank you for saving me.”

  “All part of the job,” said Saba, thanking Kafira for the job.

  He looked out the window.

  “I see four, no five of them out there. We might as well sit down and relax. When the Wissingers get home—they’re the ones who live here—when they get home, they should scatter.”

  “How long do you think that will be?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t imagine where they’ve gone.” He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Of course. They’ve gone to shrine.”

  “Shrine?” wondered Miss Hewison, looking around. “They’re Zaeri?”

  “Yes. Why? What were you expecting?”

  “I… don’t know. I’ve never known any Zaeri.”

  “Yes, well,” said Saba, heading toward the cabinet next to the cast iron stove. “I’ll bet they have tea.”

  They had tea, they had a kettle, and they even had water. The fire in the stove was easily brought back to life by stirring the coals and tossing in a couple of logs from the wood box. Saba fixed two cups of tea and handed one of them to Miss Hewison. The little room was warming up from the heat of the stove and she had taken off her coat.

  “Thank you.”

  “I hope you don’t give up on Birmisia just yet,” said Saba. “After all, every place has its dangers. I grew up in Brech, and there are a few places where velociraptors would have been an improvement.”

  “I think that may be an exaggeration,” she said, taking a sip.

  “Maybe. And maybe not.”

  “Well, I can see that a young lady should not be without a protector.”

  “True enough, at least this far from the center of town.”

  Saba heard shouts coming from outside and peered out the window to see the velociraptors scattering and a group of people approached the front of the house. Saba helped Miss Hewison on with her coat and the two stepped outside just in time to greet a surprised Mr. and Mrs. Wissinger and their four boarders.

  “I hope you don’t mind our taking refuge in your home,” said Saba. “Or drinking your tea.”

  “You are always welcome, Saba,” said Mrs. Wissinger.

  “And refusing shelter to anyone when those birds are out, would be inhuman,” said Mr. Wissinger.

  “How long have they been in the neighborhood?” wondered Saba.

  “I hadn’t seen any of them for a few weeks. But you know how they are.”

  Saba nodded, and then remembered his manners.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Wissinger, may I introduce Miss Hewison.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Miss Hewison, her attitude indicating that she had noticed that she had been introduced to them and not the other way around.

  Mr. Wissinger introduced his boarders. Koenrad and Adabelle Tice seemed like a pleasant young couple. Mr. Tice was average height and had a large mustache. He was friendly in a thump-one-on-the-shoulder sort of way. Mrs. Tice had tired eyes and a nice smile, and she looked like life with two young children was wearing her out. Their son Ascan was ten years old and loud, while their daughter Willa was eight and shy. Saba and Miss Hewison were invited back in for lunch, and though Saba wasn’t quite sure how she did it, Mrs. Wissinger made it impossible for them to say no.

  After lunch, they bid goodbye to the Wissingers and the Tices, and Saba escorted Miss Hewison to the Likliter home, which was a quarter mile north, and where she and her aunt were renting a room. Miss Hewison was quiet during most of the walk.

  “I’m afraid I don’t really know your name, PC,” she said at last. “I heard Mrs. Wissinger call you Saba.”

  “I’m sorry. My mother would be stricken if she found out I had forgotten my manners. I’m Saba Colbshallow.”

  “Then I’m very pleased to meet you PC Colbshallow.”

  “May I ask you one other thing?”

  “You may ask me as many things as you like,” he said.

  “Are you a Zaeri?”

  Saba looked at the young woman, trying to see what motive she had for asking. The only thing he could see on her face was simple curiosity.

  “I’m not, but I would be proud to say so if I was.”

  Miss Hewison nodded. “I think today was the first time I’ve actually ever met any Zaeri.”

  “Well, I dare say it won’t be the last, that is, if you decide to stay in Birmisia.”

  They reached the Likliter home. It was a nondescript cottage built in a little clearing and was now practically buried in snowdrifts.

  “Thank you again for saving me,” she said.

  “Do you think it would be possible for me to call on you in a non-life-saving capacity?” Saba asked.

  “I would love it, though my aunt would naturally have to chaperone.”

  Saba looked at the window and saw an aging, thin face peering out.

  “Naturally,” he said.

  Miss Hewison went inside the house and Saba continued north. He went all the way through the Town Square and through the great gate in the emergency wall and to the militia base. Once there, he entered the office of the Sergeant on duty. Sergeant Amoz Croffut was seated at the desk, his eyes focused on a stack of paperwork.

  “Feel like going out and shooting some pests?” asked Saba.

  “Do I?” said the Sergeant. “How many men do we need?”

  “A couple more. Whoever’s handy.”

