The Dragon's Choice

by Wesley Allison

  “Miss Bly,” he said, with a brief nod.

  “Why Aalwijn, one would think that you weren’t happy to see me.”

  “It’s always a pleasure, Senta, but it almost always causes me lost business.”

  “Which you bill me for at, I’m sure, a higher than warranted rate.”

  “Will you be joining your family?”

  “I have family here?” wondered Senta. She turned to look in among the diners, but came face to face with a handsome man in his mid twenties with a thick head of light brown hair and long sideburns. He was dressed in a blue military uniform with a chest full of medals.

  “I am to insist that you dine with us, Senta.”

  “Do I know you?”

  “You know that you do,” he said wearily.

  “It seems like I would remember something like that,” she said.

  “I’m married to your cousin Didrika… We have a little baby…”

  “And what is the baby’s name?”

  “You know the baby’s name.”

  “What is it?” She held her hand to her ear.

  “The baby’s name is Antonia.”

  “That doesn’t sound right.”

  “Her name is Antonia Senta Stephenson.”

  “Oh, now I remember,” said Senta, poking him on the side of the chest without medals. He flinched ever so slightly, which brought a smile to her face. “You’re Timmy Stephenson.”

  “It’s Tiber, and you know it. You know what? Never mind. You don’t want to eat with us anyway.”

  He turned on his heal and started to walk away, but she threw her arm over his shoulder and walked along with him. She was about an inch taller than he was.

  “Don’t be cross, General Stephenson. I was just having a little fun with you.”

  “It’s Colonel Stephenson, in point of fact.”

  They arrived at their destination, which were two tables that had been pushed together to allow for a party of ten. There sat Colonel Stephenson’s wife, Senta’s cousin Didrika. She was a lovely twenty-three year old woman, tall, slim, and blonde like her cousin. Next to her was her sister Ernst, who, though three years older, looked enough like her to be her twin. Ernst’s husband was Sam Markham, a sharply dressed man with a round and rather dull face. Next to him was another Sam, Croffut in this case, in another blue uniform, this one with captain’s bars. His young wife was beside him. Talli Croffut née Archer had her hair split down the center and styled into ringlets, which did nothing to help her rather plain face and overly large nose, though the prodigious cleavage exposed by her dress did draw some attention away. Beside her was her childhood friend Sherree Glieberman McCoort, with a huge gold cross around her neck, over a very conservative dress, and glasses perched on her nose that made her eyes look enormous. Her husband, beside her, was Senta’s cousin, and Didrika’s and Ernst’s too, though the actual family connections were somewhat muddy. Finally there was Fitzroy Norich, the scion of one of the Empire’s wealthiest families, and his wife Mona, who was Tiber Stephenson’s little sister.

  “Good evening, Cuz’,” said Didrika.

  “Senta!” called Ernst.

  Maro got up from his seat and came around to give the sorceress a big hug. Though five months younger than she was, he looked significantly older than his thirty-two years. Senta returned his squeeze and then looked back to the table.

  “What an interesting group we have here,” she said. “Didrika, you look so beautiful, one would never believe you had just squeezed a whole person out of your body.”

  “Thank you,” said Didrika, as her face turned bright red.

  “Sit down and join us,” said Ernst. “There’s enough room. We can all squeeze in.”

  “I’m not one for squeezing,” said the sorceress.

  “She clearly doesn’t want to join us,” said Sherree McCoort.

  “Well, if Shirley insists,” said Senta circling the table.

  Ernst directed the other diners to move the place settings and their seat, as her husband retrieved a chair from another table, and a waiter arrived with a plate and silverware.

  “Have you already ordered?” asked Senta, taking her seat, her left knee knocking into Ernst’s and her right into Didrika’s.

  “Tiber arranged the entire meal,” said the latter. “It’s a celebration. Mona is expecting again.”

  “Which one is she again?”

  “Over here,” said Mona, helpfully raising her hand. “This will be my second.”

  “Two children, how nice. That’s how many you have, isn’t it Ernst?”

  Ernst nodded.

  “I have two and one more on the way,” volunteered Talli Croffut.

  “Well, that just leaves me and Shirley childless,” said Senta.

  “You have a child,” said Sherree, without correcting her name.

  “Oh, yes. I forgot.”

  “You just don’t know how to be a mother.”

  The rest of the dinner party froze, their eyes turning toward the sorceress.

  “I wouldn’t cast out my child,” continued Sherree. “I wouldn’t send her to live with virtual strangers.”

  “Are we doing this, Sherree Demetria Glieberman McCoort?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Are we saying what we wouldn’t do?” asked Senta. “Because I wouldn’t use the magic that you’re using.”

  “What are you talking about?” wondered Maro.

  “I’m not using any magic,” hissed Sherree.

  “Oh, I can see it wafting up from your shriveled up little twat. Maybe you would like me to explain to your husband just what it’s for.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Maro again.

  Sherree jumped to her feet.

  “You are a horrible thing!” she shrieked, before storming away and out the door of the restaurant.

  Maro cast a questioning look at his cousin and then turned and followed his wife out. At that moment Aalwijn Finkler and three waiters arrived carrying a dizzying array of food.

