“It’s very kind of both of you.”
“May I ask why you were smiling?” she said.
“What? When?”
“Just before you woke up, you smiled.”
“Did I? I don’t remember. The only thing… oh, well, I had a thought just before I lost consciousness. If I was recalling that…”
“And what was that thought?”
“Well, I thought I was dead.”
“And that made you smile?” she asked.
“I was thinking how few chances I would ever get to die such a good death. I didn’t die and I’m not likely to get another such opportunity.”
The nurse returned, along with five more just like her and three doctors, two male and one female. Most of them crowded around the Prince’s bed, while one of the nurses ushered Terra out.
“Don’t go far, Lady Terra,” said the Prince. “I want to talk more with you.”
Clitus’s examination took nearly an hour. He learned that he had been in his ad hoc hospital room for two days. He was unbandaged, and then he was prodded over practically every inch of his body that modesty would allow and some that it didn’t. Finally, he had to tell them “I’ve had enough.” They quickly filed out, leaving him alone for a few minutes. At last, Lady Terra stepped quietly back into the room. The high ceiling and walls covered with huge pictures made her look very small.
“Thank you for staying with me.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll be here until Esther comes back.”
“Has my father been in to see me?”
“He and Prince Tybalt have gone to Booth.”
“They just left… with me here, unconscious?”
She nodded, expressionless.
“Well, that certainly makes one feel loved.”
“If you want to feel loved,” she said, “just look outside. There have been thousands of people dropping off flowers and notes at the gate. There also seem to be an abnormally large number of toy donkeys.”
He smiled.
“Why donkeys?” she asked.
“When I was a little boy, there was a portrait taken of the royal family. I had a toy donkey on a string. It became a popular picture.”
She pulled her chair close to his bed and sat.
“Do you know if the woman in the fire was saved?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. There were more than one hundred dead.”
“Kafira.”
“You saved the child. She’s being cared for by relatives.”
“How about the two men in the street with me?”
“I don’t know.”
He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.
“You’re going to have some scars.”
“No, I’m not,” he said, waving to the liquid still flowing into his vein. “They’ve spared no expense with healing magic. I’m going to look better than I did before.”
“Not scars on the outside,” she said, without inflection. “You will have scars on the inside.”
“Do you have scars on the inside, Lady Terra?”
“I am pleasantly surprised by you,” she said, not answering.
“Oh? Why?”
“Here I thought you were just a pretty prince.”
“You think I’m pretty?”
“That wasn’t the point of the sentence, hence my use of the qualifier ‘just’.”
“Oh.”
“The point was that you are more than I thought you were.”
“Thank you, I guess.”
“I’m going to tell you about Hsrandtuss, the King.”
“Wonderful,” said Clitus. “I’ve been fascinated by him.”
“Quiet. Hsrandtuss was a fierce warrior, tall and powerful in the way of his people, but so brave. He didn’t fear anything. I watched him stand in the battlefield as a dragon dived toward him. When he didn’t get to fight it, he was heart-broken. He said something to me then that was very much like what you said earlier. He wondered how many chances he would get for such a glorious death.”
“You liked him.”
“I loved him—not the kind of love between a woman and a man. It was more like… I guess it was a child’s love for a father.”
Clitus nodded.
“He defeated all of his enemies, and then he invited them into his home and tried to make friends of them. They murdered him when suu sree ghett est tuust inghaa gahk suuwasusu sisthero dottho khikheto tonahass ssotook… ”
“Lady Terra?”
“Sss?” A look of anger, and possibly hatred covered her beautiful face. It was so completely unlike her usually emotionless visage that she seemed like an entirely different person.
“You’re speaking the lizzie language. I can’t understand you.”
“Sss. I mean oh. I’m sorry. I was carried away.”
“You speak it like a native.”
“No. I speak it better than they do.” Her face returned to its rather blank resting state. “Iolana taught me. She is the only one who speaks it better than I.”
“What happened to Hsrandtuss’s murderers?”
“They were killed.”
“I take it lizzie justice is swift and brutal.”
“My justice is swift.”
“You killed them?” he asked, shocked.
“Yes. All of them.”
* * * * *
“Oh, you look so much better today, Clitus!” said Esther.
The Prince was sitting in a chair, though he was still in the Green Parlor with the hospital bed. He had managed to dress himself that morning in his white naval uniform.
“I’m going outside tomorrow, no matter what those idiot doctors say.”
“They are just trying to make sure you’re all better,” she said. “You look fit enough to me though. You had me horribly worried. You really sssshould be assshamed, jumping into danger like that.”
“To be fair, I didn’t really know that I was jumping into danger. I didn’t run into a burning building. I just ran up to one.”
“An insignificant dissstinction, in this case.”
A woman in a pristinely white walking dress stepped into the room. She was tall, blond, and voluptuous. When she saw Esther, she stopped in her tracks.
“Guten Morgen,” said Clitus.
“Hallo. Ist das ein lizzie?”
