The Price of Magic Page 13
The new first class coaches had come into service early the previous year. They were quite a step up from the old first class. Instead of having a bench seat and a bed in the sleeping car, enclosed only by a curtain, the new coaches featured individual cabins, each with a pair of plush chairs, two fold-down cots, and their own personal privies. Glancing at the tickets, Staff saw that they were in cabin three. The door was quickly located and he and Iolana stepped inside. Their luggage was awaiting them, and Staff wondered just how the lizzies knew where to put it. Shrugging off the thought, he sat down in one of the chairs. His daughter took the other.
“It appears we have a short wait before we leave,” said Staff, pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time. “Once we get out of town, we’ll go up to the dining car and have a nice lunch.”
“If you’re hungry now,” said Iolana, “cook gave me a cache of provisions.”
She opened her handbag and pulled out a small paper sack, which she peered into.
“I have a sandwich of some kind, three licorice whips, some hard candy, and an apple.”
“I’m sure I’ll survive until lunchtime. I was surprised that you decided to accompany me. You have so much going on with your friends, and of course, tutoring the children.”
“What? Miss a chance to get away from my life? I think not. I only wish that I had been able to go to Brechalon with you.”
“That was your mother’s decision, not mine,” said Mr. Staff.
“Don’t I know it! Heaven forbid that I should have any fun somewhere she wouldn’t be able to squash it.”
“You make you mother sound like an ogre.”
“Do I?” asked Iolana, rhetorically.
“I don’t know how much fun you’ll actually be able to have. I’ll be in meetings most of the two days we’re there, so you’ll be on your own.”
“I’m looking forward to a bit of sightseeing. I haven’t been to Mallontah since I was a small child. I don’t suppose St. Ulixes has changed nearly as much in that time as Port Dechantagne has, but then again, I’m sure there is quite a bit that I’ve forgotten.”
“I’m not too fond of the idea of you wandering around a strange city by yourself. Be sure you carry your pistol with you.”
“Of course, Father.”
The train whistle sounded and then with a sudden jerk, the cars lurched into motion. Father and daughter looked out the window as they pulled out of the station. Their cabin faced south, so they had a view of the switching area. Then a few moments later, they saw Lizzietown sliding past as the train gathered steam.
“Well, shall we?” asked Mr. Staff.
Iolana nodded and stood. Then she followed her father out into the hallway and up toward the front of the train. They passed through one other first class carriage before reaching the dining car. There was a rope barring the way in, but a waiter hurried over to move it aside.
“Are we too early?” asked Mr. Staff.
“We normally don’t start luncheon service until 11:30.”
“We could come back.”
“Nonsense, Sir Radley. It’s no trouble at all. Please sit where you like and I’ll bring you a menu.”
When the waiter returned, the two Staffs looked at the single sheet menu.
“This looks suspiciously like the menu at Finkler’s Bakery,” said Iolana.
“Mr. Finkler owns the license for all the dining cars on the M&B line,” said the waiter.
“That man is quite a success,” said Mr. Staff. “Too bad he’s already married, eh Iolana?”
His daughter shot daggers at him with her eyes. Clearing his throat, he turned back to the menu.
“I will have a Fostbeck sandwich, and I think, a doppelbock.”
“I will have a Fostbeck sandwich as well,” said Iolana, “however I would like white bread instead of rye, and please hold the mustard and sour kraut.”
“That’s not really a Fostbeck sandwich then, Dear.”
“I can get that though, can’t I?” Iolana asked the waiter.
“Of course, My Lady.”
“And a bottle of Billingbow’s, please.”
“You know, every time I have a Fostbeck sandwich, it reminds me of a time at sea, when a man shot at me,” said Mr. Staff. “He missed me, but sadly, killed my sandwich.”
“Why was he trying to shoot you?”
“It was… um, it was a simple misunderstanding.”
“Was it a misunderstanding over a lady?” asked Iolana.