  Croffut summoned two militiamen and passed out four B1898 magazine-fed bolt-action .30 caliber service rifles from the weapons locker behind his desk. Then the four uniformed men headed back the way that Saba had come to the street corner between the Wissinger’s house and the train station. There they found the velociraptors lurking between the tall pine trees. The men spread out, careful so that their line of fire would not go in the direction of the homes in the area. They picked targets. At a signal from Saba they began firing, and the dry cracks of the rifles echoed through the cold air and between the snow-covered trees.

  The shooting lasted no more than two minutes, but in that time, the four men managed to shoot and kill ten velociraptors. Only one got away as it raced between the trees at the incredible speed the animals were capable of mustering. Saba had a shot at it, but the direction of his aim would have put the bullet soaring toward of a group of houses several blocks away. There were plenty of trees between that might have stopped an errant missile, but it wasn’t worth the possible danger
to human life. He had to let the brightly feathered beast escape.

  Leaving the carcasses of the creatures would only have been an invitation for more of them. As the men well knew, velociraptors needed no more invitation to freeload around human habitation than they had already. Worse, the smell of blood might attract deinonychus or utahraptors, their larger cousins. Few large carnivores had been seen in the past year near the town and nothing as big as the tyrannosaurs, which had once plagued the region. Saba was content for that situation to stay the way it was. The four men gathered up the bodies, which were surprisingly light, less than thirty pounds each, and tied them with twine to two long fallen branches. This way they were able to carry them back toward the center of town to Mr. Darwin’s shop.

  A grey-haired bespectacled man, Mr. Darwin had arrived at the same time Saba had, with the very first group of colonists to settle Birmisia. He ran a business making goods from dinosaur skin and exporting colorful feathers from the strange birds in the region back to Greater Brechalon. For Mr. Darwin, velociraptors were a triple benefit. They had colorful feathers that could be sold, skin that could be tanned and made into goods, and they could be dressed and cooked, providing meat that many, Saba decidedly not among them, enjoyed.

  Saba and his militiamen companions delivered the beasts to the back of Mr. Darwin’s shop, just outside Town Square, and then returned to the base to put away the rifles and unused ammunition. The police constable said goodbye to the others and walked across the base to his own office in the police station. When he stepped inside, now thoroughly tired and cold, but pleased with himself, he found Senta and an attractive and exotic looking young woman waiting for him.

  “Miss Jindra, I presume.”

  “It’s about time you got here,” said Senta. “We’ve been waiting a long time.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “It hasn’t really been that long,” said Miss Jindra.

  “Only forever,” said Senta.

  Saba took off his coat, hung it up, and then walked around his desk to sit down in his chair. He took off his helmet and set it on the desk.

  “I think I would like to speak to Miss Jindra alone, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course,” said Miss Jindra.

  Senta stuck out her tongue at him, then stood up and walked out the door.

  “I’m sorry if I caused you any worry,” said Miss Jindra, once the girl was gone. “Zurfina assured me that it would be fine for me to stay with her.”

  “Oh, it is fine. Radley Staff asked me to check and see that you were all right.”

  “I am, as you can see, fine.”

  “And you’re not being held against your will?”

  She laughed delightfully.

  “You’re not being forced to say that you’re all right, when you really aren’t?”

  She laughed again. “Could you tell the difference?”

  “Probably not. Though from my experience, Zurfina doesn’t feel the need for that kind of machination. Still, better to ask the obvious question just in case you get the unexpected answer.”

  “I’m not being forced to do anything. I am staying with Zurfina and her ward, until I can find a place of my own. Granted, our introduction was a bit of a surprise. I’m not used to being teleported.”

  “Few people are, I would imagine. Why did she grab you right off the ship like that?”

  “Zurfina was… concerned when another practitioner of the arts arrived. I suppose she wanted to evaluate the threat level to herself.”

  “Well, now that sounds like her,” said Saba. “I gather you aren’t a big threat?”

  “To Zurfina, no. I have my talents, rather specialized, but I’m not in the same class that she is. Few are.”

  “Well, I suppose those are the only questions that I have for you,” said Saba. “I just wanted to make sure that everything was in order. I’ll let Mr. Staff know that you are fine. He may want to stop by and see for himself.”

  “I doubt that. Mr. Staff has returned to where he should be.” A kind of faraway look passed across her face, as her dark eyes lost focus. “He’s been adrift like a gourd on the sea. Now that he has returned, he will never leave again—not willingly.”

  She seemed to return to the here and now.

  “Your specialized talent, I take it?” said Saba.

  She nodded. Then she stood up brushing the creases from her deep purple dress. She walked around the corner of the table and stood next to where he sat.

  “May I see your hand?” she asked.

  He hesitated a moment and then held out his hand palm up to her.

  “Uuthanum,” she said, as she brushed her fingertip across the surface of his palm. He felt a chill run down the length of his spine.