“Ja, es ist. Ich kann Fräu Esther? Lady Esther, this is Princess Henrietta of Freedonia.”
Esther stood and curtsied. The Princess stepped slowly toward them.
“You are far prettier in person,” said Esther.
Henrietta looked perplexed.
“Sie sagt, sie sind schön,” Clitus translated.
“Ah, danke. Mine Brech ist no gute.” She turned to the Prince. “Ich wollte nur sehen, dass sie gut waren.”
“Ich bin vollständig erholt, vielen dank.”
“Ser gute.” She smiled and turning, walked toward the exit. She glanced back just before she stepped through the doorway.
“I think that she thinks she got stuck with the wrong brother,” observed Esther.
“Nonsense,” said Clitus. “I’m everyone’s second choice.”
Just after Lady Esther left, Mr. Meanie visited the Prince.
“Was the fire an attack by The Freedom Group?”
“It doesn’t seem so, Your Highness. It was just random happenstance.”
“That’s good.”
“Perhaps not. You’re an even more attractive target now.”
“How is that?” wondered Clitus.
“You’re a hero now. The whole country is going mad over you. People are buying statuettes of you for their mantles.”
“I don’t recall posing for a statue.”
“I bought one,” said Meanie, with a shrug. “It’s not a very good likeness.”
Clitus was allowed to sleep in his own bed that night, but he was not permitted to leave the palace the next day. Instead, he sat at his desk, glancing over reports from his operatives, but mostly fuming about being coope
d up. When a serving girl brought his tea, he almost bit her head off because she had forgotten the cream.
Just after eleven, there was a knock at the door, and Lady Terra poked her head in.
“Come in, come in,” he said, smiling. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
She strolled across the room, her hands behind her back. Walking around his desk, she stopped right beside him.
“I’ve come to fulfill your greatest desire.”
“You what now?”
From behind her back, she produced a brown paper sack, slick with grease, thrusting it at him.
“Chips!”
He opened the bag and looked inside. It was filled with golden chips, still quite hot. He reached in, pulled one out, and pushed it into his mouth. It was heaven on earth.
“How did you know I was longing for chips?”
“I taught myself to read minds last week.”
He stared at her, his mouth opening unflatteringly.
“I’m joking,” she said, straight-faced.
“Of course,” he replied. “Funny how the idea did not seemed that farfetched,” he thought.
Chapter Nine: Shoes
The wind whipped at Zoey’s hair. She laughed. This was almost as much fun as flying. She pressed her feet down on the clutch and the brake as she zoomed around the corner of Forest and Ivy. Then pressing the forward accelerator again, she zipped in and out of traffic as the candy apple red Bromfeld X shot past other steam carriages and riders upon the backs of iguanodons. Zoey was at the corner of Newlands Street before she knew it, and brought the car to a screeching halt.
Pulling the brake into place, she grabbed her purse, hopped out, and danced around to the back, where she opened the release cock. A whistling scream of hot gas shot into the air.
“Oops, too much heat,” she said, opening the firebox with her bare hand and sticking her face into it.
Reveling in the warmth for just a moment, she then closed the door and walked up the cobblestone path to Martin & Shinde Men’s Emporium. The bell rang as she stepped inside. As she breathed in the smell of leather and wool, her mouth watered. The store, some twenty feet wide but at least four times that deep, was packed with suits, shoes, belts, hats, and sundries for men. A stack of round tins filled with mustache cream drew her attention. She picked one up and opened it, taking a sniff.
“Mmm.”
“May I help you, young miss?”
Turning to her left, Zoey found a thin bespectacled man in a very crisp pinstriped suit. He had a large nose, but a narrow mustache. He gave her a close-mouthed smile and a slight bow.
“I would be very grateful if you could. You see, my young man has recently given me a wonderful present and I thought I would get him something nice too. Can you help me, Mister…”
“Shinde, Mattius Shinde.”
“Oh. Like the name of the store.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you think you can help me, Mr. Shinde?”
“Of course. I assume, since you are here, that you have narrowed it down to something in menswear. Is your young man a snappy dresser?”
“Indeed. He always looks his best, and he enjoys quality in his things.”
“And you say he bought you a present?”
“Yes. He’s very thoughtful.”
“May I ask what he gave you? Perhaps that will help us judge just what sort of present you should get him.”
“A car!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “It’s brilliant, and red, and extremely fast for something limited to the ground.”
“Well…” Mr. Shinde looked around. “We have some of the finest new suits from Brechalon.”
“No. I don’t want to get anything he has to get fitted for. I want to give it to him today.”
“We have some of the very finest hats.”
“He has a lot of hats already.”
“How about some aftershave lotion?”
Zoey sighed. “Maybe I’ve come to the wrong place. Aftershave lotion? I mean really! He bought me a car!”
“How about shoes?”
“He does like shoes,” she said.
“Excellent. We have the very finest walking boots and pumps, as well as very nice dress shoes.” He led her across the room to a section of the wall filled with footwear.