“A gentleman doesn’t discuss such things with his daughter. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“That’s as much of a confirmation as I could have hoped for. You don’t need to be shy, Father. I’m only too well aware of how handsome you are. I imagine the young women were constantly chasing after you, before you gained the ball and chain you currently wear. It was before you married mother, wasn’t it?”
“Of course,” said Staff. “Perhaps a different topic now?”
“You could enlighten me as to the purpose for your trip to St. Ulixes.”
“You already know that, Iolana. I’m trying to sell coal. St. Ulixes is buying it from the Bordonians in Novo Brabant. They should be buying it from us. We’re closer and we’re Brech after all.”
“I thought the whole purpose of M&S Coal was to supply Merchant and Shannon Steamship Lines.”
“It was,” said Mr. Staff. “It turns out though that there is an ungodly amount of coal in Birmisia, and at least for right now, I have it all.”
“So why aren’t they buying it from you already?” asked Iolana.
“We’re only just at the point when we can expand operations enough to collect extra to sell. I think I’ll be able to underbid the Bordonians on their price, even if they are using slave labor.”
The waiter arrived with their sandwiches. As expected, they were large and looked delicious. Each came with golden chips. Both Mr. Staff’s beer and his daughter’s soda water came in the bottle, but each was provided with a frosted glass.
“Make sure you get that contract, Father,” said Iolana, as Mr. Staff took a bite of his sandwich. “I don’t much care for the idea of slave labor, even for convicts.”
He simply nodded in reply.
After lunch, they returned to their cabin, where Mr. Staff took a nap on the fold-down bed. Iolana pulled out her writing tablet and began putting the finishing touches on the outline for her novel. She was quite pleased with the idea. The story would be about the meetings and appointments of a young man as he went about a typical day in Port Dechantagne. She hadn’t yet decided on a name for her main character. Each of the eighteen chapters would mirror events from the mythical story Odessah and his journey around the world at the command of God.
She continued working well past tea, while her father took a stroll back to the smoking car. The train was rushing toward the setting sun when they returned to the dining car. This time it was filled almost to capacity. Mr. Staff had to stop several times to shake hands with other passengers as they were shown to their table.
“They have Beef Dechantagne,” said Iolana, looking at the menu.
“Of course they do,” said her father, drolly. “I’ll be honest. Sometimes I get sick of hearing that name.”
“I feel the same way about Iolana,” said Iolana.
“To tell you the truth, Iolana wouldn’t have been my choice, had I been there at the time.”
“It wouldn’t have been Livonia, would it?”
“Iolana Livonia Dechantagne Staff—can I just apologize and leave it at that?”
“What would you have named me?” she asked.
“I would have chosen your two grandmother’s names,” said Mr. Staff. “Iolanthe’s mother was Iphigenia, and my mother was Nausicaa.”
“I suppose I made out all right after all,” said Iolana. “Though I guess I would prefer either of those names to Livonia.”
“What may we serve you, My Lord?” asked the waiter, returning to the tableside.
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br /> “Fish and chips please,” said Mr. Staff.
“But Father, you had chips for lunch.”
“Can you really have too many chips?”
“Fine. I’ll have the same.”
“Another doppelbock, My Lord?”
“No. One per day is more than enough. I’ll have a Billingbow’s.” Mr. Staff looked at his daughter. “Another for you?”
She nodded.
“I really wish you would try to get along with your mother,” said Mr. Staff, once the waiter had retreated to the kitchen. “It’s only a few years until you move away. You’ll be off to college and then get married and have a home and children of your own.”
“I’m never marrying,” said Iolana. “I wasn’t joking about that, and I wasn’t saying it to get a rise out of my mother—at least not just to get a rise out of mother. I mean it. I don’t want to be part of the great Dechantagne plan.”
“I know you don’t, and you don’t have to be. But don’t cut off your nose to take revenge on your face. You will want to build a life, and children are a big part of that. Think how much you love your cousins and little Dee Dee Colbshallow.”