  “I hear we have one more in the party,” said the host, looking around.

  The dinner party was oddly quiet.

  “We actually have one less now,” said Senta. “Bring us out six bottles of the 1912 Riesling.”

  Aalwijn sighed and gave her a knowing look.

  * * * * *

  Senta woke up on the sofa in her parlor. She vaguely remembered riding home in the rickshaw and coming inside the night before, but she must not have made it to the stairs.

  “Oi, one of you bloody lizzies!” she called.

  Thonass stuck her snout into the room.

  “Go get me a glass of tomato juice.”

  As the lizzie hurried away, the sorceress sat up. She felt like something had died in her mouth. The maid returned with the glass of tomato juice balanced on a small silver tray. Senta took it and waved toward the hutch.

  “The brown bottle in the top drawer.”

  Retrieving the specified object, and then giving it to her mistress, the lizzie hurried away. Senta pulled the rubber stopper from the little bottle with her teeth, spitting it onto the floor, and poured the contents of the container into her juice, making it dangerously close to overflowing, and then tossed the bottle onto the floor as well. She took a long sip, stopped and took a deep breath, and then downed the rest. Senta could feel the healing draught eliminating her sore back, her headache, and several other pains that she didn’t even know she had. The sorceress sat the empty glass on the coffee table, only noticing at that moment that she had a visitor. Didrika was standing in the doorway from the foyer, holding her infant daughter swaddled in her arms.

  “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Not long.”

  “And what do you want?”

  “Well ostensibly, I’m here to let you visit with your new cousin, but mostly I’m here to find out what you were talking about last night?”

  “What was I talking about last night?” wondered Senta.
/>   “You know… what you said about Sherree.”

  “Oh, come on then. I’ve got to go up and brush my teeth before I dirty my mouth with that little bint’s name.”

  Senta got up and trudged up the stairs to her bedroom, with her cousin trailing behind her. Once there, she began peeling off her clothes, tossing them on the floor. The room had been tidied since she had been there, so her previous cast offs had been removed.

  “Your baby is very quiet. Are you sure she’s alive?”

  “She’s just sleeping. I’ve been quite lucky. She’s such a good… Kafira’s maiden aunt! Look at your tattoo!”

  “It’s not a tattoo,” replied Senta, now completely nude. “It’s a sigil, like the rest of them.

  Senta had fifteen sigils, sort of magical tattoos, adorning her body. They were the result of creation and summoning magic. Up and down her front were twelve two-inch stars, while on her back were two images of Bessemer, one with open wings that covered both shoulder blades, and one of him as a young dragon curled up and sleeping in the small of her back. Then there was one that was the image of Zoantheria in dragon form. It almost completely filled the skin of her left leg, with the tail wrapped around her ankle, and Zoey’s head resting on her left buttock.

  “I know. I read about them in Mr. Wissinger’s book. Of course I’ve seen two of the stars before. But the dragon is so large.”

  “Yes, I’m trying to limit them,” said Senta, walking through the door to the bathroom. “But magic is just so easy.”

  She turned on the water to the tub.

  “Oh, nice,” said Didrika, poking her head in. “Running water in the bathroom.”

  “Magically heated too,” said the sorceress.

  She dipped a cup beneath the spigot, capturing enough water to mix up some tooth powder, which she stirred, and then began brushing her teeth. Didrika laid her sleeping baby on Senta’s bed and then returned to the bathroom.

  “You were quite the party favor last night.”

  “Oh?”

  “You do remember propositioning Tiber, don’t you?”

  Senta shook her head and then spat into the basin on the counter. “Sorry about that.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind if it’s just you or Ernst, but if I catch him with that Questa Hardt again, I’ll unstone him.”

  “Your husband had sex with your sister?”

  “Yes, a few times. It was during my sixth month and I didn’t want him touching me. Of course, along came my seventh month and I was rumpy-pumpy all the time. Tiber doesn’t know that I know, but of course, Ernst tells me everything. She made sure it was all right before accepting his advances.”

  “What about her husband?”

  “Well of course he doesn’t know about it. You know how men get about such things.”

  “I never realized what trollops you two are,” said Senta.

  “Said the only one of us with an illegitimate child.”

  “You have me there,” said Senta, climbing into the tub and settling down into the warm water. “So, has your Tiber any real skills in the bedroom?”

  “Oh, he’s very accomplished. However this wasn’t what I wanted to talk about. It was your other conversation.”

  “What? Did I make a deal to by timber from young Mr. Norich?”

  “No. You said Sherree had magic in her fanny.”

  “Oh, yes. That was easy to see.”

  “What kind of magic was it?” wondered Didrika.

  “Well, theoretically it could be about anything. But since she’s childless, and doesn’t seem all that upset about it, I would imagine it’s a spermatothanatos.”

  “What is that?”

  “It’s a magic stone that you keep up your twat to kill any of a man’s seed that should get up there,” explained Senta. “Gay girls in Mirsanna use them; not so much in Brechalon.”

  “I didn’t know they made magic for such… illicit purposes.”

  “All magic is illicit.”

