The next morning she arrived at the port facility just as the gangplank was being connected from the dock to the newly arrived ship S.S. Acorn. This was the fourth time that the large and well-weathered vessel had docked in Port Dechantagne. The first had been when the first Freedonian refugees, including Honor Hertling and her siblings, had arrived in Birmisia.
“That does bring back memories,” said Honor, appearing at Yuah’s elbow.
“Not all of them good, I imagine.”
“No. Not all of them good. Still, I’m always glad to see the Acorn pull into port. It means that more Zaeri are getting out of Freedonia.”
“Yes, that is a blessing.”
The people who began filing off of the ship looked as though they had escaped great tribulation, and paid an emotional price to do so. Their faces were tired and grey. They looked weary and travel worn. But in their eyes there was hope too—hope that this strange new world would offer them safety, and maybe even comfort. Like a long grey snake, the line filed down the gangplank onto the dock, where Yuah and a few other brightly dressed Brech women stood out like flowers in a garden.
“So why did you want to meet here then?” asked Yuah.
“Your father likes to be here when the ships from Freedonia arrive.”
“I know. He feels like it’s his duty to personally greet everyone who arrives on the continent.”
“Well, I don’t know about everybody. I do know a little bit about what these people have gone through, and I think a welcome is a fine idea. I happen to know that your father is unavailable today, so I thought that we could stand in his stead.”
“Okay, but why me? I mean, you’re a council member, but I’m just a housefrau.”
“A Dechantagne housefrau,” corrected Honor. “Would you not agree that along with your father and myself, you are one of the most prominent members of the Zaeri community in Birmisia?”
“I suppose so.”
The first of the Freedonians reached the street beyond the dock. Arrayed around the area were the vendor carts selling their wares, as well as both of the town’s police constables, giving directions and keeping an eye on things. Though neither wore firearms, the plainly dressed people from the ship, for the most part, gave the PCs a wide birth. Honor stepped toward the foremost traveler, pulling Yuah along by the elbow.
“Welcome to Birmisia,” she said.
The man in the front of the group looked startled, but the eyes of the woman right behind him welled up with tears.
“Welcome to Birmisia,” Honor said again.
“Welcome to Port Dechantagne,” said Yuah.
A woman with two pasty-faced children in tow smiled at her gratefully.
A short man in a charcoal suit with a grey bowler hat approached the two women. He had bushy eyebrows and a close-trimmed goatee. His shoulders were hunched over, because he was carrying a suitcase in each hand. They must have been extremely heavy, because when he set them down, he stood up straight and looked at least two inches taller, though both women were still several inches taller than he was.
“Welcome to Port Dechantagne,” said Yuah.
“Thank you,” he said. “Could either of you direct me to the home of Miss Hertling?”
“Mr. Clipers?” asked Honor.
“Yes.”
“I’m Honor Hertling.”
“You are? But you are so young. I was expecting someone old enough to be your mother.”
“I’m afraid that I’m all you get.”
“Oh, don’t mistake me. I am so very pleased to meet you. I just didn’t expect someone so accomplished and important to be also so young and beautiful”
“And I didn’t expect you to be a flatterer.”
The man waived his hand dismissively.
“Mr. Clipers,” said Honor. “Allow me to introduce Mrs. Dechantagne—Mrs. Yuah Dechantagne.”
Yuah, noting that her friend had placed an emphasis on her traditionally Zaeri first name, gave her a sidelong look.
“It is a tremendous privilege,” said Mr. Clipers, taking Yuah’s hand in his and shoving it up and down like the handle of a fickle water pump.
“Thank you,” said Yuah, shakily.
“Mrs. Dechantagne,” said Honor. “This is Mr. Clipers. He is the new Zaeri Imam.”
Chapter Fifteen: The Glamours
Senta strolled down the white gravel street toward her home, singing the latest song to arrive from Brech. The wax cylinder had come by ship exactly one month before, and it was already almost worn smooth by constant playing on the music box in Parnorsham’s store.
