only one princess.”
“Did you ever see her?”
“Of course. You would be disappointed, though. She was ugly.”
Linza laughed. “I guess real princesses are never like in the stories. Have you seen the princess of Roscardi?”
“No.”
“She was here last year, and her picture was in the paper, and oh—she looked frightened and sickly. Like this.” Linza sucked in her cheeks and widened her eyes, an alarming expression, as Linza’s eyes already verged on buglike.
“Princesses are people like the rest of us, I suppose.”
She handed the slippers back with a sigh. “Oh, Miss Nimira, you have such pretty things. I wish I could embroider like that. I’m terrible with sewing and mending. Rashten—that is, Miss Rashten scolds me about it.”
“Well, embroidery is more satisfying than mending. You’re creating something beautiful.”
“That’s true.” Linza made a face, probably thinking of her work, which I imagined was rarely beautiful. “But I can’t complain. Mr. Parry takes care of us. My mother worked for him before I did, and even now, with her rheumatism as bad as it is, he set her up right.”
“I’m glad of that, anyway.” I handed her the little jar of cream. “For your hands.”
She took a dab and worked it in. “You should eat, miss, before it’s cold.”
“It was cold to begin with!”
She shook her head at herself. I put the clothes away and Linza returned to her tasks, but if the food was cold, the room had warmed with company.
As soon as I wound the automaton the next morning, he began to spell.
“Wait, wait!” I cried. “Let me arrange things.”
I wondered what he might tell me today. Maybe he knew more about Garvin’s disappearance, or—
WHAT IS YOUR N—
I cut him off. “My name?”
“Mmm.”
I stared at the sentence I had just taken so much time to write. He must have had a thousand things to say, yet he wanted to know my name first? “You could have just spelled ‘name.’ I’d have known what you meant. But it’s Nimira. You could call me Nim, though. It’s shorter.”
I LIKE NIM.
My stomach flipped. I could hardly bear kind words from him; it would have been easier if he showed no emotion, no opinion. “You hardly know Nim.”
THE NAME. I started to respond, but he was still going. SILLY GIRL. He finished with an emphatic grunt, a verbal exclamation mark.
“I’m not silly,” I said, but my words sounded so strange, spoken to his still face. I quickly looked back at his hands. “We have important work to do, and not much time. We must figure out what I can do to set you free.”
I’M ERRIS. PLEASURE TO MEET YOU.
I almost scolded him for taking the time to write all that out, but then I realized he must have been yearning for this simple, normal thing: an exchange of names and greetings. I wondered how long he had waited to tell someone his name.
“Erris,” I said. “I like Erris, too.”
Only now did he return to business. KARSTOR, he repeated.
“You said he was a sorcerer, but where can I find him? Who is he?”
COUNCIL.
“The Sorcerer’s Council? I know Mr. Parry mentioned it. The ambassador of magic is head of the council, right?”
SPEAK ONLY TO KARSTOR. His hands jerked around so fast I could hardly keep up.
“Why? What’s going on? Who are you?” Strange enough that the automaton had consciousness, but he seemed to have rather urgent business with these sorcerers as well.
He made an unsure sound. GARVIN SAID TELL ONLY KARSTOR.
“Did you know Garvin when you were a man?”
AUTOMATON.
“You were already an automaton?”
YES.
“Did you talk to Garvin with the piano, too?”
SOME, BEFORE.
“He died?”
“Mmm.” He sounded sad.
“You’ve never come alive for Mr. Parry,” I said.
CAN’T TRUST. ONLY KARSTOR.
“But I’m not Karstor. How do you know you can trust me?”
I DON’T, he said. BUT MUST TRUST SOMEONE.
I jumped at the sound of a door shutting somewhere in the distance and quickly motioned
“Did you ever see her?”
“Of course. You would be disappointed, though. She was ugly.”
Linza laughed. “I guess real princesses are never like in the stories. Have you seen the princess of Roscardi?”
“No.”
“She was here last year, and her picture was in the paper, and oh—she looked frightened and sickly. Like this.” Linza sucked in her cheeks and widened her eyes, an alarming expression, as Linza’s eyes already verged on buglike.
“Princesses are people like the rest of us, I suppose.”
She handed the slippers back with a sigh. “Oh, Miss Nimira, you have such pretty things. I wish I could embroider like that. I’m terrible with sewing and mending. Rashten—that is, Miss Rashten scolds me about it.”
“Well, embroidery is more satisfying than mending. You’re creating something beautiful.”
“That’s true.” Linza made a face, probably thinking of her work, which I imagined was rarely beautiful. “But I can’t complain. Mr. Parry takes care of us. My mother worked for him before I did, and even now, with her rheumatism as bad as it is, he set her up right.”
“I’m glad of that, anyway.” I handed her the little jar of cream. “For your hands.”
She took a dab and worked it in. “You should eat, miss, before it’s cold.”
“It was cold to begin with!”
She shook her head at herself. I put the clothes away and Linza returned to her tasks, but if the food was cold, the room had warmed with company.
As soon as I wound the automaton the next morning, he began to spell.
“Wait, wait!” I cried. “Let me arrange things.”
I wondered what he might tell me today. Maybe he knew more about Garvin’s disappearance, or—
WHAT IS YOUR N—
I cut him off. “My name?”
“Mmm.”
I stared at the sentence I had just taken so much time to write. He must have had a thousand things to say, yet he wanted to know my name first? “You could have just spelled ‘name.’ I’d have known what you meant. But it’s Nimira. You could call me Nim, though. It’s shorter.”
I LIKE NIM.
My stomach flipped. I could hardly bear kind words from him; it would have been easier if he showed no emotion, no opinion. “You hardly know Nim.”
THE NAME. I started to respond, but he was still going. SILLY GIRL. He finished with an emphatic grunt, a verbal exclamation mark.
“I’m not silly,” I said, but my words sounded so strange, spoken to his still face. I quickly looked back at his hands. “We have important work to do, and not much time. We must figure out what I can do to set you free.”
I’M ERRIS. PLEASURE TO MEET YOU.
I almost scolded him for taking the time to write all that out, but then I realized he must have been yearning for this simple, normal thing: an exchange of names and greetings. I wondered how long he had waited to tell someone his name.
“Erris,” I said. “I like Erris, too.”
Only now did he return to business. KARSTOR, he repeated.
“You said he was a sorcerer, but where can I find him? Who is he?”
COUNCIL.
“The Sorcerer’s Council? I know Mr. Parry mentioned it. The ambassador of magic is head of the council, right?”
SPEAK ONLY TO KARSTOR. His hands jerked around so fast I could hardly keep up.
“Why? What’s going on? Who are you?” Strange enough that the automaton had consciousness, but he seemed to have rather urgent business with these sorcerers as well.
He made an unsure sound. GARVIN SAID TELL ONLY KARSTOR.
“Did you know Garvin when you were a man?”
AUTOMATON.
“You were already an automaton?”
YES.
“Did you talk to Garvin with the piano, too?”
SOME, BEFORE.
“He died?”
“Mmm.” He sounded sad.
“You’ve never come alive for Mr. Parry,” I said.
CAN’T TRUST. ONLY KARSTOR.
“But I’m not Karstor. How do you know you can trust me?”
I DON’T, he said. BUT MUST TRUST SOMEONE.
I jumped at the sound of a door shutting somewhere in the distance and quickly motioned
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