Governor Staff’s office was huge. The ceiling was more than twenty feet high and the entire south wall was made up of large windows that looked out over the burgeoning city. The opposite wall was filled with two large world maps. One featured Sumir and the western hemisphere, while the other featured Mallon and the rest of the east. More than a few citizens of Port Dechantagne who had never seen it, referred to it as “the throne room”. It did not however have a throne. It had an oak desk the size of a small battleship, and next to that a globe so large that it took two people to turn it on its axis. Those who had been there knew better than to refer to it as a throne room. This was not the domain of a queen. This was the room of an empress.
The black leather clad wingback chair behind the desk was not just a nod to comfort. It was designed with comfort, the comfort of a woman wearing a fashionably large bustle, in mind. Iolanthe Staff seldom sat in it however, and almost never when she was interviewing anyone in her office, as she was now. She paced back and forth behind her desk, with her arms folded across her chest. The two men, seated in equally black, equally leather, and equally comfortable chairs across the desk from her, watched her uncomfortably. One wore the uniform of a merchant seaman.
“There is no doubt about it, Lieutenant Burke?” Iolanthe asked.
“None what-so-ever, I’m afraid. The Mistress of Brechbay was hit by a torpedo.”
“It looks as though you were correct, Wizard Bassington,” she said to the second man.
Smedley Bassington was dressed in a stiffly starched black suit. His froglike mouth smiled without any pleasure and his beady eyes stared back.
“The torpedo was launched from a submersible boat.”
“Whose?”
“You know whose. Freedonia has more than a hundred of them, and I would be surprised if a tenth of that number wasn’t prowling the shipping lanes between Mallontah and Birmisia.”
“Then what are we to do about it?”
“We must utilize the great equalizer—magic. Ships making the voyage from Greater Brechalon must have a protective ward to hide them from the Freedonians, and anyone else seeking to do them harm.” He paused and licked his wide lips. “Fortunately we have the world’s foremost expert at concealment magic.”
“Zurfina?”
He nodded.
“Shall I leave it to you to arrange it with her?”
He nodded again.
“Lieutenant Burke,” said Iolanthe, finally stopping her pacing. “Do you have a place to stay until your company’s next ship arrives?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Then I’ll bid you good day.”
The officer stood up, bowed, and then exited the room. Bassington stood up as well. Iolanthe walked around the desk to stand face to face with him.
“Wizard Bassington, do you still feel that the Freedonians have a hold in Tsahloose?”
“I know they do.”
“Is my trade expedition in any serious danger?”
“I’ve given you my opinion on this matter before,” said the wizard. “Sending a dozen Brech citizens, however accomplished and resourceful they may be, hundreds of miles across uncharted territory and into the capital of a primitive, inhuman, and bloodthirsty empire was always, how did you put it—speculative. I call it bloody unsafe.”
“So you think I should call them back?”
“Absolutely not. There is a great deal of intelligence to be learned from such a trip. We both have high confidences in who we have sent into harm’s way, don’t we?” A smirk crossed his face from left to right. “You do have the fullest confidence in your latest bedmate, do you not?”
“Neither my husband’s abilities, nor his acumen are in question. I likewise have faith that those he has chosen for his team will all dutifully fill the roles to which they have been assigned. Can you say the same?”
“You mean my sorceress?”
“I mean your little girl.”
“Senta is practically a grown woman. She had already proven herself a steady soul when she helped rescue your brother years ago. She showed her power on her last trip to Mallontah. She can handle anything that should turn up. Besides, General Staff has indicated that he would take no other practitioners of the arts with him besides Senta, or possibly the steel dragon.
Iolanthe pinched the top of her nose.
“I ask a great deal of those I delegate any of my authority to,” she said. “I shall be asking the same of you. I need you to get that infernal machine running again.”
“As a matter of fact, I have a man coming in on the train from St. Ulixes who may be just whom I need to set the great machine to rights.”
“Can’t you just use your magic?”
“The Result Mechanism isn’t a magical device. It’s not all that different from a large clock or a steam engine. Its results are all mathematical and therefore magical, but its functions are like that of any other gear-driven, spring-powered device. And my man is an expert on just that. Once he has it working again, we can have your young woman help me with the… what’s the word?”
