The Dragon's Choice

by Wesley Allison

  “I’m not hungry,” said Yuah.

  “Fill up on peach?” asked Iolanthe slyly, tilting her head to look over Yuah’s shoulder at her bedroom door.

  “Don’t be vulgar.”

  “Vulgar? Me? I’m not the one putting things where they don’t go.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Indeed not. I put things only where they belong. How does the scripture go? ‘The dagger in the proper sheath.’”

  “You shouldn’t quote scripture,” said Yuah. “You’re terrible at it. It’s ‘sheath not your dagger in a brother’s scabbard.’ In any case, I’ve not said anything about the daggers with which you’ve been traipsing through my house.”

  “Oh no? I believe you did exactly that. It’s quite disrupted my life. Poor Mr. Kilmurray has been afraid to come back to the house.”

  “What’s he afraid of?”

  “He’s afraid you’ll tell his wife, of course.”

  “Oh,” said Yuah. “Well, perhaps I was a bit hasty. What you do is really none of my business. Just please show a little discretion.”

  “Fine,” Iolanthe smiled. “What about your little trollop? Are you going to live as a tomcat now?”

  “I am not a tomcat!” hissed Yuah. “And Gladys is not a trollop. She’s my friend and companion. Anyway, I don’t care what you think about me or my situation.”

  “Really?” Iolanthe leaned in close.

  “Yes. Really.”

  “Good. It’s about time. I’ve waited almost fifty years for you to grow up. Now, come down with me and have a bite.”

  “I told you I’m not hungry.”

  “Come down anyway,” said Iolanthe. “You might finally be decent company.”

  Chapter Twenty: Partially My Fault

  Senta walked slowly across the parlor, leafing through the letters from the morning post. She stopped and held one up in her fingers.

  “Another letter from Lord Dechantagne,” she said. “Shall I burn it, like the others.”

  “Yes,” sighed Zoey, sprawled across the sofa, still in her nightgown though it was well past 1:00 PM. “Wait. No, yes, maybe. I don’t know. No, I want to read it.”

  The letter exploded in a bright flash, leaving only a single ember, which drifted down to the floor.

  “Oops. Too late.”

  “Fine. I really didn’t want to read it.” The dragon in human form leaned back and moaned pitifully. “How could he treat me so terribly?”

  “You really must snap out of it, Pet.”

  “But he broke my heart!”

  “Your dragon heart will not be broken by anything as unimpressive as a human boy.” Senta sat down next to Zoey and ran her hand over her hair. “Augustus is just a boy, and boy’s are even worse than men. They are capricious, self-involved, immature little creatures. Forget him. You’ll be better off, I assure you.”

  “But I love him.”

  “You need to get away for a while. Next week, I’m leaving to spend a fortnight at Dragon Fortress. You must come with me. We’ll do nothing but relax and indulge ourselves. Those lizzies will faun all over you, you know. They’ll treat you like the goddess you are.”

  “You just want to push me at Bessemer.”

  “I don’t. I don’t even know that he’ll be there. He spends most of his time these days visiting the lizzie cities. And if he is there, you don’t have to see him if you don’t want to. I promise.”

  “Last time I went there with you, I was kidnapped.”

  “Well obviously, that won’t happen again,” said Senta. “Between the two of us, there’s nothing in the world to threaten us. Now, I’m going to Bryony’s for tea. Why don’t you get dressed up and come with me?”

  “I don’t feel like eating and I don’t feel like watching you torture Bryony.”

  “Suit yourself,” said the sorceress, standing up. “Rezesic idium uuthanum tortestos paj.”

  With a pop, Senta disappeared from her parlor, only to reappear on the front step of the Baxter’s lovely little cottage. She rapped her knuckles on the door. There was no answer. She repeated the procedure, but still nothing. She turned the doorknob, but the lock was engaged. With a snap of her fingers, she magically unlocked it. Then turning the knob, she let herself in.

