The Sorceress and her Lovers

by Wesley Allison

  “You’ll be fast friends by dinner.”

  “Hold on a minute,” said Senta. She quickly went to her small bag and returned with a full bottle of healing draught. “You’ll probably need some of this.”

  Peter started for his room, looking down at the dragon as if he expected her at any moment to jump for his throat.

  “I can finally let her roam free,” said Baxter, bending down to set the baby on the floor. “And we can get packed and cleaned up.”

  “Uuthanum,” said Senta. The bags marched out of from the other room, the dresser drawers opened, and their things began packing themselves. “Or you could come massage the tension from my neck,” she said, throwing herself upon the bed.

  When they arrived later at the dining room for dinner, Peter wasn’t waiting as was his usual custom. They sat and drank as the waiter set out big platters of steamed oysters on the half shell and curried eggs.

  “I’d better go see what’s holding up my half-brother,” said Senta. “He’ll be sad if he misses these eggs.”

  “Watch yourself,” called Baxter, but she waved dismissively without looking back.

  When the sorceress was just outside Peter’s door, she heard a crash from the other side. Trying the knob, she found it locked.

  “Uuthanum,” she said and the door flew open.

  Peter stood in the middle of the room, bent over in a crouch, his arms spread wide. Across from him, the little coral dragon stood atop the dresser, its wings spread in an imitation of the man’s arms. It hissed loudly and whipped its tail, knocking a bottle of aftershave onto the floor where it joined the broken remains of a lamp and at least one other bottle.

  “What in Kafira’s name is going on here?” Senta demanded.

  “This stupid lizard won’t get back in its box!” shouted Peter. “It’s been going crazy and wrecking my room. It’s bitten me half a dozen times and it ate one of my shoes.”

  “Has she been fed?”

  “How am I supposed to go get her food, when she won’t get into her box?”

  “Come on,” Senta called to the dragon, which shot down from the dresser, across the room, and past Peter’s foot; then scurried up her leg and onto her shoulder. From her new perch, she hissed at the wizard.

  “When you’re dressed, we’ll be waiting in the dining room,” the sorceress told him.

  All the eyes in the room were watching her when she sat back down in her seat across from Baxter and the baby. The waiter had already brought their steaks, but the appetizers were still there, so moving the reptile to her lap, she fed it oysters and eggs by hand.

  “I hope your brother is still alive at least,” said Baxter, cutting his steak.

  “Half brother. He’ll be along in a moment.”

  As if her words had summoned him, Peter stepped into the room, striding briskly across the floor and taking the seat on the other side of baby Senta. Baxter waved to the waiter and pointed at the young man, and the waiter obliged by rushing over with a dinner salad.

  “Your medium rare steak is on the way, sir,” he said, placing the salad on the table.

  “Good,” said Peter. “I’m starving.”

  “Straighten your tie,” said Senta, not looking up as she fed the dragon another shellfish.

  “Honestly, I don’t know how you do it,” he said, first synching up his necktie and then grabbing his fork and spearing a tomato. “It’s like having a vicious little dog that’s been eating nothing but coffee and khat leaves.”

  The coral dragon swallowed the food in its mouth and then hissed, “wanker.”

  “Gah,” said the baby.

  Baxter ate the bite of steak on his fork and then scooped some mashed peas and fed it to her.

  “Shame you two didn’t hit it off better,” he dryly told Peter. “The beastie and I are fast friends.”

  The dragon hissed again, but didn’t verbalize.

  “On to topics of serious discussion,” Baxter continued. “I think it’s best if you get your things ready as soon as we get back. I’m sure Senta can help you if you need it. I’ve spoken to the purser. There are three halfway decent hotels in St. Ulixes, but they are some distance from the airfield and they are much sought after this time of year. I would really like to debark as soon as possible and get to the closest one. We might get lucky and beat the other passengers.”

