Birmisia was full of life in the spring. Wildflowers seemed to suddenly appear just about everywhere. The days were warm and wet, with frequent fog and almost daily rain showers. The giant maples grew new leaves, adding their lustrous green to the ever-present deep emerald of the tremendous pines. Ferns opened up their fronds in the dappled light beneath the mighty trees and in those places with no light, large and varied mushrooms showed their rounded heads. Plants were not the only life forms present though. The land was alive with both birds and beasts. One could easily spot cormorants, snipes, rails, and wrens hopping through the trees along with the strange four-winged microraptors. A few godwits, grebes, puffins, and pelicans occasionally strayed inland from the shore. On the ground caudipteryx, buitreraptors, bambiraptors, meilong, and mahakala ran among the ferns looking for small lizards and snakes and large insects, which were everywhere. They didn’t bother the opossums or the mice, which stayed snug in their dens until nightfall. In the open areas huge iguanodons grazed, sometimes accompanied by triceratops and ankylosaurs. Most of the large predators like the tyrannosaurs and utahraptors had become scarce due to the presence of man, though the velociraptors and deinonychus were still thick, as happy to scavenge human trash as to hunt the other Birmisian creatures.
A flock of seven velociraptors made their way down the road. They went in fits and starts, pausing to snatch a lizard or small rodent from among the ferns and squawking at each other. They were, like all of their species, covered with hairy feathers, yellow near their small arms, and green everywhere else. Most of this particular group had a black band around the base of their necks. They were only about two and a half feet tall, but their long tails stretched straight out almost five feet. The most famous features of the velociraptors were their feet, each of which had a three-inch claw curving upward, and their long many-toothed snouts, more like something one would expect to see on a crocodile than on a bird. The leader of the flock raised its head as it spotted a human walking toward them from down the lane.
Velociraptors seldom hunted human beings unless one was wandering alone and injured. It had little to do with size. Some of the animals that fell to the feathered runners were much larger than man-size. Though velociraptors were not known for their intelligence, they possessed a cunning that matched most aerial birds of prey and this allowed them to determine which potential targets were more likely to become their supper than the other way around. Simply put, most humans didn’t act like prey. A few did. They started, and jumped with fear. But most didn’t. They didn’t quite act like predators either. They blundered around the forest without regard to what they might run into. To the velociraptors, they were simply too confusing to be bothered with unless there was nothing else to eat. And in spring, here in Birmisia, there was plenty to eat.
Regardless of their intent on hunting this particular human, the flock fanned out, following their instinctual behavior for both hunting and defense. Three took positions on either side of the road, moving in and among the shelter of the trees, while the leader moved into direct confrontation. This way they formed a triangular trap around the animal, in this case a human, directing it forward and keeping its attention away from potential attackers on the side. What happened next cemented in the tiny minds of the velociraptors as much as anything could, that this human was a poor choice for prey.
This human being was a teenaged female, and though biologists still debate whether velociraptors can distinguish between the sexes of mammals, others of her kind could immediately recognize her gender by the long flowing deep violet velvet dress, made more expansive by an extensive bustle over her rear end, and the long flowing blond hair held back by the deep violet velvet ribbon fastened on the side. Tens of thousands of other human beings could in fact identify this particular human female, because this particular human female was the young sorceress Senta Bly. She was hurrying home from the Hertling house where she had enjoyed afternoon tea. When she noticed the brightly feathered creature standing directly in her path, she flipped her hand toward it and muttered a single word under her breath. A bright blue ball of energy flew from her fingers to the velociraptor, which exploded into a puff of yellow, green, and black feathers. Its comrades disappeared into the forest.
Senta had scarcely passed the spot in which the velociraptor had stood when she was brought to a stop by a honking coming from behind. She turned around to see a shiny steam carriage chugging down the road toward her. As she waited, the vehicle slowed and came to a stop. A tall man in the uniform of a police sergeant looked down at her. His thick blond hair, flashing moss green eyes, and confidant air made him handsome in a way that the recently acquired bend in his nose couldn’t detract from.
“You shouldn’t walk on this side of town alone,” said Police Sergeant Saba Colbshallow. “Velociraptors have been thick lately.”
Senta nodded.
“Nice car. I didn’t know you were so rich,” she said.
“It’s police property, as you well know little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl,” replied Senta. “I’ll be fifteen in six days.”
“Don’t I know it? I’ve got it marked on my calendar. Climb in. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“It’s only about a hundred yards.”
