Boots for the Gentleman (5 page)

A smile broke across Querry’s face as he removed the nail and fit it into the next hole. Another click sounded. This lock operated on the same system as the one he’d built to protect his room: the pins had to be pushed into the tumblers in a specific order. Leaning closer, Querry listened and visualized the mechanisms within the stone. Subtleties of the sounds they made told him if the pins had clicked into place. He used the nail in each of the seven holes and stood back. Nothing happened. “What? Why?” Querry paced back and forth in front of the wall, fist balled against his mouth. This was it, the solution, but why didn’t it open? He tried the locks in reverse. Nothing. “Some combination?” he asked the empty room. He tried every other lock and then the ones he skipped. Still nothing! This was maddening! Listening more carefully, Querry heard some of the pins slipping free as others snapped into place. For every one he managed to secure, another knocked loose, and no combination prevented it. Querry paced furiously, trying desperately to find the solution. He stopped abruptly as the thought occurred. “Oh! Of course!” He dashed outside and retrieved the decrepit umbrella. He quickly bent the spine into something that resembled a fork and placed one rib in each hole. Querry breathed deeply and then pulled the handle toward the floor. Simultaneously all seven locks clicked.

Querry stood amazed as the wall slid away. He heard gears and pulleys working somewhere out of sight to retract the heavy slab of stone. Slowly it sunk into the floor, revealing a thin corridor with a set of steps at the end. Beyond the first three, Querry saw only darkness. From an inside pocket, he took a small glass cylinder on a chain. Flammable oil filled the lower half. Querry unscrewed the metal lid and lit the wick with a wooden match. Then, carefully, his every muscle tensed and hurting, he descended into the black.

Far below the house, probably three or four stories down, Querry came to a metal door. He tried the handle and found it locked, of course, so he took out his picks and set to work. Some rust and damaged mechanisms impeded his progress, along with low visibility, but he’d always had a natural affinity for deciphering clockwork and had spent his childhood learning about it from anyone who would teach him, and in a quarter of an hour he heard the final gear click into place. He turned the handle, and the door creaked loudly as it swung open. Querry heard a loud snap from the ceiling followed by the rush of something heavy, and had only a moment to dodge the giant iron mallet that swooped through the space he’d occupied only seconds ago. The mallet dangled limply now and from the spot on the floor where he’d rolled, Querry could see the mechanism above the door that released it.

Interesting
, Querry thought.
A locked door with a backup trap
. He smiled, reassured that something valuable lay ahead of him. No one went to this much trouble to protect nothing. He picked his way slowly along a short corridor, choosing his steps carefully. All the tiles along the floor looked identical but the thief wasn’t taking any chances. He tried to detect any irregularity in the tile ahead when the one beneath his foot sank an inch into the floor with an ominous, grinding tick. He heard gears moving in the walls on either side. Querry looked at the walls and detected thin canals just below eye level. Without thinking he dropped to the floor and watched as two crescent-shaped blades slid from the ducts, slashing in opposite directions. Querry reached up and touched his neck without realizing he’d done it. Were he still standing his hand would not have found his head in the proper spot. He rose slowly, his situation growing much more serious. Someone thought something down here wasn’t just worth protecting, but worth killing for.

Querry held his breath as he took another tentative step. His eye caught a gleam near the floor: a trip wire. The thief lay on his belly and cut the wire. Jets of flame burst from the ceiling and walls, focusing on the point where the target would have triggered the trap. Querry shook his head and crossed the remainder of the corridor to the opposite door without incident. The door was simple. Querry tried the handle, expecting resistance, and found none. It occurred to him that whoever designed these traps didn’t expect anyone to make it this far so there was no need for this door to be locked. Slowly, suspiciously, Querry turned the knob until he heard the faintest of clicks. Nothing waited beyond except a small, empty room. Gently Querry released the knob and looked for an alternate means of entrance. He spotted it high on the wall: a tiny hole like the ones upstairs. He stuck his finger in and felt the familiar lever. Querry flipped the tumbler up and found himself slipping through a trap door and sliding down a chute.

