The Sorceress and her Lovers Read online

  Though they had packed those belongings that had been in use during their three-day journey, Senta was in no mood to join the ranks of those passengers rushing to get out. So she and Baxter continued to sit in the lounge for another hour. He let the baby crawl a bit on the floor, though he didn’t allow her to get far, and she couldn’t have in any case. Finally with him carrying little Senta and the sorceress carrying the animal carrier, they walked down the gangway, followed by two stewards with the luggage. Quickly procuring a cab, they were on their way to The Clarkson House.

  The Clarkson House was Brech City’s finest hotel. It reigned over Avenue Boar with all the opulence of Palace Eidenia—more now that they had seen the old trolleys stored in the latter. Once at the hotel they stepped across the black and white chessboard-like floor of the palatial lobby, past the gilded furnishings beneath the crystal chandeliers. To Senta, who had stayed at the Clarkson for several weeks before traveling to Freedonia, and who had in fact given birth to her daughter there, it almost seemed like returning home. It cemented in her mind the decision she had already made.

  When they were safely settled in the imperial suite, Senta let the little dragon out of the carrier. It immediately ran toward the baby.

  “Back off you,” said Baxter, protectively pulling the child away.

  “Good baby,” said the dragon.

  “Kafira’s twat. The bloody thing talks.”

  “Yes, well, it’s about time that,” said Senta, opening the balcony door and looking at the beast. “Go find yourself something to eat. There are thousands of flying reptiles in this city that no one will miss.”

  The creature took one bounce and was out the door—a coral-colored blur.

  “You expected it to start speaking,” said Baxter. “I take it your found out something in the library at Bangdorf.”

  “I found exactly nothing.” She turned to her companion. “Have you decided if you are going to come with me to Birmisia?”

  “I thought I didn’t have to decide for a while.”

  “It seems you do.” She waved her hand behind her and the several dozen buttons on the back of her dress unfastened themselves. “I’ve decided it’s time to go home.” She stepped out of the dress. “I didn’t think I would miss it as much as I do.”

  “Do you mean you miss him?”

  She stepped toward him. He sat the baby on the rug. The dress flew of its own accord to the dressing room.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “No I don’t. There’s a good reason for that. You haven’t told me anything.” Baxter crossed his arms. “I didn’t press you about it, but I have to know where I stand before I decide if I’m going to Birmisia Colony or not. I have to understand whether…”

  “Whether you have me or not?” She snaked her arms around his shoulders. He uncrossed his arms and placed them on her waist, though he could feel nothing except the bones of her corset. “You have me for as long as you want me. It probably won’t be long. There are many beautiful women in Port Dechantagne. You’ll throw me over for one of them, I’m sure.”

  “Unlikely. But I have to know…”

  “I was very much in love,” said Senta. “But he died, years ago. I don’t think I’ll ever love like that again, but I do care about you.”

  “What about the child’s father?”

  “He’s in Birmisia. I’m not in love with him. Even if I was, he’s not available.”

  “What if he was?”

  “I said I’m not in love with him.”

  “You also as much as said you’re not in love with me. What if he was available?”

  “Do you want me to tell you the truth or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?”

  “I guess that’s my answer,” he said, reaching up and pulling her arms from around his neck.

  He started to step away, when she grabbed the front of his shirt with her left hand and stuck her right index finger in front of his face. It was a gesture that would have caused more than a few men to soil themselves. He simply raised an eyebrow.

  “Pay attention to what I said, not what you think I am thinking,” she said, carefully enunciating each word. “I said you have me for as long as you want me. That’s what I said. That’s what I meant.”

  She lowered her right hand, sliding it down his chest and stomach, finally rubbing the front of his trousers. “You still want me, don’t you?” She smiled slyly. “This shall determine that.”

  The next morning, Senta hired a cab and was out of the hotel early. The driver held the door for her and gave her a hand, as she had one arm full of her daughter and in the other carried her handbag. Sitting, she carefully smoothed her red dress, checking that she hadn’t mashed the bustle. She smiled down at little Senta in a matching outfit, though a red bonnet took the place of her own black boater. The child looked back up at her and suddenly burst out in a loud wail. The horse started and the driver almost lost his balance, as he was halfway aboard at the time.

  Reaching into her bag, she withdrew a glass baby bottle, which she shoved into the wide-open mouth. The baby immediately spit it out and turned her head, still fussing.

  “Oh come now, you’ve been drinking cow’s milk for the last three days without complaints. Or is it me that you object to? You miss the big, handsome man toting you around, do you, you little bint?”

  Senta had left Baxter still asleep in bed, the coral dragon having taken her place when she had risen. She was sorry she was going to miss the look on the man’s face when he woke up.

  “Where to, Miss?” asked the cabbie over his shoulder.

  “Dorrit Street, please. Number twelve.”

  As soon as the cab began its jerking movement down the street, the baby stopped crying. Senta held her up so that she could see. Though her bonnet limited her view, she looked around and began to coo. The ride turned out to be a pleasant experience for both mother and daughter.

