A sudden screeching of bending metal rent the air and another mechanism slid out of the machine’s corner, just to Senta’s left. It twisted and turned, forming into a great grasping mechanical claw.
“Are you planning to get up and walk away? Or is there something else you have in mind?”
The clicking of typewriter keys sounded from the right and the sorceress knew that a sheet of paper would be sliding out of the slot near the machine’s haunch. This was accompanied by the same screeching, squeaking metal as a second mechanical claw grew from the Result Mechanism’s left front corner. The first hand reached toward her.
“Uastium premba uuthanum tachthna paj tortestos—watt,” hissed Senta.
The claw stopped moving. The sounds of groaning metal stopped, though the hiss of steam, the clacking of switches, and the clicking of typewriter keys continued. For a moment the two bright green lights continued to stare at her, but then they slowly faded away. After almost a minute they went out completely, and all the sounds, save that of the steam, stopped.
Walking back the way she had come, Senta grabbed the paper protruding from the printer slot as she passed by, though she waited until she was out the door before glancing at it. The paper was covered with mathematics. She wasn’t sure, but she suspected it was a magic spell. In this mundane written format, she couldn’t decipher what spell it might be. A simple word would have told her, but it also might have set it off. She crumpled it up and tossed it aside.
The sorceress waved Iolana and the lizzies forward.
“Have them empty the coal bin and get any fuel out of here,” she told the girl. “Then disconnect the water. It is steam-powered after all.”
“Did you shut it down?”
“It sleeps. I don’t know for sure, but I suspect it will sleep for a good long while. If it does wake up, I’d prefer to limit its potential.”
The girl hissed out instructions to the reptilian workers and pointed them to the building. Then she quickly followed the sorceress, who was already walking down the hill. Neither saw the man in the uniform of a police constable pick up the paper that Senta had thrown away.
Chapter Nineteen: Seifer Caldell
Saba Colbshallow stirred a spoonful of sugar into his tea as he bent his head over the Birmisia Gazette. The paper was dated the previous day—Octuary 15th. The headline read Velociraptor Bounty Announced. Saba didn’t give a fig about velociraptors or any bounty on them. It had been fourteen days, two weeks, and nothing—no message, no invitation, no visit. He scooped another spoonful of sugar and stirred his cup.
“Isn’t that enough sugar, dear?” asked his wife from across the table.
He glanced up at her with his eyes, his head still bent over the table. She blanched.
“If you want something sweet, we have some strawberry jam in the froredor,” said his mother. “You could have some on your scones.”
“No thank you, Mother.”
He flipped the paper over. There was nothing that interested him—council meetings, a fire, traffic, crime, building projects. At the bottom of the second page were three advertisements, side by side—ladies’ hats, Major Frisbee’s chutney, and Café Etta. He pushed his chair back and stood up, walking away from the table without a word and having not touched his sugary tea. No one spoke as he left the dining room, but when he was halfway across the kitchen, he heard a small voice calling after him.
“Daddy?”
Stopping, he turned around and looked at his daughter. She wore a red and white striped dress that made her look like a miniature version of her mother.
“What is it, DeeDee?”
“Are you angry at Nan?”
“No dear, I’m not angry with your nan.”
“Are you angry at me?”
With a sigh, he knelt down so that he could look her in the face.
“No, I’m not angry with you. You’re my good girl.”
“Mummy’s a good girl too.”
“Yes, Mummy is a good girl too. Are you going to your lessons across the street today?”
“Uh-huh. I’m going to learn to read today. Iolana has a book about a pig that doesn’t like to get dirty.”
“Well, that sounds a lovely book. When you’ve learned to read, you can read it to me.”
“Tonight?”
“You think you’ll have learned how to read in one day?”
She nodded her head earnestly.
“All right, then one of us will read to the other tonight. Now, Daddy has to go to work.”
