The Dark and Forbidding Land

by Wesley Allison

  Yuah nodded.

  “How is married life treating you?”

  “Oh married life is fine.”

  Zeah waited, but she didn’t elaborate.

  “Well, um… more importantly I suppose; how are you coping with living here?”

  “There you have hit the nail on the head, Papa. It’s like living inside a chess game. They keep telling me I’m the white queen, but I think I’m a pawn, or at best one of those horse thingies.”

  “Zeah! How wonderful to see you!” Mrs. Colbshallow came in from the foyer. “I was just coming to tell Yuah that lunch is served. I do hope you are planning to join us.”

  “Mrs. C. Why do you think that I chose this particular time of day to visit my daughter?”

  Yuah was glad that her father had chosen this time to visit. Otherwise there would have been no one with whom to converse at lunch. The professor was at the head of the table and Iolana was seated in her high chair. Conversation with the one of them was almost as good as with the other. Besides them, it was just Mrs. C, Yuah and her father. Neither Iolanthe nor Terrence was present. There were though, as usual, huge platters filled with mountains of food including a large pork roast and a savory fruit and vegetable pie.

  “I was hoping to run into your wife while I was here, Professor Calliere,” said Zeah. “I have a paper for her to sign.”

  “Yes, yes. She’s always very busy,” said Calliere, without looking up from his magazine.

  “You’ve been very busy too, Papa,” said Yuah. “I don’t think you should work this hard.”

  “No help for it, I’m afraid. There’s so much to get done. Immigrants are arriving faster than we can find places for them. New construction plans are accelerating.”

  “Can’t Iolanthe help you?”

  “She really does have just as much to do as I do. She’s arranging more ships from Freedonia and is negotiating with the lizardmen. The chief of Chusstuss is demanding a kickback now to let his lizzies come and work in town. Seems he’s having a hard time shaking them down himself. I imagine the same is true of the other chiefs. I wonder that the lizzies don’t prove more trouble than they’re worth. Thank you.” Clegg refilled his tea cup. “I understand that you’ve had a bit of your own lizzie trouble, eh Professor?”

  “Well, you have to keep an eye on these cold-blooded beasts,” said Calliere, still not looking up.

  “What happened?” asked Yuah. “I didn’t know anything about it. Why doesn’t anyone tell me what’s going on?”

  Calliere sighed and closed his magazine. Looking at his sister-in-law, he twisted his face into a patronizing smile. “Nothing for you to worry about. I found out that one of the lizzies had stolen something—a very expensive book.”

  “A book? Which one was it?”

  “I don’t know—a novel I believe.”

  “No. Which lizzie was it?”

  “Oh. Um, Cissy… Zizzy… something like that.”

  “Cissy? Where is she?”

  “I had her taken in, of course.”

  “Sirrek! Sirrek! Oh, where is that lizzie?”

  “What’s the matter Yuah?” asked her father.

  “Clegg. Go find Sirrek or my husband.

  “You seem upset,” said the professor. “Did you know something about this?”

  “No. I knew that Cissy could read, and we talked about books. But I don’t know anything about this book.”

  “Yes.” Calliere nodded knowingly. “Best not to put ideas into their heads.”

  Clegg arrived back in the dining room to tell Yuah that both Terrence and Sirrek were in the bathroom. She hurried to the back of the house to find her husband sitting in the large copper bathtub and Sirrek pouring a bucket of hot water over his head.

  “Cissy’s been arrested. She took a book apparently.”

  “Oh?”

  “I can’t lose her. How will I dress myself?”

  “Towel Sirrek,” said Terrence, getting up. “I’ll take care of it, Yuah.”

  Yuah admired her husband’s body as he climbed out of the tub. Though he was thinner than he should have been, he was mostly lean muscles and generally very tidy.

  “Do you know what book it was?” asked Terrence.

  “No. Is that important?”

  He shrugged.

  “I’ll see if I can find out.”