“Programming.”
“Exactly. Miss Lusk will be needed there.”
“It’s Mrs. Korlann now. But, it looks as though you know what you’re doing.” She turned to look at the bookcase behind her. Her back was an invitation to leave. He took it.
Iolanthe stood thinking for several minutes after she had heard the wizard cross the room and go out the door. Radley was only on his second day’s journey toward the Lizzy city-state of Tsahloose. He had left early the day before on the train, but would have only taken it as far as the coalfields to the south. There was a river that passed through Tsahloose. It didn’t have a proper Brech name, just some ungodly lizzy hiss, but Radley thought that there might be boats available. Most of the journey would be on foot. It might take them as little as a week to make the journey, or it might take them the better part of a month. Or a little voice told her, “They might not make it at all.”
She turned back to the desk and picked up the purple straw hat, which had been made specifically for her purple and white striped dress. She sat it gently on her head and tied the thick band of lace into a bow below her chin. Then walking across the vast Mirsannan carpet, she retrieved her purple lace-trimmed parasol from the parasol stand by the door. She opened the door and faced the much darker outer office. Mrs. Wardlaw stood up from her desk.
“Governor?”
“There are no other appointments?” asked Iolanthe, knowing that there were not.
“No, Ma’am.”
“Very good. Send for my carriage to come around.”
The secretary poked her head out the door and spoke to one of the two colonial guards stationed just outside. Mrs. Melody Wardlaw had come to Port Dechantagne three years before as the widow Melody Lanier, along with her daughter and her mother. Her first husband had been killed while working on the railroad in Brechalon, and like so many other women, she had assumed men would be in ready supply in the new colony. From its very inception however, there had been more women than men in the Birmisia colony.
Mrs. Wardlaw glided back from the outer door to her desk and Iolanthe noted clinically her voluptuous figure and thick cascades of black hair. Even with the relative shortage of men, the then Mrs. Lanier had no doubt had her pick. She was just the kind of woman that Radley liked. She had in fact arrived on the same ship on which he had returned to Port Dechantagne. Iolanthe pursed her lips. It was probably better not to think on such things.
“How is your husband, Mrs. Wardlaw?”
“He is well, Ma’am.”
“Is he still making a study of the local birds?”
“Yes, Ma’am. We currently have two velociraptors in a cage in the backyard.”
“He’s making a living at this then?”
“Not as yet. He has a four thousand mark inheritance.”
“Ah,” said Iolanthe.
“He did just sell an article to Brysin’s Weekly Ladies’ Journal.”
“Really? About birds?”
“Um, no, Ma’am. It was more about life here… in general.”
Iolanthe turned her parasol in her hands. “Very commendable.”
“I don’t work because I have to,” Mrs. Wardlaw blurted out. “I work… because in Birmisia I can.”
“Yes, I quite understand,” said Iolanthe quietly. Her aquamarine eyes wandered the room for a moment and then snapped back to the secretary. “How many lizzies do you have at home?”
“Just three, Ma’am— a cook, a maid, and a dressing maid. I don’t really need all the help, but it’s so inexpensive, and Wenda… well, Wenda just feels very comfortable around the lizzies.”
“Your daughter is well?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Iolana is going to have her first grown-up party. Do you think your daughter would be interested, or is she too old? She’s sixteen?”
“She’s seventeen, Ma’am. I’m sure she would be honored to attend.”
“Your car is ready, Ma’am,” said a guardsman, sticking his head in the door.
“I’ll see that she is sent an invitation.” Iolanthe started toward the door.
“You have many lizzies, don’t you Ma’am?” asked Mrs. Wardlaw. “Even after your brothers…”
Iolanthe bit her lip then raised her chin. “Yes, we have quite a few lizzies. We Dechantagnes have killed many more of them than they have of us.”
The brand new, bright red, model B steam carriage stood puffing out a cloud of smoke, waiting in front of the massive stone edifice that was the Gurrman building. Chauncey Ursal, a big man with a thick brown beard, sat in the passenger seat. He had learned from hard experience that the Governor did not suffer to be driven. Nevertheless he was there in the vehicle. His eyes noted her presence, even as they scanned every other vehicle, every other person, and every lizzie on the busy street. Iolanthe knew that he had already scanned the windows and the rooftops for any signs of a threat before she had exited the building. And even though he looked quite relaxed, she knew that he had his right hand on the grip of his revolver.
