“Come in,” called Senta in response to the loud banging on the front door.
“St. Ulixes has been invaded!” Graham shouted as he burst in.
“Go back outside and come in again properly.”
“What?”
“Go back outside and come in again properly. This is my home. Show some respect.”
“Come on!”
She raised her eyebrow.
“Fine.”
He went back outside and closed the door after him.
“How long are you going to make him suffer,” wondered Hero Hertling.
“Until he learns to come when he’s called,” replied Senta as Graham once again knocked.
“Maybe he was helping Gaylene with her new baby.”
“No, he was playing around down at City Hall,” replied Senta. Then she said, “Come in.”
Graham opened the door and stepped in. He took a deep breath and smiled.
“Good day ladies.”
“Good day sir,” said Senta.
“Hey Graham,” said Hero.
“I, um… have some news.”
“What is it?”
“St. Ulixes has been invaded!” His self-control gave way like a dam bursting. “The Freedonians attacked it with a full brigade of infantry and steam powered war machines. They used their airships to drop bombs. It’s only a matter of time till they’ve completely taken over Mallontah. Then they have a straight shot on the train directly toward us. The whole city is going crazy over the news.”
“That is exciting news,” said Senta, though she didn’t seem excited at all.
“What are we going to do?” asked Hero, who looked not only excited but terrified as well.
“General Staff has ordered all the Colonial Guard out to Iguanodon Heath so they can be ready. The volunteers are going to start training at the guard base tomorrow.”
“Did you sign up?” asked Senta. “I won’t associate with a dastard.”
“I can’t,” Graham replied, with a frown. “I have to supervise the lizzie crews. We’re going out tomorrow to dig trenches and build an observation tower.”
“As long as you’re doing your part.”
“Is Hertzel going with you?” asked Hero.
“Of course he is.”
“Well, enough of worldly matters,” said Senta. “Do you have my present?”
“I do.” Graham reached into his trouser pocket.
“It’s not your birthday,” observed Hero. Senta just smiled at her.
“Um, I have to give her a present every day for seven days,” said Graham, pulling out a tiny box. “This is number six.”
He handed the tiny box to Senta, who opened it and withdrew a small bejeweled key on a silver chain.
“It’s a skeleton key, so it opens all kinds of locks,” said Graham. “But the really brilliant part is that the handle is a magnifying lens.”
“Well… I don’t know…” said Senta.
“Oh come on! It’s the best one yet.”
“What other gifts has he given you?” wondered Hero.
“I gave her a fan, a kaleidoscope, and some gloves…”
“And a silver page marker,” finished Senta.
“Ooh, nice,” approved Hero, who appreciated book-related gifts above any others.
“All right, I think I like it.” Senta fastened the chain behind her neck, so that the key lay across her chest right next to the silver dragon that Graham had given her several years before.
“Well, I have to go,” said Hero, getting up from the comfy chair. She opened the door and then slammed it shut again. “Graham, your dinosaur is right outside.”
“Of course he is. How did you think I got here so quick.”
“Can you clear him out of the way? He might step on me.”
“Stinky wouldn’t do that. He’s very gentle.” But he went outside anyway and guided the iguanodon out of the yard and onto the street. “Come on Stinky. Let the nice girl pass.”
“You’re going to block traffic there,” said Senta, following the other two out the front door. “Why don’t you take him around to the side of the house?”
“He’s afraid of Bessemer. I’m going to take him home. I’ll come back later.”
Out on the brick street, Graham tapped the great beast’s front knee. The dinosaur stuck its foot out, and Graham stepped onto it, propelling himself up onto its back. There was no saddle as such, but there was a kind of strap that wrapped around the iguanodon’s neck, to keep its rider from slipping forward. Senta placed her hand on Stinky’s flank. The flesh beneath that pebbled skin wasn’t cold to the touch like a lizzie. It was warm.
Grasping a pair of reigns attached to the iguanodon’s head with a harness, Graham urged the animal down the street.
“See ya,” he waved.
“He could have given you a ride,” said Senta.
“Oh no, he couldn’t have.” Hero took her own route away from the tower.
Senta walked around to the side of the house and entered Bessemer’s barn. There atop the great pile of pillows was the steel dragon, sprawled out and asleep. He had been asleep now for a full week. Climbing over several pillows, Senta placed her hand upon his scaly skin. She already knew that he was so much warmer than the iguanodon. He was warmer than human skin.