  * * * * *

  Cissy stood quietly in the corner of the room, the heavy manacles still restraining her wrists. The investigation had not taken long at all. Clark had asked her if she had taken the book and she had confirmed that she had. He didn’t seem interested in the additional information that she planned to return it. Militiamen went in and out of the door, occasionally looking at the lizzie in the corner. Each time they passed through the portal Cissy thought about hurrying through it and escaping into the forest, but she didn’t. She tried to make herself small.

  “Alright, let’s get this over with,” said Clark. “Typaldos, bring the axe.”

  Clark grabbed the chain between the manacles and pulled the lizzie toward the door. She started to shake as she remembered Gorr, the female who had the end of her tail chopped off. In a few minutes, Cissy too would have her beautiful tail maimed. She would not be permitted to stay in Port Dechantagne and she would not be welcomed back in Tserich. She would die alone in the forest, probably set upon by a utahraptor. They stopped several feet outside the door of the barracks.

  “Stand here,” said Clark. “Cissy, serial number 0042 BL, you have been found guilty of theft in the amount…”

  “Hold it,” a voice called out. A second later, Mr. Dechantagne, Sirrek guiding him by the elbow, came around the corner of the building.

  “Good afternoon, Captain,” said Clark.

  “This lizzie is innocent.”

  “Um, she admitted taking the book sir.”

  “What are you doing Terrence?” It was the governor, exiting the building opposite the one in which Cissy had been held, and walking briskly across the snowy ground. “You can’t interfere in colonial justice.”

  “I would be rolling my eyes right now, if I had any. What is the lizzie accused of taking?”

  “Clark?” asked the Governor.

  Clark pulled the book from his pocket and handed it to her.

  “Good Kafira, it’s Garstone.”

  “I believe if you look inside you’ll find the book has my bookplate in it. I purchased it. I gave it to the lizzie.”

  “It also says it’s worth two hundred fifty marks.”

  “It’s probably worth more than that now. You always did undervalue books, sister.”

  “Why would you give something so valuable to a lizzie?”

  “It’s not like it’s doing me any bloody good,” he replied. “Turn her over to me, so I can get back home and out of this blasted cold.”

  Cissy was unshackled and quickly fell in behind Mr. Dechantagne and Sirrek as they started toward home.

  “Wait,” called the governor. She walked quickly over to Cissy and handed her the book. “Don’t let it give you any ideas.”

  Chapter Twelve: Iguanodon Heath

  On the seventeenth of Festuary, the Windermere left port, sailing slowly out of Crescent Bay as the thick snow dropped down from the sky. Though it had stayed a relatively short time, it was still three days behind schedule due to a boiler problem earlier in the journey. The very next day the S. S. Osprey sailed in to take its place. The Osprey was a smaller, newer ship with sleek lines and a proud form. The latest addition to the fleet of the Merchant and Shannon shipping lines, it carried relatively few immigrants but many visitors, particularly those who wanted to make business deals in the new colony.

  Two days after the ship’s arrival, Corporal Saba Colbshallow had his last meeting with Archibald Brockton. Brockton had given him assurances which he could pass on to the governor that she would be reimbursed for expenses incurred bringing immigrants from Freedonia. They had also discussed Streck, though Brockton had dismissed him as rel
atively unimportant.

  “Unless he is significantly more capable as a spy than he is as a wizard, I don’t see him causing much trouble,” said Brockton. “He struts around and makes himself the center of attention. I don’t doubt that he is just what he says he is: a small time solicitor. When and if the Freedonians decide to make a move in Birmisia, they won’t be so clumsy and they won’t be so easily detected. You’ll have to keep your eyes open, young corporal.”

  “I will sir,” promised Saba.

  Brockton certainly seemed ready for an early departure, establishing himself in his cabin just five days later, a full week before the ship was scheduled for departure. No doubt he was only too happy to be out of the drafty barracks building. Saba knew that he was certainly looking forward to his last day in one. He was already planning a cozy little house for himself, on which he intended to begin construction as soon as they snow went away.

