For King and Country

By Wesley Allison

In For King and Country, the final installment of The Sorceress and the Dragon saga (Senta and the Steel Dragon), Birmisia Colony is threatened by a new pantheon of dragon gods. As life continues under the threat of destruction, the citizens look forward to a visit by the King's youngest son and his new wife, the former Terra Dechantagne. Cousin Iolana is also ending her self-imposed exile for the promise of a position in the new university. Meanwhile Police Chief Saba Colbshallow sees his career and family threatened by a murder investigation against him. Finally, as sorceress Senta Bly waits to face off against Voindrazius the dragon, other forces plot her death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wesley Allison
• Release date: May 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463458082

Wesley Allison

At the age of nine, Wesley Allison discovered a love of reading in an old box of Tom Swift Jr. books. He graduated to John Carter and Tarzan and retains a fondness the works of Edgar Rice Burroughs to this day. From there, it was Heinlein and Bradbury, C.S. Lewis and C.S. Forester, many, many others, and finally Richard Adam’s Shardik and Watership Down. He started writing his own stories as he worked his way through college. Today Wes is the author of more than thirty science-fiction and fantasy books, including the popular His Robot Girlfriend. He has taught English and American History for the past 29 years in Southern Nevada where he lives with his lovely wife Victoria, and his two grown children Rebecca and John.For more information about the author and upcoming books, visit http://wesleyallison.com.Books by Wesley Allison:Princess of AmatharHis Robot GirlfriendHis Robot WifeHis Robot Wife: Patience is a VirtueHis Robot Girlfriend: CharityHis Robot Wife: A Great Deal of PatienceHis Robot Wife: Patience Under FireEaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven PrincessEaglethorpe Buxton and the SorceressThe Many Adventures of Eaglethorpe BuxtonEaglethorpe Buxton and... Something about Frost GiantsThe Sorceress and the Dragon 0: BrechalonThe Sorceress and the Dragon Book 1: The Voyage of the MinotaurThe Sorceress and the Dragon Book 2: The Dark and Forbidding LandThe Sorceress and the Dragon Book 3: The Drache GirlThe Sorceress and the Dragon Book 4: The Young SorceressThe Sorceress and the Dragon Book 5: The Two DragonsThe Sorceress and the Dragon Book 6: The Sorceress and her LoversThe Sorceress and the Dragon Book 7: The Price of MagicThe Sorceress and the Dragon Book 8: A Plague of WizardsThe Sorceress and the Dragon Book 9: The Dragon's ChoiceThe Sorceress and the Dragon Book 10: For King and CountryKanana: The Jungle GirlTesla’s StepdaughtersWomen of PowerBlood TradeNova DancerThe Destroyer ReturnsAstrid Maxxim and her Amazing HoverbikeAstrid Maxxim and her Undersea DomeAstrid Maxxim and the Antarctic ExpeditionAstrid Maxxim and her Hypersonic Space PlaneAstrid Maxxim and the Electric Racecar ChallengeAstrid Maxxim and the Mystery of Dolphin IslandAstrid Maxxim and her High-Rise Air Purifier

Book preview

Chapter One: The Sorceress, Senta Bly

It was still technically summer in Birmisia. Fall wouldn’t arrive for another two weeks, but apparently nobody had alerted the weather. Thick dark clouds hung over the city of Port Dechantagne. Though they couldn’t seem to make up their minds whether they wanted to drop rain or snow, they certainly pushed down the mercury in the thermometers. People who had started out their day in sweaters or shawls found themselves shivering as they hurried about their business. It grew dark enough that by 4:00 PM, the city sent the lamplighters out early on their rounds.

At the city’s bustling shipyard, it was business as usual. The dockworkers fell into two groups. The first were the human workers, rough and hard men for the most part, used to working under harsh conditions. Few of them were idle enough to notice the cold. The other group consisted of the lizzies, the aboriginal inhabitants of Birmisia Colony and the rest of the vast continent of Mallon. Looking like a cross between an upright alligator and an iguana, with skin ranging in color from a mottled olive to a deep forest green, the lizzies stood from six to seven feet tall, and each weighed as much as two large men. They moved more slowly as the air grew colder, causing their human foremen to shout at them.

On this particular day, both groups of workers were hustling faster than usual. Three ships were lined up along the docks, and two more waited in Crescent Bay for access. One of those at the dock, a rusting hulk called The Mona, had been scheduled to depart that morning, but the outgoing cargo was still being loaded, a task that had been slowed by the untimely mechanical failure of one of the port’s two cranes.