Ursal had been personally chosen by Radley Staff to ensure his wife’s safety. Iolanthe had protested for a year before she decided that her husband was not going to give in. A man who refused to give in was a rare thing, and it made her smile as she thought about it. Still, she had lived for more than thirty years without a bodyguard and there had to be just as many people who wanted to kill her then as there were now. Ursal would have been put to better use watching Iolana, particularly in light of the girl’s recent encounter with a flock of deinonychus on the beach. Of course her father would have had a dozen bodyguards watching her every movement, if only Iolanthe had told him of the event. There was no sense worrying the poor man.
“Ready to go, Chauncey?” she asked, before lifting herself from the running board into the driver’s seat. She took several quick breaths to make up for the constriction of her corset—something she almost never did in front of a man. But Chauncey was so ubiquitous that he had probably seen much more than a few surreptitious gulps of air. Iolanthe knew that Radley would not have chosen the man, no matter how effective of a guard he was, if he was not also discreet.
“Ready.”
Ursal was one of the few people in Birmisia who didn’t constantly call her “Ma’am”. Iolanthe smiled to herself as she released the brake and the decelerator, pressed in the clutch, shifted into gear, and pressed down on the forward accelerator, sending the steam carriage shooting away from the curb and down the street. Many locals told stories of pedestrians diving out of the way when the governor pulled away from the Gurrman building. These were for the most part just fanciful tales. Everyone on the street had begun clearing out of the path of danger as soon as Iolanthe had first stepped outside.
It was still hours before dark when Iolanthe drove into the narrow alleyway that divided the city blocks between First Avenue and Vine Avenue. A dozen lizzies were working here to collect trash from the dust bins placed in the alleyway behind each of the palatial homes on the block. They poured the contents of each bin into burlap sacks, and carried them to be emptied at the city dump, just beyond Lizzietown. Iolanthe was aware that the refuse would be thoroughly gone through by still more lizardmen to find anything which might, in their primitive minds, be considered valuable.
She turned into the parkway, narrowly avoiding the fencepost, a small fruit tree, and one of the lizzies. Slamming down on the decelerator, she brought the steam carriage to a halt and turned to see if she recognized the near accident victim. Satisfying herself that it was not one of her lizzies, she climbed down from the vehicle, accepting a helping hand from Ursal, who had jumped down and jogged around to the driver’s side. Two of her lizzies came out the back door of the Dechantagne home and together pushed the car back several feet, so that the right front tire was no longer resting on a bed of petunias. Then they opened the relief cock, and pushed the vehicle toward the machine shed.
Iolanthe entered the door through which the reptilians had exited and found Mrs. Colbshallow directing three more lizardmen in the preparations for dinner. The smell of roast pork filled the large kitchen, only slightly overpowering the aroma of fresh baked bread, three large loaves of which sat on the table.
“That smells wonderful, Yadira. Did you bake the bread?”
“I supervised,” replied Mrs. Colbshallow. “But Cissy did the work.”
“A bread-baking lizzie. Now I’ve seen everything. Where is Cissy?”
Iolanthe glanced quickly around. She knew each of her lizzies by sight, regardless of how much they seemed to look alike to everyone else, though she was careful not to let the lizzies know this. Mrs. Colbshallow knew them even better and understood their language. The two out back were Kayden and Skye. Starr was chopping cress. Garrah was melting butter with which to brush the tops of the bread loaves. Tutu, and that was his real name, not humanized simplification like the others, was peeling potatoes. Cissy however occupied a place in the Dechantagne household that other reptilians could only envy. Because of her heroic action in saving the life of Iolanthe’s sister-in-law and nephew, she was the only lizzie to live in the house, occupying a room that had originally been designed as a lover’s retreat. She often ate dinner at the table with the other family members and could frequently be found in the parlor reading. She was never ordered about. She supervised the others of her race and chose the things that she would do. More and more of late, she was engaging in activities that had previously been the province of human women. Sewing, needlepoint, and painting teacups. Baking bread was only the latest.