“If you’re going to put your hand there you might as well scratch,” said the deep, rich voice of the dragon.
“About time you woke up.”
“I needed my sleep. I use up a lot of energy.”
“Yes, I’m sure it’s very tiring to run and hide like a little girl.”
Bessemer’s great head lifted up and turned around to look her in the eye.
“I mean honestly,” she said. “What ever happened to ‘I’m so fierce’ and ‘there’s nothing for me to fear, I’m a dragon’?”
“Did you see him? He’s a monster.”
“He’s a dragon and so are you. I’ve encountered Hissussisthiss several times now.”
“Pretty scary, huh?”
“He may be big, but you know, he has yet to show any art. He’s just a big dumb bully.”
“So he doesn’t do any magic. Maybe he just doesn’t need to. I’m not as skilled as I should be, I guess either.”
“You need to spend more time learning and practicing your spells,” said Senta.
“You should talk. Fina says it’s time for you to learn new magic.”
“Oh, I have plenty of magic already. Don’t you worry. Besides, I’ve been avoiding Fina.”
“Because she’s your mum?”
“Yes, and how do you know that?”
“I’ve known for so long I don’t even remember how I know. Does that change anything anyway? She’s been acting as your mother.”
“She’s never acted like a mother.”
“Well… no I guess she hasn’t. She’s Zurfina. You know how she is. At least you have a mother…” He stuck out his lip and made his whiskers droop pathetically.
“Oh stop. She’s been more of a mother to you than to me. ‘See to our boy, Pet.’ ‘Make sure he’s all right, Pet.’ ‘Polish his scales, Pet.’”
“Yes. You’ve been treated like a slave.”
“Well, not a slave.”
“What about all the children back in Brechalon who work in factories or mines? How does your life compare to theirs? Or Hero’s? Or even Graham’s?”
“I said not a slave.”
“When was the last time you had to do anything you didn’t want to do?”
“I don’t need to be lectured by a dragon,” said Senta. “I don’t care what grand destiny awaits him.”
“Good. But if you did, he’d tell you to learn as much magic as you can. You may need it.”
“Dr. Bessemer, heal yourself.”
Bessemer rubbed his face up against her shoulder and closed his eyes.
“Are we still going to live for thousands of years?”
“Yep.”
“Will this barn still be big enough for me?”
“Um, on that question… now that I’ve seen a full grown dragon up very close and personal, I’m thinking maybe not.” Senta wrapped her arm around his neck. “But I did find a very large fortress just a short flight from here. It needs some work, mind you, but maybe you could live there.”
“Without you?” wondered the dragon.
“Well, I’ll always be close, won’t I?”
A few minutes later Bessemer left in search of a meal. Senta thought that Stinky probably had good reason to fear the steel dragon. He could easily finish off a dinosaur of the iguanodon’s size in a single sitting. This thought led to the realization that her own stomach was growling, so she climbed out of Bessemer’s bed and went into the house. Zurfina was padding around the lower level, completely naked, but carrying a large framed picture.
“Didn’t you agree to wear clothing while Geert and Maro were staying with us, Fina?”
“They won’t be home for hours. It’s one of my few pleasures in life to walk around as God intended.”
“One of the few?”
The sorceress shrugged.
“What are you doing exactly?”
“I’ve had this picture forever above my bed.” She held the frame so that Senta could see it. She knew it well of course. It was the painting of Zurfina wearing nothing but dark silk stockings, a silver necklace with a large, dangly pendant, and a black feather boa.
“Yes?”
“Well, I’ve decided to replace it with a photograph. So I need to find a new place to hang this.”
“And you don’t think our front parlor might be inappropriate?”
“Why?”
“No reason. What photograph are you going to hang in its place?”
“I’m seeing a man tomorrow about having it taken.”
“And will you be ‘as God intended’ in this photograph?”
“I suspect I might be.”
Senta rolled her eyes, and then stepped to the froredor. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
Senta pulled out a hard salami, a wedge of sharp cheese, a crockery pot of mustard, and the remains of one of Finkler’s five pound loaves. While Zurfina held the painting up in spot after spot on each of the walls, Senta assembled two lovely sandwiches and brought them to the table. Unable to find a display area that she liked, Zurfina finally leaned the frame, face down, against the wall and sat down at the table in front of one sandwich.
