The Dragon's Choice

by Wesley Allison

  “You are beautiful.”

  Yuah turned to see Mademoiselle Deneuve. She was covered from neck to wrist to ankle in several layers of translucent silk. Though there was the illusion of opaqueness, Yuah realized that in the right light, she could clearly make out the two gold rings, which she now saw perfectly matched the one in the woman’s nose. Her dark skin probably helped the gold stand out all the more.

  “I can’t believe women actually traipse around the house like that.”

  “Oh, no no no. At home we dress much different. This is for going out and showing off.”

  “How are you not all raped on a daily basis?”

  Mademoiselle Deneuve frowned. “That is a very Brech idea, that a man rapes a woman because of something about her, and it speaks of something unpleasant in Brech culture. If a man rapes a woman, it is because of something in him.”

  “Maybe,” said Yuah. “But what you’re wearing wouldn’t be much hindrance for him. Why, I can even see your fanny!”

  “It is to signal the woman wants her man to give her a Zurian kiss, no?”

  “What is a Zurian kiss?”

  “It is like a Mirsannan kiss, but further south. Ooh la la.”

  “Oh, my,” said Yuah, fanning her face with her hand.

  “Perhaps I should put something else on before you swoon.”

  “Yes,” agreed Yuah, sitting down.

  By the time that Mademoiselle Deneuve had returned in the dress she had originally worn, Yuah had recovered from her surprise. She had also decided that she was ready to be daring—at least she was ready to purchase the dress she had tried on. Tétons percés was something altogether different. After all, she had screamed bloody murder when she had gotten her ears pierced.

  Honor had been correct in her prediction that it would be teatime before Yuah left the dress shop. In the end, she had purchased the daring Mirsannan creation, three dresses of Freedonian design and a traditional black Brech dress that she intended to wear to shrine. She arranged for them to be delivered, and then stepped outside to find the big lizzie waiting with his rickshaw right where she had left him.

  “Tsu see ghahk Café Idella?”

  The lizzie nodded. Yuah gave him a five-mark note, assuming that amount would engage him for the rest of the day. Then she climbed back into the vehicle and motioned for him to be off. By the time they reached the curb in front of the restaurant, Yuah’s stomach was growling. She hurried to the front door and went inside.

  She paid much more attention to the Mirsannan host than she usually did, comparing his skin tone to that of Mademoiselle Deneuve. He was much lighter than she, almost caramel to her dark chocolate.

  “Tea for one, Mrs. Dechantagne?”

  As he spoke, Yuah looked out into the dining room. Immediately, she noticed Isaak Wissinger sitting at a table near the center. He smiled and waved discreetly toward her. Then her eye caught sight of Mr. Galbright, along the wall. He wasn’t waving, but was staring at her. He too was alone. She could feel the blood rising to her face. Finally she saw a young woman sitting alone, a book open in front of her.

  “I see my party,” she quickly told the host, and hurried over to the woman’s table. “I hope it’s not a terrible inconvenience,” she told her, “but could I join you?”

  The woman looked up from her book, and stared at her through wire-framed glasses, but nodded. She was slender and tall, though it was impossible to tell just how tall while she was sitting, and had carefully curled brunette hair that fell to just beyond her shoulders. She wore no ring on her finger. The host, who had followed Yuah in, pulled out the opposite chair, and she sat down.

  “I shall send the waiter right over.”

  Yuah looked to see what her table companion was reading, but it was covered with a brown paper book cover.

  “Thank you for letting me join you. I’m Yuah Dechantagne.”

  “Gladys Highsmith,” said the woman.

  “Are you a new arrival?”

  Before Miss Highsmith could answer, the waiter stopped at the table.

  “The lady has already ordered, Mrs. Dechantagne. What may I bring you today?”

  “Oh, I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

  “Very good.” He turned to his other customer. “Would you like to wait and both be served at the same time?”

  “Oh, I don’t want to hold you up,” said Yuah.

