Hsrandtuss watched the workers maneuver the two-ton square of stone up the hill. A few pushed while many others pulled with ropes wrapped around the block, and still others moved the logs used as rollers from the back to the front as needed. He flushed his dewlap in satisfaction. Things were looking good. The dam had been completed and the lake was filling up. Those workers freed from labor on the dam were now building walls—either the stone wall fortifying the hill or the wooden wall surrounding the entire town site. The bottom floor of the palace was under construction and there was even a single room with a ceiling in place.
“You are pleased, my husband?”
The king turned to look at Szakhandu, who ran her hand over the scar on his back. She had long since been allowed back into his hut and his good graces.
“It is good,” he said.
“Have you thought any more about Kendra’s plan?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What plan?”
“Her idea to raise her offspring from the time they hatch.”
“I was afraid that was the plan you were talking about. Have you been discussing it with her?”
“We all have.”
“All of you?”
“Yes.”
“And have you come to a consensus?”
“Sirris, Tokkenoht, and I like Kendra’s ideas. Sszaxxanna is against them. Ssu hasn’t expressed an opinion.”
“Ssu has no opinion,” said Hsrandtuss, “because Ssu has no thought in her head. That is why she is my favorite wife.”
“Ssu is not your favorite,” said Szakhandu. “Tokkenoht is.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Lately, she has held most of your confidences.”
“She has proven herself both valuable and reliable. That doesn’t mean she is my favorite. However the fact she, as well as you and Sirris, agrees with Kendra settles it for me. We will build a private nesting area for you to use. One of you will be the royal egg keeper and will watch over all of your nests.”
“This is well done, my husband.”
“It is an experiment,” he said. “We will try it for a season, but we don’t need to spread it around. I’m not sure how other people will take it. Talk with the others and decide who might make a good egg keeper. I’ll make the final decision after hearing your advice.”
At that moment a young male came running to the king. He stopped and quickly placed his hand in front of his dewlap, palm out, in a sign of respect.
“Great King,” he said. “Great Yessonar has been spotted in the sky.
He pointed off just above the distant horizon.
“Excellent!” boomed Hsrandtuss. “Tell Straatin to prepare a place for him, with something comfortable for the god to sit upon. And tell Chutturonoth to form an honor guard to accompany me.” He turned to Szakhandu. “Get all the wives. They must come too.”
A short time later, the king marched out from the partially constructed city, leading his six wives and a dozen warriors, all painted in their finest form. He could see Yessonar circling above the other side of the plain. He was mildly surprised that the dragon hadn’t simply landed by Yessonarah, but he wasn’t bothered too much about it. After all, a god could do whatever he wanted.
It wasn’t long before it became obvious what the dragon was doing. He was circling over a herd of sauroposeidon. The huge herbivores ranged in size from those only recently having reached adulthood and weighing not much over ten tons, to the old matriarch who was more than 150 feet long and weighed well over 60 tons. They skirted the edge of the pine forest. The dragon picked the one that he wanted and with a quick flip upward to gain speed, turned, and shot toward the ground like a missile. Hsrandtuss and the other lizzies were almost lifted from their feet by the force of the great reptile hitting his prey, a forty ton adult female. The sauroposeidon scattered before regrouping and hurrying away in a group.
By the time the lizardmen reached the site of the attack, the dragon had consumed a good portion of the dinosaur. He gave them a quick glance, but continued eating, raking off giant pieces of meat with his great clawed hands. The other reptilians stayed well away, outside the range of the constantly whipping barbed tail, but Hsrandtuss marched forward until he was actually standing in the dragon’s shadow.
“Great Yessonar,” he said. “I would gladly have had a fire made and cooked this for you. I know you like your meat the way the soft-skins serve it. Truth be told, I eat it that way myself sometimes.”
“Takes too long,” said the dragon, his mouth full. “You wouldn’t believe how hungry I get flying.”
“It doesn’t seem quite fair, does it?”
“What?” wondered Yessonar.
“I have noticed that pound for pound, a soft skin will eat two or three times as much as I do. For some reason, their bodies need a great deal of energy. I would imagine you eat two or three times as much as they do, pound for pound I mean. And here you are, as big as two tyrannosauruses. How many of these do you have to eat in a day?”
