“Is your shadow going to join us?” she asked.
Saba turned to see Private Shrubb watching them from the edge of the dockyard.
Saba muttered something incomprehensible.
“What?”
“Nothing,” said Saba. Then he waved Shrubb over.
“Good morning,” said Shrubb when he had reached them. “How are you today, Miss?”
“Fine, thank you sir.”
“Come along,” said Saba. “We’re going to Finkler’s bakery.”
They walked up the hill on Seventh and One Half Avenue, then turned right and made their way past the militia base and through the great gate.
There were only three indoor tables and four outdoor tables at the bakery. Fortunately all but one was empty, so the small party had their choice. They chose one of the indoor tables. Before they could sit down, a man from the only other occupied table stood up. As he did, they recognized him as Mayor Korlann.
“Good morning. Come over here and meet some people. These are three gentlemen who are going to be valuable additions to our colony. Senta, Saba, I’d like to present Mr. Paxton Brown, Mr. Karl Haarhoff, and Mr. Courtney Jex.” The three men at the table glanced at each other, no doubt wondering why they were being presented to two youngsters rather than the other way around. “Gentlemen, I give you Corporal Saba Colbshallow. And this… is the Drache Girl.”
The three men, no longer unsure of the appropriateness of the mayor’s introduction, jumped up and rushed toward the ten year old girl, shaking her hand once she had offered it. They then shook hands with Saba and even Eamon Shrubb, though he hadn’t been introduced at all. Brown was a rather nondescript man in his forties, of average height with thinning brown hair. Haarhoff was a big man in his fifties, standing much taller than even Shrubb’s six foot three. He had bushy blond hair, a big bushy mustache, and very bushy eyebrows. Senta gave them little notice however. Her attention was all on the third gentleman. Mr. Jex was younger than the other two; with his boyish face, he could have passed for early twenties, if one were to ignore the laugh lines around his deep blue eyes. His short-cropped hair was neatly cut and he was clean-shaven. He was just over six feet tall with an athletic build.
“What exactly are you doing in Birmisia… um, gentleman?” asked Senta.
“I’m here for the hunting,” said Haarhoff. “I’ve hunted all over Sumir, but alas, there’s very little big game left there. Now here; here there are big animals aplenty.”
“I don’t recognize your accent, Mr. Haarhoff,” said Saba.
“Mr. Haarhoff is from Bordonia,” said Mayor Korlann.
“I thought Bordonians spoke Freedonian,” said Senta.
“Obviously your education is lacking,” said Mr. Brown, with a thin-lipped smile. “Their languages are similar, but not the same. Likewise their accents when speaking Brech are not the same.”
“Um, Mr. Brown is a scholar,” said the mayor. “He’s going to be tutoring some of our youngsters, no doubt.”
“How lucky for them,” said Senta, before turning back to Jex. “And you?”
“I’m here for the view.”
“Mr. Jex is one of the most promising young artists of your United Kingdom,” explained Haarhoff. “I had heard his named mentioned all the way home in Svizra.”
“I never heard of him,” said Senta.
“There you display another lack…” Brown started. Before she could catch herself, Senta’s index finger shot into the air and an incantation half formed on her tongue. Brown’s words died in his throat and a look of fear passed across his face and down into his body, which began to shake.
“I’ll… have to look up your work,” said Senta, pretending that she had only raised her finger for emphasis, but fooling no one.
“I think it’s time we were on our way gentlemen,” said the mayor, ushering his companions away from the ten-year-old girl and the two soldiers.
“Well, that was exciting,” said Shrubb. “You don’t often meet an artist or a professional hunter.”
“Shall we just sit down and eat?” asked Saba. “I suppose I’m the only one hungry.”
“No, no,” said Shrubb. “I can eat.”
Aalwijn Finkler brought tea to the table a moment later and informed them of the daily specials—egg salad sandwiches and liver dumpling soup.