Across from all the activity, sitting on a wooden bench, was the sorceress Senta Bly. In a society where women’s fashion had only just decided that a dress without a bustle might be acceptable, and where a bare ankle still could cause a stir, Miss Bly’s attire went beyond the bounds of decency. She was clad in a black leather bustier, with nothing over it, and a black pleated skirt short enough that it left fourteen inches of exposed thigh between it and the tops of her leather knee-high boots. Her only other article of clothing was a black top hat perched upon her blond hair. Yet, no one chided her for her immodesty. No one spoke to her at all. Every person that passed by struggled not to even look at her, though the sheer amount of skin on display occasionally proved too much for a young dockworker. Even he wouldn’t let his eyes linger long enough to make out all the details of the sigils, magical tattoos, that covered most of that skin—stars on her chest, dragon designs on her shoulder blades and around both thighs. She yawned and then took a bite of the sausage on a stick she had purchased from the food cart a few minutes earlier. Despite her lack of warm clothing, she was immune to the change in temperature.

She blinked when someone sat down next to her. It was a man clothed as a dock foreman. Muscular and handsome, his thick black hair was shaved close around his ears. He was a few inches shorter than her six-foot height, though it was impossible to tell with both sitting, and they were nearly the same age, though Senta had just celebrated her thirty-fourth birthday and she knew that he hadn’t yet had his.

Hello, Hertzel, she said.

He smiled and nodded. Then, producing his own sausage on a stick, he took a bite. Senta took another bite of hers.

Hertzel Hertling was one of the sorceress’s oldest friends. They had met when they were both nine years of age, and along with Hertzel’s sister Hero, and their friend Graham, they had spent countless hours playing and exploring their world. Now Hertzel was a married man with children of his own. And in the entire time that Senta had known him, Hertzel had never uttered a single word. This seemed to be a result of seeing his parents murdered in front of him, as he had been a completely normal little boy prior to that, but nobody knew for sure, and he didn’t offer an explanation.

Taking another bite of his sausage, he looked her over and then raised an eyebrow.

What? she demanded.

He nodded his head toward her.

I never thought you were a prude. She stuck the last bit of her sausage in her mouth and held it as she pulled the stick out. She then held up the stick between two fingers while she chewed and watched it burst into flame and then disappear.

He glanced down at her thighs.

You can’t see my unders, she told him. I’m not wearing any.

Hertzel shook his head in exasperation.

How’s your wife?

He nodded again.

Did you ever wonder why we never got together, you and me? she asked. I mean, you’re a pretty handsome guy and I’m just flat out dishy.

He shook his head.

No, I guess we’d ruin our friendship. I did that already with you-know-who. It’s just that I haven’t had a good shagging in months.

Hertzel’s face turned bright red, as he stood up and headed across the dockyard.

Sorry! Senta called after him.

She sighed and then spotted another dockworker, this one pushing a stack of boxes with a dolly. He glanced at her for a split second, and then hurried onward.

Oi! You! Get over here! she called. He tried to hurry away. I know you can hear me! Get over here before you end up as a toad!

The man set the boxes down by letting go of the dolly. With his head hanging low, he walked toward the sorceress only slightly slower than most men would walk toward the gallows. He did his best not to look at her by staring at her boots.

You work here, don’t you?

He nodded, but then added. Yes, ma’am… uh, miss.

When are they going to get that small ship in? I’ve been waiting all day.

If the dockworker knew this was a vast exaggeration, he didn’t let on. He looked out toward the bay.

"The Mona will probably be pulling out within the hour, but Brech’s Haven will be brought in next. The Comet probably won’t get to dock until tomorrow."

"The Comet is the smaller one?"

Yeah.

Kafira’s knockers! growled Senta, jumping to her feet.

The dockworker flinched but recovered. Waiting for a friend? You could just take a launch over.

Senta smiled and stepped over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

In fact, there’s a magic-user on that ship. I just want to make sure he’s not going to cause me any trouble. She could feel him tremble and her smile grew wider. How old are you?

Um, uh twenty… next Restuary.

You make a good point, she said. I could just zap over there and dispose of him. But he could have protected himself with all manner of magical traps and wards.

Um…

You’re right, she continued. I am the most powerful sorceress in the world, and although I sense a fair amount of magic over there, I have very little to fear. So, it’s decided.