  Two days after that, on the twenty-seventh of the month, the sun came out. The stormy weather had lasted eleven days, almost all of those featuring measurable snowfall. The people of Port Dechantagne dug themselves out and seemed giddy at the thought of a bright, cloudless day. Saba made the most of it by walking down the hill to the dockyard, purchasing a sausage and a cup of tea and soaking up the sun while sitting on a half-barrel.

  “Good morning.”

  Saba turned around to find Eamon Shrubb.

  “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Well that’s a fine good morning.”

  “Good morning then. What do you want?”

  “Sergeant Clark requires you.”

  Saba quickly finished his meal and followed. The two men walked past the warehouses and up Seventh and One Half Avenue to the militia base and into the office of Sergeant Clark. Militiamen, like everyone else, were enjoying the sunshine, rolling around in the snow and building snowmen and snow forts. A snowball narrowly missed Saba’s head as he walked into the building.

  “What’s up,” asked Saba, brushing himself off inside.

  Clark yawned and rubbed his eyes.

  “I promised Mrs. Government that I would have someone meet with this hunter.”

  “Haarhoff?”

  “Yes, that’s him. He’s anxious to go out and shoot a dinosaur, so she wants someone to make sure that he has everything that he needs. And you know who her favorite soldier is.”

  “You?”

  “Not me.” Clark leaned back in his chair. “You.”

  “Alright. Where is he? Building six?”

  “Yes.”

  To say that Haarhoff was anxious was an understatement. He and six other men were crowded into his room, leaning over a table with a large map spread across it. Lined up along the wall was a mountain of packs and equipment, ready to be carried into the Birmisian wilderness.

  “Ah, young Corporal Colbshallow,” he said. “We are more than ready to set off. Will you be coming with us?”

  “That remains to be seen. What I need to know right now is whether you have everything that you need.”

  “We have tents, equipment, supplies, cold weather gear, and ammunition. All we need is a native guide to get us to this Iguanodon Heath, and of course some bearers to help carry all the equipment.”

  “That won’t be any problem. There are always plenty of lizzies ready to work. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait until the snow is gone, at least.”

  “We have been waiting long enough. We have all been hunting in the snow before. Collinghouse here was with me when we hunted gharhast apes in the Daglars.”

  “That’s right,” said the man on the other side of the table. “It was so cold that the bullets froze as they were coming out of the gun barrels.”

  The other men in the room laughed.

  “Alright,” said Saba. I’m sure that I can have a guide and thirty bearers ready by tomorrow morning. Will that be enough?”

  “That will be enough,” said Harhoff. “But we will want to leave at first light.”

  “Fine.”

  Saba left the barracks apartment and crossed the militia base to find Private Woodrow Manring sitting at the admissions desk, waiting for new lizzies to be brought in and registered. Standing near him was Private Willy Cornish.

  “Hello boys. Do we have any short timers standing around?”

  “Sure,” replied Manring. “You finally going to get started on your house?”

  “You know I wouldn’t let lizzies build my home. No, we need about thirty to carry supplies for the hunting expedition that’s heading out to Iguanodon Heath. I expect it will be about three or four weeks work.”

  “Looks like we’ve got about thirty over with that lot,” said Cornish, pointing to a group of reptilians waiting for prospective employers.

  “You want old Kendric as a guide though,” said Manring. “Or at least one of his crew.”

  “I wouldn’t mind going out to Iguanodon Heath, just to look around, you know,” said Cornish.

  “I’d go,” said Manring.

  “Me too,” said a voice behind Saba. He turned around to find Shrubb standing there.

  “Fine.” Saba rolled his head around to release the tension in his neck. “Shrubb, you go pick out thirty strong looking lizzies and tell them they’re hired. Have them meet Haarhoff’s team before first light. The four of us will go out to the Heath with the hunters and then come back on our own. Of course, we’ll all have to get Clark’s permission. Now, I’m going to go see Kendric.”

