My name might be Marbrey Small, but my vision has always been large. Most people don’t understand the hard shell a soul forms when tempered by a harsh childhood. Children react differently to rough beginnings. Of the two people I know best, Oss turned sociopathic and Affie insane. I consider myself the most moderate amongst the three of us.
Growing up in an orphanage, I bartered my inventions for extra food or to bribe bullies into finding a different target. They were less likely to attack me if they thought I might reward them for their good behavior. Sometimes, cleverness has more power than brawn. The scars along my back are a strong testament of my moments of failure.
Chirp.
My attention returned to the newly feathered bird. What had I done differently to receive this result? None of the others had feathers. A few highborn ladies I had sold to before would appreciate a high-end frippery. Unfortunately, what one had the others envied and I didn’t want to set a precedent of mechanical birds like this one.
Would you have to feed a bird that went from a mechanical to a lifelike creation? I never have before, but magic was changing, mine and everyone else’s. I should ask Oss if he had to feed his rabbit after she turned furry.
“What makes you so different?” I asked the bird. Not surprisingly, I received no answer. Maybe I had given this creation a little more magic than the others.
I often infused my inventions with a trickle of power, enough to give them an extra realistic appeal, especially my birds. If I hadn’t, they would never learn to deliver messages. Highborn ladies bought them to send social invitations to each other. I didn’t trust this trend not to fade along with my income. Next week they could be back to using liveried servants. I already have five other ideas in various stages on my workbench. If I wished to keep my business open, I had to stay ahead of rich ladies’ whims.
My powers have grown stronger since Oss, Affie, and I opened the gate between Keys and the City of Magic, but was it enough to make my mechanicals come alive?
A quick, frantic search around the room proved my fears ridiculous. None of my other creations showed any signs of becoming more. One extra realistic bird could be dismissed as an anomaly and not a pattern. I would keep an eye on the others to make sure they weren’t forming a flock, or swarm, or whatever the fuck a group of metal birds, turned real, were called.
If I had to pick a name, I’d call them a headache.
“I hope you’re not a new trend. I don’t need the attention. I can’t even imagine what would happen if people thought I could bring mechanical animals to life.” That was one rumor I wanted no part of, even if it did bring me additional business. It was more likely to bring a mob carrying torches than sacks of gold.
I’m still not certain how the mechanical bunny I gave Oss grew fur, and I’ll probably never get the chance to study the phenomenon. I’d love to compare her magic with this bird’s, but Oss kept her close and I valued my fingers too much to take her apart. Oss was a good friend, but I was wisely leery of his sharp, bloodthirsty daggers.
The City of Keys had been in chaos sincethe event,as people are calling it. Those with a natural affinity toward magic had begun to publicly flaunt their new abilities instead of hiding them like a shameful secret. Unfortunately, envy is an ugly and dangerous emotion, and there had been attacks on magical people and a few businesses burnt to the ground. With the city’s high density, entire blocks had fallen to flame and terror. When found, the perpetrators were given a swift trial, then hung in front of Lock Tower to deter others from the same behavior. Still, panic and dissension inside a walled city was a dangerous thing, and Keys was a difficult place to leave if you couldn’t afford an expensive airship flight or wished to avoid being eaten by the monsters lurking in the desert sands outside.
Shaking off my ill thoughts, I picked up a tiny gear with my tweezers and attached it with an even tinier screw with the aid of a strong magnifying glass. I had abandoned the tricky lion to finish my latest bird. My metallic flock chirped, encouraging me to add to their brethren, or maybe I was projecting my emotions. The blue feathered bird flew closer as if to watch my work and offer its own chirping critique.
“How did you get out of the cage?” Had I not latched the door tight enough?
Shaking my head, I ignored it. Or tried to. I might have to lock it in another room if it didn’t stop that infernal chirping. Designs for a larger aviary flickered through my head. It could prove to be both a containment center for the annoying beasts and an excellent display for my wares if I designed it properly.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
A thundering beat on my front door jolted me from my introspection. I was not in the type of occupation where emergency calls occurred, but I did have a few volatile friends that stopped by at the most inconvenient times.
Worried Oss or Affie had found new mischief, I raced up the stairs from my workshop to the main floor. My shop doors were open from midday to early evening and clients knew not to bother me before then. The rest of my time was reserved for filling orders and sending them out to customers with the assistance of a fleet of street kids. They appreciated the coin and knew better than to steal my goods. Oss made a frightening example of the only kid who dared to fence one of my deliveries. None have tried since. Thank the Lord and Lady for my overly aggressive friend or I would have been robbed blind years ago.
A quick peek through the eyehole revealed a messenger standing on my doorstep.
I yanked the door open, worried something had happened. “Can I help you?”
The messenger brushed a nervous hand down his brass-buttoned jacket. A disturbingly familiar coat of arms covered his left breast in gold stitching. He flashed me a professional smile and handed over a thin vellum envelope with my name on the front, scrawled in a sloppy hand. “This is for you, sir.”
“Thank you.” I pulled a coin out of my pocket and handed it over. I always kept a few for moments like this.
His eyes brightened at the unexpected windfall, small as it might be. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome.” I ducked back inside and slammed the door shut. After engaging all the locks, I headed for my sitting room.
Only Oss’s familiar handwriting stopped me from flinging the envelope into the fire. I cracked the seal and pulled out a single piece of paper.
Come for tea. One o’clock.
I flipped over the note, but there wasn’t any other information. Which either meant Oss had something to share with me that he didn’t want a messenger to possibly read, or he had talked to Justin and wished to hear my side of the story. Oss was a master of information gathering and wasn’t above using his friends to further his knowledge.
I groaned and went to get dressed.
You didn’t turn down an invitation from Oss, not if you enjoyed keeping all the blood inside your body.