She raised her hand and suddenly she was gone, not with a flash or a bang, but with the smallest of pops. The dockworker turned and ran down the street, away from the dockyard and the dolly stacked with boxes.

With an equally small pop, Senta appeared aboard the S.S. Comet, in a very nice and, no doubt, very expensive stateroom. In the center of the room, at the foot of the bed, was a half-dressed man. He had a bald head and a carefully groomed goatee. He turned toward the woman and partially raised his arm before he found himself thrown across the bulkhead by a giant translucent spectral hand. Before he could speak, the giant hand raised its index finger and pressed it down on his mouth, silencing him.

Well, you’re not a government wizard, said Senta, stepping toward the immobilized man. You’re not a wizard at all.

Wide-eyed, he looked her up and down.

At that moment, the cabin door burst open. Senta didn’t turn around, but she could sense another man enter, and the activation of one of her contingency spells told her that he had a gun.

Don’t move, he growled.

You should put that away, she said. You might accidentally shoot your friend, because I assure you that the bullets will do nothing to me.

Maybe they will, said the voice behind her. They’re enchanted.

Ooh, you sound like a big strong man, she said as she slowly turned around, and indeed, you look like one too.

She made the tiniest gesture with her index finger and suddenly the pistol in his hands turned red hot. He dropped it to the floor.

The gun just ruins the whole image for me, I’m afraid, she said, with a shrug.

Let Willie go.

Though the man now facing her had a full head of hair and a thick mustache, he bore a family resemblance to the man still pinned to the wall behind her.

Willie is your brother?

He nodded.

And what is your name, big boy?

Karl. Karl Watson.

All right, Karl Watson. Willie and I are going to have a little chat. You just sit down in the corner and behave yourself. If I like what he says, you may go along your merry way. She turned back to the brother. I’m going to release you, but if you even start to utter our favorite four syllables, you and your brother will join a long list of people who’ve disappeared in the mysterious land of Birmisia. Understand?

Willie Watson blinked. Senta released the spell and the spectral hand disappeared completely, but the man didn’t move.

So, a sorcerer?

Yes, he said, carefully.

I’ve never actually met one, though I, of course, knew they existed. You’re quite powerful, more than a match for any of the wizards in the colony, I think.

He nodded slowly.

So, why are you here?

My brother wanted to see Mallon. He’s an archaeologist and has studied all the ancient civilizations. He wants to get a look at the lizzies. I came along to make sure he’s okay.

There’s something else, she said. Don’t make me drag it out of you.

I work for his Royal Highness, the Duke of Argower. I’m an advance scout for his visit.

So, you’re a member of Clitus’s little club. Well, so far, you lot have managed not to brass me off. See that it stays that way.

Willie Watson nodded.

Senta looked over her shoulder at the brother.

You’re quite handsome, and your brother’s not too hideous. I’m going to send you both an invitation to dine with me.

You have a lot of nerve, lady, hissed Karl Watson.

Yes. She smiled and suddenly she was gone.

Are you all right? Karl asked his brother.

Kafira, said his brother in a hushed voice. She didn’t speak a single syllable.

What do you mean? She hardly shut up.

She didn’t speak. All that magic without uttering a single incantation.

Karl shrugged and retrieved his pistol, but Willie sat on the bed and stared off into space.

* * * * *

Teatime the next afternoon, found Senta at Café Idella, the poshest dining establishment in Port Dechantagne. It was a large restaurant with large windows all around that looked out onto carefully cultivated gardens. The sorceress today wore a modest day dress of pink and white. She generally tended not to care what other people thought about either her looks or her actions, however this did not extend to Aalwijn Finkler. Besides the fact that he and his wife were old friends, Aalwijn owned all the best dining establishments in the colony, including this one. It simply wouldn’t do to have no decent place to dine out.

Good day, Senta, said Aalwijn, standing at the entrance in a crisp grey suit. Dining alone?

So it would seem.

Right this way, please. He guided her along the edge of the dining room to a spot in the corner.

Are you trying to hide me? she asked slyly.

Do you really think that any of my customers failed to see you?

Senta glanced around. Sure enough, everyone was staring in her direction, though most quickly turned away from her gaze.

I’ll send the waiter over, he said, before turning on a heel and returning to his post.

Senta looked from table to table, all around the room, but didn’t see anyone she knew. With a sigh, she propped her chin up with her hand.

