Baxter swam toward the ship, but it disappeared below the waves long before he was able to close half the distance. As the thought that his first command was now gone registered in his brain, so for the first time did the fact that he himself was in serious trouble. He was already exhausted and though he knew there was land close by, he had lost all sense of direction and no longer had the light in which to see it. He was wearing his boots and they were filled with water, dragging him down. He thought about removing them, but didn’t think he could stay afloat while he did so. Debris was floating all around, but most of it was tiny. He grabbed the first thing he saw floating that was larger than he was and pulled his body onto it, grinning mirthlessly when he realized it was part of a lifeboat.
Holding on for his life, Baxter spent the night being tossed about like a cork. He was sure that he hadn’t fallen asleep. He couldn’t have. Yet sunrise appeared far sooner than it should have. As it did so, it framed the shape of the island that Snowflake had circumnavigated the day before. It looked less than a mile away. There was nothing else to do but make for it. Finally able to remove his boots, Baxter tied them by the shoelaces to the single metal cleat on the remains of the lifeboat. Then lying on his stomach, he kicked with his feet toward land.
Though sheer exhaustion forced him to stop and rest, the naval commander at last came close enough to the surf that he abandoned his life preserver and swam the remaining distance, boots pulled along in one hand. He finally collapsed on the warm tropical sand, rolling onto his back to notice that the sun hand already reached and passed its zenith.
* * * * *
Senta came downstairs after having taken a long luxurious bath. She still wore a towel wrapped around her body and one wrapped around her wet hair. She hadn’t quite decided what she was going to do this day, but had a half-formed notion that she might see Mrs. Bratihn about another dress. Her closet seemed abnormally bare of late. When she reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped out into the parlor, she noticed the blond girl with a copy of Senta’s face, rifling through the books on magic, and pulling selections from the bookcase along the far wall.
“Isn’t that the same dress you wore yesterday?” Senta asked.
“Where is everybody?” the girl asked, blatantly ignoring her question.
“Everyone is gone except me. What are you doing?”
“I’m going to stay with Bessemer in a warehouse by the docks.”
“Sounds drafty and dirty.”
“It’s just fine. I’ve got a cot. Anyway, since I’m going to be there and he sleeps a lot, I thought I would do a little studying.”
“Better you than me,” said Senta, heading towards the froredor.
“Well as a matter of fact, you should have been there yesterday. You might have learned something.”
“What could I possibly learn from you?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a snot?” asked the blond girl. “Besides, I never said you would have learned it from me. So just never mind. You can find out on your own.”
Senta shrugged and began cracking eggs for breakfast. She barely noticed when the blond girl left. After two fried eggs, two slices of toast, a bit of cheese and a tomato, along with some tea, Senta went back up to look through her dresses. She really did need a new one. At last she chose one that was Natine green, vertically striped along the bottom with moss green. Unlike her selection of the previous day, this one had no plunging back. It left no skin visible at all, with a high neck that almost reached her chin, and long sleeves that surrounded her wrists in lace. She magiced it clean before getting dressed.
Mrs. Bratihn looked up from her Brysin’s Weekly Ladies’ Journal when the bell above her shop door rang. She gave Senta a warm smile as the young sorceress sat down at the other end of the worn sofa.
“What’s new in the fashion world?” asked Senta.
Mrs. Bratihn turned the magazine around revealing a very sharp dress in deepest burgundy and trimmed with pink. In style, it was not too different from the one that Senta now wore, but the color made it look so commanding, like something Mrs. Staff would wear.
“Oh, I do like that,” said Senta. “Can you get that fabric?”
“It will take a while, but I’ve already placed an order. Mrs. Dechantagne saw that same dress.”
“Oh. What else do you have?”
“I saw something else you might like…” Mrs. Bratihn flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for and held it up. “I thought at the time that it looked like something our Zurfina would look good in.”
The model on the page was wearing a bright violet dress with a lilac underdress and matching bodice. It was trimmed all around with black lace, an explosion of which was at the bottom of each sleeve. The sleeves ended just below the elbow, showing quite a bit of the arms, and the neckline was so low that had Zurfina worn it, the two stars on her chest would have been on full display. The model also had a violet parasol and a violet hat both trimmed in the same black lace, the latter of which also featured a black veil that came to just below her nose.
“I don’t think I can wear that,” said Senta. “I don’t have enough up top.”
“I think you may be wrong there,” replied Mrs. Bratihn. “You’re not as shapeless anymore as you used to be. And I’ve just gotten in some new Prudence Plus overbust corsets. The whole idea of them is to make the most of what you have.”
Five minutes later in the shop’s back room, Senta was looking down at her body partially covered by the Prudence Plus overbust corset.
“I have bosoms!” she exclaimed.
“Indeed you do. Now let’s take some measurements.”
Mrs. Bratihn took a complete set of measurements and not just those changed by the enhancements. Once this had been completed, she wrote out an order for the material and the lace. It was often no longer necessary to wait months for a ship from Sumir. Much of her needs, including all that was required for Senta’s dress, could be had from her supplier in Mallontah. It would arrive on the train within a fortnight.