  “No, it’s fine,” said Miss Highsmith. “Bring it all together.”

  When the waiter had gone, she closed her book and set it aside, and then gave Yuah an appraising look.

  “What were you reading?” asked Yuah.

  “The Importance of Pleasing the Missus.”

  “I’ve heard of it, but never read it. Is it very good?”

  “It’s quite funny, and a little racy.”

  “So, I asked if you were a new arrival,” said Yuah. “I’ve not seen you before, though it’s not like it was in the early days. We used to know everyone back then.”

  “I suppose I am a new arrival. I came in from Mallontah on the train about… well, it was exactly a month and a day ago. I’m actually planning on leaving tomorrow.”

  “Oh? Birmisia not to your taste?”

  Miss Highsmith pushed her glasses back up her nose with a finger.

  “I came here to meet a particular person, and well… it didn’t work out.”

  “There’s a lot of that going on,” said Yuah. “Last year there was a girl called Amelia Clairqueue. She had been corresponding with a man and came here to marry him, only to find that he was,” she lowered her voice, “collecting young women for illicit purposes.”

  “Really?” wondered Miss Highsmith. “How did you hear about it?”

  “Oh, it was in the paper when she shot him.”

  “What about the other women?”

  “I’m sad to say that most stayed in the profession for which he had groomed them. There is always call for the world’s oldest profession—and I don’t mean farming.”

  “I don’t understand how a woman could do that to herself,” said Miss Highsmith.

  Their waiter arrived with a big tray and began setting out cheese and cress sandwiches, fresh-baked gingerbread, and thick, creamy velociraptor soup, and finally fruit tarts.

  “Excellent choices, Miss Highsmith. Soup is the only way to eat velociraptor.”

  “Please call me Gladys. I had just enough money for this meal and then a first class ticket back to Mallontah.”

  “And what were you planning to do then?”

  “I have a brother living there with his family. We’re not close, but he’ll let me stay until I can make other arrangements.”

  “I hate to see you give up on Birmisia. If you could just stay on, you might find a place for yourself here. New people arrive every day—true, still more women than men, but there are so many. Port Dechantagne has grown quite cosmopolitan. I know, you should come and stay at my house.”

  “I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

  “Oh, we have a dozen empty rooms at least. You would scarcely be noticed.”

  “But I would be living off of your support.”

  “Did you not hear me give my last name? Dechantagne. Like the name of the city? I’m stupidly rich.”

  Gladys shrugged and bent down to taste her soup.

  “It’s settled then,” said Yuah. “My new pet project will be to get you settled into your new life.”

  Chapter Eleven: Sen and Senta

  Sen stopped on the threshold and thought about whether she should knock or just go in. Such considerations were ended when the lizzie, Cheery, opened the door for her. The reptilian towered over her, no matter how he attempted to hunker down.

  “Is my mother home?” she asked.

  He pointed back and up. “Stairsss.”

  The eleven-year-old nodded and stepped past him, walking through the parlor and up the stairs. When she reached the top, she turned down the hallway and walked to the door of her mother’s bedroo
m. She opened it, stepped inside, and closed the door after her.

  Her mother lay sprawled naked across her bed, face down, with her head hanging over the edge. The image put one in mind of a murder scene, or it would have without the loud snoring. The girl stepped over, bent down, and looked at the top of the blond head. At first, she saw nothing, so she carefully lifted back the hair that fell around the elder Senta’s face. The snoring stopped, but she waited a moment and it resumed. Now she could see it, an ugly scar that ran laterally across her mother’s skull, about an inch and a half behind her hairline.

  Letting the hair fall back, Sen walked across the room and sat in the chair against the wall. She pulled her feet up to her bottom, wrapped her arms around her legs, and rested her chin on her knees. She sat there for about fifteen minutes, until she suddenly realized the snoring had stopped.

  “So you’ve decided to grace me with your presence after all.”

  “Yes.”

  The senior Senta rolled over and sat up.