A body just to her left signaled the arrival of the waiter, or so she thought, but when she turned, Senta looked up into the face of a teenage girl with thick wavy black hair.

Senta?

Hello, Auntie Senta. The girl bent down and kissed the sorceress on the cheek.

What are you doing? wondered the sorceress, looking around once again. Are your parents here?

Senta Markham was the daughter of Senta’s oldest friend Hero, who was Hertzel’s sister, and the girl was one of many children named after the sorceress, back when Senta was a little less feared, and perhaps a little more respected.

No. I’m working here now.

Your father allows that?

I’m sixteen years old. He says it’s high time I earned my own money.

You don’t need to earn money. I can give you as much as you want. All you have to do is ask.

My dad says you’ve already done way too much, paying for me to go to university, said the girl. Besides, I like working here.

What is it you do? wondered Senta.

Well, normally I stock supplies and do some food preparation. But um, right now, I’m to take your order.

My order? Why?

Cause Jock and Emile are both afraid to come out and take it.

Really, grumbled the sorceress. One would think I was some kind of mass murderer.

The girl giggled.

I’ve seen all your snuff boxes, Auntie. She lowered her voice to a whisper. I know they’re all full of the ashes of men you killed.

That’s not true. A few of them were women. In any case they were all very horrible people and none of them, so far as I know, were waiters. I’ll just have whatever Aalwijn has arranged for today’s tea.

Right away, Auntie Senta, said the girl, once again kissing the elder Senta’s cheek and then hurrying to the back room.

The sorceress sighed and waited for what seemed like an interminably long time before her namesake returned carrying a tea tray. Behind her was a young man carrying an even larger tray filled with food. Once it was laid out before her, Senta could see a delicious panoply of goodies. There were tiny cheese sandwiches, tiny turnip pasties, bamboo spears stuck through little squares of roasted pork, squash, and mushrooms, and of course there were chips.

I brought you tea, said the girl. Did you want wine?

No, my daughter thinks I drink too much.

Hmm. The girl nodded. This probably wasn’t news to her, as she was very good friends with Senta’s daughter, who incidentally, was also named Senta.

The sorceress looked at the man behind the girl.

Is this Jock or Emile? It doesn’t look good for a man to hide behind a little girl, you know.

This is Bernie, said the younger Senta. He’s a dishwasher, usually.

Oh, well, then I commend your bravery.

The man smiled weakly, and then hurried away. The teen girl kissed her again on the cheek and then left her alone to eat. The sorceress was just bringing the first pasty to her lips when she heard familiar voices.

I’m so famished I could eat everything in this restaurant!

Then I shall buy you two of everything, my love!

A young couple was being shown to their seats in the center of the dining room. The young man was handsome, in his early twenties, with chestnut brown hair and a very expensive suit. The young woman wore an expensive violet day dress, had a long mass of wavy blond hair, and bore more than a passing resemblance to Senta.

The sorceress narrowed her eyes, just as both the young people noticed her. The woman closed her mouth tight and blushed slightly. The young man guided her into her seat and then turned to stride to Senta’s table.

Good day, Senta, he said with a somewhat forced smile. How are you today?

Still not talking to you, your lordship, she replied through clenched teeth.

Surely time has mollified your feelings over our disagreement. I know I’m no longer cross with you.

I’m not anybody’s molly and don’t you forget it, boy!

Mollified, he sighed. It means… You know what? Never mind. His voice turned hard. Forget what I said. I’m still brassed off. I don’t know what you have to be in a tiff about.

You stole my dragon! Senta’s voice filled the room. A few people got up and headed for the exit. Other’s hunkered down like lizzies expecting a whipping.

She doesn’t belong to you! She’s a grown wo… dragon, and she has the right to live her own life.

Aalwijn Finkler was suddenly standing between the two of them.

My lord, he said, Perhaps it would be best if you returned to your seat.

I can’t return to my seat, the young man replied, his eyes not leaving Senta. I haven’t sat yet.

Well, would you like to sit with your young lady?

She’s not a lady, Senta growled. She’s a dragon.

Aalwijn sighed and then placed his hands on the young man’s shoulders, guiding him away and back to his companion. The young man let himself be led. A moment later, the restaurateur was back at Senta’s table.

Don’t make me ask you to leave.

He came over to me! hissed the sorceress.

I can package your food to take home.

No. I won’t do anything.

The sorceress sat and fumed as she chomped her way through the pasties, sandwiches, and finally through the plate of chips. She tried not to look at the young couple, but her mind couldn’t turn away as easily as her eyes.