“I have no interest in producing offspring, giving them the illusion of free will, and then forcing them into a predetermined path in life,” said Iolana. “I will not become a slave, either to society’s preconceptions about me or to a man. I intend to live a life of academia. I shall be happy to spend all my days on the university campus, where no one bows or scrapes, and I will be known as Miss Staff, and no one will refer to me as Lady Iolana.”
“Iolana, you’re hardly a slave. You do what you want. That’s far from the life of most children in the world, who are working on farms, in factories, or in mines. You don’t have to give your life up if you get married. Kafira knows your mother didn’t. And you’ll be able to provide for your children, so that they can have good lives. Your son will be a Baron.”
“No, he won’t, because I won’t have one.” Iolana stuck her nose in the air. “If I ever change my mind, I’ll just have a love child, like the Drache Girl did.”
“That’s not the least bit funny,” said her father.
Their meals arrived a moment later, and they ate in complete silence.
Iolana and her father spent most of the next day apart. He said that he had important paperwork to go over for his meetings, but she was sure he was just avoiding her. She spent most of the day in the observation car, planning to write, but in actuality, watching the great herds of dinosaurs they passed. She stepped off for a minute when the train stopped for water, but there was little to see other than a water tower and the fortified home of those whose job it was to keep it filled. She ate breakfast, lunch, and tea by herself, but skipped dinner.
The following morning they were back together for breakfast, and Mr. Staff seemed affable enough, but he had lunch with some businessmen, and left Iolana alone for tea as well. She had just sat down to the afternoon meal, when she found a figure suddenly standing beside her table.
She looked up into the face of Tiber Stephenson. Tiber was the eldest son of the family whose home was just down the street from the Dechantagne Staff estate. He was a lean, handsome youth of seventeen, with brown hair and intelligent green eyes.
“Lady Iolana,” he said, with a nod.
“Oh please. You’ve known me all my life, Tiber. In fact, as I recall, you used to call me Roly-Poly-Yolie: not very clever of you, really.”
“To be fair, I was only seven or eight years old at the time.”
“I concede that point. Won’t you sit down?
“Only if you allow me to join you for tea.”
“My father didn’t put you up to it, did he?”
“Is he here?” Tiber looked around the dining room. “I haven’t seen him. I only just happened to see you sitting here.”
“Sit, please.”
The young man took the seat across from her. They were almost immediately joined by the waiter.
“Bring us tea for two, please,” said Iolana.
With a nod, the server disappeared.
“So, you’re on your way to St. Ulixes?” asked Tiber.
“Oh, I can’t put one over on you, can I?” replied Iolana. “My father is making the trip for business, and I thought I would go along as a tourist.”
“That’s exactly my situation. My father is thinking of investing there. I just came along to get the look of the land. I’ve never been to Mallontah. Maybe we could do some of that together.”
“Perhaps.”
“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you since New Year’s Day.”
Iolana rolled her eyes. “Well, you did your duty. I collected your card. How many other young women did you visit that day?”
“Only a few—Questa, Talli, Dovie, and of course Ernst and Didrika.”
“You are very close with Miss Goose, aren’t you?
“Ernst, do you mean?”
“I was speaking of Didrika. You certainly spent a great deal of time with her at the New Year’s Eve party.”
“We’re good friends, but she’s too old for me. Or rather, I’m too young for her. She’s looking for an established gentleman. Ernst is very nice, and she’s pretty, not to mention that she’s a more appropriate age. If I had my way, I would court her, but I don’t think my father would allow it.”
“But she’s cousins with the McCoorts and also with the Drache Girl. They’re probably as rich as your family or mine.”
“The McCoorts are new money though. And the Drache Girl—well, she’s the problem really. My parents would accept new money with a daughter-in-law, not a son-in-law mind, but they would never accept anyone related to an unwed mother. It would be unthinkable.”
“Are you sure my father didn’t send you over?”
“No, why?”
“No reason. So then, I suppose your parents would be dead set against Questa, what with her mother being a foreigner,” mused Iolana, to which Tiber nodded. “I suppose that leaves Talli Archer.”