“Two or three, depending on how active I am.” He took another bite, blood dripping over the shiny steel scales of his chin. “You are a funny fellow, Hsrandtuss. You have a very inquisitive nature and you are always looking for ideas. You remind me of a human in that way. That’s why they need so much food, you know. It’s their brains. That and the hot blood. They are always thinking.”
“They think too much,” replied the king. “Who wants to think all the time? Clearly it is the quality of the thinking and not the quantity that’s important.”
Hsrandtuss could feel the dragon’s laughter vibrating in his bones.
“Your city is coming along.”
“It will be a great city,” said Hsranduss. “It will be great and beautiful and we will build many temples and dedicate them all to you. We will worship you and make many sacrifices.”
“If you feel you must.” He looked down at the body of the sauroposeidon. There was very little left of it. “I’m going to wash off in your little lake. Then I will visit your town.”
“We will have a place of honor for you.”
Seemingly without effort, the dragon shot into the air, across the plain and past the city site, disappearing behind the trees near the river. The king turned around and looked at his eighteen companions. They were all staring at the spot on the horizon where Yessonar disappeared.
“What are you just standing there for?” he demanded.
That evening the young god lay comfortably on a huge pile of soft grasses, as he watched the post-feast dancing around a great bonfire. Hsrandtuss sat just to his right, leaning back on Ssu while Sirris fed him little pieces of roasted meat and raw fruit.
“Is this not wonderful?” he asked the dragon.
“Very nice.” The great, clawed hand lifted up the bucket that he had been using as a drinking cup, shaking it back and forth to indicate its empty state.
“More ssukhas!” Hsrandtuss called.
A female quickly carried out another bucket, exchanging it for the empty one. The dragon sipped his drink and then lowered his head to the ground, watching through half open eyelids either the dancers or the fire or both.
“You should stay with us for a long time,” said the king. “I will have the workers stop what they are doing and build you a nice permanent place to sleep. We will make a great sleeping mat for you.”
“I’m going to sleep for a few days, and then I’m going to leave. I have several other stops to make before I visit my sister.”
“Sister.” Hsrandtuss rolled the word around on his tongue. “That must be a human word, even though it sounds like one of ours, because I don’t know what it means.”
“A female child with the same parentage,” explained the dragon. “Senta.”
“Oh, I know the sorceress,” said Hsrandtuss. “I remember her well—a funny little thing with a white tuft of hair on top of her head. But you didn’t call her this word before—sister.”
“She’s all grown up now,” said the dragon. “She’s taller than any of your wives.”
“I don’t think about the soft-skins growing, but I suppose they do.”
“Yes, they do. She always felt like a sister to me, but I never thought about it while Zurfina was alive.”
“The witch woman,” Hsrandtuss mused.
“I miss her so much,” said Yessonar quietly. “I suppose that I’m the only one who does.”
The great steel beast closed his eyes. He slept three days. Hsrandtuss ordered guards around him, not to protect him, but to see to any needs he might have when he woke. People had become so used to him lying there snoring while they walked past, that when on the fourth day he suddenly rose up and stretched his mighty wigs out, several dozen lizardmen were startled enough to trip over one another or drop their burdens. Hsrandtuss hurried down from where he had been supervising the construction of a watch tower.
“Great Yessonar,” he called. “I have a present for you.”
He sent for the present, but it took some time to fetch it. The wait seemed interminable. The dragon rolled his eyes around, looking bored.
“Well, where is it?” shouted the king. He glanced nervously toward the young god.
Finally, he saw Szakhandu running toward him, leading six females carrying three large tubs. They set them down on the ground before Yessonar.
“Color me intrigued,” said the dragon. “What is it?”
“A human delicacy—egg salad. Two hundred fifty eggs. We were unsure of the other ingredients, but my sixth wife assures me the taste is a good approximation.”
The dragon picked up one of the tubs, which looked ridiculously small in his hand, and licked out some of the contents with his forked tongue.
“Too bad we don’t have some of Mrs. Finkler’s bread.”
Hsrandtuss just shrugged. He didn’t know the meaning of the words “missus,” “finklers,” or “bread.”