The little girl nodded once again and then turned back to the dining room. Saba stood up, crossed the kitchen, and was out the door. He climbed into the car, which the lizzies had already started up and a minute later he was cruising down First Avenue.
When he got to work, he went directly up to his office without stopping to talk to the constables at the desk. He buried himself in paperwork and didn’t look up until his stomach growled. Checking the clock, he saw that it was almost 1:00. As he stepped out his door, he ran into Justice of the Peace Lon Fonstan.
“Good afternoon, Chief Inspector.”
“Judge.”
“I wanted to speak to you.”
“What about?” wondered Saba with a frown.
“The benefit.”
“The what?”
“The benefit for the Police Constables Widows and Orphans Fund.”
“Yes, what about it?”
“I just wanted to let you know that we have Colonial Hall for Novuary sixth. It should be quite an event with you and your lovely wife hosting.”
“Yes, well.” Saba looked at the man for a moment. “All right then.”
Leaving the justice of the peace where he stood, Saba took the elevator downstairs. He started past the desk and just happened to look up into Eamon Shrubb’s face. Eamon paused amid filling out several forms in front of him. He wore his police sergeant’s uniform.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m filling out forms.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” said Eamon.
“Why are you in uniform? And it’s the wrong rank.”
“No. Dot and I decided that being an inspector wasn’t right for me.”
“What the hell does Dot have against it? It’s better money and better hours.”
“Actually, it’s not Dot. It’s me. I don’t think I care to be an inspector. There’s nothing wrong with it, mind. It’s just not for me.”
“Fine,” said Saba. “Stay here and fill out your paperwork then.”
Stepping out the front door and down the walk, Saba made for his steam carriage parked, along with several dozen other vehicles, in the vacant lot next door. Just before he reached it, he stopped to think. He was hungry, but he couldn’t decide if he wanted to drive to the bakery or turn the other way around and walk to the beanery. He thought he might treat himself at Café Ada, but decided he didn’t want to waste the money. Finally, he turned and crossed the street, heading for the Gurrman Building.
Just outside the large stone edifice, which was the headquarters for the colonial government, was a fish and chips kiosk. Shortly after his arrival in Birmisia Colony, Landon Kordeshack had begun selling his battered fish and golden chips at the shipyard. He still plied his trade there, but had expanded the business. The eldest Kordeshack son Talen now ran a kiosk at the train station and younger son Taber ran one here in the center of the government district. Saba stepped into the queue and waited for his turn.
“Xiphactinus,” he said when he reached the front.
“Chips with that, Chief Inspector?”
“That has to be the stupidest question of the day.”
Young Kordeshak waved his hands in surrender, and then filled a newsprint cone with lovely chips. Then he placed a single large fried filet of xiphactinus atop them. The xiphactinus was a large predatory fish that lived in the waters off Mallon. Although more than one fisherman had been killed bringing one in, a s
ingle xiphactinus, at up to twenty feet, could by itself make a profitable fishing trip. The meat was heavier and more substantial than that of clubbies or other local fish, and in the past few years it had become quite popular.
Just around the corner from the kiosk was the Gurrman Building’s garden. Quite a few office workers were enjoying their lunches in the shade of the apple trees or on seats next to the community gardens. Saba paid no attention to anyone else, but found a bench in the shade and ate his fish. He only looked up when a pair of uniformed figures took the seats on either side of him. It was Wizard Cameron and Wizard Winton.
Both wizards had worked for the police department for some time, in Cameron’s case almost two years. Winton started a little over a year before. As he glanced from one to the other, they smiled at him. Both wore their blue constable’s uniform, the badges of which had been replaced with hexagrams. Saba knew Kael Cameron fairly well. He had been to the Colbshallow home several times for dinner. He hadn’t socialized much with Abner Winton. Both facts were due less to Saba preferring one over the other, than that there was a Mrs. Cameron, while Winton was a bachelor. Both looked like pleasant enough fellows, without the unhealthy pallor of Wizard Bell. But Saba wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.