“Sure, but how often do you get to ride in a steam carriage?”
“I don’t think they’re safe. They used to blow up all the time back in Brech.”
“You’ve never ridden in a steam carriage have you?” Saba grinned. “The Drache Girl is too frightened to ride in a car?”
Senta stuck out her lip. “I’m not frightened.”
Saba reached across the passenger seat and offered her his hand. She stared at it for just a moment, then accepted it, and climbed up onto the empty seat, reaching behind to ensure she didn’t flatten her bustle. A quick press on the forward accelerator sent the car shooting down the gravel road.
“You’ve passed my house,” said Senta.
“I thought we could take a turn around the block.”
“What exactly is it you want? I’m not used to being held hostage.”
“Hardly that. I was concerned so I thought I’d check up on you. Mr. Bratihn said that you had a meeting this morning that you didn’t arrive for.”
“Oh, I forgot all about that.”
“That’s not the first such story I’ve heard in the past few months.”
Senta shook her head and frowned.
“I can only be so many places at one time. Honestly, Fina has me running all over the place lately. You’d think she could do some of her own business. After all, I’m just a kid.”
Saba laughed as he turned the corner.
“Have you noticed how quickly you go from ‘I’m not a little kid’ to ‘I’m just a little kid’? How long do you think you get to have it both ways?”
“I figure one year and six days.”
Saba grinned, but then looking at the road, slammed his feet down on the clutch and the decelerator while pulling up on the brake. A pair of female polacanthus lazily moved across road. The animals paid no more attention to the steam carriage than they usually did to humans or their machines, which is to say none. About four feet high at the shoulder, these thirteen-foot long dinosaurs were heavily built with pointy spines poking out at forty-five degree angles right and left from the top of their neck to their mid-back for protection. They were just the type of thing that would have completely wrecked a new car if hit.
“Thanks for the ride,” said Senta, climbing down.
“I was going to bring you back around to the tower.”
“That’s okay. Give my best to your wife.”
Saba Colbshallow was no longer a newlywed, having been married for well over a year. Still, the mention of his better half brought an involuntary smile to his face that in turn made Senta crinkle her nose in disgust.
“Talking of which,” said Saba. “Loana would like to get together for tea.”
“Doesn’t she see you every day?”
“I meant with you.”
“I don’t think so.”
The former Loana Hewison was accounted by all as one of the most beautiful women in Port Dechantagne, and as far as Senta could tell, seemed a pleasant enough person. On the other hand she had helped herself to Saba and to Senta’s mind Saba was, in some vague and indefinable way, her property and should not have been allowed to marry without her approval. It wasn’t as if she had romantic designs on him, as she had already selected the boy she planned to someday marry. It’s just that she had a special connection to Saba through their long association and other women had no business sniffing around her men anyway.
“Toodle-pip,” she said, leaving Saba to wait for the polacanthus to move out of the way before continuing.
The excursion in the steam carriage had added about two hundred yards to the journey but Senta was home in just a few minutes. Though neighbors usually referred to the house shared by Senta and her mistress, the sorceress Zurfina, as a “tower” it was in actuality built on the same floor plan as most houses in the area. In this case it simply had four additional floors stacked upon it. The very top story was the elder sorceress’s private study, in which none were allowed. The second level from the top was her bedroom and boudoir. The middle level was a bedroom and playroom for Senta. The ground floor was a kitchen, dining area, parlor, and storage rooms. The first floor up was the living room and the personal chamber for the home’s third resident.
Stepping inside and closing the door after her, Senta took off her purple velvet jacket and hung it up on the coat rack by the door. She quickly turned around, puzzled by the sound of sobbing, to find a massive dragon almost completely filling the lower level. Though it looked dull grey in the limited light, she knew that when in the sunlight its scales shone like polished steel.
“What’s the matter, baby?” said Senta stepping quickly toward the beast’s massive spiked head.
“I can’t get upstairs.” Though spoken in whimpering tones, the voice was that of a cultured grown man.
“Why not? Are you hurt?”
“No, I can’t fit!” The huge mouth opened and the dragon cried, sending tiny sparks flying out.
“Oh Bessemer,” said Senta, hugging the whiskered face. “It’s going to be all right. We knew this day was coming. I think you’ve grown just since you got home… Kafira! Can you even get out the front door?”
