The Sorceress and her Lovers

by Wesley Allison

  “I was out the door early this morning. How about you?”

  “I’ve been leaving before breakfast lately.”

  “Your shift isn’t that early, is it?”

  “Well, along with taking care of our three boys, Dot’s been watching her sister’s three kids. It tires her out, so she’s been sleeping in.”

  “It doesn’t look like you’re going to waste away,” said Saba, looking him up and down. “Unlike our friend Bell here.”

  Bell smiled weakly. Compared to Eamon, he did indeed look famished. Though not fat, the police sergeant was a very big man, with broad shoulders and a heavy chest. The wizard was not only thin; he hunkered down like a lizzie, trying to curl up for warmth in his coat. His gaze shifted from Saba to Eamon and back.

  “I was just telling the chief inspector that I usually can’t eat on those days I perform my art. Perhaps I need to make more of an effort to take an early breakfast.”

  “I’m sorry we haven’t had much of a chance to get to know one another,” said Saba. “I’ve had Wizard Cameron over to the house several times, but he’s been with us longer than either you or Wizard Winton.”

  “Yes, I’m not much for social gatherings,” said Bell.

  “It would be nice to meet a few people though, eh?” said Eamon. “It’s hard being in a new place and all.”

  “I suppose.”

  The lizzie returned with three large platters filled with food, setting them before each of the three men. Though not a place of fine dining, the beanery was well known as somewhere that a man could find a full fry-up—bacon, sausages, black pudding, white pudding, three fried eggs, grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, baked beans, and soldiers. This morning, the tomatoes had been replaced with fried onions, the white pudding had been replaced with potato cakes, and since this was Birmisia, the eggs were from either buitreraptor or mahakala nests. All of the portions were large. Eamon immediately tucked in. Bell picked up his fork and poked at the eggs before finally taking a few bites of potato cake.

  “The bacon’s good,” said Saba, waving a piece in his direction. “It’s pork. I know the eggs take getting used to.”

  The wizard tried a thick slice of bacon and nodded. “To be honest, I was never too fond of eggs in the first place. I could never eat them if they hadn’t been cooked through.”

  “Put them on Eamon’s plate. You’ll never see them again.”

  Eamon reached over with his fork and removed the offending ovum. “They are a bit gamey, but you get used to them. So what’s your Kafirite name, Bell, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “It’s um… Obed.”

  “You haven’t been here long. I’m guessing you’re from Regencia.”

  “No, I’m from Merseyshire.”

  “All sort of the same though, isn’t it? Northwesterners, eh?”

  “Let the man eat his breakfast,” said Saba.

  Bell flashed him a thin-lipped smile, but continued to pick at his food.

  “The black pudding is good,” said Saba. “Lots of iron, they say.”

  “He knows that already,” said Eamon. “Merseyshire boys had to have been raised on black pudding.”

  “You might as well ask me what you want to know,” said Bell, hunkering down a bit more, even though it has slightly warmer than when they had arrived.

  “Don’t mind Eamon,” said Saba. “He’s just being friendly.”

  “Not him. You. You brought me here to interrogate me. You just asked the sergeant along as a distraction. You knew he’d ask questions and you could gather information without seeming to try.” He looked up at Saba with weary eyes. “It’s a common technique.”

  “You learned magic at Académie Argei?”

  “No, I didn’t matriculate at Argei. I started my studies at Yoel, but I left after two years.”

  “Yoel? That’s a Zaeri school, isn’t it?” asked Saba. “You’re not a Zaeri, are you?”

  “My grandmother is, on my father’s side. That was enough to get me in. I was a poor student and lost my sponsorship, so I became an apprentice of Wizard Argol.”

  “You must have done well, obviously you are accomplished.”

  “Working with Wizard Argol was good for me. He was a great man.”

  “You’re more accomplished than either Cameron or Winton. They’re both journeyman wizards.”

  “We’re all journeymen wizards. Cameron is fourth level and Winton a third.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m registered as a fourth level, but I’ve improved. I think I could test out as a master.”

