The Two Dragons Read online

  “Both, I guess,” Senta admitted with a shrug. “Or maybe neither. I’m feeling out of place in a way I haven’t felt in years—not since Granny died. I feel like something’s coming and I don’t know what I should do about it.”

  Hero looked at her with wide eyes. “You make that sound really scary. Did you have this feeling when the Lizard King attacked, or when Captain Dechantagne was killed?”

  “No. I didn’t have any idea that those things were going to happen. And this feeling I have now is probably nothing. I’m just melancholy.”

  “Well then stop worrying and just have a good time at the reception. It should be splendid.”

  “Let’s get a move on then,” said Senta pointing to Harriet’s massive flanks. “Uuthanum.”

  With no more motivation than this, Harriet began stomping forward, taking the long right turn onto east bound First Avenue. The conductor had to drop the branch that he had been about to hand feed the beast, and then rush around behind the trolley and jump up onto the running board. He glanced briefly at Senta as if he had half a mind to reproach her, but decided that he wouldn’t. Getting into position, he retook the controls.

  The trolley made its way through the upper-class neighborhood that featured tall, wrought iron fences separating the spacious yards from the sidewalks, and circular wrought iron fencing around the trees near the street. The nicest home in the area, though not the largest, was Egeria Lusk’s two-story, white, columned house. The trolley passed fifty yards beyond it before reaching its stop and the two girls could see dozens of people heading in the gate, having driven in their steam carriages from the Church of the Apostles. Colorful ribbons were draped from column to column. When the trolley stopped, they and four others stepped off and walked toward the stately manor.

  “Do you suppose Mayor Korlann will move into Miss Lusk’s home?” wondered Hero.

  “He’s a fool if he doesn’t,” said Senta. “Look at this place.”

  On the stone steps of the large house, the people parted to let Senta pass, just as they had at the church and the trolley stop, and as they did everywhere she went. The two seventeen-year-olds stepped into the new Mrs. Korlann’s parlor and admired the rich appointments, the polished antique furniture, and the beautiful artwork that filled the room. Several lizzie servants were carrying around trays of appetizers and drinks to the scores of well-wishers who had already gathered. Senta retrieved two tall glasses and handed one to Hero.

  “I think you’re too young to drink,” said a voice from behind her.

  “Relax Inspector. Miss…Mrs. Korlann has gone temperance you know. I doubt there is anything alcoholic on the premises.”

  Senta turned to look up into the green eyes of Police Inspector Saba Colbshallow. His were some of the few eyes she could still look up into. Six foot three inches tall, lean and muscular, he cut a figure that any young woman would be pleased to find beside her, despite his slightly crooked nose. Even a young sorceress could appreciate the fine cut of the blue uniform he seldom wore anymore. And just as this thought entered her mind, Mrs. Loana Colbshallow entered her field of vision.

  The other half of one of the most popular couples in Port Dechantagne was dressed in a simple red and white candy-striped dress with half a dozen white lace ruffles below the knees. Her hair, an unusual blend of shades from dark honey to light straw, was up and pinned back with red and white carnations. In the three years since their marriage, young Mrs. Colbshallow had put on a good twenty-five pounds, and Senta noticed with disgust, that every single ounce seemed to have been put on in exactly the right spots.

  “I think you’re wife is looking for you,” said Hero.

  “Do you think she’s worried you’re off chatting up the girls?” wondered Senta.

  “Nothing of the sort. She knows that when I chat up girls, it’s all in the line of duty.”

  Senta snorted, took a sip from her glass, and then snorted again as the alcohol in the white wine hit the back of her throat. Mrs. Colbshallow spotted her husband and stepped quickly over to him, locking his elbow within her grasp.

  “Senta, Miss Hertling, how lovely to see you.”

  “Mrs. Colbshallow,” replied Hero.

  “Hi,” was all that Senta could get out.