  “I think I’m going to vomit.” And then she did, all over the floor.

  “Kafira’s maiden aunt! How much wine did you drink?”

  “That is not your business, you little bint.”

  “Fine,” said Sen, getting to her feet.

  “Wait! I’m sorry. It’s not me talking. It’s the demons that are pounding on my brain with sledge hammers.”

  “Uuthanum,” said Sen, pointing to the mess on the floor, which magically disappeared, leaving the wooden slats as though they had never been soiled. “Do you have a healing draught?”

  “Here in my nightstand.”

  “Take it. Then take a bath. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

  It was almost an hour before Senta finally made it to the parlor. She was dressed in black leather pants and a gauzy blouse, with a leather corset over it. She was barefoot, but a pair of black leather boots floated along in the air behind her. She plopped down onto the sofa. Her daughter, seated in the plush chair just across, watched her with one raised brow.

  “You’re drinking too much.”

  “What do you know about it? You’re eight years old.”

  “I’m eleven, and you know it.” The girl crossed her arms over her chest. “So how much of it is real?”

  “How much of what?” asked her mother.

  “You being a twat. How much is real and how much is you just acting like Zurfina because you’re now,” she made air quotes, “the sorceress?”

  Senta’s lips formed a sneer for a few seconds. Then she stopped and pondered the question. “I guess about fifty percent.”

  “Interesting,” said Sen. “So, I’m here.”

  “Indeed you are.”

  Her mother pulled on her boots, and then got up, walked over to just in front of her daughter, and looked into her eyes.

  “Repeat after me: Maiius Uuthanum.”

  “Maiius Uuthanum.”

  “Yes, you’re a natural. Now let’s go out into the garden and see what kind of beast you can summon.”

  * * * * *

  Three days later, Sen was sitting once again in her mother’s bedroom, watching her snore. This time the sorceress was lying on her back, her head near the foot of the bed. The snoring continued unabated. The girl got up and stepped over to the bed, holding her hand out, palm down, some two feet above the sleeping woman.

  “Maiius Uuthanum.”

  A three foot long catfish, that had to weigh close to twenty pounds, appeared in the air and fell, flopping, onto the naked woman.

  “What? Damn! Kafira’s tits!” Senta shoved the catfish off of herself and rolled off the bed and onto her feet. “You little bint!”

  “I figured you’d enjoy a fish. You’re drinking as much as one.”

  The elder sorceress raised her hand.

  “You’re twelve syllables away from spending the rest of your life as one!”

  The girl just stared at her, unflinching.

  “At least you’re not a coward. Just remember: I’ve sworn an oath not to harm Bryony Byenthal…”

  “Baxter,” interrupted the girl.

  “But I’ve made no such oath about you!”

  “Why are you drinking so much?” asked Sen.

  “Because I’m unhappy! Because I’ve lost everything… everyone!”

  Sen was shocked. She had expected something sarcastic. Instead, her mother actually looked like she was in pain.

  “Who have you lost?”

  “Everyone. Baxter. You.”

  “You still have Zoey.”

  “I still have Zoey. But for how long? Soon she’ll be gone, like Bessemer.”

  “You didn’t lose me,” said Sen. “You drove me away.”

  “You didn’t want to stay with me. You had to go with Baxter and his new perfect little wife.”

  Sen didn’t say anything.

  “I didn’t drive Baxter away! It wasn’t my fault!” Senta turned and ran from the room.

  “Uuthanum Izesic,” said Sen.

  Then grabbing the great fish by the tail, she pulled it onto the floating disk she had created, turned and made her way downstairs, the fish floating along behind her. She stepped into the kitchen, where two household lizzies were cleaning.

  “Take this and prepare it for dinner tonight—fried, with chips.”

  She went to the sink and pumped enough water to wash her hands. Then she sat down at the dining room table. She waited there for more than half an hour, until Zoantheria entered.

  “Senta, I’m so glad to see you here.”

  “I prefer Sen.”