“Uuthanum,” said Senta, and a small blue flame engulfed each sandwich. It flared for a moment, and then disappeared, leaving the bread toasted and the cheese melted.
“Oh, I approve,” said Zurfina, picking up her sandwich and taking a bite. “Are you making tea?”
“I forgot.” Senta turned around to pull the pot from the cupboard. Filling it with water from the tap, she used a spell similar to the one for the sandwiches, to heat it. She returned to the table with the pot and two teacups, pouring one for each of them.
“I could teach you the new spell before your cousins get home,” said Zurfina, taking a sip of tea.
“All right.”
“I’ll even get dressed.”
“All right.” Senta took a bite of sandwich.
“I like your dress.”
Senta’s dress was one of two similar day dresses. They both had high necks, long sleeves, and were cut for a large bustle. They each featured a masculine necktie. The other was white. This one was light grey.
“You do?” Senta was surprised.
“Yes. It’s very daring.”
“Daring?”
“Yes, what with that big arrow pointing just there.”
“It’s a necktie, Fina.”
“Oh.”
“You know,” said Senta. “I wore my Zurfina clothes when I was in Tsahloose. I looked like a younger you. I even wore that insufficient black and pink rubber thing.”
“I’m sure you looked just precious. And I’m sure the protective spells were helpful.”
“Protective spells? What protective spells?”
“Your clothing has protective spells—the clothing I give you anyway.”
“All the clothes? All the clothes you packed for the trip?”
“All the clothing I’ve ever given you.”
“You’re kidding?” Senta stared and remembered that new clothing had appeared at the foot of her bed each morning for the past nine years. After a moment her eyes misted over.
“No point in getting all mushy about it,” said Zurfina. “Protecting their children is what mothers are supposed to do, are they not?”
“Yes,” Senta agreed, blinking.
“Finish eating your sandwich and we’ll go upstairs to master more art.”
“Will it be ponderous?” asked Senta.
“Oh, definitely.”
Senta didn’t remember having spent so long in a single session with Zurfina before. In fact, she didn’t remember having spent so long with Zurfina doing anything. Magic came easy to Senta. It was as though her mind had been made to manipulate the unseen energy around her. The spells that Zurfina taught her today were no more difficult than any others, though they were more complex. By the time they came downstairs, darkness had already set.
Reaching the foot of the staircase, Senta was surprised to find Geert, Maro, and Graham all engaged in culinary arts. Geert was cooking at the stove, hunched over a cast iron skillet. Graham was busy chopping onions and carrots, having already finished with a heaping pile of potatoes. Maro was setting the table.
“What’s all this then?” wondered Senta.
“We just decided that it would be nice to make dinner,” said Geert. “You two ladies sit down and make yourselves comfortable, and we gentlemen will take care of everything.”
Senta took one of the overstuffed chairs while Zurfina, who had dressed before coming down, took the other. The boys had lit a couple of lamps, but with a wave, Zurfina ignited half a dozen others around the room. Senta watched her sorceress mother absentmindedly play with her long blond hair. She had put on a copy of the decidedly skimpy pink and black rubber dress that Senta had worn in the arena of Tsahloose. It seemed at least to Senta, that Zurfina’s body made the ensemble much more scandalous than it had looked on her. She caught Graham giving the sorceress a sidelong look and glared at him.
“I expected you boys to be much later this evening, what with all the news,” said Zurfina.
“Right you are there,” said Geert. “We’ve been writing all day. We’re going back out after dinner to finish setting the type.”
“I thought you were planning on printing books,” said Senta. “It seems all you do anymore is work on the Gazette.”
“The Gazette has to come first,” replied Maro. “It pays the bills. Besides, it sells like hotcakes. People here in Birmisia were dying for news, just like I thought.”
“It’s true,” said Geert. “It was Maro’s idea to move here and to open a print shop. We do have our first two books. They’re printed and ready to be bound. We’ll have both of them on sale the first of the month—unless we’re invaded and have to reprint them in Freedonian.”
“What are they?” asked Graham, though Senta had been about to ask the same question.
“Not a word,” Maro warned his older brother. “It’s all top secret.”
“Freedonian is such an ugly language,” said Zurfina, thoughtfully. “You should print them in Argrathian.”
“We’ll stick with Brech for now,” said Geert.