The dragon ate all three tubs of egg salad in a very few minutes. Then stretching out his wings, he said, “Thank you for your hospitality, Hsrandtuss. I will be back again this way.”
“Good bye Great Yessonar,” said the king, but before the words were completely out of his mouth, the young god was so high in the sky that he was almost no longer visible.
“I don’t think he liked the eggs, said Hsrandtuss.
“He ate it all,” Szakhandu pointed out.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” said the king dejectedly. “Get this area cleaned up.”
Hsrandtuss went back to supervising the construction, a task that had occupied most of the three previous days. It still looked far too much like a big pile of rocks for his taste. He was trying to imagine what it would look like when finished, when Sszaxxanna stepped up next to him.
“So, you are going to do it, are you?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Letting Kendra and Szakhandu raise their offspring themselves.”
“Yes I am. Ssu, Sirris, and Tokkenoht as well. And you too if you have a mind to.”
“Well, I don’t. It’s unnatural. The soft-skins are good for some things. We should be trading for their tools, but they are mammals.” She said the word like it was something nasty on her tongue. “Their biology isn’t like ours.”
She stopped as another great block was moved up the pathway to the construction site. Waving her hand in front of her face, Sszaxxanna spat onto the ground.
“I had some ideas about the palace I wanted to share with you,” she said. “Can we walk through here later, when we don’t have to breathe all this dust.”
“We will come back before bed,” said the king. “It will be nice and quiet.”
Hsrandtuss didn’t eat much that evening. There were plenty of people eating and a few dancing, and there was some ssukhas drunk, but the king was feeling pensive. When most of the others had gone to bed, he walked up the hill to the construction site for the palace. Here he found Sszaxxannah waiting for him as promised.
“I take it you have news from Hiissierra?” he asked her.
“Tokkentott has taken over control of the area that was ours, but it doesn’t matter. That place is the old place. This is the new.”
“We need to keep contact with Tistakha. He will be important for his connection with the humans.”
“True,” said Sszaxxannah. “And we must watch Szisz. He is between the soft-skins and us now. He would love to cause trouble. But it is not them that I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” said the king. “So you have some other plans you want to share with me?”
“Oh, I have plans,” said Sszaxxannah.
Pain shot through the king’s head as he was knocked off his feet. Everything went black for a moment, but Hsrandtuss fought against the fog of unconsciousness. He could no longer see out of his left eye, and he felt blood running down onto his shoulder, but he staggered back to his feet. Chutturonoth stood next to the king’s first wife, the club he held still had a bit of Hsrandtuss’s skin stuck to it. Sszaxxannah reached down into a small bag she carried over her shoulder. The king’s stomach turned over when she pulled out one of the small weapons the humans made—the kind that killed from a distance and made the sound of thunder.
“Where did you get that?”
“From the human trader,” said Sszaxxannah. “Now Chutturonoth will be the new king and I will be his only wife.”
“You can’t make Chutturonoth into a great king, just by killing me.”
“Why not? I made you a great king by killing that fool Hkhanu.”
Hkhanu had been the witch doctor of Hiissierra. He had struggled for control of the village with Hsrandtuss and then Yessonar had killed him when it seemed that he had poisoned the god’s young companion, Senta.
“It was you?”
“Yes,” said Sszaxxanna. “I poisoned the soft-skin priestess and blamed that witless witch-doctor for it. I took you from being the chief of a small tribe to the beginnings of an empire. Now it’s time I took the next step.”
“What will the people say if you kill me?”
“They will say nothing when they find out the great prosperity that awaits them. Chutturonoth has already traded gold to the humans, and the humans want more—much more.”
“You stupid eggless female,” hissed Hsrandtuss.
“I am not eggless,” said his wife.
“I was talking to Chutturonoth. You two have ruined everything! That gold hat is mine!”
Hsrandtuss dived into the larger warrior, biting, ripping, and tearing. Chutturonoth had size, strength, and youthfulness on his side, but the king had experience and more importantly, deep seething anger. He tore the younger warrior’s dewlap with his teeth while his claws raked at the soft underbelly. Chutturonoth fought back at first against the unexpected ferocity, but it soon became clear that his tail wasn’t in the fight. Hsrandtuss pressed even harder. At his first chance, Chutturonoth crawled out from beneath him, jumped to his feet, and ran.