“Thanks Mrs. B,” said Senta, handing over four gold decimarks as payment in advance. “I can’t wait to see what I look like in it.”
“I’ll wager that you want to find out what a certain young man thinks you look like in it,” replied the seamstress sagely. “Should we be on the lookout for an engagement ring?”
“I’m too young to get married. I’m only turning fifteen in… oh, it’s tomorrow already.”
“Gaylene Finkler is only seventeen and has two children already. People in Birmisia marry younger than they did back in Brech.”
“Well, I’m not Gaylene Finkler.”
“No, of course. And she married out of her faith… oh well, I suppose you will be too.”
“What are you talking about,” asked Senta. “Graham’s a Kafirite.”
“Yes…”
“So am I.”
“Oh. I just assumed you were a Zaeri… or I don’t know… something else.”
“I used to go to the Great Church of the Holy Savior.”
“That’s fine, dear. Far be it from me to cast aspersions.”
“Too right,” said Senta.
Leaving the dress shop feeling somewhat miffed, Senta started to turn toward the docks. She wanted to pick up some fresh fish to fix for Graham’s dinner that evening. She stopped short however when her stomach let out a loud growl. She had eaten breakfast less than an hour before, and it had been a big one too, but now she was suddenly starving. She changed directions and walked across the square to Finkler’s Bakery with the idea that she would pick up a crumpet. They would still be serving second breakfast.
When she reached the edge of the bakery’s outdoor café, she suddenly stopped. Sitting there with his back to her, but still easily recognizable was her boyfriend Graham Dokkins. And sitting across from him was a cute ginger girl in a white blouse with a bow tie. She immediately stormed over to the table
“Just who the hell
are you?” she pointedly asked the girl.
The redheaded girl just stared at her. Graham turned around and looked, a frown forming on his face.
“Are you going dim? She’s intrepid girl reporter Nellie Swenson. You met her yesterday at the docks.”
“I did?”
“You really don’t remember? You are going dim.”
“Well, what are you doing here with her then? ”
“We’re eating brunch.”
“Brunch?”
“Yes, it’s sort of halfway between second breakfast and lunch which is really kind of nice because I don’t like to eat so early…”
“I know what brunch is!” snapped Senta. “If you like her company so much, why don’t you have dinner with her too?”
The boy looked blankly at her.
“Don’t bother showing up to my house tonight!”
Her index finger shot into the air and Graham paled as he took an audible gulp. The ginger girl just continued to stare, her eyes now as round as her mouth. Then Senta spun on her heel and marched through the crowd of patrons who dived, sometimes literally, to get out of her way. One didn’t quite. He was a chubby man in his late thirties with thinning golden hair and bright blue eyes. With a wave of her hand, Senta sent him flying over a table, knocking bowls of porridge and sliced vegetables in every direction.
* * * * *
Cissy finished tying the yellow bonnet below Terra’s chin and stood up. The bonnet matched her cute little yellow dress. Where was the boy? He had been here just a moment before. It seemed so odd. Human children were almost unable to move when they were born, but by their second year, they were almost as quick and wild as lizzie offspring.
“Hyah!” shouted Augie, jumping out from behind the door.
Cissy threw her hands up, shaking them in mock fear. Terra squealed and then laughed, just as she did every day when her brother jumped out at her.
“Now come,” said the reptilian, scooping up the girl, and taking the boy with her other hand.
“Where are you off to?” asked Mrs. Dechantagne, when they reached the foyer. She was still in her nightdress, though it was well past noon.
“To the store. Yuah come too?”
“Not this time. I have a headache. I’m going to take a nap.” She looked down at the children. “You both look precious. Give Mama a kiss.”
First Avenue was one of the most well traveled roads in the colony, at least on the east side. It stretched from Town Square to the small homes of Zaeritown, along the way passing the largest homes in Port Dechantagne—some deserving the title of mansion. Dozens of lizzie work crews were here, laying bricks on the roadways, pouring cement sidewalks, or installing little wrought iron fencing around the trees that were designated not to be cut down. Many of the lizzies stopped to stare at the female with two human children.
A large male who was pushing a wheelbarrow in the opposite direction from the Dechantagne children and their nanny, Cissy knew him only by his human name of Zinny, hissed “khikheto tonahass hoonan.”
“Kichketos tatacas khikheto tonahass hoonan?” asked Augie, looking up at Cissy.
“Talk hoonan,” she ordered.
“What did he mean you ate a human?” asked the boy. “Who did you eat?”
“I not eat… Cissy is lizzie. Cissy act hoonan. Tsass khenos khikheto tonahass hoonan. Lizzie on outside Hoonan on inside.”
“That’s stupid,” said the boy. “You don’t act like a human. You just act like Cissy.”
She reached out a clawed hand and tousled his hair.
The inside of Mr. Parnorsham’s Pfennig store was crowded with patrons, both reptilian and warm-blooded. The proprietor, a bespectacled older man with very little hair who was shorter than Cissy, waved over the shoulder of his human customer as they came inside. Cissy walked the children through the aisles to the toy counter. It was a small twenty-four inch square counter divided into six-inch square compartments, each with a different type of toy. There were rubber bouncing balls, toy airships, tin soldiers, doll sized teacups with saucers, and wooden dogs which could be pulled by a string. Augie immediately went for the red-coated tin soldiers, pulling them out one after another and comparing their poses.