“She’s probably upstairs, seeing to Yuah,” replied Mrs. Colbshallow. “She was feeling poorly earlier.”
“Where are the children?”
“Augie and Terra are with their grandmother again today.” A strange look passed over Mrs. Colbshallow’s face. It was a combination of impish humor that Egeria Korlann, barely thirty-five and looking twenty-five should be called a grandmother, and discomfort that she herself at fifty-two did not yet warrant the title. “Iolana is in the library, I believe.”
“She didn’t want to go?”
“I’m sure she was invited. I think she wanted to stay home and read her book.”
“That girl reads too much,” opined Iolanthe. “I don’t remember reading at all when I was eight years old.”
“She reminds me of Master Terrence when he was a boy.”
“Yes, well…” Iolanthe untied the ribbon below her chin and took off her hat. She handed it to Skye, who had just walked in, then turned to Ursal. “You’re staying for dinner?”
“Thank you. I will accept your invitation.”
Sweeping through the kitchen and down the hallway, Iolanthe made her way to the library. Sure enough, Iolana was sitting in the overstuffed chair that her uncle had so often occupied. Her feet were propped up on the antique tuffet and a massive book was splayed across her lap.
“Good afternoon, Iolana.”
The head of thick blond hair rocked back revealing the bow-shaped mouth, small freckled nose and striking aquamarine eyes. Those eyes darted to the cuckoo clock on the wall and then back.
“Good afternoon, Mother.”
“How long have you been in here reading?” asked Iolanthe, stepping across the floor as a hunter approaches a doe.
“About three hours.”
“You shouldn’t read so much. You should go upstairs and paint.”
“I don’t like to paint.”
“Why didn’t you go to Egeria’s?” Iolanthe cupped the girl’s chin and tilted it up toward her face. “You could have played her piano.”
“I wanted to read my book.”
“What is it that has you so engrossed?”
“It’s called “Steam”.
“Garstone? In this house?” She lifted the heavy volume out of the girl’s lap and turned to the inside cover. In a careful scrawl across the page, was the barely legible signature of Kasia Garstone. The corner of a white paper stuck out of the flap of the book jacket. She pulled it out and found it was a receipt. “Breeding Booksellers Limited. Second of Hamonth, 1902. Terrence Dechantagne. Signed Garstone first edition. Four thousand one hundred twenty-five marks!”
She sat the book down on her daughter’s knee. “Is it any good?”
“Oh yes.”
“Have you given any thought to your party?”
“Um… not really.”
“Have you at least thought of a theme?” wondered Iolanthe.
“I thought maybe… goodbye to summer?”
“It’s three months till fall. How about Accord Day? That will give you almost a month.”
“Can we have fireworks?”
“There won’t be time to order any from Brech, but I’m sure we can find some, if not in town, then in Mallontah.” Iolanthe cupped the girl’s chin again. “I want a guest list tomorrow. We’ll need to send it to the stationer by the end of the week. And talk to Auntie Yadira about the food. I’ve already spoken to Mr. Ghent about the music.”
“Yes Mother.”
“And thank you Mother,” prompted Iolanthe.
“Thank you Mother.”
“Don’t be late for dinner.”
“I won’t Mother.”
Iolanthe left the library and swept through the foyer and up the stairs. At the top step she turned left and walked past the balcony to the end of the hallway and knocked on Yuah’s door. There was no answer. She knocked again and waited. She called her sister-in-law’s name. When there was no response to either, she turned on a heel and crossed to the far end of the hallway to her own room. She went to the window and looked out at the wall of pine and maple trees that lined the edge of the west yard. A microraptor shot from one of the trees down into the grass, no doubt chasing an insect.
“Undress?” asked a low, guttural, hissing voice from behind her.
Narsa had been her dressing maid now for over two years. The reptilian was short for her people; only about five foot eight which put her two inches taller than Iolanthe. Like all lizardmen, she had a long snout filled with conical teeth that made pronunciation of Brech words difficult, though she was fluent. The tiny colorful skirts, which had been common attire three or four years ago for female lizard servants, had gone out of fashion. Narsa wore a simple white apron.