Bessemer, the steel dragon, who had been scarcely larger than a housecat when they had arrived in Birmisia six years earlier, opened his eyes wide. Though most human beings had a difficult time reading the expressions of the dragon, not the least of reasons being that both the whites and pupils of his eyes were the same steel color as his scales, Senta knew just what was running through his mind. He had gotten home three days earlier and squeezed inside to curl up for a nice long sleep. Now he faced the possibility that he couldn’t get back out without busting through a wall.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s see if I can fit you out.”
She opened the door and Bessemer stepped carefully over the furniture and stuck his head out through the portal. His head was followed by his long serpentine neck, but his body wouldn’t quite go through.
“Stretch your wings out,” Senta advised.
Unfolding two scaly wings, Bessemer stretched them straight back, knocking the smoke pipe off of the wood-burning stove as he did so, but he passed through the doorway. Finally his long whip-like tail with an arrow shaped barb at the end made it through.
“Uuthanum,” said Senta, sending a spell to repair the stovepipe and clean up the soot that had fallen from it.
“Now what do I do, Pet?” wailed the steel dragon.
“You’ll just have to stay outside for now.”
“I can’t stay outside. I’m not a yard dragon. I’m a house dragon!”
Senta couldn’t help laughing. “You stay out for weeks at a time.”
“But not when I’m asleep. I don’t want bugs crawling on me when I sleep.”
“You already know the ward to protect you from insects. I doubt anything could squeeze between your scales anyway.”
“I can’t sleep outside!”
“Fine.” She crossed her arms and scrunched up her forehead in thought. “You run off for a while. Hunt. Explore. Have fun. When you get back I’ll have it all worked out.”
“Really?”
“Of course. If I can’t take care of my dragon, they’ll stop calling me the Drache Girl, won’t they?”
Bessemer curled down his neck and pressed his face against Senta. His head was almost as large as she was.
“I’ve missed you,” he said. “We haven’t spent any time together for months.”
“I know, baby. We will. I’m going to make some special time for us.”
“Just you and me?”
“Yes, just you and me.”
“Nobody else right?”
“Okay, but I thought you liked to hang out with the gang.”
“Don’t get me wrong; I like them. But I have been noticing that Graham and Hero in particular smell more like food lately. I’d hate to accidently eat one of them.”
“Oh you’re just talking that way because you’re hungry. Eat a nice big dinosaur and you’ll be right as rain. And don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. You won’t have to sleep outside with the bugs.”
“Thanks,” said Bessemer with a final sniff. “Kisses.”
The dragon placed his head beside the girl’s and made a kissing noise. A second later he shot into the air like an artillery shell. Senta watched him reach an altitude of several hundred feet before he stretched out his great wings and turned to the south, disappearing from sight behind the towering redwoods.
Back in the house, Senta flipped her hand and the components of a sandwich began assembling themselves. Cheese and ham flew from the magical icebox, or froredor, and a knife began slicing them while another knife sliced thick pieces of bread from a loaf bought the day before at Finkler’s Bakery. Once the sandwich was done and on a plate, that plate flew across the room and then followed Senta as she made her way up the stairs to her room. At the top of the second flight, she took the sandwich and let the plate float across her bedroom to land atop the wardrobe, where several old dirty dishes awaited it.
“What are you looking at?” asked Senta, her mouth full.
A cloth-bodied doll with a porcelain face lay back on the pillows at the top of her bed. It looked remarkably like her, though it was not dressed as she was, instead wearing a flowery print dress with a straw hat that matched exactly what Senta had worn the previous day. The doll shrugged, and getting up to its feet, wobbled its way to the foot of the bed. The young sorceress went to the window and looked out at the birds while she ate her sandwich. The branches of a large maple reached almost right up to the side of the house and a family of microraptors had built a sloppy nest just three or four feet from the window. Soon it would have two eggs in it, but at the moment it was empty. Before she even realized it, Senta had finished her meal and turned back around. The doll, seeing her hands free, stretched its arms up in the air to signal it wished to be picked up. The girl obliged and tucked it into the crook of her arm.
“I send you on an important errand and here you are, playing with dolls.”
The sultry voice came from Zurfina, who was standing naked at the landing. Senta couldn’t help noticing that her mistress possessed what she thought must be the perfect female form. Curvy and bosomy, she might have been a model for a famous statue had it not been for the constellation of five large star tattoos, two below her clavicles, one around her navel, and one above each hip bone. And one…”
“Fina! There’s another star on your knee!”
“So there is,” said Zurfina looking down.
“Is there even a tattooist in Port Dechantagne?”
“Don’t be stupid, and don’t change the subject. I count on you to take care of things here in Birmisia for me. You’re thirteen years old now and you should be able to handle that.”