He and the others worked for more than thirty minutes before placing the last elements of dinner on the table. Senta had noted on previous occasions that although Geert was a fine cook, he didn’t have the knack for timing disparate dishes so that they finished at the same time. This was a gift that Hero, who often came over to cook, had mastered—that and an inherent understanding of what food went with what. Geert had prepared a more than satisfactory meal with onions, carrots, and potatoes boiled and then finished in the oven; sautéed beet greens in garlic and olive oil; and chops. He had not prepared bread, but there were still a few slices left over from the last Finkler’s loaf, which Graham set out on the table.
“What is this meat, then?” asked Senta.
“Pork chops.”
“Birmisia Gazette must be selling well if you can afford pork.”
“We spent all our discretionary money,” explained Maro, holding a chair out for Zurfina while Graham did the same for Senta. “What’s the point in saving? We all may be wiped out tomorrow.”
“That is a lovely sentiment,” said Zurfina. “And lovely pork chops.”
They tucked in and soon the food was nothing but a memory. Not even a stray carrot remained. Pushing himself back from the table, Graham placed a hand on his stomach as if afraid that his belt might not be able to stand the strain. He had, in truth, eaten more than anyone else, though both Senta and Zurfina had the constraints of corsets to limit them.
“We’ve got to get back to the shop,” said Geert. “Less than thirty-six hours before the next edition.”
“Run along boys,” said Zurfina. “The news waits for no man.”
“Sure it does,” said Maro, as he followed his brother out the door. “It waits for us.”
“You two can run along as well,” said Zurfina when the brothers were gone. “I’ll clean up the dishes.”
“Really?” asked Senta incredulously.
“I was going to ask you to go for a walk,” said Graham.
“All right then.” They left as Zurfina headed for the overstuffed chair and the dishes flew of their own accord to the sink.
Graham and Senta walked through the garden and out the gate, then turned and walked along the side of the road. Though this portion of Vine Avenue was paved with red bricks, there was no cement sidewalk, just a grassy verge. Graham took his place on the left as he guided her along. It was a quiet night and there was no traffic in the street, though the sounds of people eating late dinners or talking together, and in at least one case playing a music cylinder, reached their ears through the darkness. There was a sliver of moon out, but the darkness was overwhelming what light it reflected.
“I probably won’t be able to come by until late tomorrow,” said Graham.
“Are you going out early?”
“Train leaves at six. I have to be there at the station with Hertzel, Benny and the others, plus forty-five lizzies. I’ll bet not one of them have been on a train before.”
“Aren’t you afraid you might run smack into a train full of Freedonians coming the other way?”
“Well, I wasn’t until now.”
“So I suppose you’ll give me my seventh present tomorrow night.”
“No, I’m going to give it to you now.” Graham whipped a small box from his pocket and handed it to her. Senta opened it to find a small silver ring, with a very small chip of stone in the center.
“What is it?”
“It’s a promise ring. That’s a real diamond there, one twentieth of a carrot.”
“What are you promising?” asked Senta, peering at him through the darkness.
Graham looked at his feet for a moment and she thought she could detect the flush of blood in his cheeks, though it could have just been the darkness.
“I promise that it is my intention to marry you one day,” he recited as if he had practiced it a million times. “And if you wear it, you promise to always keep me in your heart… and be faithful.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You know—don’t give anyone else any liberties.”
“What makes you think I would?”
“Oh, I don’t. It’s just… you know, growing up with Zurfina…”
“Oh. Put it on.” Senta stuck out her right hand and Graham, removing the ring from the box, twisted it onto her ring finger. Though he was less than gentle, the ring was perfectly sized. She smiled. “I promise to always keep you in my heart and to not give anyone else any liberties.”
Graham grinned. Senta grasped him by both sides of his head and gave him a great big kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her body against his. She reveled in the feeling. Their breaths became gasps as their hands frantically explored each other. The sound of someone clearing his throat woke them from the ecstatic dream they were sharing. They turned to see, silhouetted in the dim light of the moon, a strange hunch-backed form.
“Who are you?” called Graham.
Senta simply picked up a twig and cast a light spell upon the end of it. She held the magically glowing ember up. Revealed in the halo of light was Eamon Shrubb, and riding on his back, his five year old son Saba.
“Good evening,” said Shrubb.
“Oh, hello,” said Graham.