  Saba looked over at Eamon, who had been shoveling food into his mouth during the exchange. He speared one of his own sausages on the point of his knife and took a bite. Bell was still looking across at him with hooded eyes.

  “So why didn’t you go to work for the war department?” Saba asked.

  “I thought there were better opportunities here.”

  “What kind of opportunities?”

  Bell leaned forward a bit. “What do you mean?”

  “Just what kind of opportunities were you looking for?”

  Bell stared at Saba, a frown forming on his face.

  “Oh, that’s what this is about,” said Eamon.

  “Quiet you,” said Saba.

  “What is it about?” asked Bell.

  “You’re here for the magical opportunities,” said Saba, leaning in to look Bell in the face. “You wouldn’t be the first wizard that thought he could leach magical energy from a powerful sorceress.”

  “I… no… I…”

  “You see mate,” said Eamon, between bites of toast. “The chief inspector here is the self-appointed guardian of the important women in the colony—kind of their champion you might say. He’d beat you to death and drop you in the bay for insulting the governor. I’d hate to see what he’d do if you threatened the sorceress.”

  “Didn’t I say to be quiet?” Saba hissed at him.

  “Steady on mate. She’s not even in the country.”

  “I’m not… I don’t…” Bell started.

  “You don’t what?” growled Saba.

  “I wouldn’t try anything with her.”

  “Like I said, you wouldn’t be the first. I’ve heard that you’ve asked about her.”

  “Since the war?” Bell sat up straight. “Has she had a problem with a wizard since the war? I doubt very much if she has. Kafira. You’d have to be bloody stupid or insane to try anything with her. I certainly wouldn’t want to face her by myself—and probably not with other wizards backing me up.”

  “But you have asked about her.”

  “Yes, of course I have. Do you know any new arrival that hasn’t? I would love to meet her, but I… I would be nervous. I can’t imagine that kind of magical power in one person. Master Argol was powerful, a second level master, but nothing like her.”

  “You know, she wasn’t the really powerful one,” said Eamon. “You know it was the other one, not her, that wiped out the Freedonians.”

  “But she was the one that killed the dragon,” Bell smiled crookedly. “Do you know when the last time a human being did that? Thousands of years before Magnus the Great.”

  “So you’re not here for her,” said Eamon, and looked at Saba. “You see, all’s well.”

  “You know, in a way, she is the reason I came to Birmisia,” said the wizard. “I came for the business opportunities. There are a half a dozen wizards in all of Mallon. In Brech, there are a half dozen in every square mile. Most won’t come here because of her. So there should be ample opportunity for magical practitioners.”

  “Then you had better keep up your strength. Eat up,” said Saba, and then waving to the lizzie waiter. “More tea over here.”

  Saba’s mind returned to breakfast on his ride home. He felt slightly bothered by the way he had grilled Bell, just not bothered enough to regret it. No one could blame him really, not if they knew the situation. But there was no one who knew the situation. Pulling to
a stop in front of the machine shed, he sat thinking until he heard a shout and saw DeeDee running down the steps. She skipped toward the steam carriage, laughing, and Saba allowed himself just a moment to think about his other child, somewhere far away. Then he jumped down to the ground and scooped up the little girl on the fly and tossed her up into the air. She squealed with joy.

  Chapter Ten: Angel and Demon

  Baxter threw the child up into the air as she squealed. He caught her, and holding her at arm’s length, made a silly face. Then he did the whole thing over again. Senta glided up behind them and wrapped a long white arm around his shoulder.

  “I’m going to be jealous if you spend all the time with the child.”

  “Children need attention if you don’t want them to grow up to be sociopaths,” he said, at last pulling baby Senta in and blowing on her neck.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “You don’t know how much a person can miss human companionship until you’re in that situation.” He placed the little girl on the floor and stood up. Turning around, he took the woman in his arms and kissed her deeply. “I suppose I should pay you some attention too. Why don’t I show you right now?”