“Yes.” Iolanthe turned so that the maid could unbutton the forty-eight buttons from the back of her neck to her waist. “Have you seen Mrs. Dechantagne today?”
“Yes. She is sleeting.”
“Sleeping? Has she been sleeping all day?”
“She is tired.”
“Make sure that she is awake and at dinner tonight. This fugue of hers is becoming tiresome, and it can’t be very healthy for her either. Did you iron the lavender evening gown?”
“Yes. And I sew it.”
“What did you sew?”
“Tighting loose on the neckline.”
“The what on the neckline?”
“Tighting.” Narsa made a small circle with her clawed thumb and forefinger and dragged it along her collarbone.
“The piping?”
“Yes. It can loose.”
“Very industrious of you.”
Iolanthe looked carefully at the reptilian—her forest green skin, mottled and bumpy in places, her large white teeth, and her yellow eyes. Narsa returned her look for just a moment, and then looked toward the floor.
“Where did you come from?”
“Sss?”
“What village did you come from?”
“Tsuus.”
A good portion of the lizardmen in Port Dechantagne had come from Tserich, Tsuus, Chulla, or Chusstuss, though there were a few from villages farther away like Hiissierra and Tuustutu. Reptilians who wanted to tell humans what they wanted to hear almost inevitably said they were from Tserich or Tsuus. Tserich had been the first to forge close bonds with the Brech immigrants to Birmisia. Villagers from Tsuus had become economically tied to the humans when the coal industry began mining near their village. But none of the reptilians would admit to being from Chusstuss. An attack on Port Dechantagne by the aborigines of that village was avenged with combat deaths and military executions totaling one hundred sixteen lizardmen. Most humans deeply felt that this paltry number did not come near enough to satisfy vengeance. Some of the lizzies even agreed with that assessment. After all the attackers from Chusstuss had killed as many lizzies as they had soft-skins in the attack.
“And you have eight adult members of your household and three youngsters?”
Most of the lizzies in Port Dechantagne lived the way they had always lived, in loose groups of about a dozen per home. This usually included four or five of egg laying age and at least one elder. Their offspring, rising out of communal nests as they hatched, were gathered up by whichever home had room for them. There was always the possibility that a lizzie might be raising its own child, but it wasn’t very likely. Instead, all the young ones in a particular house were raised by all the adults there.
Narsa nodded.
“You could bring your family around sometime if you like… to see how the soft-skins live.”
The lizzie rolled her eyes in thought. “Youngest one too whild. Elder wants to con. He studies hoonans and hoonan talk.”
“Indeed. And what is he called?”
“He has no hoonan nane. He is called Ssiszornic.”
“Siscornick.” Iolanthe tried the strange name out on her tongue. She peeled off the top portion of her dress and then stepped out of it, handing it to Narsa, who put it on a hanger and into the closet. She then had the dressing maid unlace her Prudence Plus Fairy Bust Form corset, though she did not take it or any of her other many undergarments off. “I’m going to work on some correspondence until dinner.”
“I’ll vring the dress for you.”
“Yes, thank you Narsa.”
Dinner in Birmisia’s most prominent and well-known dining room was a small affair. That was not to say that the menu was small. There was cured pork loin roast, fresh steamed clams, Potatoes Kasselburg, pea fritters, brown pudding, and of course, fresh baked bread. There was a light red wine, a chilled white wine from Mirsanna, and a heavy fortified wine to go with dessert. The dessert was sticky toffee pudding with whipped cream. It was rather that the company dining was small. It was only the five of them—Iolanthe, Iolana, Mrs. Colbshallow, Chauncey Ursal, and Yuah.
