The Dark and Forbidding Land

by Wesley Allison

  “No, not really,” said Mr. Vever, who was in a position to know such things. “I believe her engagement ring has a twenty-two karat diamond in a marquis cut. But this is an exceptional stone, both in size and in clarity.”

  “And how much do you think you can get for it in Brech?” asked Terrence.

  “In its setting, I should think over one hundred thousand marks.”

  “We’ll make it an even ninety thousand and save you the cost of shipping and the trouble of finding a broker in Brechalon,” said Terrence. “Do you have a receipt for me to sign?”

  He turned around and took Yuah’s hand, sliding the ring on it.

  “It is much lighter than it appears,” she said.

  Outside the jeweler’s door, she pulled her left hand out of her muff and looked at it.

  “You can’t afford to spend a hundred thousand marks on a ring, can you?” she asked.

  “You have no idea,” said Terrence. “You’ve just become a very wealthy woman.”

  “But one hundred thousand marks. That’s almost a million.”

  “Iolanthe received fifty thousand marks last week as good faith money from Lenahan Norich. And he’s just the first. Merchant and Shannon, Pearce, Hallbourgh, Thurnby they’re all snooping around, looking to invest. In five years I’ll be able to completely cover you in jewels.”

  “I don’t need any more jewelry… not that I wouldn’t accept any. That would be rude, after all. It might be nice to be able to buy some new dresses though.”

  “Anything you want.”

  An hour later they were back in the Dechantagne home, having seen no deinonychus, nor any other of the many frightening species of Birmisia, on their way home. They did spy the bloody spot in the snow where they had encountered them before, but there were no remains of the one killed and those living had apparently moved on. Once inside, they made their way to the parlor to find Terrence’s sister, Colonial Governor Iolanthe Dechantagne-Calliere in a sharp black and white day dress, warming herself by the fire.

  “You did what?” said Iolanthe.

  “We married,” said Terrence.

  “Each other?”

  “Yes.”

  The shocked look on Iolanthe’s face was not too far from what Yuah had expected, though one could never be too sure what Iolanthe’s reaction to anything might be. All in all, she would have gladly postponed the announcement for… well, forever. But to her complete surprise, the look of shock turned to a sly smile, which slowly spread over her new sister-in-law’s face.

  “Very good,” said Iolanthe. “Very good. This really is excellent.”

  “Really?” said Terrence.

  “Yes, of course. You need someone after all, don’t you?” She stepped forward and enveloped Yuah in a great hug, pressing cheek to cheek. “You’ll move into the house right away, of course. You know I’ve always thought of you as a sister.”

  Yuah didn’t know which of those two sentences frightened her more.

  Chapter Four: Private Eamon Shrubb

  Saba Colbshallow sat on a piece of log. It was one of many which had been provided for local lizzies to sit. His left hand was full of small pebbles and he was tossing them with his right hand at a half rusted tin that had originally held butter biscuits. Most of the thrown missiles missed their mark and even when one did land in the tin it didn’t improve his mood. He had been in a bad mood for an entire week now, ever since the wedding. Could you call that a wedding? Five minutes in the Mayor’s office? Yuah deserved much better than that. She deserved much better than Master Terrence too. Saba wanted to say that she deserved him, but he knew that he wasn’t good enough for her either. She was an angel. He had loved her ever since he was seven. Then she had been a burgeoning sixteen-year-old beauty, with long dark brown hair and the most incredible eyelashes. Of course before that, he had fancied Iolanthe, now Governor Dechantagne-Calliere. But that was before she had changed. Not that he blamed her; he understood. Iolanthe was married, and now Yuah was too. And here he was, an eighteen-year-old corporal in the militia, and didn’t even have a girl.

  “Colbshallow, right?”

  Saba looked up to see a big man standing a few feet from him. Saba was six foot three and this fellow was just as tall, but with broader shoulders and a thick muscular chest. Though the man was a few years older than Saba, he was only a private.

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m Shrubb, Eamon Shrubb.”

  “Nice to meet you, Shrubb.” Saba slowly stood up and stretched out a hand, which Shrubb took.