“Hi,” said Senta, and then waved two fingers at the boy, who hid his face behind his father’s head. It annoyed the young sorceress that so many small children seemed to be afraid of her when the same children would practically jump onto Bessemer’s face.
“I’m glad to see the two of you,” said Shrubb. “From the sounds coming from over here, I was afraid we had stumbled onto a flock of velociraptors tearing at a carcass.”
“No,” said Graham. “We were… just… discussing…”
“Graham wants to marry me,” said Senta.
“You know… maybe someday, probably—definitely… when we’re older.”
“I see.” Shrubb bent down and set his son on the grass, then stretched to stand straight up. He was a big man, six foot three, and heavily built. Next to the little boy, he looked like a giant. For his part, the boy seemed a miniature version of the man but with coppery red hair.
“What are you doing this evening?” wondered Senta. “I see you’re not working.”
“I was getting ready for bed, when young Saba woke up with a nightmare, so I decided to take him for a horsy-back ride. He’s had a nightmare every night since that dragon showed up—the big scary dragon, not yours.”
“Bessemer could fight off that dragon, couldn’t he?” blurted out young Saba.
“Sure he could,” replied Senta. “As long as I was there to help him out—which I am.”
“Well you two have a splendid evening,” said Shrubb, once again picking up the boy and hoisting him up onto his back. “Oh by the way Senta, Police Inspector Colbshallow told me that if I was to see you I was to ask you to come by his office to see him.”
“What does he want?”
“I didn’t ask.” He stalked back into the darkness. The boy turned his head around to watch the two young people as his father carried him away. His face, pale in the magical light, but framed with red hair, was the last thing to disappear into the night.
“That was kind of embarrassing,” said Graham.
“Why?”
“Because we were snogging.”
“Yeah, I want to do some more of that. Come on.”
She took his hand and led him down the edge of the street, using the glowing ember as a torch.
“So you want to marry me?”
“Sure.”
“Why?”
“Um, you know why.”
“Do I?” she asked.
“Sure. Because you’re my girl.”
“And?”
“And you’re pretty.”
“And?”
“And who else would I want to marry?”
“And!”
“And… I love… I’m in love… I love you. You know that, right?”
“Of course I do, silly,” she said.
Four houses down and across the road was a small park that had yet to be officially named. Just over an acre, it featured a single reflective pool, surrounded by a circular walk and four park benches. Around this was a ring of rose bushes, which were in turn surrounded by a flat grassy area. Leading Graham to one of the benches, Senta pushed him down. She reached around behind and poked the bright end of the twig into the soft ground beside the rose bush, so that it made only a tiny dot of light. Then she carefully sat down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Now,” she said. “Take some liberties.”
* * * * *
The following afternoon just before two, Senta arrived at the police station. She made a stir as she entered. She was dressed more like Zurfina than the sorceress herself. Her arms were covered in fishnet gloves, though they couldn’t really be called gloves, because they didn’t cover her fingers. They simply attached to rings around her thumbs and her pinkies and then ran up almost to her shoulders, where they were held on tight with silken bows. A corset made of black leather with a series of five red belt-like straps with buckles running up the front, formed up her main garment, and the low-cut brassier portion of the corset left much of her chest bared and exposed two sigils, each a five pointed star. She wore a kind of leather skirt over the corset, but it reached down only about fourteen inches from her waist, leaving the tops of her stockings and the twelve suspenders connecting them to the corset, completely exposed. The stockings were fishnet mesh, matching the gloves. They were mostly unseen however, as her leather boots reached all the way past her knees to mid-thigh. These boots each had seven of the same red belt like straps that matched the corset. They featured thick square four-inch heels, raising her height over that of anyone present, including Inspector Colbshallow.
“I expected you earlier,” said Saba, edging past half a dozen open-mouthed police constables.
“You can’t expect a sorceress to come when called.”
“No. They’re not like boyfriends, eh?”
Senta smiled. “I had to take Fina by Mr. Buttermore’s new establishment.
“I heard he was going to open up a photographic studio.”
“He has. But enough chitchat. What did you want?”
“Come with me,” he replied. “We can talk in the elevator.”
He led her past the sergeant’s station and into the elevator, closing the cage after them. Turning the lever, he sent the elevator car slowly upward.
“It’s my investigation—the one into the lizzie that was murdered.”
