“Help me up.”
“You sure, chief?”
“Help me up, damn it!”
Once upright, Saba looked at the place in the street where the wizards had their fun. Several bodies lay strewn about. He gingerly walked out toward them.
“Take roll,” he told Gorman, who hurried ahead of him.
The bodies of Ventin and Finn were there, as well as four others, two of whom had been shot neatly through the head. Saba was sure that was courtesy of PC Brimley. Loewy stepped up next to him and placed his shoulder under Saba’s.
“Medical’s up at the corner,” he said. “Let’s get you looked at.”
Gorman returned.
“Gubler’s are dead. Hill’s in a bad way. He might not make it.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“They were all behind that car that was flipped over on them. Dillingham and Partridge were injured, neither seriously. Detective Freign is missing. He may be dead too. The hedgies took off in every direction. Brimley and Dodge want to take Sanderson and go after them.”
“No! Get the wounded seen to. Everyone else, secure the area. The most important thing is to restore order. Make sure the fire crew and the medics can do their job. Maybe Sanderson can help them with his magic.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ve got to go see the Governor. We need more manpower.”
“No, sir.”
“What?”
“I’ve got my orders. Get the wounded seen to. That’s you sir. You might not know it, but a lightning bolt hit you. I dare say you’ll live to tell the tale, but you’re getting checked out in any case.”
“All right. Gorman, you’re promoted to police sergeant. You’ll be in charge until Detective Butler gets in.”
Chapter Nine: The Prince
Esther stood behind Iolana in the long line of those waiting to be presented to the king. She was only too conscious of the fact that those behind her left a good seven or eight feet between them, and that two royal guardsmen stood nearby, keeping their eyes fixed on her. She was sure that Iolana must have noticed too, but she feigned not to. Both Esther and Iolana had new dresses, very expensive and the height of fashion. Iolana’s was a white flowing gown, cut for a small bustle, as was the most recent style in the capital. Long waves of lace stretched down to the ground and down her arms to her white gloves, and technically the dress featured a high collar that went clear to her chin, but the top was a white gauzy silk which left much of her chest and all of her back exposed. Esther’s dress was similar in that it was mostly white lace, but with short sleeves and a plunging neckline, and of course a hole cut out in back for her tail. They both wore large round hats topped with sprays of feathers and flowers.
A man in a pristine black suit with a grey waistcoat came down the line, finally reaching Iolana and Esther. His carefully waxed mustache emphasized his thin-lipped smile.
“This is the procedure,” he said. “When you hear your names, you will step forward and stop at the yellow dot on the floor in front of the throne. Your name will be called, and you will curtsy. Then you will exit through the opposite door. If the king asks you a question, you will answer in as few words as possible, finishing with ‘Your Majesty’. If either of the princes should address you, the same applies, but in their case, it is ‘Your Royal Highness’.”
“Of course,” replied Iolana.
“I was told you understood Brech?” said the man to Esther.
“She does,” said Iolana.
“Then, there will be no surprises?”
“No sssurprises,” said Esther.
The line moved slowly onward. They were afforded a view of the royals long before it was their turn to stand before them. His Majesty King Tybalt III was a tall, thin man who, though his red uniform seemed to hang on him, was still quite spry for his sixty-four years. His thinning hair and mutton chops were still more blond than grey. Behind the throne, on either side, stood the two princes, dressed, like their father, in red uniforms filled with medals. Twenty-four-year-old Crown Prince Tybalt was on the left, looking completely bored. His fifteen-year-old half-brother, Prince Clitus, looked more nervous than anything else.
When she was close enough to actually hear the king’s conversation, Esther paid close attention to the exchanges.
“Lord Winsdall and his daughter Lady Ewa Windsdall,” droned the announcer.
“Good day, Lord Winsdall,” said the king. “This can’t be your daughter. There has to be some kind of mistake. Why, your daughter was only this big,” he held his thumb and forefinger about two inches apart, “when last I saw her.”
“They do grow up fast, Your Majesty.”
“Tell me, young lady, do you shoot? My son is a great shot.” He waved toward Prince Tybalt.”
“I don’t, Your Majesty, but I’d love to see him shoot.”
Prince Tybalt glanced down at the young woman the way a street sweeper looks at a pile of horse dung, sniffed, and turned away.
“Mr. and Mrs. Marvin Van Josen,” called the announcer, signaling that Lord Winsdall’s time was over.
“You’re the fellow that laid the trans-ocean telegraph line, aren’t you?” asked the king.
Prince Clitus looked interested. His older brother still looked bored.
“I was the chief engineer, Your Majesty. It was a team effort.”
“Quite, quite. You should all be congratulated, and you will be. We are sure to see your name on the list for the Order of St. Ulixes.”
Mr. Van Josen bowed. Prince Clitus looked as though he wanted to say something, but held his tongue.
“And how are you finding Brech City, Mrs. Van Josen?”
“Ser gute, Majesty.”
“Sir Redry Moorn, Lady Honoria Moorn, and Lady Hortence Moorn,” called the announcer, as the Van Josens stepped away.