  “Police Constable Saba Colbshallow,” she said in a breathy voice. “You have met someone today who will become very important to you—someone who will become the center of your life.”

  “And would this person be you?” he asked.

  “Quiet. I see trials ahead for you and great pain—the greatest of pains, but also great happiness.” Her voice returned to its more normal conversational tone. “And no, it’s not me, though you are a cute boy.”

  “Yes, all the sorceresses I know seem to think that.”

  The door opened and Senta stuck her head inside.

  “Is the interrogation over?” she asked Saba, and then looked at Miss Jindra. “Did he have to use the cop club on you?”

  “That’s all I needed,” said Saba. “You two can go back home. Everything seems to be in order.”

  “Thank you, Police Constable,” said Miss Jindra. “I appreciate your concern.”

  “Of course. Just doing my duty.” Saba stood up. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Jindra.”

  Miss Jindra nodded and then stepped out the door. Senta poked her head back into the room and stuck out her tongue at him again. When he returned the expression, she broke into a big grin, and then disappeared, closing the door after her.

  Chapter Eleven: Crime and Punishment

  It was ten days later, on the fifth of Festuary that the construction train, loaded with hundreds of workmen and laying track as it went, reached Port Dechantagne. By the time the train was within eyesight of the station, there were already more than two hundred people standing by to watch history in the making, and when the last track was laid that would bring the train and all future vehicles like it, parallel to the station, there were more than twenty thousand spectators, standing on the station platform, filling the entire clearing, and lining the street in both direction as far as the eye could see. Most of those present were unable to see much of anything because of the crowds, however many of the children and a few of the adults discovered that climbing a large pine tree offered an excellent viewing opportunity. Forty feet off the ground, in the massive pine directly across Forest Avenue from the train station, four twelve-year-old children and a large steel-colored dragon perched on branches and watched the activity below.

  “I’ve never seen so many people in one place before,” said Hero.

  “It’s a pretty big crowd,” agreed Graham. “I’d rather come back when the first real train pulls in. Trains are ace, but this one hardly moves.”

  “How fast do they go?” wondered Bessemer.

  “Really fast. On a straight shot with full steam, I’ll bet you couldn’t even catch it.”

  “Hey you guys, be quiet,” said Senta. “Mrs. Government is going to speak.”

  The governor was indeed standing on the station platform ready to address the crowd. She wore a bright blue dress with a tuft of brilliant white lace over the bustle and cascades of white lace down the skirt. She was flanked on either side by the other movers and shakers of the colony, including Mayor Korlann, Miss Lusk, Dr. Kelloran, Terrence and Yuah Dechantagne, and Hero’s sister Honor, as well as the new High Priest, Mother Linton. Even Zurfina, who usually eschewed crowded gatherings, was present. It was she who had provided the magical megap
hone that Governor Dechantagne-Calliere now brought to her mouth. It was much smaller than similar devices Senta had seen used by ship crews and officials at cricket matches, only about eight inches long, but when she spoke into it, everyone in the area could clearly hear the governor’s voice.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” she said. “Welcome to the dedication of the Port Dechantagne train station. I have a few very brief remarks.”

  “Oh boy, here we go,” said Graham. “Any time they say they’re going to be brief, they’re not.”

  “They who?” wondered Senta.

  “Speech-makers, that’s who.”

  As far as the children were concerned, Graham’s suspicions were well founded. Mrs. Dechantagne-Calliere spoke for more than twenty minutes, recounting the history of the colony from the arrival of the battleship Minotaur, followed by the refugee ship Acorn, through the great battles with lizardmen and the destruction of the lizardman city-state to the southeast. She went on to the recent expansion of the town, and continued with a list of the businesses that would soon be opening in the colony and the benefits that each would receive from the arrival of the railroad line from St. Ulixes. By the time she was done, all four of the children were completely bored. They were certainly in no mood to listen to additional speeches, but more speeches seemed to be on the agenda, because no sooner had the governor stopped, than she passed the megaphone to Mother Linton.

  “This is bloody awful,” said Graham. “Let’s go do something else.”

  Hertzel nodded his agreement, though whether he was agreeing that it was awful, or that he wanted to do something else, or both, was unclear.

  “What do you want to do?” wondered Senta.

  “Let’s go ride the dinosaurs,” suggested Graham.

  Hertzel nodded again.

  “I don’t think that’s safe,” said Hero.

  “Of course it’s not safe,” replied Graham. “It wouldn’t be any fun if it was safe.”

  “All right,” said Senta. “But you boys have to help us down.”

  The two boys helped Senta and Hero, both of whom were prevented from being truly arboreal by their large dresses, from branch to branch, finally lowering them to the ground, by their hands. A moment later the boys dropped down beside them.