I’ll pay you a pfennig for your dreams,
Dreaming’s not as easy as it seems,
Images of her, are keeping me awake,
And so I’ll have to pay a pfennig for your dreams.
When Senta sang it, she replaced “images of her” with “images of him”. She thought that it made more sense for a girl to be kept awake with images of a boy than the other way around. If it had been her choice, she would have chosen a girl to sing the song, rather than the somewhat effeminate-voiced man on the recording.
“Not a very catchy tune.”
Senta turned to see a man emerging from behind a tree along the east side of the road. It was the same tall, dark man that she had seen arriving on the Majestic. His long, black rifle frock coat had made him blend into the background of the woods in the shadows of the late afternoon. She didn’t need to guess that he was a wizard. She could see the magic aura amorphously floating around him. She wondered if he could see hers.
“I’ve been waiting quite a while for you, sorceress.” He smiled broadly, his thin-lipped mouth seeming abnormally wide across his heavy jaw line.
“I’m not a sorceress. I’m just a little girl and you should leave me alone.”
“Ah, I know that game.” He pulled the horn-rimmed spectacles from his upturned nose and wiped first his eyes and then the lenses with a handkerchief, replacing the glasses on his face and the handkerchief in his pocket. “You make three statements. One is true and the other two are lies. Then I have to guess which is true. Right? Then I will have to say, you are a little girl.”
Senta crossed her arms and rocked back onto the heels of her shoes.
“My turn,” said the wizard. “My name is Smedley Bassington. I was born in Natine, Mirsanna. I know nothing about magic.”
“That’s too easy,” said Senta. “Smedley.”
“You should say Mr. Bassington. After all, I am your elder. One mustn’t be rude.”
“Okay, this one is harder,” replied Senta. “I’m going to have to say, number two, you are my elder.”
Bassington took a step forward, and then another.
“Uuthanum,” said Senta, waving her hand.
“Uuthanum,” said Bassington, waving his hand in an almost identical motion.
It might have seemed as though the two were exchanging some kind of secret greeting. In actuality, Senta had cast an invisible protective barrier between them. Bassington had dispelled the magic, destroying the barrier.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, the chosen apprentice of the most powerful sorceress in the world. That is, after I found out Zurfina was here. I had no idea where she had gotten to. Here I was, checking out that idiot and his machine, and instead I find the two of you.”
“I think that’s too many statements,” said Senta.
He stopped in the middle of the road about five feet away from her. A little wisp of wind whipped his short graying hair.
“Did she leave you here alone to take care of yourself? That’s just what she does, you know? She’s totally unreliable.”
“Are you allowed to use questions?” asked Senta, thinking to herself that this wizard did indeed seem to have her guardian pegged.
“Let’s not play that game,” said Bassington. “Let’s play something a little better suited to our unique abilities.”
He held out his hand, waist high, palm down and said. “Ma
iius Uuthanum nejor.”
Red smoke rose up from the ground just below his hand. It swirled and coalesced into a shape. The shape became a wolf. Its red eyes seemed to glow and the hair on its back and shoulders stood up as it bared its dripping fangs and snarled at Senta. She held out her own hand, palm pointed down.
“Maiius Uuthanum,” she said.
Green smoke rose from the ground below her hand, swirling around in a little cloud, finally billowing away to reveal a velociraptor with bright green and red feathers.
“A bird?” said Bassington, derisively.
The wolf lunged forward, snapping its teeth. The velociraptor clamped its long jaw shut on the wolf’s snout, and grasped its head in its front claws. The huge curved claw on the velociraptor’s hind foot slid down the canine’s belly, slicing it open and spilling steaming entrails out onto the gravel. A moment later, in a swirl of multihued smoke, both creatures disappeared again.