“I wanna see,” complained Terra.
Cissy lifted her up so that she could see over the top of the counter. She picked up two of the soldiers and held them close to her face.
“Boy soldiers.”
The bell above the doorway rang again and another female lizzie entered pulling along two human boys by the hands. Cissy recognized Sanny, who had worked in the Stephenson home, working her way through the other patrons to the toy counter.
“Tsaua Sassannasanach.”
“Tsaua Ssissiatok.”
“Tsaua Claude, Tsaua Julius,” said Augie to the boys.
“Tsaua Augie,” they replied, not quite in unison.
The boys immediately started in on a conversation about the tin soldiers and the limited number of poses that were available for them.
“Did you see Angorikhas this morning?” asked Sanny quietly in the lizzie tongue.
“No, I didn’t see him today. I know who you mean.”
“They say he disfigured Szarakha and blinded one of her eyes.”
“Szarakha?”
“The Kordeshack maid; the one the humans call Sorry.”
“Why did he do that? And if he did, why is he still here?”
“You know why,” said Sanny. “Szarakha khikheto tonahass hoonan. And as for the why… you know the humans don’t care what happens to us.”
Cissy abruptly stopped the conversation with a wave of her hand, as she looked down to see the three boys paying careful attention.
“Inghaa nicta Cissy…” said Augie.
“Talk hoonan.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you, Cissy.”
“Little child not to whorry. Cissy is fine.”
“I’ll punch that Angorikhas right in the goolies,” pronounced Augie.
“Yeah,” agreed Claude Stephenson, though his younger brother seemed less sure.
Cissy hissed mirthfully, partially at his sentiment and partially because she understood that he had no idea where the goolies might actually located on a male lizzie.
“I want the park,” said Terra. “Park, park, park! Let’s go!”
“Yessss,” acknowledged Cissy.
She bid farewell to the other nanny and ushered the children to where Mr. Parnorsham stood behind the counter. Augie had a tin soldier in his hand and when Cissy picked up the little girl to set her on the counter, she saw that one of the small redcoats was clutched in her fist as well.
“Two soldiers. Three Dillingdoe’s. Account.”
“Two toy soldiers and three cold bottles of Billingbow’s sarsaparilla and wintergreen soda water. That’s one mark fifty-two P on the Dechantagne account,” said Mr. Parnorsham.
* * * * *
The small train, consisting only of a locomotive and a caboose, stopped at the end of the spur line and deposited its passengers—a blond teenage sorceress and two teenage boys carrying rifles. The girl was dressed in black leather. The two young men wore khaki explorer clothes and pith helmets. All three had high boots, proof against the thick and thorny brush. On the southeast edge of the great forest through which the train had journeyed, more than a hundred miles from Port Dechantagne, the landscape grew hilly and rugged.
“I really don’t think you two should be out here,” said Senta. “I can do just fine on my own.”
“It’s not safe out here for you either,” replied Shemar Morris. “I know you can do magic and all, but Graham says you were almost eaten by dinosaurs on a couple of occasions.”
“Let’s get going,” said Benny Markham, his eyes constantly scanning the area. “I’m really of no mind to run into a tyrannosaurus.”
“Not likely to see one around here,” replied his friend, “at least according to Colonel Mormont.”
“That’s good.”
“Much more likely to run into a gorgosaurus.”
“Yeah? What are they like?”
“They’re like short tyrannosauruses,” said Senta.
“That’s just ace. How about we get a move on? I’m getting paid a flat rate, not by the hour.”
Senta reached into the air just above her head and grabbed something floating there, which only she could see. It was a glamour—a spell stored for use at a later time. The spell was scrying magic that would lead her hopefully to a large coal deposit. The time to use the spell had come. She crushed the gemlike object between her thumb and forefinger and watched as tiny sparkles spread through the air like fairy dust, gradually drifting into an arrow shape that pointed almost due west.
“This way,” she pronounced.
They crossed over a series of small hills, which on their far side looked out over a vast open plain. Hundreds of monstrous creatures roamed across it. The vast majority of them were of a type that had the same basic shape as the iguanodons found near the coast, but were a solid deep brown in color and had very different forefeet.
“What does Mormont say about those?” asked Benny.
Shemar pulled out a small leather bound copy of the book that almost all Birmisian residents now carried. He opened it and read. “Gryposaurus. Large herds, very fast, eats grass and shrubbery.” He stuck the book back in his pocket. “Bunch of triceratops over there. Oh, and look.”
Four grey and green striped predators stalked along the edge of the massive herd. They were very much the same shape as the tryrannosaurs known from the coast, though much shorter and with a lighter build.
“Let’s skirt over that way,” said Benny. “I’ll feel better if we can keep those paralititans between us and the gorgosaurs.”
“They’re not paralititans. They’re sauroposeidons.”
The Young Sorceress Page 5