“How are you today, Chief Inspector?” asked Winton.
“I’m… fine.”
“How’s the fish?” asked Cameron.
“It’s fine. Why don’t you go get yourself some?”
“We just ate,” said Winton. “Cameron’s been touring through Lizzytown all morning. I’ve been helping search for Seifer Caldell, our suspected mad bomber. So far no luck though.”
“So, have you seen the Drache Girl yet?” asked Cameron.
Saba shot him a look. “Why? Seems like you wizards are always trying to get hold of her.”
“I’ve met her before,” Cameron replied defensively. “I think Winton here has met her too.”
“Not really met,” said Winton. “But I did see her a few times before she left for Sumir.”
“I just asked because I know she’s a friend of yours and you were expecting to talk to her,” explained Cameron. “Just being friendly.”
“Oh, sorry,” said Saba. “I guess I’m a little touchy. Bell was asking about her and it just set me off.”
“That Bell’s a strange one,” said Winton. “I don’t know whether to feel bad for the fellow or to be afraid of him.”
“He doesn’t socialize much either,” said Cameron. “Talking of which, Marnie wanted to have you and Loana over next week for dinner and she asked me to see if there were any days you were unavailable. She wants to have the stationer print nice invitations. She’s going to invite one or two other couples. Is there anyone you don’t want to socialize with?”
“As far as I know, we’re free every evening,” said Saba. “Tell her she should invite whomever she wants.”
“She could invite me,” said Winton.
“Couples only.”
“I just so happen to have my eye on a redheaded widow. She’s Eamon Shrubb’s sister-in-law.”
“Doesn’t she have a boatload of kids?” asked Cameron.
“It’s a ready-made family. Besides, if things work out, we could always add a couple of strapping Winton boys.”
“I’ll talk to Manie. You know women have control over things like this though.”
“Well, I’d better get back to work,” said Winton. “See you gentlemen later.”
As soon as he had walked away, Cameron turned to Saba.
“I have duties to attend to also. If you ever want to talk with someone that might understand…”
“There is no such person.”
“You might be surprised,” he said, and standing up and with a sloppy salute, heading off around the building.
Saba had just finished eating and was about to toss his trash into a waste bin when the sky seemed to suddenly fall in on him. He was knocked to the ground with so much force that all the air was knocked from his lungs. His ears were ringing and his head hurt. He was still lying on his stomach, dazed, as bricks and burning pieces of wood rained down around him. He rolled over to see a large chunk missing from the top floor of the Gurrman Building and a fire starting to spread.
“Chief Inspector,” said a voice, as Saba found himself being helped to his feet. Looking up, he recognized PC Timburgen.
“Shall I call for help?” the constable asked.
“I’m sure they’re on their way,” said Saba, touching his left ear and finding blood. “We’ve got to go in and help anyone we can. Start at the bottom and work your way up.”
These instructions were no sooner out of his lips than the two wizards came hurrying back.
“Cameron, you go with Timburgen. Winton, you’re with me.”
“Kafira Kristos,” said Winton looking up at the top floor of the building. “I think that’s the throne room.”
Saba ran toward the main entrance, Winton following in his wake. People were streaming out of the building. Most seemed uninjured, but a few were being helped along or carried by others.
“Get everyone out and onto the south lot!” he called to Timburgen.
He headed for the stairwell. The passageway was already jammed full of people coming down, but he pressed along the right edge and kept pushing forward. He didn’t check to see if Winton was behind him. By the time he topped the third flight of steps, it had thinned out significantly. There seemed to be no one left on the top floor. The air was filled with smoke.
“Do you have fire suppression?” he asked the wizard over his shoulder.
“Yes, but I don’t know how large an area of effect it will have.”
“Follow me. We’ll hit it at the center.”