The young man was Viscount Augustus Marek Virgil Dechantagne, Earl of Cordwell, Baron of Halvhazl, and perhaps most importantly, at least in his present circumstances, March Lord of Birmisia. He was the scion of a family once in disgrace, but now probably the richest in the kingdom. If all that wasn’t enough, he was now brother-in-law to the King’s second son. Senta had known him since he was born, and his family since she had arrived with them to found Birmisia Colony. It was young Lord Dechantagne, in fact, who had made her Grande Sorceress of Birmisia.

The young lady, as Senta had indicated, was no lady at all. She was Zoantheria Hexacorallia, the coral dragon, raised by Senta from an egg. It was also Senta who had taught her the ways of magic, which now allowed her to take human form and to take up with that boy. Senta’s anger had less to do with the fact that Zoey had become Lord Dechantagne’s paramour than it had to do with her moving out of Senta’s home and into a mansion that he had provided for her.

Once upon a time, Senta had a peculiar little family running around in her very large three-story home. Now it was only she, all alone.

She looked down at her plate. She had gone from angry to sad, and now the little mushrooms speared with bamboo mocked her.

It’s hard not to be depressed when you’re always sober, she grumbled to herself.

Suddenly she felt herself enveloped in a great hug from behind.

Can’t we stop being cross? asked Zoey over her shoulder.

I’m not cross at you, Pet.

The result is the same. I love you. And I love Augie. Why can’t you both just get along?

I’m not very good at getting along. I never really learned how.

Zoey stepped around the table and sat across from her. Senta thought it was like looking at a younger version of herself, only with nicer hair.

Don’t start being serious, said Zoey. I’ll think you are dying or some such.

I am dying. I’m in the middle of my fourth decade. I’m a spinster—granted, a gorgeous one, but still...

You are gorgeous. Now, just be nice.

I am nice, said Senta, sternly. He’s alive, isn’t he? He has all his limbs, doesn’t he? He’s not been transformed into a salamander, has he?

He wants to get along with you, said Zoey. He likes you. He admires you. You know he does. Why, he wants to pay for your meal.

I don’t need… Senta paused and looked up in thought. You know, now that I think about it, I don’t remember ever paying a bill here. I’m sure Aalwijn charges.

He does. Your solicitor, Mr. Frost, pays the tab, just like all your other bills.

How do you know?

He talks to me about it, when he can’t find you.

What do you mean, ‘can’t find me’?

I mean when he’s too afraid.

Oh.

Please make up with Augie, said Zoey, squeezing her face into its most pathetic expression.

Oh, all right, said Senta. Not today though. I’ll invite you both to dinner later in the week. That will give me time to brace myself, and maybe time for you to put some protective wards on him.

Lovely! cried Zoey.

She jumped up and skipped back to her table.

It’s all settled! she exclaimed giddily to Lord Dechantagne.

Senta growled, and then raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Suddenly her table in Café Idella was empty and she was back home in her bedroom.

Chapter Two: Maria

The dockyards sat at the northern tip of Port Dechantagne. To the southeast, along First Avenue were the homes of the rich and important of the city, including the colony’s two largest homes. Both the mansion of the Dechantagnes and the home created for Zoantheria Hexacorallia next to it, were less than two years old. The eastern face of Zoantheria’s home was very much the same style as the Dechantagne home it faced—three stories, columned, and classically inspired. It’s western half, however, looked like nothing so much as the massive constructs used to house dirigibles. It was a home designed with the dichotomy of its mistress’s life in mind. In other words, it was built for a dragon, one who lived much of her life in the form of a human being.

On this morning, Zoey was entertaining another woman in her beautifully appointed breakfast nook. One wall of the small room was completely taken up with a large window that looked out over a garden filled with yellow roses. The walls to either side were covered with portraits, many of them paintings, but some photographs. On the remaining wall, on either side of the open doorway, were cabinets filled with fine porcelain dinnerware. On the small table, between the two women, were a set of teacups and teapot matching the dishes in the cabinet, and a large platter containing three different kinds of biscuits.

Zoey daintily procured a chocolate biscuit from the platter and brought it to her thick lips. Her eyes lit up as she tasted the buttery treat. She shifted in her seat. Her yellow day dress, which was one of the new styles, having no bustle, was trimmed with white bows. She ran a hand over her breast to brush away nonexistent crumbs.