  Finally they turned onto Dorrit Street, lined with apartment buildings. Unlike the recent tenements at the outskirts of the city, these five and six story buildings were constructed of stone, with ornate carvings decorating their faces. Senta carefully examined the ancient stonework and could easily distinguish their destination before the street number was visible. It was stained with the color of magic, though none of the many pedestrians walking the street nor any of the people passing in steam carriages could see it. When the cab stopped, the driver jumped down and hurried around to open the door and lower the step. Senta accepted his help getting down.

  “Please wait. I shan’t be long.”

  He nodded.

  There were twelve broad steps leading up to an ancient grey door. Upon reaching it, Senta rested for a moment before knocking. Switching her bag momentarily to her other hand and resting the baby on her hip, she reached up into the air above her and picked one of the sparkling magic jewels that orbited her head. Like the magic residue on the building, they were something that only she could see. After crushing it between her fingers, she returned her handbag to her right hand and hefted little Senta a bit higher on her hip.

  “You’re too heavy to carry around,” she told the baby. “Perhaps we should have brought the pram with us.”

  The door opened with a groan, revealing a man in a worn tweed jacket. He had a heavy grey beard, bushy grey eyebrows, and a monocle in his right eye. About five feet seven, he looked up into Senta’s grey eyes.

  “I’m looking for Peter Sallow,” she said with a smile.

  “Did I ask who you were looking for?” he said in a wheezy voice. “I don’t care who you’re looking for. Go away.”

  “Get out of the way, old man. I’ll find him myself.”

  The man raised both hands dramatically. “Uuthanum!”

  “How very disappointing,” said Senta. “I wasted one of my best protective spells and all you had was four syllables. Uuthanum pestor uusteros jonai.”

  The bearded man gave a squeak and then he seem
ed to turn inside out. A long tail shot out behind him as his neck stretched up and his head grew thinner, his eyes becoming wider, his mouth and nose forming into a parrot-like beak. He bent over at the waist. His clothes turned to feathers. In three seconds he had completely transformed into one of the strange Birmisian birds—a conchoraptor. Before she had left Port Dechantagne, Senta had seen a group of the six-foot long beasts eating pinecones at the edge of her garden. The creature gave a squawk and raced off down the steps and up the street. The sorceress could hear the shrieks of startled Brech citizens as she bent down to pick up the monocle, which was the only thing that remained where the man had been.

  Stepping inside, she closed the door behind her and walked down a long hallway to a study. The walls were covered with bookcases, filled with books, making the room smell of moldy paper, old glue, and leather. A cast iron stove made it uncomfortably warm. In the corner, hunched over a small writing desk was a young man of eighteen. It had been six years since she had seen him, but Senta recognized him.

  “Hello Peter.”

  He looked up, squinting. “You!”

  “Well spotted,” said Senta, plopping the baby in a plush but dusty armchair. “What are you working so hard on over there?”

  “I’m copying Master Hollingberry’s mathematics text.”

  “Is he the old fool with the monocle?” she asked, casually flipping the eyeglass toward him like a coin. He caught it and nodded, as he stared at it in his hand. “I’m not very impressed.”

  “I’m still an apprentice. I can’t advance without a teacher,” said the young man with a frown. “Master Hollingberry isn’t… wasn’t?” He looked up at her.

  “He’s still alive.”

  “He isn’t the great wizard that Master Bassington was, but I needed someone. I was all on my own.”

  “What about Smedley’s other apprentices?”

  “They’re all off, either on their own or with a new master.”

  “Hmm.” Senta walked slowly toward him. “It was Wizard Bassington that I wanted to speak to you about. You said you thought that he was your father.”

  Peter nodded.

  “Did you ever find out for sure?”

  He shook his head.

  “Do you want to?”

  He nodded again. “Do you know a spell to tell me?”

  “Divination is not really my forte,” she said. “I try to do it now and then for my skin. But no, I’m not doing it. I know someone who will.”

  Peter thought for a moment.

  “I should get my things,” he said. “If I leave, Master Hollingberry won’t let me come back. That is, if he’s coming back…?”

  “Probably.”

  “Well, I’ll have to find a new position. He’s not very forgiving and hasn’t been overly fond of me up until now.”

  “Come with me to Birmisia,” said Senta, reaching up to touch him on the shoulder. He flinched slightly but allowed it. “There are wizards there now. I’m sure there is someone suitable to be a teacher. Until you find him, you can stay at my house. I’ve got plenty of room.”

  “Are you sure your husband won’t mind?” he asked, glancing at little Senta, who was climbing down to the floor.

  “Don’t have one of those, but I do have a male friend I’m traveling with. He’s a friendly fellow. You two will get along.”

  “Let me get my things.”

  He was gone less than five minutes, returning with a small carpetbag, a rolled-up military issue sleeping bag, and a bundle of books tied with a brown belt. He had thrown on a jacket matching his slacks and waistcoat.

  “I’ll carry your things for you, and you can carry the baby,” said Senta.

  Peter picked up the squirmy child and watched as the sorceress stuffed his carpetbag, books, and sleeping bag into her relatively tiny purse. Any one of them should have been far too large to fit, but in a minute they were all inside. They walked out the study, down the hall and out the door, down the steps and into the waiting cab.