  The house appeared empty. She walked slowly through the parlor, into the dining room, where she noted the table was set with place settings, but no food was in evidence. She turned and walked down the hallway until she came to a door. She opened it and looked in. Three-and-a-half-year-old Kerry Baxter sat in the center of his bedroom floor, playing with tin soldiers. He looked up.

  “Hello little Baxter,” said Senta. “How are you today?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  She reached into the air and a chocolate biscuit appeared in her hand. She bent down and handed it to him.

  “Where is your mommy?”

  “Mommy’s sleeping.”

  “And where is Sen?”

  “She’s not here.”

  Turning, Senta continued down the hall, opening another door to see Sen’s empty room. The next door opened into the bathroom. That left only one more door at the very end of the hallway. Senta stopped and knocked quietly. She heard something on the other side, but couldn’t tell if it was words or something else. She opened the door and found Bryony lying across her bed, fully clothed.

  “Why Bryony Byenthal,” said the sorceress, stepping to her side. “Why ever are you just lying around when you could be up fixing my tea?”

  “I had just finished cleaning up breakfast, when I got the most dreadful headache.” The woman’s voice was barely audible and she began shivering as soon as she stopped speaking.

  “Teigor tachthna uuthanum Senta,” said Senta.

  “What are you doing? Are you casting a spell on me?”

  “Not on you. Rather on my errant offspring. She should be along soon.”

  “You don’t need to bother her. I’ll get up and make tea in just a moment.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid you won’t,” said Senta.

  She reached down and wiped two fingers across Bryony’s fevered brow, bringing them up to examine the blue perspiration. The stricken woman watched, her eyes growing even larger and rounder than usual.

  “I have the sweat. I’m dying. Senta, you must promise to take care of Kerry for me. I know you’ll lure Kieran back to you. Just promise me to take care of my little boy too.”

  “I promise I will take care of your family,” said Senta, as she reached up into the air and plucked out a large brown vial.

  She pulled the cork from the bottle with her teeth and then bent down and poured the contents into Bryony’s mouth. Standing back up, the sorceress tossed the bottle onto the floor in the corner.

  At that moment, Senta’s daughter came bursting into the room.

  “What have you done to her, you cow?”

  “Don’t talk to me like that, you little bint! I’ve done nothing to her, except save her life of course. Bryony Baxter has…”

  “Baxter,” said the girl. “Wait a minute. What did you say?”

  “I was saying, Bryony Baxter is ill. She’s got the Sweat, but I’ve given her the cure. You need to take care of her. Get her undressed and into bed. First though, get her a cool moist towel for her head and a glass of water. No doubt she’s dehydrated.”

  Sen hurried away to get the requested items.

  “Why?” wondered Bryony.

  “What?” asked the sorceress, looking down.

  “You saved my life. Why?”

  Senta shrugged, scrunching up her nose.

  “You could have had everything you want—Kieran, your daughter back again.”

  “Don’t forget little Baxter. You do make a good case for my letting you die, I must say.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  The sorceress sighed. “I don’t know. I guess when all is said and done; I’m not an evil bitch after all. Who’d have thought?”

  Sen returned, giving Bryony a
glass of water, and then carefully placing a wet cloth over her forehead. She looked up at her mother.

  “What else should I do?”

  “Fix yourself and little Baxter something to eat.” She pulled another brown vial from the air and handed it to the girl. “Keep this handy. This Blue Sweat is catchy, you know. If anything else happens, send for me.”

  The girl nodded.

  “Rezesic idium uuthanum tortestos paj.” The sorceress teleported back to her home.

  She stopped just inside the foyer and thought. Why had she saved Bryony’s life? The woman was right. With her out of the way, Senta could have lured Baxter back. She knew that he wanted her even now. He stayed away from her because he knew that he couldn’t control himself. The two children were a completely different matter. She was already reconnecting with Sen. Zurfina had been right; children were a bore until they were in their teens, at the very least. Why then did she want little Baxter? He was a cute thing, but Senta realized that she didn’t want him so much as she wanted to torture Bryony a bit by making her think that she wanted him. So, why had she saved the woman’s life? She didn’t know, but it made her happy that she had. At the very least, it would keep everyone guessing about her.