  “What’s your Kafirite name, if you don’t mind my asking?” asked Shrubb. “Um… you are a Kafirite, aren’t you?”

  Saba nodded.

  “I’ve never seen so many zeets before.”

  “I don’t much care for that word,” said Saba, icily. He was still thinking about Yuah and was predisposed to dislike anyone whom he thought might be aiming an insult even in her general direction.

  “Quite right. Quite right. As I say, I’ve never met many zee… Zaeri. I don’t have anything against them though. I never understood that whole ‘killed Kafira’ thing anyway. I mean, didn’t she come back from the dead? That’s a big part of the church. How could she have come back from the dead if nobody killed her? All worked out for the best, as far as I can see.”

  “Do you always talk this much?” asked Saba.

  “No.” Shrubb looked pensive. “Quite uncharacteristic really.”

  “Good. My first name is Saba. What would you say to some fish and chips?”

  “I don’t generally talk to my food.”

  “Come on.”

  Saba led the way across the dirty patches of snow that still covered the militia grounds, stepping over the low fencing, and out into the gravel street. Then they started down the hill on Seventh and One Half Avenue toward the docks. The street was lined on either side with workshops and warehouses. Most of the workshops had open fronts and one could peer in as one passed to watch men working at lathes, saws, and other pieces of equipment. Most of the warehouses on the other hand had their massive doors closed, as there was no ship in the port at the moment.

  “So, you’re a new arrival, are you?” asked Saba.

  “That’s right. Arrived two weeks ago on the Jaquesville.”

  “Family?”

  “No. Left home when I was just a lad. I was working on the docks in the city and heard about opportunity.”

  At the bottom of the hill the road ended at the broad expanse of the dockyard. Though there was little work to be done here, there were several gangs of lizzie dock workers who were being trained by their human foremen so that they would be ready for the arrival of the next big transport. Saba kept up with the ship schedules from boredom as much as anything else, so he knew the next arrival was supposed to be the S.S. Windermere on or about the twenty-ninth.

  “So, you’ve been here since the beginning?” asked Shrubb.

  “That’s right.”

  “I was told you were the one to ask about things.”

  “Who told you that?” wondered Saba.

  “Willy Cornish.”

  “Oh, well. As long as you don’t ask him about anything, you’ll be fine.”

  In the center of the dockyard, two food carts had been set up and several patrons were queued up to purchase their lunches. Mrs. Gopling sold some very nice smoky sausages from her stand and Mr. Kordeshack sold fish and chips from his. Just this week, the Finkler boy had begun setting up his own cart to sell tea and biscuits, but he had not as yet arrived this morning. When the ships came in, these three carts would be joined by another: Mr. Darwin selling locally made leather products. Saba and his new companion stepped into the fish and chips queue and waited their turn.

  “What will you have?” asked Mr. Kordeshack, a man of middle years with thin hair but bushy side whiskers.

  “How about cod?” replied Shrubb.

  “Um... we haven’t any.”

  “How about a lovely haddock?”<
br />
  Mr. Kordeshack shrugged. “Only Birmisian fish.”

  “What do you have today?” asked Saba.

  “We have some Birmisian swordfish. If you’ve eaten swordfish before, it tastes very much the same, though they don’t look much alike when they’re swimming. We have fillets of some of these common small fish that people are calling ‘clubbies’. It’s very nice and flaky. Then we have Xiphactinus, which is a bit like tuna.”

  “I’ll have the clubbie,” said Saba.

  “Me too,” said Shrubb.

  Mr. Kordeshack handed each of the militiamen a large cone made of newsprint and filled with crispy golden chips, topped with three small battered fish fillets. They found a pair of crates next to one of the dock building and sat down to enjoy their meals. Dozens of workers from the nearby shops were now making their way to the food carts for lunch. About half of them chose fish and chips and about half of them chose Mrs. Gopling’s sausages. The Finkler boy pushed his cart out next to the other two. It was covered with breads and small cakes.

  “So… the lizzies,” said Shrubb. “Trouble?”

  “Can be.” Saba took another bite of fish. He noticed that Shrubb was already down into the chips. “Fast eater.”