  “Have you eaten?” asked Senta as the horse jerked the vehicle foreword.

  “I had an egg and toast for breakfast.”

  “Well I haven’t eaten yet.” She called up to the driver. “The café in the Great Plaza please.”

  He tipped his hat in reply.

  “You know,” said Peter, quietly. “For a moment, when I saw you, I thought you had come for me.”

  “I did.”

  “I mean… I’ve had this sort of fantasy… that, well, maybe you sort of fancied me.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid that would never work out,” said Senta.

  “I know. I’m not good enough for you.”

  “That is not the case at all. If anything, I’m not good enough for you. There are other considerations though, that inhibit that type of relationship, at least between you and me. Don’t worry though. Birmisia Colony is full of young ladies. They’ll eat you up.”

  They reached the Great Plaza and Senta had the driver park the cab behind Francesco’s Café. It was not customary for cabs to wait at length for patrons, and this particular cab driver seemed loath to do so until the sorceress dropped three gold decimarks into his hands. Senta and Peter were quickly seated and in a few minutes a lovely luncheon was set before them. Though the young apprentice wizard had eaten, he had no problem finding room for the ham sandwiches with spicy brown mustard.

  “They say Birmisia has changed a lot since I was there,” he said.

  “Been keeping up, have you?”

  “I’ve thought about going back. When I see it in the news, I take note.”

  “It’s a lot bigger. Port Dechantagne is a city now, not like Brech, but growing. It will always be a little different though, I suppose.”

  “I remember your friend Hero. She was very pretty. Is she well?”

  “Fat and happy, with a husband and three kids,” said Senta.

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t get your corset in a twist. You’ll have more girls than you know what to do with.”

  “How can you be so sure?” he asked. “I haven’t been overly popular up until this point.”

  “You’ll see.” She snapped her fingers. “Francesco!”

  “Oui.” The café proprietor appeared as if by magic.

  “We would like something sweet.”

  “Two petit trifles, perhaps?”

  “Oh, oui,” said Senta. “And sparkling wine.”

  Thirty minutes later saw the two magic wielders back in the cab as the horse clip-clopped its way down Avenue Royal, past Sinceree Palace. A quick turn took them down a short dead-end roadway whose sign indicated that it was Jinx Lane. The driver pulled up on the reins and turned around to his passengers.

  “I’m afraid I’ve gotten us lost, Miss.”

  “No, no,” said Senta. “This is the place.”

  She hopped down without waiting for the cabbie to lower the step for her. Reaching up, she took the baby as Peter handed her down. Then he jumped down after her. None of the buildings seemed to be labeled even with street numbers, but Senta knew right where to go, just as she had known where to find the apprentice wizard. A series of steps led down to a basement door. A bell above the portal jingled as they entered a darkened room filled with plush, red and gold furniture and a small round table.

  “It’s just like I pictured it,” said Senta.

  “Where in Kafira’s name are we?” wondered Peter.

  “I’ll be right out,” called a musical voice from behind a curtained doorway in the back of the room.

  “This is where we’ll find out your answer,” Senta told Peter.

  The curtain over the doorway in back was pulled aside and a beautiful woman in a pin-striped day dress stepped into the room. Her long flowing black hair had a few strands of grey in it, but her flawless skin was unblemished by a single freckle, mole, or wrinkle. She looked, with the exception of a few grey hairs, thought Senta, younger than the last time she had seen her. That had been in Birmisia, well over ei
ght years before.

  “Senta?” said the woman, rushing forward and capturing Senta in a hug. She tickled the baby under the chin. “How adorable!”

  “Hello, Amadea.”

  “It’s so good to see you. I expected you before now, you know. I read in the paper you were here in the Great City. I thought you would have popped in for a visit.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “You’re not cross with me, are you?” asked Amadea, stepping back. “You’re not angry over what I did… how I left, are you?”

  “That was a million years ago,” replied Senta, waving dismissively, and then shifting little Senta to the other arm. “You and I hardly knew each other. We barely met, and that was so long ago.”

  “It seems a long time to you. You were just a child. It’s almost half your life. For me it’s just been a few years. That’s the magic of time, you know. The older one gets, the quicker time passes. For you, that winter was a long time ago, and probably seemed to go on forever. For me, it wasn’t all that far in the past and seemed to last just a few days. Still, you made a very big impression on me. I thought we were friends. I hope we can be. I’ve kept up with you through Bessemer. He writes me almost every month.”

  “Yes, he’s quite the correspondent,” said Senta. “Still, I suppose one can’t have too many friends.

  “Talking of which, who is your friend?”

  “Amadea Jindra, may I present Mr. Peter Sallow.”

  Peter stepped quickly forward when Amadea offered her hand.

  “Very pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Ma’am. You’re going to make cry.”

  “Um, I’m sorry,” said the young man.

  “Peter here is in need of your services,” said Senta.

  “Really?” said Amadea. “Why don’t we all sit down?”

  “Miss Jindra is the best diviner in Brechalon,” said Senta, carefully sitting on the red sofa with gilded wooden arms, and putting the child on her knee. Peter sat down next to her, while Amadea took a comfortable chair on his other side.