On a personal note, Terrence arrived yesterday. He looks as well as can be expected. Yuah sends her regards. As always, return with your shield or on it.
Sincerely,
I. Dechantagne
* * * * *
Yuah Korlann arrived in the servants dining hall just a moment after her father and Saba. Half a dozen kitchen workers under the supervision of the head cook, Mrs. Colbshallow scurried around preparing for the luncheon. Mrs. Colbshallow had been the head cook since Yuah was a little girl. She was a wonder in the kitchen. She was also Saba's mother and she gave him a big squeeze as she passed by.
"There's my handsome boy," she said.
"Mother!" he whined back.
"Are you looking for something to eat, dear?" Mrs. Colbshallow asked Yuah.
"Yes, I'd better eat while I have the chance. You know how she is."
"Don't get cheeky," said her father.
"I'll get you a nice plate," the head cook replied, waving over one of the kitchen staff. "You know I think you need to put on a bit of weight. You can't catch a man if you're all skin and bones."
"Don't worry about that," said Yuah, sitting down across the table from Saba. "I'm not likely to run into a man around here, and if I did, no man is going to be interested in me."
Saba's adoring gaze, which Yuah chose to ignore, said as plainly as words that he thought he was interested, and he thought no other man worthy of the position. But it was her father who spoke.
"You're far too young to worry about a man. Why, you're barely twenty."
"I'm twenty-three, Papa. Another two years and I'll be an old maid."
"Nonsense," said Mrs. Colbshallow, setting down in front of Yuah a plate with a large sandwich atop a tremendous pile of golden chips. "You're still young and you can find a man easily enough, if um? well, are you determined that he be of your faith?"
"Of course she is," said Zeah.
"As long as he has all his parts, I don't care if he worships apple trees and sacrifices chickens when the moon is full. It's not as if I've been to shrine in years myself."
Zeah and Yuah belonged to the minority Zaeri religion, a faith that had once been the dominant belief all across Sumir, while Mrs. Colbshallow and her son, and most of the other staff were Kafirites. Kafira Kristos who had lived and died two thousand years before, had been a Zaeri Imam, but her followers had broken away from the main faith upon her death and supposed resurrection. Now millions worshipped her as the Holy Savior and the daughter of God, and those ethnic Zur who remained true to their faith and the few converts to the Zaeri religion were the subjects in most places of animosity, prejudice, and discrimination. At least they were in most places outside the Dechantagne home. Miss Dechantagne would brook none of that.
"Excuse me," said a voice from the doorway. Everyone in the room turned to see Master Terrence leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. None of the staff were sure just how long he had been standing there. "Mrs. C, could I get one of those sandwiches? I'm really not in the mood to sit through one of Iolanthe's luncheons."
Mrs. Colbshallow had the plate in his hands almost before he finished speaking, and though he hadn't asked for one, she pressed a chilly bottle of beer into his other hand.
"Thanks," he said, turning and walking out of the servant's hall. Nobody noticed Yuah giving him just the same sort of look that she had been receiving from young Saba just a few minutes before.
Chapter Two: In Distance Places
Schwarztogrube sat atop the Isle of Winds, situated almost exactly in the center of the channel between Brechalon and Freedonia. Its massive stone walls rising high above jagged cliffs were not broken by a single door. The few windows visible were all far too small for anything approaching the size of a human being to pass through. The only entrance was through a secret passage at the water's edge: gated, guarded, and locked. The towers rising up into the sky were topped with pointed minarets allowing no entrance from the air. The waters around the tiny island were constantly patrolled by Brech warships. Inside, Schwarztogrube was the harshest, ugliest, and most formidable prison in the world, yet few even knew of its existence.
Nils Chaplin had been a guard at Schwarztogrube for almost a whole week before he saw a prisoner. That wasn't so surprising, considering the guards outnumbered them at least ten to one. An entire wing was devoted to incarcerating only about two dozen men. The prisoners carried out their lives, such as they were, never leaving their cells, but supplied with food and a few simple comforts such as a pillow, a blanket, or a book. None of them looked particularly dangerous, and they weren't. At least they weren't while they were here. Schwarztogrube was a magic prison. A prison set aside for wizards and sorcerers-the only place in the world where magic would not work.
It was his third week and Chapman was looking forward to a week off back in Brechalon, spending his paycheck, eating fish and chips, and enjoying life outside of massive stone bocks, when another guard, Karl Drury, at last led him to the north wing. Chapman didn't like Drury. He told disgusting jokes to the other guards, viciously beat the prisoners, and when he could get away with it, he buggered the boys working in the kitchen or at the dock. He also stank. But as Chapman followed Drury though the deathly cold stone walls, he wasn't thinking about the other guard's shortcomings. He was wondering at the empty cells that they passed. Finally they came to the one door that was locked shut.
"Here we be," said Drury. "That there's the only one in the entire wing."
"Special, huh?"
"Take a butchers."
Chapman pressed his face against the small barred window. Most of the room beyond was dark, illuminated only by a square of light carried in from a four by four inch window high up on the far wall. The room had no pillows or blankets as did the rooms in the south wing. There was no bed. The only thing in the cell approaching furniture was a piss pot. Curled up in a fetal position against the far wall was a human being. The dirty ragged clothing and matted hair of unknown color gave no hint to the identity of the figure.