  “I have a better idea,” said the sorceress. “As our things are already packed, why don’t you help Peter? I’ll go back to the room and do a little scrying. I’m sure I can find out which of the hotels is more likely to have a room available for us.”

  “That actually sounds useful,” said Baxter.

  “Well, you needn’t say it like it’s such a surprise.”

  “I wouldn’t if it weren’t.”

  Peter’s steak arrived and Senta, having finished feeding all the appetizers to the dragon, started in on her own. As she ate, she looked around at the other travelers. Most were finishing their meals, but they still glanced at her between bites or sips of wine. Custard was brought for dessert just as the sorceress and her brother finished their main course. It was delicious and both of them devoured theirs. Baxter took a single bite and fed several to the baby, before passing it across to the table. Before Senta could touch it, the tiny dragon grabbed the bowl and clutching it tightly, buried its snout in the creamy yellow pudding.

  “Don’t say I never gave you anything,” Baxter told the creature, as he got up and lifted little Senta from her high chair. “We’ll meet you back at the room. It shouldn’t take long to get Peter sorted out.”

  Senta nodded. Then pulling the now empty bowl from the dragon’s hands, she placed it on the table and pulled the beast onto her shoulder. Every eye in the room watched her as she walked out of the dining room.

  Once in the stateroom, the coral dragon leapt from her shoulder to the bed and slithered up onto the headboard. The sorceress stepped to the wash table in the corner and retrieved the basin and pitcher of clean water that had been placed there by the steward. Taking them to the center of the room, she sat down, cross-legged on the floor. Placing the basin directly in front of her, she poured the contents of the pitcher into it and then set the container aside.

  “Uuthanum,” she said.

  The surface of the water grew opaque and suddenly an image appeared there. It was downtown St. Ulixes, filled with bustling humans and the ugly reptilian trogs. Facing the street was a large building, in good repair, with a sign above the door that read The Portnoy.

  “This is the place then,” she said.

  Standing back up, she recited “Tijiia uuthanum uluchaiia,” as she reached out her hands and molded the air as though it was clay. Between her palms, shadows collected together in a humanoid shape. She stood back and looked at it. Though it was nothing more than a cloudy shadow, to an average person it would appear as a stately gentleman in a top hat. Senta could see it both ways.

  “Don’t just stand there,” she said, and then pointed to the basin of water. “We need two rooms at The Portnoy—suites if they have them. Arrange for transportation from the airfield and breakfast in the morning. Then we’ll need three first class train tickets to Birmisia Colony.”

  The shadowy form lifted his top hat and bowed at the waist. Then it was sucked head first into the washbasin. The water returned to its natural transparent state. She climbed to her feet, leaving the basin and the pitcher in the center of the floor and threw herself onto the bed.

  “That was exhausting,” she said. She started to flop over onto her back, but only got halfway before her bustle stopped her mid-roll. “Bother.”

  The coral dragon climbed down beside her, and placing its tiny hands on her shoulder, pressed its mouth close to her ear.

  “Zoantheria,” it said.

  “What?”

  “Zoantheria.”

  Senta rolled up into a sitting position, picking the creature up and placing it on her lap.

  “That’s it, is it? My little Zoey ha
s a name.”

  She cuddled the dragon close and it immediately bit her on the chin.

  * * * * *

  They made quite a little procession coming down the ramp from the S.S. Windlass. Baxter led the way, carrying little Senta protectively in his arms. Her mother followed. She had changed into a black and purple evening dress and a black boater with a gauzy veil. She carried the newly christened Zoantheria in her carrier. She was followed by Peter, carrying his own luggage, and one steward carrying two of Senta’s bags, and a second carrying her other bag and Baxter’s suitcase. A tall, stately man in a top hat awaited them at the foot of the ramp and handed Baxter a portfolio that contained, among other things, tickets on the trolley.