  “Boarding house,” said Shrubb. “Never lived by yourself?”

  “Um… no. I grew up in the Dechantagne house. My mother was the cook.”

  “The governor?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “She’s a tidy looking lady,” opined the private.

  “Um… yes, I suppose.”

  “You fancy her,” said Shrubb, turning to look at Saba head on.

  “No I don’t.”

  “Sure you do. I’ve seen that look on many a young man’s face.”

  “And you’re so old and wise then?” asked Saba.

  Shrubb shrugged. “She’s a bit scary though, eh?”

  “Not really,” said Saba.

  “I told you you fancied her. What about the mayor?”

  “I don’t fancy him either.”

  “But you know him?”

  “Sure,” admitted Saba, after taking the last bite of his fish. “Mr. Korlann is a really decent man. He used to be the governor's head butler, back in Brechalon. He was always looking out for us kids. He’s a Zaeri, by the way.”

  “You know the sorceress?” Shrubb continued.

  “I wouldn’t say that I know Zurfina, but I’ve seen quite a bit of her.”

  “The stories about her are exaggerated, aren’t they?”

  “Actually the stories I’ve heard have been toned down a bit,” mused Saba. “You don’t see her anymore though. She doesn’t come out of that tall house of hers.”

  “Isn’t that her over there then?” Shrubb pointed across the dockyard.

  Sure enough, Zurfina the Magnificent was striding across the open space. She could manage a gait that no other woman in the colony could, because she was unencumbered by clothing in a way that no other woman would have dared. She had on a long-sleeved black fur coat that ended at her mid-thigh. Whatever skirt she wore beneath it could not have been very long, for it did not peek out at all, but left the remainder of her thighs bare except for the suspenders that held up her black fishnet stockings. The high-heeled boots on her feet only reached up to mid-calf, so almost all of her legs were exposed to the elements—and to everyone’s gaze. Her hair, long the last time that Saba had seen it, was now hacked short and sticking up in every direction, rather like a dandelion gone to seed. This minimized a small bald spot over her right ear.

  Three feet behind the sorceress, skipping, was her apprentice Senta. She wore a heavy coat, below which a black dress kind of ballooned around her and came down to her shins, exposing her black and white socks. In her hand she carried a doll dressed just like her. Three feet behind her trailed the dragon. Even though it was not particularly sunny, the steel colored scales of the creature glinted as it moved along the ground. So graceful was its stride that its eight-foot length seemed to flow like a river. Though Saba could not say that he knew Zurfina, he did know Senta. When the girl saw him, she turned and skipped in his direction, while Zurfina continued on her way. The dragon looked from one to the other and back again, and at last followed the girl.

  “Hey Saba,” said Senta, when she reached him.

  “Hey Senta.”

  The dragon came to a stop beside her and looked up at the faces of the two men. Its eyes were as steely colored as its scales. Shrubb subtly shifted away from the dragon without getting up from his seat.

  “Hey Saba,” said the dragon.

  “Um, hello dragon.”

  “His name is Bessemer,” said the girl.

  “Okay. So what are you up to? We don’t see Zurfina very often—I was just saying.”

  “She’s seeing a man about some furniture.”

  “What kind of furniture?” asked Shrubb, though his interest still seemed focused entirely on the dragon.

  The dragon’s attention in turn, was focused on him. It sniffed around his feet and a thin forked tongue flicked out onto his pant legs.

  “Dog,” it said suddenly.

  “Do you have a dog?” asked Saba.

  Dogs were an interesting topic in Birmisa. There weren’t very many of them and everybody seemed to want one. Of those few that had made the long and expensive trip from Sumir, quite a few had been eaten by the predators that sometimes invaded the town. Much the same was true for cats.

  “I did have a dog,” replied Shrubb. “I couldn’t bring him with me though. Had to leave him in Brech. Surely he can’t smell him on me. I didn’t even have this uniform till I got here.”

  “How about your boots?” asked Senta.

  Recognition crossed the private’s face and he nodded in appreciation.

  “Quite the sharp little chap, aren’t you,” he said to the dragon.

  “Sharp,” agreed the dragon. Then turning his head sharply around, he announced, “Fina.”