  With a smile on her face, the sorceress left the foyer and stepped into the parlor. There, sitting side by side on the sofa, were Zoantheria and Lord Dechantagne, gazing into one another’s eyes.

  “Uh oh,” said Senta.

  Both heads turned to look at her.

  “You evil bitch!” cried Zoey, jumping to her feet.

  “Now now,” said Senta. “Don’t get yourself all upset.”

  “You haven’t seen upset!” hissed Zoantheria.

  Suddenly her polymorph spell failed and she transformed into her true dragon form. Her expanding right wing hit Lord Dechantagne, sending him sprawling across the floor, while her left wing broke out of the bay window. The sofa was crushed beneath her. Her shoulders smashed into the ceiling, making the whole house shake as sheets of plaster fell all around. A long serpentine tail began whipping about, destroying lamps, small tables, and knickknacks. The monstrous spiky head shot toward the sorceress, it’s massive maw snapping.

  Senta pointed and bright colorful lights flashed into Zoey’s eyes. The dragon pulled her head up, breaking into the floor above, sending more plaster falling. Then a grandfather clock fell through the expanding hole, just missing Senta. The sorceress ducked her head and ran beneath the dragon’s neck to where Augustus Dechantagne was struggling to his feet.

  “Hold onto me, boy,” she said, grabbing him around the neck. “Rezesic idium uuthanum tortestos paj.”

  They teleported out of Senta’s house, to appear in front of the Dechantagne portico. The young man fell to his knees, retching.

  “You stupid bloody cow!” growled Augie, climbing to his feet. “Just what do you think you’re playing at?”

  “I was saving your life,” said Senta.

  “Zoey wouldn’t hurt me!”

  “Maybe not on purpose, but I have a piano on the second floor. If it had come through, it would have landed right about where you were.”

  “That wasn’t to what I was referring!” he snarled, straightening his jacket and tie. “You sabotaged me! You tried to ruin us—to tear us apart!”

  “I was just looking out for Zoantheria’s best interests.”

  “It’s my life! It’s her life! It’s our life! I’ve never wanted to hit a woman so bad, ever!”

  “Well, go ahead then. I’ll give you one free shot. Mind you after that, I’ll…”

  His open hand hit her left cheek so hard that it knocked her around three hundred sixty degrees and off her feet. Senta landed on her bottom, facing him, her eyes and mouth wide open.

  “You hit me!”

  “Yes, I did, Kafira damn it!” he said, waving his hand, trying to get the feeling to return to it.

  His palm was bright red. Senta could feel her face go from numb to burning.

  “You hit me,” she said again.

  “It wasn’t enough,” he spat.

  “Well, you’re not hitting me again!”

  “I should ruin you! I should drive you out of Birmisia Colony!”

  “Now now,” she said, climbing to her feet. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. After all, you and Zoey made up. Right? Everything’s good. No hard feelings. I don’t even mind the slap.”

  She reached up to touch her face. She could definitely feel it swelling.

  He took three deep breaths.

  “I’m not doing anything,” he said, holding up his hands. “I’m going to leave you to the dragon.”

  “Well, I’ll go talk to her. She’ll understand. I was just trying to guide her. I’m like her mother, after all.”

  “Yes,” said Augie. “Go talk to her, mother to daughter. That always works out.”

  “Um, everything will be fine,” said Senta, starting to walk toward the gate.

  “Why don’t you just magic yourself home?”

  “I think I’ll take the trolley,” she said, with a dismissive wave. “Don’t want to waste the magic, after all.”