“She acts nice in crowds,” he said, “but she’s really a shrew.”
“Don’t I know it!”
“My parents specifically asked me to call on you,” he said, “and I honestly like you better than any of the other girls.”
“Me? Roly-Poly-Yolie?”
“It won’t be long before you are old enough to tame, Stahwasuwasu Zrant,” he said in perfect spit-n-gag.
“Stop showing off, Ssukhas Zrant,” she replied in the same tongue.
“I didn’t know you knew my lizzie name,” he said, switching back to Brech. “It’s not like I’m famous among them, a close friend of their god and all.”
She shrugged.
“Yes, I know you’re not ready to receive callers, even though you turn fourteen in three weeks. Lots of girls get married when they are fourteen these days.” He held up his hand when she started to object. “I understand though. You’re not ready. All I ask is that in a year or two, when you are ready, you at least consider me.” He leaned across the table. “Or have you already settled on Ascan Tice?”
“Tea for two,” said the waiter, arriving with a massive tray.
He laid out plates of finger sandwiches, tarts, scones with butter and honey, and of course a pot of steaming tea.
“Anything else, My Lady, Sir?”
“Might I be able to get a glass of cold water?” asked Iolana. “It seems to be increasingly warm in here.”
She busied herself gathering together items from the platters and putting them on her plate. When the waiter brought her a glass of ice water, she took a long drink.
“Say, you didn’t bring along your lizzie, did you?” asked Tiber, as he gathered his own food.
“Esther? No, she stayed home. I didn’t think it was safe for her in Mallontah.”
“That’s probably for the best. The lizzies and the trogs don’t get along. Funny, that.”
“I suppose it’s a bit like us and the short men.”
“Now,” said Iolana. “But we spent a good portion of history attempting to eradicate them.”
Tiber shrugged. “Why do you suppose they’re called trogs?”
“It’s short for troglodyte,” said Iolana. “That’s Zurian for cave-dweller.”
“Interesting,” said Tiber. “So, where are you staying in St. Ulixes?”
“I believe Father has us at the Portnoy. And you?”
“We own a house. I haven’t seen it, but my father says it’s nice. Would you like me to send a car for you tomorrow?”
“That would be fine,” said Iolana. “Not too early though. After breakfast.”
Iolana stayed in her cabin through dinner, having eaten more than enough at tea to tide her over till bedtime, and having been recently reminded that in her younger years she might have been slightly on the chubby side. Her father dined with some of the other businessmen on the trip. Finally, at just before eleven the train reached the edges of St. Ulixes, and pulled into the station less than twenty minutes later.
A representative of the Portnoy met the Staffs as they stepped off the train. He had two trogs with him, to gather their luggage and take it to the waiting steam carriage. Iolana had seen trogs, the indigenous people of Mallontah on her earlier visit, but now she had a much better perspective on them than she had before. They were smaller than lizzies. Most were about her height, significantly shorter than her father. They were also less heavily built than Birmisian lizardmen. Their mouths were much shorter but wider, their teeth not as exposed, but smaller and appearing sharper. Instead of a dewlap below their chins, the trogs had a kind of sack of wrinkled skin that expanded and contracted when they breathed. While the lizzies were all various shades of green, from olive to emerald, the trogs tended to be some shade of brown, grey, or drab olive. On top of their heads, they sported a frill or a fin. It usually remained flat against their skull, standing up only when they were agitated.
The drive to the hotel was long and unpleasant. The winding, narrow streets were clearly not designed with steam carriages in mind. They were filled with foot traffic, mostly trogs, but a few humans as well. The streets were also unpaved and there was a constant haze of dust stirred up by both feet and vehicles, which collected all over the car’s passengers. At last they arrived at the hotel. It was one of the few buildings that didn’t look as though it might fall over any moment. It was three stories tall, the lowest level constructed of stone, with the upper two composed mostly of wood. Iolana followed her father and the hotel man in through the front door. The trogs followed her.