  Zurfina was indeed headed in their direction, marching along the dockyard with her peculiarly swift stride. As the three humans and the dragon watched, she walked past a line of lizardman workers. Suddenly one of the lizzies, one which she had just passed without a look, dived for her back. A steel knife, glinting in the sunlight, was clearly visible in the reptilian’s clawed hand. Shrubb was quick enough to shout out a warning, but no one was quick enough to do anything else. There was a bright flash and a loud bang. The lizzie went flying backwards, while Zurfina turned, with a look of surprise on her face to see what had happened. Saba and Shrubb both ran to the scene, while Senta and the dragon followed. A human dockworker reached the now prostrate lizzie before them, but curiously, the other lizzies suddenly became very scarce.

  “Are you alright?” Saba asked the sorceress.

  “Of course,” she replied in her sultry voice. Then she batted her eyelashes at him. “Thank you for asking, you delicious boy.”

  Saba turned away somewhat nervously to peer toward Shrubb, who was now bending down over the fallen reptilian. A large pool of red blood was spreading out across the gravel.

  “What is your name?” Zurfina’s voice was right by Saba’s ear, making him shiver.

  “Um, it’s Saba. We’ve met before. I was on the Minotaur with you.”

  “Really? Were you as scrumptious looking then?”

  “Leave him alone Fina,” said Senta from behind them. “He’s only a biscuit older than I am.”

  “So what happened to the lizzie?” asked Saba, still looking at Zurfina.

  “He’s been stabbed ten times, I expect,” said Senta.

  “..nine, ten. That’s right,” said Shrubb. “How did that happen?”

  “Magic,” said Zurfina slowly, before turning to walk away.

  “She’s got protective magic,” explained Senta. She made her voice low. “They will suffer their attacks ten-fold.” Then she broke into a coughing fit.

  “Should I call somebody?” wondered the dock foreman.

 
“Like who?” asked Saba.

  The man shrugged.

  “Find your lizzies and have them dispose of the body.”

  “Tootle pip,” said Senta to Saba, no longer coughing.

  “Do you have that magical protection?” Saba asked her.

  “Who’d want to hurt me? I’m just a little kid.” With a wave, she skipped away after her mistress.

  “I’m just a little kid,” said the dragon, reminding Saba that he was still there.

  He looked down at the beautiful beast.

  “Fish pot pie,” said the dragon. Then before any of the men could react, it had shot into the air like an artillery shell. Spreading its wings, it circled the dockyard twice and then sped off to the north, the opposite way from the sorceress and her apprentice.

  The next day was squad training, so Saba was quite busy. The following day though was free time. He was just heading out the door of the barracks when he was again intercepted by Private Shrubb.

  “Where are you off to then?”

  “Um, did I tell you that we were to meet up today?”

  “No,” said Shrubb. “But it seems that interesting things happen around you.”

  “Well that’s true,” admitted Saba. “But I’m just going to see my mother this morning.”

  “And she lives with the governor?”

  Saba scratched his head. “Alright then, come along.”

  After leading the way to the great gate, Saba cut left, taking Eamon down the hill to the eastern beach. This long, wide, sandy strip of land divided the sea from the mighty trees that stared off into its vastness. The western coast of the peninsula faced the protection of Crescent Bay, whose waters were almost always as smooth as glass. Here on the east side, even on calm days heavy waves would come crashing—and this was not a calm day. Banks of mighty waves gave testimony to a storm coming in from the north.

  “Winter seems awfully long here in Birmisia,” said Shrubb.

  Saba was about to respond noncommittally, when a print in the sand stopped him short. It was a giant three-toed print of a tyrannosaurus, and it had been made recently. It was part of a trail that led out of the woods just to their right and continued down the length of the beach in the same direction they were walking. Saba looked up and down the beach and scanned through the trees, but there seemed to be no sign of the monster. Seven or eight hesperonychus, built like miniature velociraptors but covered in hairy brown feathers with bright blue heads, ran along in a line picking small mollusks out of the surf. Of course they were just as likely to be out if the tyrannosaurus was present, being for all practical purposes too small to eat.