Iolanthe had donned the lavender evening gown that Narsa had prepared for her, and sat at the head of the table. The spot properly belonged to the man of the house, but Iolanthe had taken to sitting there. Radley had the ridiculous habit of changing seats on a daily basis. Sometimes Iolanthe thought he did it just to flaunt convention, but that seemed so unlike a Royal Navy man. Iolana and Mrs. Colbshallow wore the same clothing that they had worn earlier in the day—a cute little red dress for the girl and a rather dull grey dress and white overdress for the matron. Ursal too wore the same thing he had earlier in the day, having not gone home to change, but instead seeing to the security of the Dechantagne home. It didn’t really matter what men wore though. There were fewer restrictions on their customs, not to mention their bodies, than on the women of Brechalon. Yuah had not bothered to dress for dinner at all. She sat looking tired and drawn in her expensive Mirsannan dressing gown, her long, thick brown hair a mess. Iolanthe was sure that she hadn’t been dressed at all that day.
“Have some more pudding, dear,” said Mrs. Colbshallow to Yuah. “You’re looking thin.”
Yuah nodded as the pudding was dished onto her plate.
“I’m going to have Narsa bring around her young lizzie and her hut elder,” announced Iolanthe.
“Really?” asked Iolana. “Can I see them too?”
“That should be fascinating,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “I’ve wanted to see some of their youngsters close up for some time.”
“It may not be a good idea,” said Ursal. “You don’t want a bunch of unknown lizzies around the house.”
“What do you think, Yuah?” asked Iolanthe.
Yuah shrugged.
“I want to see the little one,” Iolana reiterated.
“Don’t whine,” ordered Iolanthe. “We will have them come by. Beside Chauncey, I happen to know that two lizzies do not constitute a bunch.”
After dinner, Iolanthe made a point to spend some time with Iolana. They played a game of whispy in the parlor and afterwards, as the sun had not yet set, they took a walk through the gardens. The flowerbeds had been carefully planted with annuals all around the rose bushes, which were now in full bloom. Large bees bobbed lazily through the blossoms collecting pollen. Iolana cringed whenever one came too close, but her mother ignored them. At last they stopped and sat in the gazebo on the swing.
“Where do you think father is now?” asked Iolana.
“I’m hoping they’ve been able to make thirty miles a day, but that may be overly optimistic.”
“Do you think he’ll be all right?”
“Of course he will.”
“Ascan Tice says there are big dinosaurs on the southern plains.”
“Yes, that’s true, but your father is a Royal Navy man. Dinosaurs will not be a problem for him. Do I know this Ascan Tice?”
“You know Willa Tice. She walks home from Shrine with Auntie Yuah. Ascan is her older brother.”
“How old is he? And how does he know what dinosaurs are to be found in the south?”
“He’s fifteen. He loves dinosaurs and talks about them all the time.”
“Are you going to invite him to your party?”
“Maybe. I’m definitely going to invite Willa. She’s the nicest girl I know.”
Iolanthe saw from the corner of her eye a lizzie approaching. She turned as Cissy walked up to the bottom of the gazebo steps.
“Iolana what to tlay lizzie game?”
“Cissy wants to play the lizzie game. May I, Mother?”
The lizzie game was actually one of several games played with the same pieces and all something like a simplified game of draughts or chess. The wooden blocks used as pieces had a picture of an animal or a famous lizzie and a string of symbols indicating strength, speed, and endurance. Cissy and Iolana had been playing the game together since the child was three.
“Yes, you may go play.” Iolanthe turned to the reptilian. “See that she has time for her bath before bed.”
Cissy nodded.
“Cissy. I’ve asked Narsa to bring her child, that is the young one from her home, to visit. Maybe they could play the game with the two of you.”
Cissy shook her head. “Hoonan child do game. Lizzie child is too whild. He is whild like aninal. Lizzie child stay away from hoonan child.”
The next day Narsa helped Iolanthe into a smart navy blue dress with antique black lace trim. The bodice featured a very sharp looking tie. Iolanthe secretly enjoyed subverting masculine attire and often wore hats that were feminine variations of men’s. The hat that went with this dress however was quite womanly, with a wide, soft, sweeping brim and a dozen large flowers piled upon it. And so, the tie.
At breakfast, there were five diners—Iolanthe, Mrs. Colbshallow, and all three of the household children. Starr served kippers, fried eggs, deviled kidneys, and peaches. Deviled kidneys were a favorite of young Augustus, but Iolana and Terra wanted nothing more than porridge—porridge with milk from real, live, Birmisian cows.
“Did this come from Egeria?” questioned Iolanthe.