  Unlike Port Dechantagne where the trolleys were pulled by dinosaurs, or Brech City where they were pulled by horses, in Mallontah the trolleys were steam-powered. The sooty carriage waited, belching out smoke until they climbed aboard. Several other passengers joined them, but had to first purchase tickets from a small kiosk. Once everyone was situated, the driver blew an extremely loud steam whistle and the ghastly vehicle chugged off down the line, leaving a huge cloud of steam and smoke in its wake.

  It was half an hour later when the trolley stopped near the center of town. The hotel was just up the street, so the sorceress and her companions started walking. Baxter hired a dirty looking trog to carry their luggage, since the stewards had of course stayed at the airfield. He kept his eye on the reptilian though.

  “We should get inside,” said Peter, stepping close to Senta. “There are probably quite a few people in this town who’d like to see you dead.”

  “Pish-posh. I was here a few months ago and had no problem.”

  No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she felt a sudden tug at her shoulder. Looking down she saw dark, red blood bubbling from her chest. Only then did she feel the pain, as the world started to spin around her. She could see her brother’s startled face, and then everything went black.

  * * * * *

  Opening her eyes, Senta didn’t know where she was. The pain in her chest felt as though it was cutting her in two, and she struggled to suck air into her lungs. She could see no one around her, but a dull brown ceiling was above her.

  “Uuthanum,” she said, before once again falling unconscious.

  * * * * *

  She woke with a gasp. The pain in her chest had dropped to a dull ache, but every breath was a struggle. Her mouth was dry. Suddenly she saw Baxter’s face above her.

  “Senta,” he said, but he sounded as if he was underwater, and he looked like he was behind a yellow curtain. He was on the other side of a magical shield, she realized.

  “Uuthanum,” she said, and the barrier dissolved.

  “Thank Kafira,” he said.

  He cupped her chin in one of his hands while he poured a healing draught into her mouth. She had never noticed how delicious they were before.

  “Ow!” she croaked, as he ripped open the bodice of her dress.

  “Kafira Kristos,” he said, looking down at her. Then he called to someone behind him. “Get that damned doctor in here!”

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “You’ve been shot, you silly bint. I got you inside, but then you encased yourself in magic. Even though Peter tried to unmagic it several times, we haven’t been able to touch you.”

  His face was replaced with that of a bespectacled man with grey chin whiskers. He opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue absentmindedly as he examined her.

  “Yes… yes... I’m going to have to cut the bullet out. It’s not good. It’s near your heart and may have damaged your lung. Actually I’m surprised that you’re not dead. I’m afraid the bullet messed up your… um, star.”

  “Probably why I’m still alive,” she said, feeling her words starting to slur. “Residual magic under the skinnn…….”

  She screamed herself awake when the doctor cut into her chest.

  “Easy there missus,” he said, replacing the knife blade with his long thin fingers. “I can see the bullet. It’s not as deep as all that.”

  She skipped in and out of consciousness, her mind pulling her one way and the pain pulling her the other. At last opening her eyes wide, she saw the doctor’s hand holding up a lead bullet.

  “There we are.”

  “Get out of the way, you ass,” growled Baxter, pulling the doctor aside and taking his place. He poured another healing draught into the wound. Glancing over his shoulder he said, “Get the needle and catgut. I’ll sew her up myself.”

  “Where is Zoey?”

  “She and Senta are with the hotel manager and his wife.”

  “Will they be all right?”

  “I told him if anything happened to either one of them, I would murder his entire family.”

  “Good thing he didn’t know you weren’t serious.”

  “He knew just how serious I was.”

  The sorceress slipped again in and out of consciousness as he sewed her wound. At last he was finished and she felt him cover her with a blanket and kiss her on the forehead.

  “I may have to reconsider marrying you,” she said.

  “I never asked you,” he replied, as she drifted off.

  Chapter Fourteen: The King

  Hsrandtuss looked around. Yessonarah didn’t look appreciatively different than it had yesterday, or the day before, or for that matter, ten days ago. The dam was still under construction. The roadway down to the river was still being lined with gravel from the riverbed. There were more wooden houses situated around the hill—over a hundred, but the great buildings that he had envisioned were nothing but foundations, at the most. The lizzie population had grown though. He shook his head.