Prince Tybalt was suddenly interested, particularly in Lady Honoria, who was a lovely young woman in a lavender gown. Both young women batted their eyelashes at him, but he was oblivious to Lady Hortence who was pretty enough, though not in her sister’s class. He leaned over and whispered something in his father’s ear.
“Sir Redry. These are your daughters?”
“Step-daughters, Your Majesty, though they are as dear to me as if they were my own.”
“You are in the city for a few days?”
“A fortnight, Your Majesty.”
“Very good. We shall see that they are invited to the Crown Prince’s tea.”
Sir Redry bowed curtly.
“Lady Iolana Dechantagne Staff and Esther… Ssaharranah of Birmisia.”
Iolana shot Esther an annoyed glance before turning her attention to the royal family.
“Lady Iolana,” said the king. “We were sorry to hear of the death of your father Sir Radley. We found him to be a fine man.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“And we express our admiration for your mother. A most remarkable woman.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Iolana suddenly looked as if she had bitten down on a lemon.
“So.” King Tybalt rose to his feet and stepped down to stop directly in front of Esther. “This is a lizzie. We are told you understand Brech.”
“Yes, Your Majesssty.”
“Outstanding! Boys, come down here.” The two princes hurried to take spots on either side of their father. “We must know these Birmisians, as we are their king too.”
Prince Clitus looked at Iolana.
“I read your book… um, two of them—the one on dinosaurs and the history. You know, Colonel Mormont was my third cousin.”
“Twice removed, Your Highness, yes, I did know that.”
“I’m hoping to go to Birmisia some day,” he said.
“There is no reason you shouldn’t,” said the king, slapping the prince on the shoulder, and then turning to ascend to the throne. “How are you being treated here in Brechalon?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Well, Your Majesty, there seems to be…”
started Esther.
“She’s being treated very well,” interrupted Iolana.
“Excellent. We shall hope to see you again before you sail for home.”
“Sir Reynold Isenn,” called the announcer, as Iolana and Esther were ushered out a side corridor.
“What is this Ssaharranah business?” demanded Iolana.
“It means exiled.”
“I know what it means! No one has exiled you. You are Esther Staff! You have always been part of my family.”
“Is that what is says on my baptismal certificate?”
“Don’t you sass me!”
They entered the ballroom, where those who had been presented to the royals circulated, drinking sparkling wine and eating biscuits. Some were comparing their impressions of the king or either of the princes. Others were discussing the king’s comments. Almost all were taking every opportunity to improve their social standing by pointing out that the king paid them much more attention than any of the others. This was particularly true of the dozen or so young women who had been invited to tea with the crown prince.
After she had heard the third girl gush about the impending meeting, Iolana turned to Esther with a smirk.
“Do you suppose one of them will become his wife? Or will they all end up as his mistresses?”
“I thought you were invited,” said Esther.
“Since neither of those positions interests me,” she replied primly, “I declined.”
“Lady Iolana.”
Iolana turned around to find Marvin Van Josen.
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if you would mind autographing this for me.” He thrust out a copy of Odyssey.
She took the book from his hand and opened to the title page.
“I don’t have a pen.”
He whipped a pencil from his breast pocket and handed it to her.
“Never an engineer without his pencil, I see. To whom shall I make it out?”
“Marvin please.”
She wrote out in careful script, “To Marvin, a true hero to all Birmisians…” She stopped and asked, “Have you read the book yet?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And how did you find it?”
“Brilliant… and… confusing.”
“Excellent. That was precisely what I was going for.”
She continued, “May you continue to enjoy this book in good health. Your very great admirer Iolana D. Staff.”
As a happy Van Josen walked away, Iolana took two glasses of sparkling wine from the tray of a passing server. She handed one to Esther and took a sip.
“It seems anyone can buy their way into the nobility now-a-days,” said a female voice.
Iolana and Esther both turned to find Lady Honoria Moorn. Standing just behind her was her sister Lady Hortence.
“Were you speaking to me?” asked Iolana.
“You know I was speaking to you,” said Honoria. “You have no business being presented to the king.”
“I am the daughter of a baron and the sister of a viscount.”
“Both of whom bought their titles.”
“At least they didn’t have to marry into them,” said Iolana, with a smug smile. “It was wonderful of Sir Redry to adopt you and lift you up into society. It’s rather like I did with Esther here.”
Esther gurgled in annoyance at being dragged into the conversation.
“Careful Honey,” said Hortence. “She might sic her trained alligator on you. You know she comes from a family of murderers.”
“I’m well aware of my grandfather’s sad history, thought that’s exactly what it is—history.”
“And your mother’s murders?”
“My mother is a beastly hag,” said Iolana, “but she’s never murdered anyone.”
“Check the public record,” said Honoria. “While she lived in Brech, she killed half a dozen people. It was all washed over with money.”
“That is good to know,” said Iolana. “I suppose we’re rich enough now that I could murder twenty or thirty then. Good day.”
Iolana looked around the room and then at Esther.