  “I’m so very afraid that I am underdressed. I did the best I could on a police inspector’s salary, but looking at how wonderfully the two of you are arrayed, I can’t help but be disheartened.”

  “I think you look very nice,” said Hero sweetly.

  “You look bloody fabulous,” said Senta. “We all know how incredibly beautiful you are, so just let it go. You managed to get this one to the alter, and he could have had anyone, and I do mean anyone that he wanted.”

  Loana Colbshallow squinted her eyes, but didn’t say anything else.

  “Come along, dear,” said Saba, leading her away by the elbow. He quickly glanced back at Senta with one raised eyebrow.

  A spattering of applause filled the room as the bride and groom entered. Zeah and Egeria Korlann made their way through the parlor, greeting their guests and receiving well wishes. They worked their way clockwise around the room. Though there were a few guests who tried to monopolize the couple, they deftly disengaged themselves so that they were able to spend a socially appropriate amount of time with everyone. By the time they reached Senta she had drained her wine glass and traded it for Hero’s full one.

  “Hello Senta,” said Egeria. “I’m so happy you could come.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “My husband needs to speak to Hero. Would you walk with me?”

  Senta looked down at the tiny white flowers arrayed in Egeria’s red hair, as the woman guided her by the hand in and out of the crowd of people and through a doorway, down a short hallway, and into a den. Taking the wine glass from the young sorceress’s hand, she started to set it on a bookcase, then stopped, pulled a book from the second shelf and sat the book on the cherry wood top, then the glass upon the book.

  “You’re still upset.”

  Senta folded her arms across her chest.

  “You know how much I care about you. With the exception of Yuah and maybe Saba, there’s nobody that I would have wanted in the ceremony more. Well… Zeah.”

  “It was Yuah… Mrs. Dechantagne told you not to let me, wasn’t it?”

  Egeria gave her a look but didn’t reply.

  “I wish I knew what she was so brassed off about.”

  “I don’t know dear,” replied Egeria. “I tried to question her, but she wouldn’t spill. It’s something big though. And I have to respect her wishes. She is my daughter now.”

  “Yeah. If you don’t mind, I’m going to duck out the back way here. My side hurts.”

  “It’s the alcohol. Zeah insisted that we serve wine, but you shouldn’t be drinking. You’re too young.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  Bending down, Senta kissed Egeria on the cheek, and then exited out the back way. Walking through the carefully crafted gardens behind the house, she made her way to the alley that ran along between First Avenue and the small strip of forested land facing the seashore. As the sun shone down on her, she moved to open her parasol only to realize that it was gone, no doubt returned to the vapor from which it had been made. She walked through Town Square, but once on the other side, again kept to the alleyways trying to avoid as many people as possible. She had grown to feel comfortable with the respectful and even frightened stares of onlookers, but she had already had enough for today.

  Coming up from behind Zurfina’s tower, she stopped at the large barn in the back of the lot. Built a year and a half before, the massive structure was nearly the same height as the five-story home in front of it. She rapped her knuckles on the fifteen-foot tall double door.

  “Hello. Anybody home?”

  There was no answer. She pulled the heavy door open just enough for her and her bustle to pass through. The interior was spotlessly clean. It had never held farm animals
, wagons, or anything else one might have expected to find in a barn. In one corner was a truly mountainous pile of pillows—some worn with use and some still fluffy and new. Senta plopped herself down at the base of the stack. She reached over and grabbed one pillow, a green one shaped like a turtle. Much of the fluff had been rubbed off the turtle shell and one of its googly toy eyes was lost.

  “Where the bloody hell are you?” she cried, half in anger and half in despair, as she flopped back into the pillow pile. A single tear rolled down her reddened cheek, but by the time it had rolled off her smooth skin, she had fallen asleep.