  * * * * *

  Senta took the trolley as far as she could and then hired a rickshaw to take her the rest of the way. There were even more people standing around her gate, gawking, than there usually were. She waved a hand, magically parting them and opening the gate. When the lizzie pulling the rickshaw brought it to a stop, she climbed out and looked at her house. A good-sized bomb wouldn’t have done as much damage. Most of the house’s façade was gone, and the upper floors sagged down pathetically, and furniture that had resided there now lay broken on the front lawn.

  With a sigh, the sorceress walked in through the opening that was about where the front door had stood, through the area where the foyer had roughly been, and into the parlor that was mostly still there. She sat down in a stiff back chair that seemed to be the only piece of furniture in the room still intact. At that moment, a grand piano came crashing through the ceiling and landing with a disharmonic crescendo.

  “This is probably partially my fault,” she said to herself.

  “Sweet Kafira in a hand basket.”

  Senta turned to see Police Chief Saba Colbshallow stepping over debris.

  “What happened,” he asked.

  “Angry dragon.”

  “Huh. Well, I guess the surprising thing is that it hasn’t happened before now.”

  Senta grunted.

  “It looks like you’re going to have to tear it down and start over.”

  “Easily put right,” she said, with a dismissive wave. “It’s all just things, though in retrospect, a few well placed contingency repair spells might have been a good idea.”

  He stopped in front of her.

  “Hey, you’re hurt. Were you in here when this came down? I can fetch Dr. Morgraive.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Well, why don’t you get out of here. Come and have tea at my house. You can stay there until you get all this sorted out.”

  “I doubt your wife would stand for that.”

  “She would accept it,” he said, “but you’re right. She wouldn’t be happy.”

  “We should stay away from each other when possible.”

  “I suppose. I miss our friendship though.”

  She stood up. He had been standing close enough that now, they were almost nose to nose. She put her hands on his shoulders.

  “We’re still friends. We’re more than friends. We have a daughter together. That’s forever.”

  He nodded.

  “Go on home to your wife,” she continued. “You know you don’t have to worry about me.”

  “But I do anyway.”

  Saba turned and found his way out of the house, stepping over broken furniture and stray bricks that had once been part of the front wall. Senta found the stairs and trudged up to her bedroom. Since it was in the back part of the house, it was mostly undisturbed. Peeling off her clothes, sh
e tossed them into a nearby chair. Then she raised her hands and cast a spell.

  “Sieor uuthanum sembia eetarri tortestos err.”

  She could hear things moving around downstairs as the house and its belongings began to put themselves back together. Giving them no more thought, she climbed beneath the cool sheets and went to sleep.

  * * * * *

  The bed shook slightly as a body climbed onto it and slid up next to Senta. Through half open lids, the sorceress saw that it was growing dark. She stretched out her arm and a blond head took its place on her shoulder as the body snuggled up against her.

  “What time is it anyway?” asked Senta.

  “It’s almost nine.”

  Senta lifted her head up to see the form next to her. It was her daughter.

  “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Who were you expecting?” wondered the girl.

  “Well, Zoey actually.”

  “I haven’t seen her.”

  Laying her head back on the pillow, Senta pulled the girl closer.

  “You saved Bryony’s life,” said Sen.

  “Yes. How is she feeling?”

  “She’s all back to normal. Daddy is taking care of her.”

  “That’s fine,” said Senta.

  “I love her,” said Sen. “I… I love you too.”

  “And I love you.”

  “Bryony says… I think we should spend some time together. Maybe we could spend the day together. We could have a picnic.”

  “I have an even better idea,” said Senta. “I’m going on holiday to Bessemer’s dragon fortress. I thought I would stay a fortnight. You can come with me. The lizzies there will treat us like princesses. It will be ever so much fun.”

  “I don’t know,” said the girl. “Two weeks is a long time to be gone.”

  “Well, think about it. I won’t be leaving for a while—a week or ten days at least.”

  “Is anyone else going?”

  “I invited Zoantheria,” said the sorceress. “I don’t think she’s coming though.”

  * * * * *

  “You had to realize she would find out eventually,” said Hero Markham.