“I’m almost fifteen.”
“Really? What year is this?”
“It’s the year of our Lord nineteen hundred five.”
“Really? What month?”
“It’s Treuary 25th—just six days till a very important date.”
“Treuary… 1905…” Zurfina looked up at the ceiling and tapped her chin with her fingers.
“Did you hear me? Six days?”
“I have to go away for a while, Pet,” the elder sorceress announced. “I’ll try to be back before the end of spring.”
Senta stared open-mouthed as Zurfina turned and ascended the stairs. She could hear her climb two flights of stairs and she could hear the door to Zurfina’s study open and shut.
“Six days!” she called up.
The next morning, Senta pointedly ignored the black leather dress that was laid out for her at the foot of her bed. For as long as she had lived with Zurfina, new and almost always bizarre fashions, had appeared each morning in her bedroom. Choosing instead a bright red linen dress with black brocade, she matched it with a black top hat that featured a red ribbon. Downstairs she made a quick breakfast of bread and cheese. After that, she went to the storage room and retrieved a small bottle of blue liquid. Then she left out the front door, turning toward Town Square.
She had spent the remainder of the previous evening sulking over being suddenly left all alone at home, and the fact that Zurfina had forgotten her birthday. This wasn’t too much of a surprise. Zurfina had only remembered one birthday of the last five, without being reminded, but at least she had always been there when the day had arrived. Zurfina, who was famous for cloistering herself away from the public eye, had suddenly gone away two years before and stayed away for months. She had done the same thing twice since then. Senta didn’t ask her what she was up to, and if she had, she doubted she would have received a straight answer. But now Zurfina was going to be gone during her birthday. It was enough to make her spit.
Town Square now formed the head of a spike-shaped commercial district, driven south as the town of Port Dechantagne stretched itself in that direction. The square was filled with scores of people as Senta arrived. Locals were buying fine clothing at Mrs. Bratihn’s dress shop or the new haberdashery. Breakfast was being served at Mrs. Finkler’s Bakery Café. New arrivals were keen to visit Mr. Darwin’s shop, where he sold all manner of leather goods made from dinosaur skin. The busiest shop was by far Mr. Parnorsham’s Pfennig Store, where one could purchase anything from needles and thread to butter biscuits.
Then there were the aboriginal denizens of Birmisia. Looking like a cross between an alligator and an iguana though standing upright, they had thick mottled skin ranging in color from olive to deep forest green. The shortest among them were more than five feet tall and though the largest easily topped seven feet, they usually hunkered down so as not to appear taller than humans. One could determine whether the humans were new arrivals or long time residents by their reactions to the lizzies. The former stared in fear and fascination, while the latter almost completely ignored them. There were fewer lizzies than humans, but not by much.
As if the busy store patrons and working lizzies had not created enough hustle and bustle on their own, the loud honking call of a triceratops heralded the arrival of the new town trolley. The trolley system had been in operation for scant weeks now and the kinks were still being worked out. It ran in an elongated loop from the train station in the south, through the business district and north to the dockyards. This would eventually form the massive trunk of the trolley system and even now, new tracks were being laid by lizzie work crews on side streets that would form the system’s branches. The trolley car was a beautiful green and yellow one and had just been reassembled after the long trip from Greater Brechalon. It was just about the same size as the great three horned beast that pulled it. Harriet was one of three triceratops that had been captured shortly after Senta and the other first arrivals had set foot in Birmisia. She was completely at home around people and didn’t seem to mind at all pulling the railed vehicle. She hadn’t quite gotten the idea of how to bring it to a halt, so she passed the trolley stop by almost thirty feet before the driver could rein her in.
“All right Harriet,” said Senta, patting the beast on the haunch before climbing aboard.
The driver had stepped off to feed the triceratops some leafy branches so the vehicle waited almost ten minutes before starting up again. Once going, the trolley went through the great gate in the wall that separated the northern peninsula from the rest of the town. It passed rows of apartments and then dozens of warehouses before turning left and going downhill toward the dockyard. Only halfway down the hill however, Harriet apparently bothered by something pushing on her from behind, stopped and then began to back up, regardless of what the driver did. At last he pulled up on the emergency brake and turned to his passengers.
“This is as far as we’re going today folks.”
It was a short skip down Seventh and One Half Avenue to the dockyard offices, and Senta soon found herself looking in at the dozen or so officials at desks therein. Walking briskly past them, she stopped at the manager’s office and knocked.