“Yes,” replied Mrs. Colbshallow. “She sent Chunny over with a gallon.”
“Then we must find a way to pay her back. Let’s invite the Korlanns for dinner next week.”
Mrs. Colbshallow raised her eyebrows.
“What?” demanded Iolanthe. “Yes, Zeah’s a former servant. So are you. My former dressing maid is now my sister-in-law for all that. I regularly eat with a lizzie at the table, come to that.”
“It’s not that,” replied Mrs. Colbshallow. “I thought you had some antipathy for the wife.”
“Of course not. I do recall her having dined with us in the past, and I know Zeah has.”
“Yes,” replied Mrs. Colbshallow. “But it was months ago in the case of the latter and years ago in the case of the former.”
Iolanthe smiled crookedly. “It’s as you say. She is the children’s grandmother.”
“Do you want to play jacks with us after breakfast, Auntie Iolanthe?” asked Terra in her peculiar little voice.
“You have your tutor, don’t you?”
“No, Mother. Master Brown is gone with Father to Tsahloose,” said Iolana. “We have independent study until he returns.”
“Oh yes, I had forgotten. In answer to your query Terra, I have to be at my office. Perhaps Cissy will play with you—or your mother. Where is your mother?”
“She’s not feeling well again today,” said Augie.
Iolanthe wiped her mouth with her napkin, and then placed it on her plate. Before she could push the chair back on her own, Garrah was pulling it out for her. She stomped to the doorway with the foyer and turned back around to look at her daughter.
“Independent study still means study.”
“Don’t worry Mother. I plan to study.”
“I have no doubt of that. Make sure that your cousins do too.”
“Blinking heck!” said Augie.
“You watch your mouth young man,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “I will have Garrah wash it out with soap.”
Iolanthe was already halfway up the stairs. When she reached the top, she turned once again toward Yuah’s door. When she knocked, she received the same reply that she had the previous day. She balled up her fist and pounded. There was still no answer. Retracing her steps back a few feet, she opened the tiny drawer in the occasional table against the wall between the door to Yuah’s room and the door to the nursery. The drawer was empty but for a large brass key. Taking the key, she went back and stuck it in the keyhole just above the doorknob, turned it, and then pushed the door open.
Yuah’s bedroom was probably the most luxurious in the house. Terrence had denied her nothing while he was alive, though even Iolanthe admitted in her own thoughts that he could have shown the girl more affection. The wallpaper, with its intricate pattern of pink roses between golden bars, was difficult to see. The color of the carpet was indistinguishable. The pink lace curtains on both the windows had been covered over with heavy blankets and very little light entered the room. Yuah was lying on the bed, eyes half closed. For a moment, Iolanthe thought she was dead, but then saw her breathing.
“Yuah?”
Her sister-in-law didn’t move. Iolanthe crossed to the window and pulled one of the heavy blankets away, allowing a bright beam of morning light to enter. It fell directly across Yuah’s face, but she didn’t react.
“Yuah!”
On the intricately wrought stand in the corner was the antique washbasin. Though it had not been used, the pitcher was still filled with cool clear water from the night before. Iolanthe grabbed the pitcher by the handle and dumped it over Yuah’s head.
“Ack! Bloody hell!” sputtered Yuah, and then jumped to her feet. “You stupid cow! What do you think you’re doing?”
“Are you bladdered, Yuah?”
“No. I just don’t feel well. Now get out.”
“You are bladdered. You have yesterday’s dress on, your eyes are bloodshot, and you smell like you’ve peed yourself. You’re ass over tit and it’s not even nine o’clock!”
With the suddenness of a viper strike, Yuah’s arm lashed out, her hand slapping Iolanthe solidly across the face, with a smack that could be heard all over the upper floor of the house. A tiny fraction of a second had passed before Iolanthe’s left hand returned the favor, leaving its bright red impression across Yuah’s pale cheek. Yuah balled up her fist and hit, stepping into the punch like a prizefighter. She struck her sister-in-law in the right eye. Iolanthe fell back down onto her bustle and rolled backwards, smacking both her head and the pitcher in her right hand onto the floor. The antique porcelain exploded into a mass of white and cornflower blue pieces.