She looked at the metal man across from her. She wondered if he wasn’t another example of their failure to watch themselves as well as they watched the world. “I’m curious about you, Isaak,” she said.
He blinked at her. “Why would you be curious about me?”
She shrugged, smiling. “I’ve never met a metal man before. You are somewhat of a rarity.” He nodded. “There was a time when there were thousands of us. When Rufello drew up his
Specifications and Observations of the Mechanical Age, he was working with the broken and discarded remains of mechoservitors found in the ruins of the Eldest Days, broken artifacts from the Age of the Younger Gods.”
Jin finished chewing her rice before speaking. “When were you built?”
He hesitated, and Jin noted that hesitation. He’s not used to speaking about himself.
But then he continued. “My memory scrolls have been replaced at least twice since my first awareness. I hav‹warifye no record of those times. My first memory is Brother Charles asking me if I were awake and could I recite the Fourteenth Precept of the Francine Accord.” He paused, and she watched his eyes alternate between dim and bright as the gears in his head whirred. “My last awakening was twenty-two years, three months, four weeks, six hours and thirty-one minutes ago. I’m not sure when I was built, though I suspect that knowledge is stamped somewhere onto me. Brother Charles was a meticulous craftsman.”
She studied him. His chest bellows moved in and out to keep whatever strange fire burning in him hot enough to boil the water and keep him moving, to keep air moving through him to power his voice. His eyes were jewels of some kind-dull yellow and glowing with varying degrees of brightness. His mouth was more of a flap that opened and closed-probably to humanize him more than for anything else. A wonder of the ancient world, brought back carefully by adapting old knowledge to present-day capability.
“He was indeed a meticulous craftsman,” she said.
Isaak looked at her and the eyes dimmed. “He was… my father.”
The bellows began to pump faster and harder. Water leaked from around the eyes-another humanizing characteristic: A machine that could cry. A high pitched squeal leaked from his mouth.
She put down her bowl and reached across, placing her hand on his shoulder. It was hard beneath the coarse wool robe. “I don’t know what to say, Isaak,” she told him.
In the end she said nothing, and simply sat with him while he cried.
Neb
Neb looked up from the wheelbarrow and saw the riders from the south, a large group of them. He started counting horses but gave up-there was no way he could count them. There were too many.
Dropping the load of bones, he turned and ran for Petronus, shouting at the top of his lungs. The old man looked up from across the blackened field, but he was too far away for Neb to see the expression on his face. Other nearby workers stopped what they were doing until Petronus waved and shouted at them to get back to the task at hand.
Neb ran as fast as he could, but the riders still overtook him and he fought his way through the storm of ash they kicked up. As it cleared he saw they had surrounded Petronus, and a large man on an enormous stallion-Sethbert, he realized-leaned down to speak with the old man.
Neb approached but stayed off to the side, listening. “I thought,” Sethbert said, “you were in Kendrick.” Petronus bowed. “I went, Lord. I’ve come back.”
Sethbert snorted. “I see that. And what exactly are you doing?”
Neb watched as the cavalry around Sethbert surveyed the group, quickly counting heads. An unfelt breeze lifted ash from the ground and he heard a low whistle. “We’re here,” a voice said in the faintest whisper. Neb nodded and his stomach went to water.
“We are burying our dead,” Petronus said.
“Surely,” Sethbert said, “you are aware that an Exercise in Holiness has been decreed?”
Petronus nodded. “We’ve been very careful not to enter the city itself. We were going to wait until we had your permission to suspend the Exercise for humanitarian reasons. It is my understanding that precedence was set for this by-”
Sethbert raised his hand. “I know, I know. I’m not a fool, old man. I know a bit about Androfrancine
Law. But we can move past that. I will do far more than grant you permission.”
Neb saw a pained look cross Petronus’s face, as if he knew what Sethbert was going to say next and dreaded its outcome.
Sethbert straightened himself up as high as he could in the saddle, his jowls shaking as he jiggled around. “Bring them in,” he shouted to his men. “Bring them all in.” The soldiers started herding the workers.
He smiled down at them, and his horse danced a bit while they waited. When everyone was gathered, he addressed them.
“I commend you all,” Sethbert said, “for the work you have undertaken. It is a noble thing that you do.” His eyes scanned the crowd, making contact with theirs if he could. “Petros here has said there is a loophole in Androfrancine Law that would allow me to grant you permission to enter Windwir for humanitarian reasons. I will go further than that,” he said, his voice raising as he said it. “I will underwrite this venture on behalf of the Androfrancine Order and as Windwir’s appointed Guardian, I will protect you as you work. Every one of you will get a fair day’s wage for a hard day’s work and I’ll send a contingent of cooks and supplies.”
Perhaps he expected a cheer to go up. It did not. Petronus looked at him, his eyes hard. “We don’t do this work for money, Sethbert. We do it because it needs to be done.”
Sethbert snorted. “Exactly.” He leaned down. “Look, old man, whether you want it or not, you’ll have my help or you’ll not be permitted to enter the city.”
Petronus gritted his teeth. “It won’t change how the world sees you when it knows what you have done,”
he said quietly. Then he spit at Sethbert.
Neb watched the look on Sethbert’s face shift from shock to fury. He wiped the spittle away, and when his foot shot out it was fast and hard. The boot hit Petronus’s jaw, and the old man was spun around as he fell. Neb raced in but wasn’t able to hold him up. They fell together into the ash. Sethbert glowered down at them. “One last condition,” he said. “Anything you find here belongs to the Androfrancine Order. I will send men daily to collect whatever you may happen to find. I already have at least one spy in your camp and I will know if you try to cheat me.” Sethbert smiled. “Do you understand me?”
Petronus rubbed his jaw, his eyes bright and dangerous. “I understand you.”
Then Sethbert noticed Neb. “Did you find your voice, boy? Are you ready to tell me the story of the