The tube deposited him on the floor of a room just below the corridor. The chamber smelled of damp earth, oil, and metal. It was cold so far below the ground. By the light of the oil lamp, Querry saw several long tables, some affixed with drill presses and vice grips. Piles of gears and metal pieces sat stacked on top, covered in dust and cobwebs. He crept along the perimeter of the room, examining what he found. Most of it looked worthless: spools of tarnished wire, shapes cut from sheet metal, incomplete mechanisms of unknown purpose, something that looked like an eggbeater. A shelf held a variety of obscure liquids in glass vials. Scattered over the floor, clinking as Querry’s feet waded through them, were more discarded gears and metal bits. In a corner lay a construct that too closely resembled a rib cage, and Querry shuddered.

On the wall Querry found the skeleton of a large fish, only forged in iron. He could see where, when wound, complex clockwork would enable it to move its tail and fins. If covered, it could make a marvelous toy, but Querry didn’t think he’d be able to sell it unfinished. Beyond, dangling from pegs, were about two dozen tiny metal wings, each feather cast in incredible detail that made Querry’s breath catch in his throat. Even so, they wouldn’t put coins in his pockets, so he continued his trek through the darkness. He passed a half-finished dragon head, the left side covered in blue steel scales. Opening a wooden case, he found a dozen different eyeballs resting on a scrap of black velvet. A skinned human arm, the bones, tendons and sinew perfectly replicated by metal tubes and wiring made Querry clap a hand over his mouth. He squinted into the darkness, eager to find his prize and leave this place behind. A strange silhouette appeared a few feet ahead. It looked like a human form sitting on a bench, its hands folded in its lap and its head down. Cautiously, Querry approached.

Decades worth of dust coated the most magnificent doll Querry had ever seen. Nothing distinguished it from a beautiful young man, except that the face looked a little too perfect, in the way that some faeries appeared. But the full, bow-shaped lips looked soft, fleshy. Somehow each strand of hair had been produced and shaped into loose, ringlet curls. Leaning closer, fascinated, Querry saw that the doll maker had even formed each eyelash individually. The eyelids above them creased like real skin. The artist had dressed his creation in finery a century old: blue satin breeches and hose, a gauzy blouse with a high neck and ruffles surrounding the face like a blooming flower, little slippers topped with bows. At the ends of the fingers resting over a large, leather-bound book, clear nails caught the firelight.

It looked human, astoundingly so, a masterpiece. But what was Querry supposed to do with it? Finding a buyer would be a challenge, if he could even lift it. Could this really be what the gentleman meant? If he wanted it, why not just hire Querry to fetch the thing? If he wanted it, why not wave his pretty hand and make it appear beside him?

Holding the lamp-chain in his teeth, Querry picked apart the buckles of his right glove and pulled it off a finger at a time. With his thumb, he cleared a line of dust away from the doll’s cheek. It even felt like real skin, and, under the accumulation of gray, blushed a subtle rose. The whole thing reminded Querry of a winged, adolescent love god painted by one of the old masters. He’d seen such subtly sensual portraits hanging in the houses of the wealthy while at work, and this doll held the same innocent appeal in its slender limbs and round face. Perplexed, Querry could only stare and marvel over the detail while he wondered how he might benefit from his discovery.

As he watched, the doll’s eyelids fluttered. A soft hum came from within it, and its fingers began to move, not with the choppy motion of most clockwork, but with complete fluidity. Its eyes opened, revealing stunning golden irises that darted back and forth. The corners of the mouth curled up. It was smiling.

“Hello,” it said, in a voice as idealized as the rest of it.

“Uh, hello….”

As the doll stood, nothing betrayed its mechanical nature. No one watching would have been able to distinguish it from a real boy as it tucked its book under its arm and looked expectantly at Querry. Every few seconds, it blinked.

“Do you have a name?” Querry asked. It occurred to him that he conversed with an inanimate object, but it felt like the right thing to say.

“Name?”

Touching his chest, he said, “My name is Querrilous Knotte, but that’s kind of a mouthful, so most people just call me Querry.”

“Keh-ree,” the doll repeated.

“What are you called?”

It looked confused, brows knitting and lower lip jutting out. If it hadn’t been a machine, Querry would have said it looked damned adorable.