“I’ll have the egg salad sandwich,” said Saba.
“I’ll have the sandwich and soup,” said Shrubb.
“And for the lady?”
“Do you have any more strudel?” asked Senta, and when Aalwijn answered in the affirmative. “I would like a piece.”
“I’ll have some of that too,” said Shrubb.
“You’re both going to get fat,” said Saba.
“I can only hope,” said Senta.
They had only just received their food and begun eating however, when Saba was called to leave. A female lizzie, identifiable as such by the little yellow dress, arrived in the bakery and handed him a note.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Do you want some help?” asked Shrubb.
“No, no. You go ahead and finish your lunch.”
Then he was gone.
“I’m sure I could be a big help if only he would clue me in as to what’s going on,” said Shrubb.
“Maybe I can help,” said Senta. “Would you mind if I did a little magic?”
“It’s not going to hurt, is it?”
“No.”
“Alright then.”
Senta pointed at him with her index finger and said. “Uuthanum.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Oh, something happened. Hold up your hand. Now tell me a lie.”
“Um… I can’t think of one.”
“How tall are you?”
“Six foot three…oh, I mean um seven feet nine and three quarter inches. Ooh.” Shrubb stared at his hand, now glowing bright yellow. He didn’t realize that his face was just as yellow.
“Now tell me the truth.”
“I’m six foot three.”
“About something else.”
“I was born in West Brumming.” The glowing faded away.
“Are you a spy?” asked Senta.
“No.” Shrubb watched his own hand expectantly, but it didn’t glow. “Why? Did you think I was a spy?”
“Saba thinks so.”
“Oh, I’d be a terrible spy. Can’t keep a secret. Never could, really.”
“Interesting. Why did you come to Birmisia?”
“To make my fortune. I’m not sure how I’m going to do that. I’m not sure what I’d be good at.”
“Do you think you’ll settle down and get married?”
“I doubt it. I’m not really interested in women.” Shrubb’s face and hands suddenly began to glow again.
“I’m not interested in any of the women around here.” The glowing continued.
“I haven’t seen any women here I’d want to settle down with.” The glowing faded away. “How long is this going to last anyway?”
“Only another minute. Are you afraid of me?”
“No, I don’t think so. You are pretty interesting. Of course, just about everybody and everything in Port Dechantagne is interesting, you have to admit. I could spend all my time just walking around observing.”
“I think I like you, Private Shrubb,” said Senta.
“I like you too.” He held up his hand. “See? Telling the truth.”
“The spell is finished,” said Senta.
They finished eating and Private Shrubb made his goodbye and left. Senta asked for another cup of tea, which she slowly sipped while looking out the bakery’s front window. It looked as though the four days of bright sunny weather would not be joined by a fifth. Even now a storm was slowly moving in from the north. By nightfall, it would be snowing yet again.
“I can’t wait for Treuary,” she said to herself.
“What?” asked Aalwijn, who was refilling her cup.
“Oh,
I said I can’t wait for spring.”
“Yes, me too. Say, did you know your dragon is out back?”
“I’m not surprised. He loves your mother’s egg salad. I was kind of surprised, because he doesn’t usually eat eggs. Could you wrap up a sandwich for him?”
“Of course.”
A few minutes later, having drunk the last sip of tea, Senta exited the bakery, sandwich in hand, and walked around back, where Bessemer sat on his haunches watching the back door.
“If you skulk around the backs of buildings, people are going to think you’re a velociraptor and shoot you.”
“Egg salad sandwich.”
“I have one right here for you.” She handed it to the dragon, who carefully peeled open the waxed paper wrapping to reveal the tasty food.
“Egg salad sandwich,” said the dragon again.
“Are you going to eat that and then sleep all day?”
“No. Play today. Sleep tomorrow.” Then Bessemer, still holding the sandwich in one hand, shot into the sky and zipped off over the trees and out of sight.