  “What is the matter, my husband?” asked Szakhandu.

  “Things are not moving fast enough.”

  “We are making great progress.”

  “It’s not fast enough. We don’t even have enough houses for all our people yet.” He pointed toward the hill. “I’m supposed to be looking at Yessonarah there. Does that look like a city worthy of the one remaining god to you?”

  “Tsahloose was not built in a day.”

  “Was it built in ten days?” he asked. “We’ve been here ten days now.”

  She hissed mirthfully. “No, Great King. I don’t think it was built in ten days either.”

  “I’m glad you find things so amusing.”

  “My husband, you have to look at the positive side of things. We have made contact with seven of the nearby villages and we’re already trading with three of them. Game is plentiful. We’re feeding all our people. Workers are quarrying stone. In another ten days, it will begin to look like a real city.”

  “I don’t want to wait,” he said petulantly.

  “Why don’t you take a walk? That will make you feel better and it’s good for your health.”

  Hsrandtuss grunted, but started down the path toward the river. It was a hot, humid day. Insects filled the air—more and more so as he approached the water. He hadn’t even reached the edge of the trees before he spotted half a dozen feathered runners scavenging the refuse piles. His people were dumping their garbage too close to the settlement. The six velociraptors, as the humans called them, lifted their heads to watch him pass. They didn’t approach, but they didn’t flee either.

  When he reached the river bend, he stopped. About a hundred lizzies were moving large stones into place. The dam, having been started on this side, about halfway spanned the riverbed. On the far side of the river, several channels detoured the water around the work area. He didn’t see any crocodiles. The hunters had killed one two days earlier and the others might have moved down river. Then again, maybe they were just hiding under the surface. The gigantic beasts were known for their swift and savage attacks, but not their intelligence.

  Turning southwest, Hsrandtuss followed the bank upstream. As the forest grew a bit thicker, the patches of dappled sunlight grew less frequent. Here h
e stopped to examine some blackberry bushes, but they had been denuded of fruit.

  He heard the rustling of brush behind him and turned, expecting to find more of the raptors, but it was instead four lizzie males. He didn’t recognize any of them.

  “If it isn’t the great Hsrandtuss,” said one of the males, “out for a walk in the woods with no weapon.”

  Without looking down, the king ran his hand along his belt. It wasn’t completely true that he was weaponless. After all, he had his knife. But he had gone and left his sword and spear at home. He rested his hand on the knife handle, but didn’t pull the blade from its sheath. One of the males moved to the left, while two others moved to the right, so that they quickly had him surrounded.

  “I think it’s time somebody showed you that you’re not so tough. You can’t just move in wherever you want and take over the country. People have already claimed this land. It isn’t yours.”

  Hsrandtuss hissed with annoyance. He hated when they wanted to talk. If he had his sword, he would have used the opportunity to attack, but since he didn’t, he had to wait for them to make the first move, and this warrior apparently thought he should give a speech first.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” he said. “You have weapons, but it seems you’ve decided to bore me to death.”

  “Die invader!” hissed the warrior to Hsrandtuss’s right, thrusting his spear at the king.

  Hsrandtuss sidestepped and grabbed the spear with his right hand, jerking the now off-balance warrior forward. Spinning around, he unsheathed his knife and jabbed it into his attacker’s neck. The talkative male jumped toward them with his sword raised above his head. Hsrandtuss shoved the wounded lizzie, a fountain of blood now spraying from his carotid artery, into the other’s path. Then he launched the spear he had taken at the male originally on his left. It skewered him through the middle of the chest. The lizzie with the sword tried to swing, but only managed to hit his already bloody companion. As the poor wretch dropped to the ground, Hsrandtuss reached over him and stabbed the first warrior in the eye with his knife.