“Prestus Uuthanum,” said Bassington, placing his right palm on his chest, and casting a spell of protection on his own body.
“Uuthanum uusteros pestor,” said Senta, spreading her arms out wide. She seemed to split down the center as she stepped both right and left at the same time. Where there had been one twelve-year-old girl a moment ago, there were now four twelve year old girls who looked exactly the same.
The wizard waved his hand and said. “Ariana Uuthanum sembor.” All four Sentas found themselves stuck in a mass of giant, sticky spider webs.
One of the blond girls fell down. One of them pulled vainly at the webbing. The third picked up a rock from the ground and threw it with all of her might at Bassington hitting him just above the temple. The fourth waved her hand, saying the magic word “uuthanum”, and dispelling the webs. The girl who had pulled at the webbing helped the fallen girl stand up, and then the two of them merged together. The other two girls merged into her, and once again, there was only one Senta.
“Uuthanum uusteros vadia,” said Bassington and he disappeared.
Senta stood there for a moment, and then out of the corner of her eye, she saw several pieces of gravel shift on the ground to her left. She pointed her finger in the direction.
“Uuthanum Regnum,” she said.
A ray of colorful, sparkling light sprayed from her fingertip in the direction she pointed. Bassington cried out in surprise and reappeared, though he didn’t seem to suffer any ill effects of the spell, which usually left its victims covered in painful rashes.
“Erros Uuthanum tijiia,” he said.
A huge spectral hand, more than five feet across, appeared in the air in front of Senta. The middle finger was bent back beneath the thumb, and then flicked Senta in the chest. She fell backwards onto her bottom, crunching her bustle, and sliding several feet across the gravel road. She struggled to suck in a breath.
“Time to say ‘uncle’, don’t you think?” Bassington crossed his arms.
Senta tilted her head back and at last managed to pull some air into her lungs. The wizard waited.
“Well?” he said, finally.
“The sky is purple,” said Senta. “My dress is orange, and my dragon is going to bite your head off.”
Bassington stared for only a moment at Senta’s blue dress, before diving out of the way, just as Bessemer landed with a huge whomp right where he had been standing.
“Maiius Uuthanum nejor paj!” shouted Bassington, pointing toward the dragon, and then turned and ran north up the road as fast as he could.
Red smoke erupted just in front of Bessemer. As it dissipated, it revealed a huge shaggy man-like creature, covered in white hair and more than seven feet tall. Senta had never seen a gharhast ape before except in books, but she recognized one now that she saw it. The ape bared a set of incredibly long fangs, and yelling out a tremendous roar, jumped onto the dragon. Two very human looking hands grabbed the dragon around the neck as the ape attempted to dig its fangs into Bessemer’s neck. The steel colored scales remained impenetrable, though a startled look was visible in the dragon’s eyes.
“Bugger all,” he said.
But then his serpentine tail whipped out, wrapping itself around the ape’s waist. With one hand, Bessemer pushed the vicious anthropoid an arm’s length away. Then with one quick motion, he bit off the ape’s head, chewed it several times, and then swallowed. Blood spurted up from the creature’s severed neck like a fountain.
“Eww,” said Senta.
Then suddenly, as she had expected, the ape’s body burst into smoke and disappeared, leaving the steel dragon holding a few stray wisps in his hand.
“Oh my,” said Bessemer.
“What is it?”
“I think the part I ate turned to smoke too.”
Senta got to her feet and looked down the road. Smedley Bassington was nowhere to be seen. She felt the back of her dress. Her bustle was hanging lopsidedly to the right.
“Kafira in a hand basket! I can’t afford a new bustle.”
“That was pretty exciting,” said Bessemer. “I’ve never seen a real magic duel before.”
“Sure you have.”
“Well, I don’t remember it.”
“How long were you watching, then?”
“Since the beginning.”
“And you didn’t bother to help me until just now?”
“Well, I figured that you would win.”
“How do you figure? I’m just a kid.”