“Don’t stick around on my account,” said Senta, then turned and trudged off down the road toward home.
Chapter Eleven: The Book
Cissy returned to the Dechantagne estate after delivering the message to Saba Colbshallow. Cissy couldn’t read the scrawling script of the message like she could the printed words in books, but she knew what it said. It informed the young corporal that Mr. Streck was off the premises and that he should be watched. It was amazing what could be discovered by standing and listening. The humans usually treated the lizzies as though they were furniture.
Tisson was at his usual place by the front door and Cissy stopped for a moment to speak to him. She placed the back of her hand on her dewlap in greeting and the gesture was returned.
“You were not gone long,” said Tisson.
“It was a simple errand.”
“Did you receive any extra copper bits?”
“Not this time.”
It had taken a while for the lizardmen to realize that the humans would often give them additional copper bits as a bonus when some tasks were completed. The humans called these “tips.” Now the lizzies looked for them.
“Kheesie was looking for you earlier.”
“Why?”
“She wants you to take your turn caring for the young one.”
Cissy bobbed her head up and down in the human fashion and started for the door.
“Ssissiatok?”
“Yes?” asked Cissy, turning around, slightly surprised by the use of her lizzie name.
“Some of the others are talking. They say Ssterrost will not let you return to Tserich.”
“I thought you didn’t want to go back either.”
“I don’t. But I am old. You are still young. You could have returned with all your wealth and had a good life. But now they are saying that you are ‘khikheto tonahass hoonan’.”
“Maybe I am human on the inside.”
Inside the house, Cissy found Kheesie.
“Thank Hissussisthiss you are back. I haven’t had a chance to sleep since yesterday.”
“The god of forests had nothing to do with it. Where is the child?”
“The thin white and brown one has it.”
“Her,” corrected Cissy. “Where are they?”
“They are in the great room, but don’t go there. The matriarch is there and so are the blind warrior and the old frightened one.”
“It is fine. You may go rest. I will watch the child.” Cissy squinted, amused.
Cissy made her way into the parlor and took a place quietly in the corner. She was not afraid of the humans in question. In fact, she found them fascinating. All of the individuals described were present—Mr. and Mrs. Dechantagne, Governor Dechantagne-Calliere, Mrs. Godwin, and of course Iolana. The lizzies had their own descriptive names for all of them; the names Kheesie had used. Professor Calliere, whom they called “the tall one who makes no sense”, was not present. Mrs. Colbshallow, whom they simply called by the human word “lady”, was in the kitchen as usual.
“I think I should have something to say about it,” Mrs. Dechantagne was saying, “because of my unique situation in this house.”
“I am well aware that you are the lady of the house now,” replied Mrs. Dechantagne-Calliere sharply. “Are you trying to rub my nose in it?”
“No! I don’t… that’s not the position to which I was referring.”
“My wife is alluding to the fact that she is the only Zaeri in the house,” said Mr. Dechantagne.
“Really? I suppose I just assumed that she was going to convert.”
“Leave that alone, Iolanthe. You know she has no desire to convert and you know that I wouldn’t have asked it of her.”
“I will leave this alone. And she must leave that alone. Mercy and his… solicitor are my concern, and I am more than capable of dealing with it.”
Mr. Dechantagne turned back to his wife, though of course he could not see her. “She’s right Yuah. You should stay out of this. You get too worked up over it. You’re too emotional.”
“I’m emotional?” cried Mrs. Dechantagne, jumping to her feet. “I’m the least emotional person in this house!
She stomped her foot twice, and marched out of the room.
“Oh, well done sister,” said Mr. Dechantagne. “Now I have absolutely no chance of a decent night’s sleep.”
“That’s your own fault. I didn’t tell you to marry her.”
“Yes, well I occasionally do things other than what you specifically tell me to do.”
“As long as you don’t forget to do those things.”