I could never have imagined, said the other woman, the former Maria Bertha Jerome Workville. If you had told me three years ago that I would be living in Birmisia, and that my very best friend in the world would be a dragon, well, I would have thought you were insane. I would have called for a constable. That’s what I would have done.

Maria too wore the latest style of day dress, hers white with pink ribbons. She was shorter than the dragon in human form, with reddish blond hair and only a few freckles across her otherwise alabaster face. As she formed her relatively thin lips into a smile, her large green eyes sparkled. Picking up the teacup, she carefully sipped.

I don’t mean to be rude, Zoey, but it’s still too hot for me.

Perhaps if you had some cream? suggested the hostess, reaching for the creamer.

No. I shall wait until it cools. I don’t mind. The water must have been extraordinarily hot when it arrived. I wonder that the teapot didn’t melt.

I’m sorry, Maria. The servants are used to making it that way for me. I should have thought to have them adjust things. In point of fact, however, water can’t get hot enough to melt porcelain. It has a finite upper temperature.

You would know better than I do, I’m sure. Don’t worry though. The tea will be cool soon enough. She smiled again and arched one carefully sculpted brow. Does it seem cool already to you?

I do prefer mine scaldingly hot. Zoey tossed the remainder of the biscuit into her mouth. So how is life in the big house?

Oh, it’s interesting. I can safely say that. It took me a while, but I finally feel like I know my way around. I get along with the aunt fairly well now. She doesn’t say much to me, but that’s just as well. The mother is nice enough, I suppose. It’s that Gladys that I find the most difficult. You’d think she was the lady of the house, the way she goes on, instead of a perpetual houseguest, which is what she really is.

Don’t let her push you around.

I try not to, and I’m standing up for myself now. Unfortunately, it took me a while to get to this point and they’ve all gotten used to running right over me.

I could come and put the fear of goddess in them, if you want me too, said Zoey. They’re already afraid I’m going to eat one of them.

No, no, Maria waved her hand. I’ll manage. Mind you, I really do enjoy seeing your dragon form. She is just so beautiful.

Not she. Me. It’s still me. I’m the dragon.

Yes, I know. It’s rather hard to remember. Looking at you now, no one would imagine you weren’t a natural born human being.

Thank you. I work very hard at it. I’ve spent more time perfecting that spell than all the other magic put together.

Well, it shows. I’m sure Augustus appreciates it.

I hope so, said Zoey.

He loves you so very much. Anyone can see it, the way he looks at you. You two make such a cute couple. Will you be seeing him this evening?

Probably. Anyway, said Zoey, changing the subject. You said you wanted a favor, and if it isn’t eating some person or other, then what is it?

Well, it is a delicate subject, but I feel sure that you can help me.

All right.

I’ve been married for more than a year and a half now, said Maria.

Yes?

Two years next Restuary.

Yes?

Almost two years and I’m not with child.

I have to say, said Zoey, I’m not particularly versed in this area of human biology, but I do understand that sometimes it takes a bit of time.

I understand that, said Maria. I also understand that it may take considerably longer if the husband does not visit his wife in her bedchamber.

He’s not…

No. Not in weeks and weeks.

Oh, I… um, the dragon in human form paused to sip her tea.

Maria picked up her cup, blew on it, and deciding that it was still too hot, set it back down.

Have you talked with him about it? asked Zoey.

It’s hardly something I can talk about with him, but you can.

You want me to talk with him… to convince him to…

Join me in amorous congress for the purposes of procreation. I mean honestly, Zoey, don’t I deserve to be a mother?

I’m sure you do…

So, it is imperative, at least for a while, that you share Augustus with me. I know that you are his true love, but I am his wife. I need him to make a child with me.

Zoey took another silent sip of tea.

Talk to Augustus please, Maria continued. Think how lovely it will be for us to have his wee baby. I will be his mommy and you will be his favorite auntie.

All right, said Zoey, with a determined frown. Will you be ready for him tonight?

Oh my. I can be, I suppose.

I’m sending him to you tonight then and every successive night until the job is done.

Oh, thank you, Zoey. I know how hard this must be for you.

I admit. I’m feeling a bit put out, but I shall bear it, as you Brechs so often do, with a stiff upper lip. But you, Maria, must be prepared. Tonight at least, he will be primed and ready when he arrives.

I shall lie back and think of Brechalon, she said.