Hsandtuss rose and turned to Sszaxxanna. She raised the human weapon in her hand and pointed it at him. But nothing happened. Hissing in frustration, she shook the metal device, but it was no more deadly or loud than a stone. Hsrandtuss cuffed her across the face, knocking her to the ground and knocking the weapon from her hands.
“Great king!”
Suddenly Szakhandu and Kendra were there.
“Are you injured, husband?” asked Szakhandu.
“Yes, I am.”
Szakhandu began examining him, prodding the wound on his head until he pushed her away. Kendra reached down and picked up the weapon of the soft-skins. She moved it from one hand to the other and then held it out straight in front of her. A deafening roar echoed through the hill as the device spat fire, and Sszaxxanna flopped over onto her side, a large bloody hole in her head.
Hsrandtuss looked at Kendra. She just shrugged and held out the weapon.
“I’m not touching that!” said the king. “Put it away somewhere before it decides to kill somebody else.”
Kendra took the satchel from Sszaxxanna’s body and slinging it over her shoulder, placed the gadget inside. Within half a minute, several dozen lizzies had gathered around, drawn by the thunderous report. Szakhandu took charge.
“Bring the healing women for the king,” she ordered. “Find Chutturonoth and arrest him. And take that.” She pointed at the body near her feet. “Throw it into the river and let the crocodiles eat it.”
* * * * *
Saba walked along the sidewalk, carrying DeeDee on his shoulders. Eamon Shrubb walked along beside him, similarly burdened with his son Homer, while the two older boys, Saba and Al walked along side-by-side behind them. It was a warm day, though the wind had come up the night before and it was still quite breezy.
“Don’t come crying to me about your lack of free time,” Saba told Eamon. “You had a fine job as inspector and you gave it up.”
“I just don’t feel investigating is the best use of my abilities.”
“What do you mean? You uncovered our bomber.”
“I’m an officer of the peace. I’m good at it. I don’t see why I should have to change positions just because I’ve been here longest.”
“That’s not why, you ninny. It was supposed to have been a reward.”
“It’s just the way I feel,” said Eamon.
“Fine. Say no more about it. I freely admit you’re the best police sergeant that ever was. Maybe it would be better to elevate one of the wizards.”
They turned the corner onto Forest and walked up toward J.D. Kinney’s 5 and 10 Pfennig Dry Goods and Sundries, to find a large crowd milling around the front of the building. None of the group, all men, seemed to be interested in going into the store. They parted as Saba, Eamon, and the boys stepped up.
“It’s no use, inspector, they’re all out of shovels and pans,” said one of the men.
“Every store in town is out,” said another.
“What in the world are you talking about?” asked Saba.
“Gold,” said the first man. “Haven’t you heard?”
“Heard what exactly?”
“Ripley Everton and his brother just came back from trading with the lizzies. They discovered gold.”
“Did they, or did they just say they did? You know how Everton is always shooting his mouth off about something. You should take what he says with a grain of salt.”
“I’ve seen the nuggets,” said another man. “Three of them, as big as peas.”
“So you’ve all decided to become prospectors?” asked Eamon.
“Somebody’s got to get out there and get that gold. We can’t just leave it to the lizzies.”
“Good luck with that,” said Saba, continuing past the men and into the store.
There were just as many men inside as there were outside. None of them seemed to be shopping particularly. Like those outside, they were just standing around and grumbling.
“We’re completely out of shovels and pickaxes too,” the proprietor said in a pleading voice. “Believe me, if I had any I would gladly sell them to you.”
“All right, you lot!” shouted Eamon. “If you’re here to purchase a tin of biscuits or a bottle of soda water, stay. But if you’re after mining supplies, take on off. They’re all out. Go see if your neighbors have a shovel to sell.”
“Say, that’s a good idea,” said one man.
Quickly the crowd filed out the door, leaving Saba, Eamon, DeeDee, and the boys alone with the shopkeeper. A quick glance out the window confirmed that those who had been milling around the entrance were leaving as well.
“Thank you, constables.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Saba, lifting DeeDee off his shoulders and setting her on the counter. “You can show us your gratitude by selling us six Billingbow’s.”