“Come. It’s time we left this den of fustilugs and windy-wallets.”
Esther followed her as they wound their way through the crowd toward the exit. They had almost made it when they were confronted by the youngest prince. Esther examined Prince Clitus more closely than she had in the throne room. He was not particularly tall, about five-foot-nine, and was of average build. He had a pleasant face, with a slightly wider nose and slightly thicker lips than either his father or his brother. His blond hair displayed just a hint of red.
“You’re not going yet, are you?”
“I’m afraid I must get home, Your Highness,” said Iolana. “I have a dinner party this evening for which to prepare.”
“But I was hoping to talk to you about Birmisia.”
“Perhaps Esther could stay and talk with you, if you wouldn’t mind seeing that she has transportation back home.”
“That would be lovely,” said the prince, his face brightening.
Esther bobbed her head in apprehension.
“Stop that,” demanded Iolana. “Now, be a good girl and I’ll expect you home before dinner.”
With that she turned and glided through the doorway.
“We can talk here if you prefer,” said Clitus, “but there is a sitting room just through here.”
Esther looked around to see that she and the prince were the center of a great deal of attention from the gathered aristocrats.
“Perhaps the sssitting room would be better.”
The young prince turned and offered her his arm. Esther looked at it for a moment before remembering herself and carefully placed her clawed hand on his elbow. He led her through a short corridor and into an ornately decorated sitting room. Every single inch of the walls from floor to ceiling was covered with large paintings, mostly portraits. A servant stood at attention in each corner of the room. The prince pointed to a chair that fortunately had an opening between the seat and the back. Esther slipped her tail into the opening as she sat down.
“Would you like some more sparkling wine, Lady Esther, or perhaps some tea?”
“Sssome tea, please.”
A servant appeared beside her with a tray almost before she finished speaking. She took a cup and added two lumps of sugar.
“Um, I know it’s not proper,” said Clitus, “but would you mind telling me how old you are? I really have no idea.”
“I turned fourteen on my last birthday, but lizzies grow up faster than humans do. If I were living as one of them in Birmisia, I would probably have laid my first eggs two years ago.”
The prince’s face flushed to a bright red, and he stuck out his hand, which a servant filled with a wineglass. He took a sip and then valiantly carried on.
“So you’ve lived with humans all your life and haven’t had to contend with fearsome dinosaurs.”
“Well, not like living in the wild. But we have velociraptors and deinonychus even in town, and Lady Iolana often took me hunting with her.”
“Lady Iolana certainly is amazing. I can’t think of anyone who has accomplished so much at such a young age—written about so many topics, plus negotiated peace with the lizzies.”
“She is something,” admitted Esther.
“Were you with her when she met King… um how do you say his name?”
“Hsrandtuss. No, that was one of the few times that I didn’t accompany her.”
“Too bad. I really wanted to find out what he was like.”
“I’ve seen his kind before,” said Esther. “Large, savage, very frightening, really.”
“I would have thought you would have spoken better of him, being a lizzie yourself.”
“I guessss I don’t feel very much like a lizzie anymore. It’s a much greater thrill to meet you. You know, Lady Iolana and I were shopping just last week at sssome shops on Prince Clitus Boulevard. There are so many things named
after you that you must feel very proud.”
“That isn’t me. My uncle was Prince Clitus, and later Duke of Tawnsea. He died long before I was born, but he must have been quite a man. So many things were named for him… as was I. So there you go. I’m just one of many monuments to his name, I suppose.”
The same mustachioed man in the pristine black suit and grey waistcoat that had given directions before Ester had been presented to the king, arrived and bent down to whisper in the prince’s ear.
“I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere,” said Clitus. “Mr. Verlan here will send you home in a cab. I would very much like to talk to you again, Lady Esther.”
“It’s just Esther,” she replied, “but I would enjoy that.”
It was late afternoon when the carriage dropped Esther off in front of Number One, Avenue Dragon. Inside, the servants were carefully arranging the parlor, library, and dining room for the upcoming dinner party. Both Regina and Fodora were attempting to direct the activity, but were mostly just getting in the way.
“Where is Iolana?” asked Esther.
“She’s gone up to her room,” said Fodora. “She received some news that upset her.”
Esther took the elevator up and hurried to Iolana’s suite of rooms. She found the young woman curled up in a ball in a chair near the fireplace. Esther was used to seeing Iolana looking commanding and larger-than-life, more especially so over the past four or five years, but now she looked like a sad little girl.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, kneeling down beside the chair.
Iolana’s legs were pulled up, with her arms wrapped around them, and with her chin resting on her knees. This made her head bob up and down when she spoke.
“I got a letter from Willa.”
“Why would she write you a letter? Couldn’t she just come up and talk to you?”
“Not Willa the maid, stupid—my Willa, from back home… Willa Tice, or rather Willa Lance.”
“Sorry. Obvious. Stupid of me.” Esther looked around and found the letter on a small silver tray on the mantle. She opened it and flipped through the six pages written in a flowing hand. “Ah.”
A Plague of Wizards Page 11