“Come in.”
Lawrence Bratihn sat at a large desk covered with paperwork. He was not handsome, but possessed a rugged attractiveness with square shoulders and a large head. His thinning hair, parted in the middle was graying around his ears though his large handlebar mustache was thoroughly brown.
“Good morning,” said Senta, gliding across the room, as the man quickly stood.
“Good morning, Miss,” he said amiably, taking her offered hand.
“I’m sorry I missed our meeting.” Senta pulled out the bottle of blue liquid and held it out for him. Bratihn looked at it for a moment.
“Oh. I don’t need happiness potion.”
“You don’t? I thought you were still taking it, since… you know.”
Bratihn, once part of the expedition’s military, had been imprisoned in the lizzie city of Suusthek where he had been tortured and blinded. On his return, like many others who had experienced a great trauma, he had started taking Blessudine, the happiness potion blended by wizards and sorcerers, and had continued for some time even after magically regaining his eyesight.
“No, I’ve stopped.”
“Oh. Well, what did you want then?”
“You have a copper delivery.”
“Huh?”
“You have a copper delivery.”
“I have a copper delivery? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Look for yourself.” Bratihn, unfazed by her language held out a shipping document. A company name was emblazoned across the top in a modern serif font—Bly, Bessemer, & Co. Ltd. “I assumed that was you. You’re the only Bly I know and Bessemer is your dragon, right?”
“Bloody hell,” said Senta. “What am I supposed to do with a bunch of copper?”
“I don’t know, but it’s got to come off the ship.”
“Well, how much of it is there?”
“Eighty tons.”
“Kafira’s tit!”
“Well, that’s not as much as it sounds. You can always arrange to have it stored until you figure it out.”
“How much is a warehouse to rent?” wondered the girl.
“Two hundred marks a month, but you don’t need a whole warehouse. Eighty tons of copper won’t fill up a third of a warehouse.”
“That’s all right,” said Senta. “I’ll get a whole warehouse and you can have the copper transferred there.”
“You can see Mr. Tower in the outer office about the warehouse, but there are other fees for unloading…”
“Yes whatever,” Senta interrupted with a dismissive gesture Bratihn recognized from many years of familiarity with Zurfina.
After arranging for the rental of the warehouse, Senta started back the way she had come. The trolley was right where she had left it, but now there was some kind of kerfuffle going on. It was difficult to see just what it was as a crowd had gathered around, but the honking cries echoing between the buildings made it clear that Harriet was unhappy.
“Hey, give-over!” said Senta, pushing her way past two men.
As soon as others began noticing who she was, a path parted before her, revealing an angry triceratops struggling against the harness that attached her to the trolley. Harriet had already turned to one side, pulling the wheels from the rails and now several men were pulling at ropes tied around her horns. The great boney frill surrounding her head was flushed bright red.
“Hey! Knock that off, you wankers!” shouted a familiar voice from across the crowd. “Those horns aren’t for yankin’ on.”
Senta looked to see her boyfriend Graham pushing past several new arrivals. He was about the same age that she was, though the dungarees and heavy shirt made him look older. He was almost a head shorter than Senta, with unkempt brown hair and a freckled face that was usually smiling, but which right now was twisted into a snarl. He jumped forward and pulled the rope away from the hands of one of the men and moved toward the dinosaur, murmuring soothing words. Harriet was in no mood now to be comforted though, and took a bite at him with her great beaked mouth.
“Teiius Uuthanum,” said Senta, spreading her hands toward the enraged dinosaur.
Almost immediately Harriet stopped twisting and pulling on the ropes, and two seconds later her massive head slumped as she closed her eyes. She remained standing, but slept, even giving a single honking snore.
“Those horns aren’t for pulling on!” Graham shouted again at the men. “They’re for display! They’ll break off!”
He threw the rope on the ground and stomped away. Senta hurried after him, catching up about halfway down the hill.
“Graham,” she called.
He half turned and scowled at her and then continued on.
“Hey!”
She ran after him and grasping him by the shoulder, turned him around.
“What gives?” she asked.
“Oh, you want to see me now?”
“What are you talking about?”
“We were supposed to meet last evening. I was going to buy you dinner at the new restaurant. I’ve been saving for weeks. Any of this sound familiar? Instead I ate beef in a boot by myself.”
“Beef in a boot? You mean filet de boeuf en croute? Seems like I should be the one who is angry. All I had was a sandwich.”
“Hardly my fault,” said Graham. “I had to eat mine alone with all the people in Café Ada watching me.”