“Right away.”
The transaction was quickly concluded and the Colbshallows and Shrubbs were soon enjoying the sarsaparilla and wintergreen soda water, DeeDee and Homer sipping through straws while the others swigged.
When the bell above the shop door rang, Saba looked up to see Wizard Cameron and Wizard Winton stride in. Both wore their blue uniforms. Cameron smiled when he saw his fellow constables and walked to the back of the shop to shake hands with Saba and Eamon. Winton stayed near the large store window.
“Gentlemen,” said Cameron. “It’s quite a fine day, don’t you think?”
“A little windy for my taste,” said Eamon.
“Well, perhaps it is. A little wind never hurt anyone though, if you ask me.”
“So what are you about?” asked Saba.
“Oh, just taking care of some business.”
Winton, still by the window, let out a quick whistle. Cameron turned and rushed back to the front of the store.
“See you,” he said, before they both rushed out. Outside, he pointed at the door. There was a small blue flash.
Saba and Eamon looked at one another. Then the sound of an explosion outside rattled the ceiling. Saba ran to the door and shoved, but it didn’t budge. It wasn’t locked, but the latch wouldn’t work. Pressing his face to the glass he saw the two wizards striding out into the street. Winton was casting a spell, while Cameron pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket. He said something and the paper bloomed into flame and then disappeared. Though no magic expert, Saba knew it was some kind of stored spell. He had seen them before, produced by the Result Mechanism. Because of his limited viewpoint and an inconveniently placed tree, he couldn’t see at whom this magical firepower was aimed. And then he did.
Walking down the slope from the print shop was a teen-age boy that Saba didn’t recognize, in a sharp grey suit and bowler hat. Taking her place beside him was Zurfina the Magnificent. No, it wasn’t Zurfina. It was Senta, though she looked so much like her mother, dressed all in black leather. And she was carrying the baby.
Glancing quickly around, Saba picked up a metal display shelf and flung it at the large front window, which shattered. Climbing over stacks of displayed shop goods, he jumped outside, knocking down more glass in the process.
“Stay here and take care of the kids!” he called back to Eamon, before rushing away.
The police inspector didn’t run out into the street. He knew enough about magic to know that he stood no chance against anyone wielding that kind of power. Instead he hugged the edge of the shops, keeping parked steam carriages and shrubbery between him and the magic users as much as possible. As he did so, he kept his eye turned toward them.
Colorful bolts of energy shot back and forth between the two uniformed wizards and the boy, evidently a wizard himself. One of the energy bolts was deflected away and set fire to the front of the millinery shop. Another caused a steam carriage to explode. Saba saw Senta wave her hand, and he expected something amazing. But nothing seemed to happen. The look on her face told him that she was as surprised as he was.
The world turned bright blue monochrome as a bolt of lightning shot from Winton’s fingertips, hitting the Drache Girl in the upper body. She was sent flying and the baby fell unceremoniously onto the street, letting out a loud wail. Saba jumped to his feet and ran toward the little girl. He had gone no more than ten steps when his legs were kicked out from beneath him. He tumbled down over the grass, over the sidewalk, and into the gutter.
He looked up to see his assailant race past him. Saba didn’t so much recognize him as knew instinctively who he was. It was Baxter, the man who he had met in the men’s shop: the one who had been carrying this same baby in his arms. Diving across the pavement, he scooped up the little girl, rolled and came to his feet, cradling her in one arm while aiming a pistol at the two police wizards. He fired off six rounds, not stopping until he reached cover behind a car. Either he missed his target or the wizards had a shield up to protect them. Saba watched in fascination as the man cradled the child to him, kissing her on the head, all the while emptying his pistol of the spent cartridges.
The police inspector’s attention was jerked back to the present. Senta was back on her feet. Hissing epithets, she swept her hand around her head and then aimed it toward the two wizards. So many things happened at once that it was almost impossible to see and understand them. A gigantic tyrannosaurus appeared in a black cloud of smoke near Wizard Cameron. In a smaller cloud of smoke, a growling wolf appeared near the sorceress. A blast of energy hit the young wizard near her, knocking him down. A huge spectral hand appeared above Wizard Winton and mashed him flat to the ground.