* * * * *

Lady Maria Dechantagne passed through the front door, as the lizzie majordomo opened it for her. She snuggled down into her fall coat as the cool air touched her cheeks. At the bottom of the marble steps, Maxwell jumped up from his spot beneath the azalea bush and fell into step beside her. She reached down and rubbed his head as he cooed at her.

Maxwell was a troodon, a type of reptile-like bird originally found some hundred miles south of Birmisia Colony, but which had become common pets after having been imported to the region. He, like the rest of his kind, was just over three feet tall, though he was about eight feet from his many-toothed snout to the end of his feathery tail. Like deinonychus, similar creatures native to the region that had proved pests, troodons had large toe claws to disembowel their prey, but unlike those other beasts, troodons had relatively large brains and proved easily trainable. They were also more esthetically pleasing to humans, with emerald green feathers and bright yellow crests.

As she always did, the young woman admired the carefully manicured gardens that separated the two houses, filled with rose bushes still in bloom, fishponds, fountains, and hedges sculpted into various geometric shapes. At about the midway point in the short journey, there was a large gazebo with a dozen pieces of outdoor furniture arranged within it. She stopped and sat at one end of a rattan loveseat, motioning Maxwell to take his place beside her, which he did, curling up and then pressing his head against her. Idly petting him, she thought back to the events that had brought her to this strange world.

Maria Bertha Jerome Workville had been born in Regencia, Brechalon. Her mother had been the daughter of a baron, and her father had been a businessman, firmly in the middle class, who had made a great deal of money in railroads, and then just as quickly, lost it. The family were comfortable enough, but the lack of titles, notable wealth, or great beauty had limited the choices of husbands for four sisters, of whom Maria was the third. Mr. Workville and his wife had managed to find respectable matches for their two eldest, and then the youngest ran off in the middle of the night with a hedge wizard. This had all but killed Mrs. Workville, who having grown up in what was essentially a castle, now saw her youngest daughter disgraced. She shut herself up in her room and rarely came out. It was for fear of upsetting her mother, that Maria had promised her father to wait for a good match, but at twenty-three, with no acceptable suitors, she seemed destined to live the life of an old maid.

Then one day, her father had introduced her to a man named Pilner, who was an agent sent to procure a wife for an aristocrat. It seemed like such an odd thing, that a man of wealth and status should need to search for a wife in such a way, but it was explained to her that there were certain minimal requirements for the position. The young woman must have an acceptable and well-documented lineage, she must be between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, and she must meet certain physical requirements, which were never adequately explained, but which Maria apparently met. Likewise, there were certain obligations that had apparently proven intolerable for some young women. The potential husband lived twelve thousand miles away, in the primitive land of Birmisia in Mallon. This would make it all but impossible for a young woman to maintain close contact with her family. Worse, this man had a paramour with whom it must be understood he would not part. Such arrangements were common in Brech society, but seldom was it spoken about so openly, and never was it a prerequisite for entering into a marriage. Most onerous of all, this male person was a Zaeri, and the young woman who accepted this bizarre second-hand proposal would have to convert, give up the church, renounce Kafira, and face the possibility of eternal damnation.

Mrs. Workville was horrified, but there were factors that swayed Mr. Workville toward acceptance. First was the fact that this young man was a viscount and held several other titles as well. Secondly, he was soon to become brother-in-law to Prince Clitus, the youngest son of the King of Greater Brechalon. Finally, he was rich, very rich. Very, very rich. Not only could a bride expect to be provided for, and provided for well, but her family could expect a substantial yearly maintenance. Maria needed none of these facts to convince her that this was her destiny. As soon as she looked at the photograph of Augustus Marek Virgil Dechantagne, the sepia print carefully painted over to display his chestnut hair and blue eyes, she was smitten.

It won’t be long until this is all dull and grey, she mused, absentmindedly running the tip of her right hand over the huge diamond on her ring finger. The rose bushes will all be bare, the ponds will freeze over, and the snow will come.

Maxwell cooed as if to comfort her.

You won’t be jealous if I have a wee thing, will you? she asked him. I will count on you to keep him safe… or her, I suppose. Perhaps a girl would be best. It might encourage Augie to want another one quick on, so as to have a son.

The troodon let out a rare squawk.

You’re right of course. I should be preparing for tonight instead of mooning about the future.

She rose to her feet and stepped quickly down from the gazebo and up the path to the west wing entrance of the Dechantagne mansion. At the top of the steps, Hsturrn opened the door for her, while Maxwell curled up in the corner of the porch.