“Well, that’s all right,” he said instead. “How long have you been here?”

“I’ve always been here.”

“Do you know if there’s money, or anything valuable, hidden down here?”

“What’s money?”

“Coins? Jewelry?”

The doll shot him the cute, bewildered look again. The two of them regarded one another for many minutes as Querry decided the best course of action. Eventually he said, “I guess I’ll be going.”

He turned and started his way across the cluttered room. To his surprise, the doll followed him. Stopping, he faced it, ready to tell it to remain. But it looked so broken, so tragic, that Querry’s words caught in his throat.

“I,” it said, touching its chest as if aware, for the first time, of itself, “I feel—”

“Feel?” Querry stammered. This was just not possible. To mimic life, perhaps, but to create emotion—

“I feel—I am alone here.”

“Lonely?” Querry asked, incredulous. “You’re lonely?”

“I think—Yes.”

“Well, you can’t come with me.”

“Why?”

“I—” Querry wanted to say that he had no use for a doll, but as he looked into its large, sad eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “I need you to wait here, while I check that there’s nobody upstairs.”

The doll nodded, and Querry left it behind in the dark. When he’d made his way back to the storage room, he considered just escaping. But he told himself that the doll might be what Lord Thimbleroy wanted. It seemed absurd, but one never knew with aristocrats. Maybe Querry could still make a profit. And in the end, Querry just knew too well how it hurt to be cast aside. He checked the house and the street beyond. Satisfied that they wouldn’t be seen leaving, he returned to the cellar workroom to fetch the doll and guide him past the traps meant to protect him.

I
N
THE
orange light of sunset, Querry watched the doll walking beside him: silvery hair and skin coated in grime, except for a streak of peach-pink on its right cheek. Every tree stump, fence, and dumpster filled his gorgeous eyes with astonished delight. They’d kept to the back alleys, since the doll would certainly attract attention in his antique costume. Now that they’d made it to Rushport, Querry considered his predicament. He still had no money. The smells wafting from the taverns and stalls made him salivate. Since the doll was with him, he couldn’t fall back on finding a crowd and cutting purses. Its beauty would be too much of a disturbance.

“Hello, darling,” said a whore with bright red curls and a cheap, velvet frock to match. She stroked the doll’s cheek and positioned her bulging chest at his chin.

“Hands off, Jane,” Querry warned, stepping around and putting himself between the doll and the whore.

She held her lace-gloved hands up. “Sorry, Querry. I didn’t see you there, and I’m just trying to put food in me mouth, ain’t I?”

Querry guided his awe-struck companion away by his elbow. The first gaggle of Rushport beggars appeared on the corner, calling out, “I’m sick and I’m hungry. Anything, please. Take pity on us. I lost my eyes in the foundry.”

“A crust of bread, please! An infection in Rajallah took my feet.”

The doll stopped. “Querry,” it said, touching his arm lightly. “Those people are hungry.”

“So am I.”

Eyes wide with surprise, the doll walked straight to the nearest kiosk and picked up a loaf of bread. Then he walked back toward Querry, with the attendant following.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the red-faced, chubby baker shouted. “You got to pay for that!”

On the street, people stopped walking and turned toward the commotion. Quickly Querry snatched the bread from the doll and returned it to the shopkeeper, saying, “Please forgive my cousin. He was born simple.” Then he grasped the doll’s hand and pulled him away from where he stood with that bemused expression on his dirty face.

Walking fast, Querry succeeded in getting away before the two of them attracted curiosity. They made it to his building without further incident, though the doll talked the entire time.

“If that man had food, why wouldn’t he give it to people who are hungry?”

“You have to pay for it,” Querry said. “You mustn’t do that again. You can’t take things. At least not when you’ll get caught.”

“But why?”

“It’s just the way it is.”

“Isn’t it wrong?”

“In a way, I guess it is,” Querry conceded. “But it can’t be helped. Here, this is my room.” He unlocked the door, went inside, and lit the candle on the table.

The doll looked around at Querry’s meager possessions. When he saw Tosser and Toerag curled on the bed, he laughed out loud with enchantment and crouched down to stroke them. The big book he carried fell to the floor.