  Senta opened her eyes to find the turtle pillow across her face. She grabbed it and tossed it aside. Zurfina the Magnificent stood in the center of the barn looking down at her. She looked every bit the most powerful sorceress in the world, which was well, for that’s what she was. Over the past several years she had let her hair grow out, so that it now reached her waist. She wore a neck-high tight fitting black dress with white strands hanging from the white belt. It had white bows at the collar, the wrists and upon the bustle, and would have seemed a dress that any woman in Port Dechantagne might wear, if the dress, the belt, and the white bows had not all been made of rubber.

  “I have business in town,” she said.

  “You do?” Senta stood up.

  “Sit back down. I don’t like it when you’re taller than I am.”

  “I’m always taller than you are. When I’m sitting down you just don’t notice it. Why are you going into town anyway? You haven’t been out of the house in six months.”

  “Don’t you know?” Zurfina arched a brow.

  Senta let her mind reach out and touch the magical residue that invisibly tainted the normal world all around her.

  “Yes, I feel it. A practitioner of the arts is nearby. A ship coming into port?”

  The older sorceress nodded.

  “Do you know who it is?”

  “Oh, indeed I do.” But rather than enlightening Senta, Zurfina waved her arms in the air and vanished with a pop.

  “Well, thanks for the information.”

  Senta left the barn and headed into the tower, where she took a long, hot bath. She climbed out of the water and stepped into clean clothing, choosing her bright red dress, with white lace around the neckline and a brilliant white overdress. The dress was a little short, which allowed her to wear flat-heeled shoes. In front of the cheval glass, she carefully placed the red boater, arrayed with a few tiny white flowers, on her head. Grabbing her matching red parasol, of the non-magical variety, she was back out the door.

  The area around Zurfina’s tower had been sparsely settled just a few years before, but in the interim it had filled in with medium-sized single-family homes, with large yards. A great many of the forest trees had survived and a thick canopy of tall pines, redwoods, and maples shaded the brick streets. The bizarre four-winged microraptors jumped from trunk to trunk in search of insects amid a few more normal birds, none of them bothered by the steam carriages that zipped through the streets in other parts of the city.

  Senta walked north and then followed the coastline as it circumnavigated the crescent-shaped bay. She passed behind the stores and shops of Newport district and through the arched gate in the emergency wall. It was hard to remember a time, only eight years before, when the entirety of Port Dechantagne had been within the confines of that wall. Now only a tiny fraction of the city’s more than one hundred thousand human inhabitants could be found on the peninsula that the wall protected.

  The port facility had been greatly expanded. Even more warehouses and workshops were arrayed around the docking areas, which could provide berths for three massive ships. As Senta reached the port offices, she could see a great freighter sliding in between the two ocean liners that had been moored where they were for a week and ten days respectively. With a pop, Zurfina appeared at her elbow.

  “It took you long enough.”

  “I don’t go out without a bath.”

  “I expect nothing less. Still I’m surprised you’re here rather than the train station.”

  “The magic is coming from here.”

  “Yes, but you’re little friend is arriving right now on the train from Mallontah.”

  “Graham?”

  “That is his name, as I recall,” said Zurfina.

  “I’ve got to get over there and meet him.” Senta started to turn away, but Zurfina grabbed her elbow.

  “Two minutes won’t make much difference, and there’s something you need to see.” She pointed to the prow of the arriving ship.

  Standing at the rail was a tall man with a dark complexion. His salt and pepper hair had grown longer since Senta had seen him, and his squinty eyes behind horn-rimmed spectacles were even more squinty. With his upturned nose, his wide, thin mouth and his heavy lantern jaw, he was really quite ugly. About five foot ten, he wore a black pinstriped suit and over it, a long black rifle frock coat that reached to his knees. It was the wizard Smedley Bassington.

  “What does he want?” wondered Senta.

  “He wants us.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “I’ll take care of it, Pet. I’ll see you later.”

  “Be careful Zurfina.”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  From across the two hundred yard distance, Bassington was already watching the two sorceresses. Senta thought they couldn’t be very hard to pick out of a crowd, and here the crowd dared not come near them. The wizard smiled and waved, then started with alarm as Zurfina disappeared from the dock and reappeared right behind him. She wrapped her arms around his neck seductively, even as he tried to pull away. Then they were both gone. Senta couldn’t hear it from across such a great distance, but she knew it was there—the pop.