"Who is he?" wondered Chapman.
"That's not a he. That's a she. And that's the most dangerous creature in the world, that."
"Really?"
"That's what they say. So dangerous, we're not even 'sposed to be here. Ain't that right, eighty-nine?" he called to the prisoner. She didn't stir. "Lucky for us the warden's gone to the mainland, eh?" Drury pulled out a large key and placed it in the massive lock on the door.
"Maybe we shouldn't ought to do this," said Chapman.
Drury paid no attention. He opened the door and swaggered into the cell. The woman curled up against the wall didn't move. When Drury had crossed the room to her, he nudged her with the toe of his boot.
"Get up, eighty-nine." She remained still.
The sadistic guard grabbed a handful of the prisoner's dirty, matted hair and dragged her to her feet. Chapman could finally make out that she was a woman. She was thin. She looked half starved, but he could still tell that she had once had quite a figure. Drury held her up by her hair, presenting her for view as if she were a freshly caught trout.
Suddenly the woman came to life, kicking the guard in the shins. Drury let go of her hair and knocked her to the ground with a back-hand slap. She looked up at him and even across the poorly-lit cell, Chapman could see the hatred in her cold grey eyes. She pointed her hand and spat words that might have been a curse in some ancient, unknown language.
"Uastium premba uuthanum tachthna paj tortestos-duuth."
Even here in Schwarztogrube, where no magic in the world would work, Chapman could have sworn that he felt a tingle in the air. Nothing else happened though. Drury kicked her in the face, knocking her onto her back. He kicked her again and again. And again. Finally he grabbed her once more by the hair and lifted her to her feet. With his other hand, he began unfastening his trousers. Chapman turned and left. He didn't need to see this.
&n
bsp; * * * * *
Lieutenant Arthur McTeague paced back and forth, from one end of the small clearing to the other. Around him grew the dense forest full of incredibly high redwoods and huge maples. Most of his platoon was gathering together brush to build a barrier around the spot that had been chosen as their campsite for the night. The remainder were laying out fuel, tinder, and kindling for the campfires. McTeague's fellow lieutenant, Augustus P. Dechantagne, sat on a large rock at the edge of the clearing.
"I signed up for the artillery," said McTeague. "What about you, Augie?"
"Artillery."
"Then how come we're out here in the middle of nowhere, not a cannon in sight?"
"You're lucky they let you have a rifle," said Augie as he pulled an envelope from his tunic pocket.
"What's that then?"
"Letter from my sister."
"Anything interesting at home?"
Augie handed him the letter, and he read through it quickly.
"Wow. Tender."
"Oh, she loves me in her own way."
"Anything else in the envelope?"
"Just my allowance." Augie held up a wire transfer in the amount of two thousand marks.
"Kafira! You can have quite a week on the town with that. All you can drink. Good food. Women."
"Do you see any women?" asked Augie, waving in the direction of the tall trees. "Do you see any food? I'm not even sure I can cash this when we get back to Mallontah. How likely is it that someone there will have two thousand marks lying around? I'd have been better off if she sent me a five pfennig piece taped to the inside of the envelope like my Auntie Gin used to do. It's a good thing I have two bottles of contraband in my pack."
"That's what I like about you-always prepared."
That night, the two bottles were produced, one passed around among the men and the other shared by the two lieutenants as they warmed their feet by the campfire, their heads resting on their packs. The noises of this strange forest were far different than back home. There were squawks and squeaks and in the distance, roars. Not distant enough for McTeague's taste.
"Don't worry," said Augie. "They're more afraid of you than you are of them."
"I can attest to the fact that that is not the case."
The next morning all of the men expressed similar concerns as an entire herd of great beasts made their way through the nearby forest, heedless of the humans. The monsters were up to twelve feet tall and thirty-five feet long, though there were many smaller members of the species among them. Though their bumpy skin and thick legs put one in mind of an elephant, they walked on hind legs, only sometimes using quadrupedal locomotion. Their heads were shaped something like the head of a horse, but their long, heavy tails spoke of their reptilian origins.
"What are they called again?" wondered McTeague.
"Dinosaurs," said Augie. "All I can think of when I see them is the size of the brisket you could get."
"I doubt it would taste good."
"Our cook back home, Mrs. Colbshallow, can make anything taste good. Let's get the men together and get going. If those are the sheep in this country, I don't want to see the wolves."
The column of forty-two soldiers dressed in blue and khaki walked north, away from the dinosaurs. Though the ground was thick with rhododendrons and other small brush, there were enough game trails that overland travel was not too slow. Along the way the men saw more and more of the strange creatures, though Augie didn't know if the smaller ones were rightly dinosaurs. They had feathers and looked much more like scary birds. They marched all morning and came to their destination just after noon. It didn't look any different than a hundred other forest clearings except that this clearing contained the parties they were sent to meet.