His eyes drawn to the tyrannosaurus, Saba saw Cameron blast it with a bolt of lightning. The beast fell over onto its back, kicked the air several times, and then rolled back to its feet. Its tail overturned the car behind which Baxter was hiding. Not bothering with the kneeling man holding the baby, the predator stalked away toward the southwest. Looking to his right, Saba saw that the wolf that had threatened Senta was already dead—frozen into a block of ice. A massive fireball, twenty feet in diameter, rolled from Cameron towards the sorceress. She waved her hand and it was deflected away, hitting a large pine tree across the street and setting it afire. Saba glanced back at Cameron just in time to see that Baxter had moved up parallel with him. Baby still in his arms, he aimed his pistol toward the wizard’s head and fired. Cameron’s brains sprayed out across the street. He stood still for a few seconds, and then toppled over onto the pavement.
Jumping to his feet, Saba ran toward Senta. She looked pale and weak and before he could reach her, she dropped to her knees. He was almost next to her when she yelled, “Stop!” It took a second before he realized that she wasn’t yelling at him. He looked over his shoulder to see Baxter a few feet behind, aiming the pistol at him.
“Are you all right?” Saba asked, reaching out and holding her shoulder.
“See to Peter.” She pointed at the young man.
In two steps, Saba was by the boy’s side. He was unconscious but it was obvious he was breathing. The shoulder of his suit had a smoldering hole in it. The skin beneath was badly burnt. He quickly looked over the rest of his body, but found no other obvious injuries.
“He’ll be all right. How’s the baby?” He suddenly realized that the child hadn’t made a sound since she had been picked up.
“She’s fine,” said Baxter, still aiming the gun in Saba’s general direction.
“Put that away,” ordered the police inspector.
Looking around he saw Eamon and the children climbing out of the broken pfennig store window. Then from around the corner ran Wizard Bell and four constables, each of whom was carrying a rifle.
“Uuthanum bashtai,” growled Senta.
Saba turned to find her pointing her finger toward Bell. Looking back, he saw the wizard raise his hands as if he had a gun pointed at him.
“There’s a tyrannosaurus gone that way,” Saba shouted to the constables, pointing. “Get on after him.”
The four men took off in the direction he had indicated. They would have no problem following the trail. Saba looked at Bell. The wizard opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shrugged.
“He won’t be able to say anything for a few hours,” said Senta, struggling with Baxter’s aid to her feet. “I’m not taking any more chances with your wizards.”
“Uuthanum eetarri,” she said, extinguishing the flames on the front of the millinery shop and in the pine tree across the street.
“So what was all that about?” he asked her.
“What do you think?” said Baxter. “They attacked her.”
“They were after my magic,” she said. “It’s that Kafira-damned machine. They used the same spell on me that Suvir Kesi used on Zurfina all those years ago. It neutralized my power. I guess I’m partly to blame though. I should have properly disposed of that paper instead of just throwing it away.”
“There’ll be an inquiry,” said Saba. “After all they were constables.”
“They were attempted murderers,” said Baxter. “If this is your police force, I don’t think much of it.”
Saba didn’t say anything for a minute. He couldn’t exactly argue with the man. He looked at the child in the other man’s arms. She was a beautiful little thing—a copy of Senta in many ways. But there was something else. Around her nose and mouth, he could see a resemblance to DeeDee.
“May I hold her?”
Baxter turned his back.
“It’s all right,” said Senta.
With a scowl, the redheaded man turned back around and handed the child to Saba. The little girl looked at him with her wide grey eyes for just a minute, and then her face scrunched up and she began to cry. Saba kissed her on the cheek and then handed her back to Baxter. She immediately quieted.
A crowd was gathering, including several more constables and a pair of white-clad hospital workers—one a church acolyte and the other a nurse. Something grabbed onto Saba’s leg and he reached down to lift DeeDee into his arms. Eamon and the boys gathered around him.
“Shall we get some law and order established, Sergeant?”
“Right-o,” said Eamon and then turned and began giving orders for the street to be closed, the fire wagon called, the injured boy seen to, and the bodies of the two wizards to be taken away.
Saba turned back to speak to Senta, but she was at the fallen boy’s side, helping the church acolyte tend to his wounds.