  “Why would she have that?”

  “Obviously because she doesn’t want to bear a child.”

  “Poor Maro,” said Didrika. “I’m glad you said something. He really needed to know. I’ve always thought she was a horrid bitch.”

  “Maybe I could have been more discrete,” said Senta.

  “No doubt about that.”

  Didrika’s baby began fussing, and she turned and went back to the bedroom.

  Senta slid down in the tub, until only her head was out of the water. Running her hands over her body, she thought about how long it had been since she had shared her bed with a man. It had been months and months. Maybe, since Didrika didn’t mind, she would take a turn with her husband. He was certainly a handsome man. Not the kind that she would want long term though. These children of privilege seemed to remain boys and never become men. She thought of the few nights she had shared with Saba Colbshallow. They had been passionate, but so long ago they seemed almost like another life. Her mind turned to the years she had spent with Kieran Baxter. He was a real man. He simply took what he wanted, and her pleasure had been in his taking it. Something halfway between a groan and a moan escaped her lips.

  “Something the matter?” called Didrika.

  “Just thinking of Mr. Baxter.”

  “I thought you would have killed his wife and taken him back by now.”

  “That was the plan,” said Senta.

  “So what is the problem?” Didrika appeared in the doorway, naked from the waist up, nursing little Antonia.

  “Oh, it got all complicated. Hero forced me not to kill her and then she made me promise to protect her instead.”

  “You do that for the rest of us too, don’t you—Didrika and me, Geert and Maro?”

  The sorceress nodded.

  “But Hero can’t make you do what you don’t want to do. Nobody can. So what really gives?”

  “Oh, it’s that damned Bryony. I can’t help liking her. If she would only fall in love with somebody else, then I could have Baxter back.”

  “He did seem like the perfect man for you.”

  “Oh, he is.”

  * * * * *

  Senta stood and watched Didrika drive her blue steam carriage out the gate of the estate, just as a yellow car zoomed in. Senta wasn’t sure that the second driver didn’t hit one or two of the looky-loos that usually gathered outside her gate. It was just one more example of how dangerous such vehicles were. She would certainly never own one.

  The sorceress needed no scrying spell to know who drove the second car. Even if she hadn’t recognized the bright yellow Sawyer and Sons model 6, and even if she hadn’t recognized her cousin Maro’s driving goggles and mustache, her earlier conversation with Didrika would have inclined her to expect a visit from the man.

  In many ways, she was closer to Maro than anyone else in the world. From the age of about six, until they were separated at age nine, they had almost been joined at the hip. They had played together, done chores together, and cried together when Maro had lost two fingers in a printing press at age eight. He was grim-faced as he doffed his driving gloves and goggles.

  “Come in, dear,” said Senta, leading him into the house and to the parlor. Maro sat down heavily in a chair. Senta took a spot on the sofa and reclined on her side, her housedress showing an indecent amount of ankle, but otherwise covered.

  “Two glasses of fortified wine,” she told Cheery.

  “So, is it true?” he asked.

  “You suspected as much already.”

  “Is it true?”

  “Oh yes. It’s definitely true.”

  “That bitch!” he growled.

  The lizzie, returning with the wine, started upon hearing his shout, but managed to recover. Maro took his glass and downed it in one gulp. Senta sipped hers.

  “Another glass for my cousin.” She turned back to him. “Didn’t you discuss it with her?”

  “That bitch,” he repeated, more quietly. “No. I didn’t want to get into it with her until
after I had a talk with you. That bitch. That bloody cow. After all I’ve done for her.”

  “If its any consolation, I think she loves you.”

  “I know she loves me… just not as much as she loves herself.”

  “Well, having a baby is quite an ordeal,” said Senta. “I wouldn’t want to go through it again. I don’t know why women choose to do it over and over. I suppose their minds go weak.”

  “But she knew I wanted kids. She said she wanted them too.”

  “Well, I’m no expert in Brech law, but I suspect that using magic to prevent pregnancy against your husband’s wishes would constitute grounds for divorce.”

  “Oh, it would,” said Maro. “The problem is, I love her too. Right now though, I think I hate her as much as I love her.”

  “Perhaps it will all work out,” said Senta. “I wouldn’t suggest this if it were any other woman, but perhaps two can play at her game.”

  “What?”

  “I could give you a little something to counteract her little bauble—maybe even convert it to the opposite of its intended purpose.”

  “Would I have to…?” he pushed two fingers up into the air.

  “No. Just put it under her bed.”

  “You’re sure it will be strong enough?”

  She gave him a withering look. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Some hedge wizard in a back alley?”

  “Okay. I forgot you were the great and powerful Grande Sorceress of Birmisia.”

  “That’s right. I have a tiara and everything. Come by tomorrow about this time and I’ll have something for you. Oh, and I have an invitation for your wife. I’m inviting her to tea the day after.”

  “You are?”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to, but now I want to see her face. You don’t mind if I torment her a bit while she’s here, do you?”

  “Right now I’d say do whatever you want to her… Just… I don’t want her harmed… Like I said, I do love her. The bitch. Should I go home and have it out with her?”