  “Now?” she pretended to be shocked. “Right here in the daylight? With the baby watching?”

  “It won’t harm her to see two adults showing affection.”

  “I meant that baby.” She pointed to the tiny coral-colored dragon balanced on the corner post of the bed.

  “Gawp,” it said.

  “Why don’t you put that damned animal back in its carrier?” he said, releasing her from his arms and stepping back, careful that the child was out from under his foot.

  “Don’t be cross,” said Senta. “I’ll put her in the other room, then I’ll feed little Senta. She’ll fall right asleep and then we’ll have two or three hours all to ourselves.”

  “Fine,” he said, only slightly mollified.

  The sorceress ordered the dragon into the adjoining room, which was little more than a closet really. Even though they had the largest suite on the S.S. Windlass, which was the largest Brech dirigible—quite a bit bigger than the Frühlingshuhn—it was still only a collection of three very small rooms. Then she sat down with the baby and attempted to give her a bottle. She did take it, but fussed when her mother tried to burp her, until she was given over to Baxter, who completed the job and had her asleep inside of five minutes.

  “Now where were we?” he asked, unbuttoning his shirt.

  “I hate to spoil the mood,” she said, “but there is a man spying on us outside that door.”

  “What kind of man?”

  “A wizard.”

  “A government wizard or a freelancer who’s out to get you?”

  “Does it matter?” she asked.

  “It does to me. King and country and all still means something to me.”

  “Very well,” she sighed. “Uuthanum.” She waved a finger toward the door. “He’s from the Ministry of War.”

  “All right.” Baxter went into the third room of the suite, the tiny parlor, and then out the door from there to the hall. Senta could hear a brief tussle in the hallway outside. Then Baxter entered through the bedroom door from the corridor. In his right fist he carried a man in pin stripes by the scruff of the neck. The man was clutching at his throat and fighting for breath.

  “I doubt he’ll say any magic words for a minute or two. I don’t suppose he’ll be able to answer any questions either.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to interrogate him. I just want him to go away.” She raised her hands above her head. “Rezesic edios uuthanum illiam vor.”

  The man in the pin stripes disappeared with a pop.

  “Where did he go?” asked Baxter, looking at his right hand.

  “Away.”

  “I was holding him.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t miss.”

  “Did he make it back to Greater Brechalon?”

  “Probably. If not, then somewhere between here and there.”

  “We’re a hundred miles out to sea.”

  “Then he picked an extremely poor time to spy at my door,” said Senta.

  Once again she snaked her arms around his neck and moved her face very close to his. She breathed on his mouth, but waited for him to kiss her. He did. Then stepping away, he quickly undressed, but not before creating a little bed on the floor with two blankets and placing the sleeping baby there, safely out of the way. Senta snapped her fingers and seven layers of clothing seemed to just fall off of her and onto the floor. She was reclining naked on the bed when he joined her. They made love. She enjoyed the way that he made love to her. It was never the same way twice. Never the same touches. Never the same order. He must have had a lot of practice, she thought, though that didn’t bother her. As she lay bathing in the warm afterglow, just dozing off, it occurred to her that she might never get tired of this. She suddenly woke when he took her by her shoulder and thigh, flipped her onto her stomach, and pulled her to her knees. No, she might never get tired of this, she decided.

  It was almost two hours later when she woke up. Baxter’s face was right in front of hers and he was awake, staring at her. She smiled.

  “Satisfied?” he asked.

  “What are you talking about? I don’t enjoy that. It’s horrible and I just put up with it because you’re a man and you have those horrible urges.”

  “That wasn’t what it sounded like.”

  “That was all for your benefit as well.”

  Suddenly there was a crash and little Senta began crying. Both adults sat up to see that she had pulled a lamp off the occasional table along the wall and onto her head. The glass had shattered upon hitting the floor.

  “Kafira damn it all!” shouted Baxter, jumping up, and in three quick steps scooping the baby into his arms.