  “All right Graham, I’m on my way,” she said to herself and started for the trolley stop.

  Chapter Two: Zurfina’s Past

  The train station, originally a wooden structure smaller than most homes, had been partially rebuilt of stone and marble. It was in fact, well into a program of construction that would require the better part of a decade. That was not to say that the station was not in service. Trains rolled in from distant St. Ulixes in Mallontah on an average, three times a day. Every other day, a coal train arrived from the south. Two trains were in station at the present time. One was sitting idle and would leave for Mallontah later that day. The other, the B-412, had arrived from St. Ulixes within the last half hour and its engine was still emitting steam from its boiler.

  More than one hundred passengers had arrived on the B-412 and most of them were still at the station, collecting their luggage and waiting for friends and relatives to meet them, or hugging and kissing those friends and relatives who had already arrived. Graham Dokkins was just swinging off the steps of the passenger car, with a duffle bag over his shoulder. A stocky young man of seventeen, a late growth spurt had brought him up to his full five foot eleven. He wore a grey wool suit straight from Greater Brechalon, but his bowler hat was all Birmisia, with its hatband made of velociraptor skin. Not what most would call handsome, he had a thick shock of brown hair and laughing eyes.

  “You look quite dapper in that suit,” said Senta.

  Graham smiled, tossed his bag on the cement platform, and stepped over to embrace her. As she pressed her cheek to his, Senta closed her eyes and felt the warmth of his skin. After a moment, he took her by the shoulders and held her back at arm’s length, looking questioningly into her face.

  “You’ve been gone too long.” She answered his unasked question.

  “It’s nice to be missed.”

  “I was at the docks. I thought you’d come by ship.”

  “I could have, but I would have been another three days getting home. The new cranes are coming on the Gabrielle.”

  “It’s good that you had the option. I suppose that comes from being an important muckey-muck.”

  “Assistant Port Manager, at your service.” Graham dof
fed his hat and bowed at the waist.

  “Do you want to go to the Café for tea?”

  “Ma will kill me if I don’t go straight home. Walk with me?”

  Senta nodded.

  Graham picked his duffle back up and threw it over his shoulder. He held out his elbow and Senta took it as they walked through the half constructed station, down the stone steps in front, and down the brick-lined street to the trolley stop. The southbound trolley arrived only seconds after they did. It was pulled by a triceratops, but not Harriet. Senta didn’t recognize the animal, but Graham did. He knew all the city’s dinosaurs.

  “Hello Meg,” he said, slapping the beast on its right hind leg before climbing into the trolley cab.

  “Hey Graham,” said the driver.

  “Hey Gideon.”

  Gideon gave Senta a sidelong glance but didn’t meet her eyes. Graham pulled two pfennigs from his pocket and dropped them into the glass box next to the driver’s station before leading Senta by the hand to the middle seats and sitting down. After Meg had been fed, and with a clang of the bell, the vehicle began rolling down the grass pathway in the center of Terrence Dechantagne Boulevard. The triceratops let loose of five or six gallons of dung, which dropped onto the tracks beneath her tail, and which the trolley subsequently ran over.

  “They have steam-powered trolleys in St. Ulixes now,” said Graham.

  “Were they nice?”

  “Oh, heck no. Too much smoke and soot everywhere.”

  “Not as many dung pies though?”

  “That’s good fertilizer. I always said it was a shame to let the lizzies have all of that. We should keep some of it for our own gardens.”

  “Don’t you have enough fertilizer already?”

  “I meant all of us—all the soft-skins.”

  “How did you find the lizzies in Mallontah?” she asked, remembering her own visit years before.

  “They’re not really lizzies at all, are they? Different animal altogether. They call them trogs.”