“It couldn’t have been that bad. Your brother-in-law took care of you, didn’t he?”
“More like he took pity on me, just like everyone else did for the poor tosser that got himself stood up by his girl.”
“I’m sorry, all right? I had a thing with Zurfina. You have to make allowances.”
“I make all kinds of allowances, but even I can only take so much.”
“I will make it up to you,” said Senta. “We’ll go on a pic-nic together tomorrow. You still have roast beef left over, don’t you?”
The boy nodded.
“Good. We can eat it cold. I’ll pack tea and biscuits and we’ll have a nice day in the park.”
“All right,” said Graham begrudgingly. “I’ll pick you up at your house—eleven sharp.”
“I’ll be ready,” promised Senta.
As a partially mollified Graham walked down the hill toward the docks, Senta turned and cut through the rows of apartment buildings to arrive back at Town Square, heading straight for the dress shop. Mrs. Bratihn had been operating her establishment for some years now and in the past year, Senta had become one of her best customers, filling her wardrobe with new dresses and Mrs. Bratihn’s coffers with money. When Senta stepped inside, Mrs. Bratihn and her assistant Mrs. Luebking were enjoying a cup of tea.
“Hello dear,” called Mrs. Luebking. “Come and join us for a cuppa.”
“Didn’t I tell you that dress would look wonderful on you?” said Mrs. Bratihn, pouring tea for the young sorceress. “Red is your color. Well, I have to admit, any color is really your color.”
“Yes. I like it so much that I want another just like it in pink.” Senta took the cup. “Three sugars please.”
“I don’t think black brocade will work with pink. What do you think Mrs. L?”
“White might be nice,” opined Mrs. Luebking. “A bit of lace, do you suppose?”
“Whatever you think best,” said Senta.
The bell over the door rang and Yuah Dechantagne stepped inside. She was a strikingly beautiful woman in her late twenties with flashing brown eyes and long brown hair. Her midnight blue dress looked as though it had never been worn before—because it hadn’t—and it was made of the finest Mirsannan silk. Around her perfect neck, hanging from a golden chain, she wore a diamond that would have made kings and queens choke on their wine. When she saw Senta, her eyes narrowed.
“I’ll come back,” she said flatly, and turning, she left.
“Any idea what’s chewing on her livers?” wondered Senta. “She hasn’t talked to me in months, and even then she was being a twat.”
“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Bratihn, blushing at Senta’s language. “She’s clearly upset about something, but then you know she hasn’t been the same since Captain Dechantagne’s death.”
“Well, I’ll get out of here and maybe you can sell her six or ten dresses.”
“That’s very gracious of you,” said Mrs. Luebking. “She is our best customer.”
“…and you are one of our favorites,” added Mrs. Bratihn, taking Senta’s teacup.
The Drache Girl exited the dress shop and didn’t see Mrs. Dechantagne anywhere outside, but had barely crossed the square when she ran into Mrs. Dechantagne’s sister-in-law, Mrs. Staff, outside Finkler’s Bakery. Colonial Governor Iolanthe Dechantagne-Staff was only slightly older than Mrs. Dechantagne and only slightly less beautiful, though striking in her own way with beautiful auburn hair and unusual aquamarine eyes. Her Thiss green dress was just as fine, though of a more traditional cut. Pulled along by the hand was her five year old daughter Iolana, an angelic-faced child with long curly blond hair and dressed to match her mother.
“Senta,” snapped Mrs. Staff upon seeing her. “Good. I need to see you.”
“Where’s your dragon?” asked little Iolana. “I want to play with him.”
“Quiet child,” said her mother. “I have business to discuss. Tell your mistress to come by my office tomorrow. I am in need of magical expertise.”
“Um, Zurfina is indisposed.”
“Then come yourself.”
“Will there be some sort of payment involved?” asked Senta, thinking about the cost of a warehouse rental as well as the cost of a new dress.
“I am already paying Zurfina. You are her apprentice. If she isn’t doing her job, then it’s up to you to do it.”
Mrs. Staff turned and continued on her way. Little Iolana looked back over her shoulder.
“Tell Bessemer I said ‘hi’.”
The young sorceress managed to make it home without being waylaid by anyone else, but as she hung up her hat inside the door, she sighed in exasperation.
“I’m that popular,” she said to herself. “I have to be four places at once.”
Then she paused. “I have to be four places at once.”
She smiled, and then said. “Uuthanum uusteros pestor.”