Would you send Hesta to my room, please? she told lizzie. And have my car brought around.

High heels clacking on the marble floor, she crossed the vast expanse of the foyer and stepped into the elevator. Another lizzie was waiting to operate the vehicle. Not needing to be told, the reptile threw the switch to the third floor, where Maria’s suite was located, as were the separate rooms belonging to her husband.

When the door opened, two women stood staring into the elevator car at her. The first was her mother-in-law, Yuah Dechantagne, who, even approaching fifty years of age, was considered a great beauty, and rightly so. Large doe eyes and thick lips dominated a beautiful face surrounded by a halo of brown hair, lightly streaked with grey. With her was her companion, Gladys Highsmith, whom Maria would only have described as tall and otherwise unremarkable.

Good day, Mother, said Maria, stepping forward to kiss Yuah on the cheek. You startled me, standing here like that. Were you looking for me? Or was it Augie you wanted to see?

This was not an unreasonable assumption, as Mrs. Dechantagne and Gladys both had their suites in the eastern wing, which sometimes seemed far enough away to be in another country.

Yuah doesn’t need an excuse to visit any part of the house, said Gladys. It is her home.

Well, good day, Gladys, said Maria. I didn’t notice you there. You’re looking marvelously resolute.

I, um… Gladys tilted her head down and looked over her glasses, as if searching Maria’s face for some sign of antagonism. I, um, have always thought that, um steadfastness was an important character trait.

Indeed, and in that spirit, I would love to help either of you ladies with whatever your current endeavor might be.

I want to plan a very large party in celebration of my sister-in-law’s birthday, said Yuah, taking Maria’s arm and leading her toward the latter’s rooms. Gladys fell in behind them. Of course, I need to coordinate with you as you are the lady of the house.

I am aware of the upcoming event, said Maria, but women don’t usually celebrate their fifty-second birthdays.

This is different, said Gladys.

Well, replied Maria, ignoring Gladys and looking at Yuah, if you think it’s appropriate, that is just what we shall do.

Oh, I do think it’s appropriate, said Yuah. After all, Iolanthe is more than just a woman. She’s Royal Governor of the colony. People will expect something.

Funny, I don’t remember hosting a party last year.

Well, there was a lot going on, said Yuah. We had only just gotten back from the royal wedding…

Six months earlier, Maria pointed out.

And you had only just arrived.

Two months before that.

Maria passed through the door of her suite and the other two women followed. Stepping quickly through the bedroom, they arrived in her boudoir, where her dressing maid Hesta was waiting. She quickly began unfastening Maria’s dress buttons when the woman spun around.

Well, it was a busy time, reiterated Yuah.

Very well, we shall plan a wonderful event. Would you like me to start on a guest list, or would you prefer to do so?

Oh, I’ll take care of that, said Yuah. You could be a dear and plan the decorations—streamers and such—lots of things with the number fifty-two upon them.

Of course, I would be happy to. This afternoon, I’m off to Wellbath. Would you ladies care to join me?

No, thank you, said Yuah. We shan’t take up any more of your time.

She turned and swept out of the room, Gladys following in her wake.

By this time, Maria was down to her lowest layer of undergarments. Hesta pulled a simple black walking dress from a hanger and held it out for her. As she stepped into the garment, the woman spoke to the reptile.

Auntie will not be pleased to have her age advertised to all and sundry. My dear mother-in-law thinks me a simpleton. She wants to embarrass Iolanthe and have me to blame for it. That’s not going to happen. I wonder whose idea this was, hers or Gladys’s. Find out for me.

The lizzie hissed an affirmative and then fastened up the buttons in the back of the dress.

* * * * *

Outside in the drive, a blue Sawyer and Son’s model 9 steam carriage sat puffing away. Maria skipped down the steps, her whistle bringing Maxwell from around the corner of the house. He hopped up into the rear seat and settled in as she climbed behind the wheel. Carefully steering to the estate gate, she had to wait for traffic to thin before making a right turn onto the brick street. Traveling east, she turned right on Redwood, and drove almost the length of the city to arrive at Wellbath.

Built on a hot mud spring, Wellbath was a large facility where women could go to indulge themselves in rejuvenating treatments, for health and beauty. Wealthy women could be pampered in all manner of ways.

Maria parked on the side of the street and climbed down. She looked up at the sky, noting that while it was still overcast and chilly, it didn’t really look like rain.

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