“The governor’s lizzie?”
“Yes. I’ve got a sword in my office. I think it was the murder weapon, but I’m not sure. I want you to give me a bit of magical aid.”
“Don’t the police usually have a priest speak with the dead?”
“Don’t think I didn’t already think of that. Mother Linton wouldn’t allow it. No Kafirite magic wasted on a lizardman.”
“I see. Well, I’ll do what I can.”
Saba opened the elevator and led Senta to his office. Sitting on his desk was a typical example of the lizzie swords. It was long and flat like a cricket bat, and inlayed all along the edges were razor sharp pieces of obsidian. Though it was mostly clean, there were a few unmistakable brown smears of dried blood.
“You know I tried to get Bassington, but he’s too busy with the war,” he said.
“You’re better off with me.”
“Feeling pretty powerful, are we?”
“Didn’t you feel it when you kissed me?”
“Yes, about that,” he said. “I’d rather we kept that between ourselves.”
“Quiet now,” she said. Then she recited. “Sembor uuthanum edios nit.”
The sword glowed for just a moment.
“Is that it?” asked Saba.
“This sword was made fifty-two years ago by a lizzie who had been a great warrior in his younger days, but was made lame in battle, so he became a sword maker. The wood comes from a tree in central Mallon of a kind we don’t have a Brech name for—the lizzies call it sussata. The obsidian came from a smoking mountain, a volcano, in the west. Lizzies have been killed with this sword. The first was a very young warrior. There were many others, but none of them were here in Port Dechantagne. This sword was sold to a man for three hundred copper pfennigs. He hung it on its wall for four years. Then he killed a woman with it, and he threw it out to the side of the road. A boy found it and brought it to you.”
“Well, that’s brilliant,” said Saba. “You were right about the boy. His name is Mika. I suppose you could be right about more of it as well, but we don’t have a woman killed with a lizzie sword.”
“You do. You just don’t know it yet.”
“I have just one more thing for you then. I have a group of lizzies down in the holding cells—about twenty of them. I don’t know if any of them might be the killers, but I suspect that they all know something. If I just show you off to them, maybe I can frighten a few into giving me some information.”
“What makes you think that I’ll frighten them?”
“Hell, you frighten me. Most of them are more scared of you than they are of Zurfina. They’ve heard all about Lizzietown, St. Ulixes, and now Tsahloose. I’m sure those stories have lost nothing in the telling.”
“What if I just cast a truth spell?”
“Um, yes. That would be useful too.”
They took the elevator back down past the ground floor to the basement where the holding cells were located. Each of the six holding cells were crammed full of lizzies. Senta stepped up to the bars of cell number one. The lizardmen all took a step backwards.
“Uuthanum,” said Senta, while making a simple gesture with her right hand.
Saba looked through the bars at one reptilian, who because of the crowding couldn’t quite get as far away from them as the others.
“Do you know who killed Cissy?”
“Yes.” The lizardman spoke and then put his clawed hand over his mouth and rolled his yellow eyes around.
“Who did it?”
The reptilian didn’t speak. There was nothing in the magic that prevented anyone from keeping quiet. It only prevented them from lying when they did speak.
“If you don’t answer… If any of you refuse to answer, I’m putting you in a room with her,” said Saba. “Who was it?”
“I don’t gno all then. One was Zelsass.”
“How about you?” Saba pointed at another lizzie. “Who was it?”
“Zelsass, Snorn, Skye, Starr. One kill her. Others with hin.”
“Are any of them in here?”
Senta raised her hand. A small flame appeared in her palm. Immediately, almost every lizzie in the room pointed a clawed finger at one of two individuals—a dark green lizzie in cell two and a yellowish brown brute in cell four. Saba walked over to stand directly in front of the latter.
“Why did you kill her?”
The creature looked down at the ground and hunched over its shoulders but refused to speak. Saba looked over toward a female in cell three.
“Do you know why they killed her?”
The reptilian nodded. “She khikhetu tonahass hoonan.”
“I don’t follow that. Something about swallowing a human?”
“Cissy hoonan on inside, lizzie on outside. Zelsass and Snorn no like khikhetu tonahass hoonan. They show lizzies don’t act like hoonan.”
“Where can I find the other two?”
The female shrugged. Saba asked half a dozen other lizardmen before finding one who knew the answer. “They at Dechantagne house.”