  Kendric was a very old lizardman. No one knew exactly how old, and that included Kendric himself. He had moved out of his home in the lizardman village of Tsuus, and had moved into a shack behind Mr. Darwin’s store. When it had become obvious that Kendric knew Birmisia better than anyone, man or lizardman, the humans had begun coming to him for his services as a guide. He had been hired by explorers, cartographers, traders, naturalists, and workmen laying the new town water lines. He was so sought after that he had taken on several young lizzie protégés. Saba found the shriveled old creature, sitting on a log and carving a piece of bone with a small flint knife.

  “Good morning Kendric,” he said, placing his hand to his neck, palm out, in the lizzie respectful greeting.

  The creature returned the greeting and then slowly raised himself to his feet. Stooped over at the shoulders, he was quite a bit shorter than Saba. In a few places his skin was the same light olive that it had once been all over, but now in many places it had turned black or sickly grey. Much of his face, belly, and shoulders were criss-crossed by jagged scars.

  “I need a guide to take hunters to Iguanodon Heath,” said Saba, and then pausing for a moment. “Two would be better.”

  The old lizzie nodded and then hissed out several words in his own language. The door of the shack popped open and a young female rushed out to take her place beside Kendric. She listened as the old fellow finished whatever he was saying and then turned and spoke to Saba in the best Brech he had heard any of the natives speak.

  “You want two guides? For how long?”

  “One guide will lead the hunters and their lizzies wherever they want to go in search of game. I imagine it will be about four weeks, but maybe longer. The other guide will come with me and three other soldiers. We’ll go out with the hunters and then come right back. Maybe five days. Tell him we want someone reliable.”

  “Kendrikhastu understands you, but he does not speak the hoonan tongue.”

  Kendric spoke again and the female once again translated.

  “He says two thousand coins for hunters. He says he is friend to soldiers so only seventy-five coins for you.”

  Saba knew the coins that the lizzies wanted were copper pfennigs, so the total price was only twenty marks, seventy-five p. It was far more than most lizzies made. The thirty laborers Shrubb was hiring to carry the gear would make only ten p a day each. On the other hand, Harhoff would pay it and not think anything of it.

  “Will you be one of the guides, Kendric?”

  Kendric said s
omething and then hissed mirthfully.

  “The elder cannot do such a journey, even just five days. I guide you and another guide the hunters.”

  “That’s fine. We meet at first light tomorrow outside of building six on the militia base. You know where that is?”

  “Yes.”

  Back at the base, Saba ran into Shrubb again.

  “We talked to Clark and we’re all approved to go.”

  “Lovely.”

  “Looks like you’re needed again,” said Shubb, pointing.

  Saba turned to see Mr. Streck striding toward him. Since the Freedonian had moved to the base apartments, Saba had not been called upon to watch him. Governor Dechantagne-Calliere had added at least two others to her spy ring, and they had taken over the job, but Saba didn’t know who they were.

  “Corporal Colbshallow. Private Shrubb. You are just the two men I was looking for.”

  “What can we do for you Mr. Streck,” asked Saba, not bothering to hide his dislike for the man.

  “I understand that you are planning a trip to the place you call Iguanodon Heath.”

  “That information wasn’t slow to get around,” said Shrubb. “I only got permission to go a few minutes ago.”

  “I was fortunate enough to run into your Private Cornish just now.”

  “Yes, we’re thinking of making him town crier,” said Saba. “What is your interest in Iguanodon Heath, Mr. Streck?”

  “I wanted to have a look—what do you say in Brechalon—take a butchers.”

  “I’m sure Mr. Harfoff would let you join his expedition.”

  “I am not interested in hunting and I am certainly not interested in spending weeks out of doors in the snow. I understand you will be accompanying Harhoff out and then will return directly. If that is so, I would like to join you.”

  “Do you have a sleeping bag or a pack?”

  The Freedonian shook his head.

  “How about a rifle?”

  “I told you I was not interested in hunting.”

  “The same can’t be said for some of our Birmisian animals. Very well, I’ll see to it that you have supplies, and you can join us.”