  With a wave of her index finger, the sorceress sent the pieces of the lamp back up onto the table where it reassembled itself.

  “There. All better.”

  “I wasn’t worried about the bloody lamp,” he said, examining the growing lump on the child’s head. “What if that thing had been lit?”

  “Then we would have all died in a horrible conflagration. You know the lamps on airships don’t even have oil in them. Calm down.”

  “We’ll need some vinegar and brown paper for this lump,” Baxter said more to himself, or perhaps to the baby, than to her.

  “What are we, barbarians? There’s a healing draught in my small bag. I’ll fetch it.”

  Getting up from the bed, she opened the door to the other room. The coral dragon ran out the doorway. When Senta returned to the bedroom with the small brown bottle, she found the little beast at Baxter’s feet. In one hand the man held the baby. The other he held down as if to protect his exposed privates from the needle-like teeth of the reptile. She pushed the little beast away from him with her foot and handed him the bottle. He poured a few drops on the baby’s head and then as he handed it back to her, he looked her over from head to toe.

  “You’re balanced out.”

  “Kafira’s tit,” said Senta, glancing down at her own naked body.

  The constellation of tattoo-like magical sigils that decorated her body had increased by one. She now had a two inch star on each shoulder, atop each breast, one around her naval and one six inches below it, one on each hip bone, one on each knee, and now one atop each foot. Twelve stars. Twice the number that Zurfina had sported. Maybe Senta was being too free with her magic, or maybe she was just using the wrong kind. What was it Zurfina had said? “It’s been my experience that enchantments and transmutations don’t leave much of a mark, but create, teleport, or summon and there you go.” She turned around.

  “Any more in back?”

  “Just the two,” he said, looking at the large dragon in flight spread out across her upper back, its open wings covering both shoulder blades, the tip of its barbed tail only four inches above the smaller sleeping dragon that re
sided on her lower back. “A very nice bottom though.”

  “Thank you,” she said, shaking it a little as she walked back to the other room.

  They had tea in the dining room. Baxter wore his brown suit. Peter joined them, wearing a brown suit of the same cut, one that Senta had purchased for him in the great city. It was the first time that Senta had worn her new pink and white day dress. The bodice was striped while the skirt portion was a solid pink with a huge white bow on the bustle. And the baby just matched her. Their party received more than a few glances from the other thirty or so diners. No, Senta decided, they were all looking at her. Unlike Freedonia, men weren’t scarce in Brechalon, or in this case on a Brech transport. And of course, everyone aboard knew who she was.

  Baxter had ordered their menu the night before and he had done an excellent job. There were chicken and tarragon finger sandwiches, salmon and dill sandwiches, a vegetable frittata, wee beef and kidney pies, a pickle platter, cucumber salad, fig scones, and plain scones with plum jam, tiny pink frosted cakes, chocolate candies; and a lovely assortment of blueberry, strawberry, vanilla cream, and lemon curd tarts. Peter and Senta began picking through the vast selection of food and filling their plates. Baxter fed the baby some vanilla cream from the center of a tart, while the waiter filled his sparkling wine flute. Tasting it, he nodded, and the waiter filled the other two flutes.

  “Well, this is as fine dining as I’ve ever had,” said Peter.

  “The great Wizard Bassington never took you to Café Carlo?” wondered Senta.

  “I don’t think food was one of the master’s… our father’s interests. I think I could learn to like it though.”

  “Don’t get too used to it,” said Baxter. “I doubt you’ll be eating like this in Birmisia.”

  Senta smiled. “You’re going to be surprised. There were three very high-class cafés open when I left. Café Ada could set out a tea that would be the equal of anyplace outside of Natine.”

  “It’s hard to picture. When I was there it was nothing but wilderness. My most vivid memories are those gigantic trees and the monsters in the water.”

  “There are still plenty of both of those,” explained Senta. “Behind my estate, the forest is still completely wild. You can take Peter out hunting and I doubt you’ll have to walk far to find game.”