  “Okay. I thought maybe you were getting a little too old for the diminutive.”

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to be called Senta, when my mother is called Senta, my best friend is called Senta, half my cousins are called Senta, and a good portion of anyone in the entire colony that I may chance upon is named Senta?”

  “I get your point, Sen. Are you here for another lesson from your mother?”

  “One I don’t think is coming,” said the girl.

  “Well, I can teach you. Come out into the garden.”

  The girl followed Zoey outside and stood back as she transformed into her true self, the immense coral dragon. She lowered her gigantic head, and placed her left eye, the size of a saucer, next to Sen’s face.

  “Repeat after me: Uuthanum beithbechnoth.”

  “Uuthanum beithbechnoth.”

  “Enunciate. Uuthanum beithbechnoth.”

  “Uuthanum beithbechnoth.”

  “You’re going to love this one. Eight syllables. I’ll bet your mother wasn’t doing anything this powerful, when she was your age.”

  * * * * *

  It was five days before Sen once again found herself inside her mother’s house. This time she was surprised to find the elder Senta awake and dressed, despite the fact that it was only a bit after breakfast. She sat, sipping tea, wearing a yellow day dress that was a grown-up version of the one that Sen herself wore.

  “Have you been spying on me?”

  “I might have done a little scrying of the neighborhood as you came strolling through. Don’t go thinking that you’re all that important.”

  “Yes. No, that’s never been a message I’ve received.”

  “We’re going to the Charmley Dinosaur Ranch today. I want to get one of those birds that everyone is going on about.”

  “A troodon?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. You have one. Do you not?”

  “Spot belongs to Bryony, but he’s very friendly to me too.”

  “Spot,” mused Senta. “What a singularly uninteresting name.”

  “How are you planning to get out there? You don’t have a car.”

  “Foolish child. I am a very powerful something something.” Senta stood up. “Come and stand with me.”

  Sen moved very close to her mother.

  “Wrap your arms around my waist.”

  The girl let out a sigh and rolled her eyes, but did as dire
cted.

  “Don’t bother to memorize this. Fourteen syllables is far too powerful for you. Rezesic idium uuthanum tortestos paj.”

  The interior of the house vanished to be replaced by tall pine trees and large maples, a dirt road lined with wild azalea bushes, and the front of a large ranch style home. Sen immediately dropped to the ground and vomited.

  “Bloody hell!” she groaned between spasms of nausea.

  At last, she climbed to her feet.

  “You knew that was going to make me puke my guts out.”

  “I suspected,” said Senta, with a smile. “Come along.”

  She started toward the front porch of the large house, the girl following behind her.

  A dozen troodons that had ben lying on the grassy lawn, jumped to their feet. They were similar to deinonychus, creatures who had threatened humans since their arrival in the colony. Like deinonychus, and their smaller cousins velociraptors, troodons had large toe claws to disembowel their prey and long mouths filled with sharp teeth. At about a hundred pounds, they were nearly the same size as deinonychus and much larger than velociraptors. Their coloring easily marked them as a different species though. Where the deinonychus were generally brown, and velociraptors were yellowish green, the troodons were emerald green with a bright yellow crest atop their heads. They were also much more intelligent than deinonychus, velociraptors, unenlagia, or other similar creatures. Nowhere was this in evidence more than at this moment, for they were able to distinguish humans that they should not attack from other similar-sized creatures that they should. True, they did frequently run up to human visitors for treats of food or affection. But there was something about these two in particular, that required caution. The troodons stayed well away from their path as they walked to the front door.

  Senta rapped smartly on the doorframe, setting off a cacophony of squawks and shrieks inside the house.

  “Quiet now! Quiet!” ordered a melodic voice inside the home, but the noises continued.

  A woman, about the same age as the sorceress, came to the door. She was strikingly beautiful, from her very large blond hairstyle, to her warm smile, to her perfect figure, to her tiny feet. Wenda Charmley wore a simple day dress of white with pink flowers, and a frilly apron.