“I like these,” said Zoey.
“Excellent choice,” said Shinde, picking up one and handing it to her. “Cap toe oxfords of high quality cow hide.”
She held the shoe to her nose. “Why do cows smell so yummy?”
He shrugged.
“These are just the thing. I want a pair in brown and a pair in black, and of course I want spats to go with them. Laces too.”
“Excellent.” said the proprietor. “Now about the size.”
“Augie’s foot is exactly this big,” she said, pointing to her chin with one index finger and her hairline with the other.
Shinde looked like a man who very much wanted to ask a question, but wasn’t going to do so. At last, he picked up a shoe sizer and held it awkwardly to her face.
“Size nine,” he reported. “I’ll get those ready for you.”
A few minutes later, he had the purchases secured in boxes wrapped with twine.
“That will be fifty-four marks, twenty p.”
Zoey opened her purse and withdrew a huge wad of banknotes. She stopped and narrowed her eyes, and looked at Shinde like might at any moment pounce on her money. Turning away, she counted out fifty-two marks, and then fished out four two-toned five-pfennig coins. After putting the rest of her money away, she turned around and held it out. Shinde had to pull the notes out of her tightly clamped fingers, but at last he had the payment and handed her the merchandise.
“Thank you so much!” she called, as she slipped out the doorway.
* * * * *
The drive east was just as fast and enjoyable as the drive south and west had been. This time, Zoantheria brought her steam carriage to a stop in front of the bookstore. Looking around, she saw there were not many people on the sidewalks now as it was nearing noon. It was the first of Pentuary and unseasonably hot. She stood for a moment, enjoying the eighty-five degrees, before stepping up the walkway and going inside.
The bookstore was busy. Thirty or more people milled around looking at the books on the shelves and more were lined up at a table. Zoantheria walked to the back counter to find Sherree McCoort. The perpetual sneer that was frequently hidden by her glasses, was present today. It became even more pronounced when she saw Zoey.
“Hello, dragon. What do you want?”
“A fine hello to you, Sherree. What’s going on?” She pointed to the table and the waiting patrons.
“Mr. Wissinger is signing books again today.”
“That’s lovely. I came in here to buy one of his books. What are the odds?”
“Fairly good, I would imagine. You lot seem to get everything you want.”
“What lot would that be?” she asked, looking back at Sherree, and noticing that her face looked puffy and was beaded with perspiration.
“The sorceress and her minions.”
“You know, Sherree, you don’t look so well.”
“I think I’m coming down with something,” said the woman.
“You should get some rest,” advised Zoey. “Surely you have someone who can watch the business for you.”
“Perhaps you’re right.”
Leaving the counter, Zoey easily found a copy of the book she wanted, and took her place in the queue waiting for the author to appear. It was no more than five minutes later that he entered from a back room and sat down on a folding chair behind the table. He immediately began greeting readers and autographing books. Still, it was about fifteen minutes before she reached the front of the line.
“Good morning,” said Mr. Wissinger. “I believe I know you. Don’t I? Are you one of the Goose girls? I should say ladies.”
“My name is Zoantheria.”
“Oh. I do know
you. I didn’t recognize you without your pink hair. You’ve become much better with your… um, disguise.”
“Thank you.” She pulled the book from where she had carried it under her arm and handed it to him. “This is a gift. Could you make it out to Senta, please?”
“Is this for… uh, the Senta? The sorceress?”
“You almost said something else. What was it?”
“I almost said my Senta.”
“I had almost forgotten. You were with Senta when she first went to Mallontah. I was there too, you know, in her carpetbag. I was just an egg at the time.”
“I had no idea,” he said.
“In any case, no, it’s not our Senta. It’s another one.”
“I see. What would you like me to say?”
“Something like ‘Dear Senta, Please enjoy my biography of your grandmother. With kind affection, the incredibly talented Isaak Wissinger.’”
He wrote it out exactly as she had suggested, leaving off only the words the, incredibly, and talented. She thanked him, and taking the book, headed for the door.
“You’ll need to pay for that,” said Sherree, suddenly in her path.
“Put it on Senta’s account please, cousin.”
* * * * *
“All right, I’m coming. I’m coming,” greeted Zoey when she knocked on the white door. A second later, a large emerald green, feathered beast jumped up onto the porch, squawking loudly.
“Don’t hurt him!” shouted Bryony Baxter, throwing open the door. She looked startled to see Zoantheria standing there. “Oh, I was expecting Senta, as it’s teatime.” She looked over at the troodon. “Good boy, Spot.”
“Is it teatime?” wondered Zoey.
“Oh, you know it is. Come in.”
After Zoey had crossed the threshold, the lady of the house closed the door. Lying sprawled across the sofa, asleep, was three-year-old Kerry Baxter.
“He fell asleep at nap time, and rather than carry him into his room, I decided to leave him here.”
“Will Kieran be home for tea?”
“No, but Sen will be here.
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