Three creatures stood before the soldiers. They were all well over six feet tall and they looked far more reptilian than the dinosaurs or scary birds did, as though alligators had been given the power to stand up on their back legs and use their forelegs for hands as men did. Each had a long snout filled with peg-like teeth and a long tail, which trailed behind them, remaining just a few inches above the ground. Though they wore no clothing, their scaly bodies were painted in bizarre designs of red, black, and white. All three, as one, raised their right hands, palms outward, to the dewlaps on their throats and spoke a hissing language.
"What did they say?" asked McTeague.
"Something about a tree?" Augie replied.
"Aren't you here as the interpreter?"
Augie shrugged, and then spat out a series of hisses and gurgles of his own.
"Everything's fine-greeting, greeting, hail, hail, promise not to kill you, etc."
"Alright, tell them what I say." McTeague produced a note from his pocket and read it. "Hail to you and your chief. We come to you in peace and friendship from across the sea and bring you word from your new great chief that he now claims these lands. So that you know your new great chief means well, he has sent us with these gifts."
As Augie translated, McTeague gestured to one of the men who brought forth six small bags tied at the top. McTeague handed two to each of the reptilians, one of whom opened a bag, spilling out a handful of copper pfennigs into his hand.
"The army plans to win over the lizardmen with twelve marks worth of coins?" wondered Augie, after he had finished the reptilian tongue.
"Coins good," said one of the lizardmen in Brech. "Like coins. Not kill you."
* * * * *
Ssissiatok was returning to the village when she heard their strangely musical voices. They didn't sound like the voices of the people and they didn't sound like any of the animals in the forest. She made her way through the trees toward the sounds, carefully watching ahead as she moved through the bushes. They were easy to spot. There were many of them and they had bright blue upper bodies. They stood erect like her people, but they didn't have long thick tails to balance them. They didn't have tails at all. Then she saw that they were not alone. Tattasserott, Ssterrost, and Toss were with them. They were talking with these strange creatures. She ducked down into the bushes.
Ssissiatok was young. She had only grown tame enough to enter into a hut a few years before. Like all young ones, she had lived life as a wild animal from the time she was hatched until she had become large enough. Then a group from her hut had captured and tamed her and taught her how to be civilized. Now she lived with a group of twelve others in a large square wooden home where Toss was the elder.
She was close enough now that she could make out Toss's voice. He was saying something about trading to Ssterrost. Then he began speaking the bizarre lyrical words of the strangers. It seemed so strange to hear those sound coming from his long handsome snout. As she watched, it suddenly occurred to her that the blue and earth colors on the strangers were not their hide or feathers, but some strange material that they had clothed their bodies in. It made sense to her. They wore it like her people wore their paint.
Suddenly one of the strangers called out in a warbling cry. Many of the others took it up as well. Glancing quickly to the Toss and the others, she could tell by their posture that they were as startled as she was. The one that had started the warbling was showing his teeth. She saw Toss relax. She remembered what he had told her. They showed their teeth when they were pleased.
The elder had spent many evenings telling her and the others about when the strangers had come before. They had come and gone when Toss was young and now they were back. Most people thought they would leave again just like they had before, but Toss thought that they might stay this time. Ssissiatok wondered what they would do if they stayed. Would they build villages like her people? Would they trade with them? Would they fight?
The one that had first made the strange warbling stepped away from the others. He walked directly toward her, stopping about six feet away to lean on the trunk of a maple tree. He was looking around at the trees and flowering plants. Ssissiatok rem
ained very still. It didn't seem possible, but he didn't see her. She was right there. Was it even a male? Ssissiatok didn't know for sure. He opened the lower part of his clothing and urinated on the trunk of the tree. Ssissiatok leaned over to get a better look.
Suddenly the stranger caught her out of the corner of his eye and jumped, letting out a shout and a series of melodic words. He fastened his clothing shut and wiped his hands on the leaves of a handy bush. Then he called over to the others in words, most of which Ssissiatok could understand.
"Ssterrost, is this one of yours? I thought I was about to get my blah blah bit off."
Ssterrost came quickly over and it was clear from his posture that he was not happy.
"Ssissiatok, get back to the village! You are not supposed to be here. If I catch you where you're not supposed to be again, I'll bite your tail off."
Ssissiatok hunkered down to make herself look smaller and turned toward the village, hurrying through the forest. Behind her she could hear the stranger. He was once again making the strange warbling cry.
* * * * *
This was another part of the city that Terrence Dechantagne knew well. It was known to the rest of the city as The Bottom and to those who lived there as Blackbottom. It was a section of the town built on land sloping down toward the River Thiss and it seemed as if it was perpetually falling into the green waters. Besides thousands of two and three story houses that all seemed to be either leaning toward the river because of the sloping land or leaning in the other direction in hopes of countering the slope, there were countless seedy pubs, sordid meeting houses, and hidden drug dens.
Terrence drove his sister's steam carriage down Contico Boulevard, past the ancient stone buildings of the Old City and past the sea of tenement apartments, turning off into the dark and winding roads of Blackbottom. His vehicle was the only powered one on the road here. Foot traffic predominated, though there were quite a few horses, either pulling carriages or being ridden. There were enough of them that there was a two foot tall embankment of horse manure that ran down either side of the road. Flies filled the air almost as thickly as did the stench.