“Come on,” said the dragon. “We both know you’re no ordinary kid.”
“Let’s go home,” said Senta. “I have to look at the back of this dress and see if it can be salvaged.”
Home was only a short distance away, and no sooner had they gone inside than Senta reached around behind her and unfastened the dress, stepping out of it. Just as she feared, the large lace bow that sat upon the bustle was completely ruined and most of the material that draped over the back of the dress itself was scraped and torn. She dropped it on the floor. Unbelting her bustle, she examined it as well. It was partially ripped away from its belt, and the padding inside was all mushed.
“Bugger and blast,” she growled, throwing the bustle on top of the dress and then kicking both with her high-heeled shoe.
“It’s just a piece of clothing,” said Bessemer, curling up into a remarkably small space on his pile of cushions in the corner. “It’s not worth getting upset over.”
“You wouldn’t feel that way if it had been your turtle pillow.”
“You leave Mr. Turtlekins alone,” he said, clutching the pillow close to him.
“I have to buy a new bustle. Don’t you understand? Without it I have no figure at all. That stupid wizard couldn’t have done more harm if he knocked off my head.”
“Well, go see Mrs. Bratihn and buy another bustle. I’m sure she has one. She probably has dozens in her storeroom. After all, every woman in town wears one. I don’t see what the problem is.”
“I spent all my money. That’s what the problem is. I already spent most of it at Mrs. Bratihn’s and then I had to buy food because Fina is not here to spring it out of whatever dimension she gets it from.”
“You can have my money. I didn’t spend any this month.”
“Really?”
“Sure. There’s even enough to get your dress repaired.”
“Would you get it out for me?”
“Still afraid?”
“You know what she said,” replied Senta. “If you take more than you’re supposed to, bad things will happen.”
Bessemer slinked across the room and opened the bottom drawer of the silver cabinet. With his clawed fingers, he fished out several bank notes of various denominations.
“You know,” he said. “I don’t think there’s as much money in here as there should be.”
“You can’t be serious,” replied Senta. “Who’d be stupid enough to steal from Zurfina?”
“I don’t know, but I think somebody has.”
Senta walked across the room and stepped around Bessem
er’s sizable form to peer into the drawer.
“I can’t tell the difference. It’s still full of money.”
“I can tell,” said the dragon. “I would say that there are at least three thousand marks missing.”
Senta frowned at him.
He tilted his head in his version of a shrug. “Dragons just know treasure.”
“All right, I believe you. But if I didn’t take the money and you didn’t, that just leaves two possibilities.”
“You’re just like Inspector Doddley.”
“Who the hell is that?”
“How can you not know who Inspector Doddley is? He’s only the greatest detective in literary history. The Curse of the Two Brothers? The Golden Monkey? The Black Conspiracy? You’ve not read any of them?”
“Nope. And you read too much. Anyway, the two possibilities are that either someone off the street broke in and took a relatively small amount of money…”
“Not very likely, that.”
“Or our Miss Amadea Jindra decided to skim a little bit for herself while she was here.
“I think we have a winner,” said the steel dragon. “What do you suppose that she was planning to spend it on? It’s not as if there were many things to purchase in Port Dechantagne.”
“She’s a new arrival. Back in Brech, money is really important. People are always trying to get more.”
“Well, I hope she’s okay.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why do you hope she’s okay?” asked Senta. “You don’t really know her. I don’t really know her either for all that, but at least I’m the same species.”
“I don’t know,” said the dragon, slinking back to his cushions. “I suppose I’m just naturally empathetic.”
“I guess you must be. It’s a cinch you didn’t learn it from Zurfina.”
“Or you.”
“Hey. I can be sympathetic…”
“Empathetic.”
“Okay. That too. But if she did steal from us…”
“To overlook an offense is great wisdom. Do not call for pain upon your enemy when he has stolen your ox or your ass.”
The Drache Girl Page 23