The explosion had indeed occurred in the offices of the colonial governor—that room that citizens of Port Dechantagne often referred to as “the throne room,” despite it having neither a throne nor a queen to sit on one. The outer offices were a shambles. Furniture had been shoved away from the blast as if a giant had tilted the building over and shook it before righting it again. The blast had torn open a hole large enough to drive a steam carriage through in the wall of the governor’s private offices. Saba ran as close as he could, protecting his face with his arm, but he could see little beyond.
“This is it,” he told Winton. “Cast your spell here.”
The wizard pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, unfolded it and held it up.
“Uuthanum,” he said, and the paper disintegrated with a puff of blue flame.
There was an immediate feeling in the air, as if its quantity and composition had suddenly changed. The flames grew smaller and then died. Pushing his way through the smoke filled opening, Saba searched the inner office. Little remained of the giant desk and enormous globe that previously occupied it. The furniture had been reduced to splinters. Large pieces of debris had fallen from the ceiling and roof. Working his way around the room, he could find no trace of human remains.
“Chief Inspector!” called Winton.
Saba stepped back out to find the wizard kneeling over the body of a woman. She was covered in cement dust and black and grey ash. Bending down beside them, he felt for a pulse in the woman’s wrist. It was Mrs. Wardlaw, the governor’s secretary, and she was alive.
“Mrs. Wardlaw, can you hear me?” he asked, but got no response. “Let’s get her out of here.”
With Winton’s assistance, Saba cradled the woman in his arms and carried her from the devastated offices, and down the stairs. After the second flight, he handed her over to Winton, who then handed her over to other police constables, newly arrived, who were working their way up in search of injured.
Outside, most of the workers and visitors to the Gurrman Building had been moved to the vacant lot on the south side. A rescue team from the hospital was setting up an aid station. A wave of relief spread through Saba’s body when he saw Colonial Governor Iolanthe Dechantagne organizing people into groups.<
br />
“You’re all right, Governor,” he said, hurrying to her side. “Thank Kafira.”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She stopped and passed him an uncharacteristic smile. It made her radiantly beautiful. “I was having lunch at the café.”
“There was an explosion in your office.”
“Mrs. Wardlaw?”
“I’m afraid she was injured,” he replied. “I don’t know to what extent, but it looked bad.”
“A bomb?”
“Damn it!” he cursed.
Looking around Saba saw Wizard Cameron near the building entrance. He sprinted to him and grabbed him by the shoulder.
“This was Seifer Caldell again.”
“We can’t be sure,” said the wizard with a frown.
“I’m sure, and I’m sure he’s still in the area. Can you find him? Can you track him?”
“I think so. I’ll need a minute.”
“That’s what you’ve got—a minute.” Turning away from the wizard, Saba saw Eamon directing a woman toward the aid station. “Eamon! Get a couple of constables and join me back here.”
Eamon nodded and started off. Looking back at Cameron, Saba saw that he was kneeling on the ground and concentrating, muttering to himself. Eamon returned a minute later with Timburgen and Partridge.
“Do we have any weapons?” Saba asked.
“No,” said the police sergeant. “What’s the matter?”
“I think this is the work of our mad bomber, and Cameron’s going to try and locate him.”
At that moment, Cameron stood up and pointed to the southwest. “This way.”
The wizard was a little shaky but managed to lead the other four men across the lawn toward Terrence Dechantagne Boulevard. They hadn’t yet reached the roadside when Saba saw him. A dark haired man stood on the far sidewalk watching the chaos at the government building with what could only be called a look of satisfaction. The chief inspector started off at a run toward the man, dodging steam carriages.
He was halfway across the street before Caldell noticed him. Producing a pistol from his pocket, the bomber fired off two rounds, and then turned and ran across the wooded lot. After a quick glance to make sure that the others were still with him, Saba followed. Caldell fired again, this time hitting a tree off to Saba’s right. The noise disturbed a flock of avimimus that had been foraging among the bushes. One of them ran right into the police inspector’s path, almost tripping him.
The Sorceress and her Lovers Page 24