Ekaterina Sedia - The Alchemy of Stone

“But…”

“I’m not asking,” he said. “I’m telling you. You are coming with me. Bring it with you.”

Numb, Mattie obeyed. It was just like before, and no matter what had happened to her since, no matter how powerful or emancipated, she still did as she was told—because she could not do otherwise, because he was the one that made her. Just like the gargoyles obeyed the stone—or was it the other way around? she could not remember—she obeyed Loharri, and mutely gathered the homunculus into the cradling hammock of her skirt. It wobbled and hissed and stained the dark brown fabric a darker red; Mattie did not complain and followed Loharri out of the house, past the boarded-up entrance of the apothecary downstairs.

He did not say a word, and Mattie felt a dark foreboding. The city matched her mood—the traffic was sparse, and there seemed to be fewer people in the streets. She heard occasional musket shots coming from the east and smelled the smoke and gunpowder in the air. But that did not preoccupy Mattie—at least, not as much as Loharri did. His brisk, angry steps, his tight-lipped demeanor of disappointment all indicated the inevitable punishment. He can’t take my eyes away, Mattie thought. He can’t do this. And yet, when she asked herself who would prevent him, there was no answer. The enforcers were too busy fighting, and even if they weren’t, would they ever interfere with a high-station mechanic taking apart his creation?

She wished she could cry. Her freedom was just an illusion—she was emancipated because Loharri let her, and therefore she had no power at all. Everything she had was either given or allowed by him. Mattie wondered if it were possible to hate anyone more than she hated Loharri that moment, to be more afraid.

And where was Iolanda? Probably busy with other things, probably safe away and underground, with Niobe at her side, both of them real women who shared a bond Mattie neither understood nor could ever hope to partake in. Iolanda would defend her, of course—if she were here to defend, and if it didn’t interfere with her plans. Protecting Mattie, helping her get her key back was not a high priority, and she bided her time before she would attempt to control Loharri—bided it until it was needed. It was not about love, Mattie realized; it was about gaining access to the mechanics’ secrets. When her co-conspirators would take the city, then she would use her influence to build an alliance with the mechanics, to tame them.

“Bokker is a good alchemist,” Loharri said without looking at her.

Eager to maintain whatever illusion of amicability she could get from him, Mattie nodded. “He is. Why, were you working with him on the city defenses?”

“No,” Loharri said. “He finished the project I needed finished—the one you were working on before you started with the gargoyles. Remember? You asked my permission to take a break, but I didn’t expect you to abandon it completely.”

“I’m sorry,” Mattie said. Despite her better judgment, a feeling of relief filled her—if it was just about that silly project, then he would forgive her soon enough. How important was it, now? Just a game, a curiosity. “I remember—you wanted a chemical that would capture images for you. Too cheap to pay the painters.”

He smiled at that. “Indeed. But Bokker, he did well— thanks to your list. And I worked out how to record not just pictures but also sounds; I can watch people as they move, as they talk, without ever being there. Very entertaining.”

“I thought you were preoccupied with the Calculator.”

“So I was; but you’ve had your distractions too, haven’t you?

Mattie nodded and hung her head pensively. “I’m sorry”

“We do what we must,” he said with a shrug.

They remained silent until they reached the western district and his house. He stopped in front of it, patting his pockets for his keys. He unlocked the door and Mattie followed him meekly inside.

“I have a new face for you,” Loharri said, and locked the door behind him. “Come to the workshop, and I’ll fit it on.”

“I like this one,” Mattie said.

“I don’t.” He took Mattie’s elbow and dragged her to the workshop. The homunculus, sleeping peacefully until then in the folds of her skirt, woke up and hissed.

“And shut that thing up,” Loharri said, and shrugged off his overcoat, letting it drop to the floor. “I’m really not in the mood for this, Mattie. Tell it that if it doesn’t become quiet, I’ll smear it on the walls.”

The homunculus apparently did not need intermediaries, and fell silent at once.

“Put it down and sit,” Loharri said as soon as they entered the dark cluttered space of the workshop.

Mattie obeyed, and the homunculus stood on its liquid legs but did not leave Mattie’s side, holding onto her skirts as if afraid to let go. Loharri did not look overly bothered by its presence—he merely made a peevish face and made a show of circumventing the creature in a wide arc. He dug around in the pile of junk.

Mattie watched him extract another face—an exact replica of her previous one—and wanted to be able to cry. No other response seemed fitting as she realized that she was about to be forced back into the mold she was working so hard to escape. “You are not going to take my eyes, are you?”

“Of course not.” He dug under her jaw and popped off her face. Instead of putting the new one immediately on, he tinkered with something in Mattie’s head. She heard the faint click of a tumbler, and lost sensation in her limbs.

She tried to move, but her arms hung by her sides, limp, and her legs, heavy now, straightened against her will in front of her. “What did you do?” she whispered.

“It’s only a temporary disabling switch,” he said. “You won’t feel any pain—in fact, you shouldn’t feel anything at all. And you won’t be tempted to run.”

He dug again, and Mattie cringed as she felt the contents of her head, the delicate gears, beveled and plain, grate against each other as Loharri’s fingers moved around. “Don’t let it bother you,” he said, and turned her chair to face the wall—a plain white wall with nothing interesting painted on it. He shifted more tumblers, and Mattie’s eyes emitted two light beams that met on the wall, creating two partially overlapping spotlights. She whined in fear.

“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s nifty, really—Bokker’s chemical captures images onto a rotating copper roll, and the same roll records the sound. And everything you see is written on it—it’s like your memory, but now I can see it, too.”

“How long has it been there?” Mattie whispered.

“Since you were last… broken,” he answered. “I’m not a fool, Mattie, and I notice things. I notice it when you lie, when Iolanda lies—she thinks she is so clever not to hide her feelings but make them sound like jokes. But now we will see what really happened.”

The light coming from her eyes blinded Mattie, but still she could see through the haze the vague shapes moving, the cobbles of the city streets jumping up and down in rhythm with her steps. Iolanda’s frizzed hair, her pitying look as she leaned closer, her face taking up most of Mattie’s vision. Niobe standing by the window, watching them, her arms crossed.

Sebastian’s face appeared, by turns kind and mocking— Mattie was surprised to see it so clearly now. His face leaning closer, his lips smiling… Then the image became dark, and Mattie recalled with embarrassment that her eyes were retracted then, blind, the rest of her oblivious to everything but the pleasure of Sebastian’s hands on her chest.

Loharri made a small sound, of surprise or annoyance, Mattie could not tell. He touched something in Mattie’s head, and the image blurred. Loharri swore through his teeth but fell silent when the pale face of the Soul-Smoker took up the entire wall and the shouts and whispers of the dead poured from his lips. And then there was darkness of the tunnels, the faces of the courtiers… Mattie’s voice asking about Iolanda.