The child, who until that moment had been playing quietly on the floor with a stuffed animal, began to fuss. Mrs. Dechantagne-Calliere scooped her up and carried her from the room. The room was quiet for just a moment, and then Mrs. Godwin let out a large snore.
“Mrs. Godwin? Mrs. Godwin?”
“Yes? What? Yes?”
“Do you want to go upstairs to your room and take a nap?”
“Yes, that’s a lovely idea.” She got to her feet so slowly that Cissy took it on herself to step forward and help her. The elderly woman accepted the clawed hand and made it to her feet. She looked at the man sitting across from her. “Which one are you again?”
“Terrence.”
“Yes, of course. You were always my favorite. Have you finished your studies?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“That’s very good. You keep it up and you’ll go far in this life.”
“Do you need help up the stairs?”
“Goodness no. I can climb stairs like a pig.”
Mrs. Godwin left Mr. Dechantagne scratching his head, as she slowly walked out the door and into the foyer.
“I honestly don’t know whether or not pigs can climb stairs,” he said to himself, and then turned his head as though he was looking around the room. “Which one are you?”
Cissy looked around to find that she was the only one there besides him.
“Cissy.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, don’t you Miss Lizzie?”
Cissy hissed in confusion.
“I specifically told you not to tell anyone about our activities, and the next thing I know, you’re spilling your guts… telling everything you know to my wife.”
“She see me read. I say you teach. Nothing else.”
“Yes. At least that’s something. Did you deliver the note?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I have to go up and try to calm her down. You go outside and watch for Streck’s return. Let me know as soon as he’s here. I think there’s a bag of rock salt by the door. Take it and if anyone asks, tell them that I told you to salt the walks.”
“I haff to take care of Iolana.”
“Iolanthe’s feeding her now. She’ll go down for a nap after. I’ll listen for her.”
Cissy left the parlor, passed through the foyer, and
picked up the bag of rock salt by the door before going outside. Once in the garden, she began walking up and down, spreading the salt on the cobblestone paths and the stepping stones. She looked up at the dark clouds moving in from the north. If Toss had been there, he would have been able to tell her if this was going to be the last storm of the cold season. He wasn’t there, and it was unlikely that Cissy would ever see him again.
Just then Mr. Streck walked through the front gate. Cissy was about to turn around so that she could go inside and inform Mr. Dechantagne of the Freedonain’s arrival, when she saw a bright glint shoot across the otherwise gloomy sky. The object, which it took no great intellect to recognize as the steel dragon, swooped downward. Streck had taken four steps into the yard, when the beast shot by his face so fast that he could not have seen what it was. Cissy was watching it as it sped by, and could tell not only what it was, but could see that it was carrying something wrapped in white paper, clutched tightly to its chest. The dragon was already out of sight when the Freedonian let out a blood-curdling scream. Looking back at the man, the lizzie could see cuts across his nose and both cheeks that suddenly began to bleed profusely.
She hesitated as red blood oozed from between the fingers held to his face. Saba Colbshallow suddenly appeared at the gate and rushed to the man’s assistance. He took him by the shoulder and rushed him toward the house. Cissy quickly took Streck’s other shoulder. Before they reached the steps, Streck’s legs gave out beneath him and he crumpled into half consciousness. Tisson rushed down the steps and took his legs while Saba and Cissy carried him by the arms.
Once inside, Streck was rushed to the dining room, where amid much shouting and hissing, he was laid out on the great table. Mrs. Colbshallow arrived from the kitchen and immediately ordered that clean linens and tincture of iodine be brought. Just as Clegg was arriving with the requested items, Mrs. Dechantagne-Calliere stepped into the room carrying a brown bottle of healing draught. Streck’s face, upon examination was seen to have five razor thin slices, quite deep, across its width.
“Yadira, send someone to fetch Dr. Kelloran,” said the governor as she leaned over the wounded man and carefully poured the potion onto the cuts.
The Dark and Forbidding Land Page 16
