Swords & Steam Short Stories

by S. T. Joshi

  In the end, however, even those professors had to admit that talent such as AnnaBella’s did not come along frequently. During the weeks leading up to the event, AnnaBella had shown her advisors an array of costumes that many of them secretly wished they had conceived themselves. Some of the faculty even wondered whether AnnaBella’s collection would help make the stodgy European and British houses finally sit up and take notice.

  It was therefore a shock when AnnaBella’s first models appeared on the runway. Unlike in the dress rehearsal, the models were now accompanied by their fully dressed companions, each of whom wore a simplified, more practical version of their human’s ensemble. Anna’s coup de maître likely would not have succeeded had the backstage tent been less chaotic, but of course Anna had been counting on that, and by the time the faculty realized what was happening, it was too late.

  The first shocked titters from the audience quickly gave way to rising murmurs of excitement and a few of chagrin. Journalists’ companions took notes and made quick sketches under the direction of their humans, while society wives relished the thought of all the new shopping they would get to do. The few reluctant husbands in attendance mentally reviewed their bank account balances and sighed. And even the older, more jaded designers perked up, imagining the upswing in demand that this as-yet-unknown AnnaBella Frostwich was creating right in front of their eyes.

  * * *

  Six months later, AnnaBella held an exclusive luncheon for a dozen of the most influential fashion columnists in New Yorke, at which she made the not-unexpected announcement that she was launching her own fashion line, backed by the banking house of Taylor & Sons. No, the surprising part was not the company itself, but rather the company name. Everyone had assumed that AnnaBella would take advantage of her distinctive first name, the perfect mononym to adorn a designer label.

  “Can’t you just hear it, darling? ‘I’m wearing the latest AnnaBella!’ ”, Mrs. Frostwich had said to her daughter. “Simply everyone would know your name.”

  “I know it has a nice ring, Mother, and I do love my name, but it’s not right for the company,” Anna replied absently, as she pinned up an elaborate skirt hem sporting row after row of seed pearls. Mrs. Frostwich, watching, fervently hoped that Anna would not be run out of town for allowing her models’ ankles to show.

  “But darling –” she said.

  “Mrs. Frostwich,” said Mr. Featherbottom. He was standing on the dais, wearing the skirt upon which Anna sewed, as the hour was late and the in-house models had already gone home. “We wondered if you would be so kind as to help us settle on the company’s trademark, which we’ll introduce at the luncheon. We’ve narrowed it down to these three possibilities,” he went on, leaning over to pick up a folder from a nearby table.

  “Stand still, Mr. F!” said Anna through a mouthful of pins.

  “– and we simply must have your opinion before we can make a final decision,” he went on. “In fact, Anna thought that you might be willing to serve as our Consulting Advisor – we’ll have cards made up for you, of course, and there will be any number of social functions that we’ll need your help in planning.”

  Mrs. Frostwich was so delighted with this idea that she completely forgot the question of the company’s name. A Consulting Advisor! That would be something to tell Mrs. Compton, the current President of the Gardening Society, who made cutting little criticisms to one so politely that it often took half an hour to realize that one had been insulted.

  At the announcement luncheon, AnnaBella spoke from the front of the flower-bedecked banquet room that they had rented at the Crestwicke Hotel. The podium at which she stood was emblazoned with a circular trademark containing a beautifully scripted letter “F” in dark green, entwined with its own mirrored image in a lighter shade. The guests sat at two large round tables while their companions, a few of whom were dressed, sat in a row of chairs lined up against the back wall. Models, trailed by their matching companions, circulated in a slow figure eight pattern around the two tables, pausing to twirl at appropriate intervals.

  “Ladies,” AnnaBella said. “It gives me great pleasure to introduce you to Mr. Featherbottom, who is not only my companion but also my partner in this venture. We hope you are as excited as we are to witness the birth of our new company –” she paused dramatically – “Frostwich & Featherbottom.”

  * * *

  When AnnaBella was 57 years old, she and Mr. Featherbottom retired, announcing that the firm of Frostwich & Featherbottom would continue under the auspices of Leanna Bowton and her companion Charlotte, who had been with the company for nine years. Although Anna could no longer keep up the frantic pace demanded by the always-changing fashion industry, she still possessed a gentle loveliness that continued to attract suitors, with whom she maintained friendly but platonic relationships. The society pages, which had long since ceased speculating about whether Anna would ever marry, briefly revived their interest in her love life, only to realize that retirement did not seem to indicate any propensity on Anna’s part to ‘settle down.’

  Mr. Featherbottom, naturally, remained by Anna’s side. His body had taken on a dignified patina that was only a shade darker than before, yet somehow conveyed a sense of aging that was as graceful as Anna’s. He had taken to carrying a cane, even though he did not need it, and could often be seen strolling slowly with Anna in the park on warm afternoons.

  When AnnaBella Frostwich died at age 63, a stoic Mr. Featherbottom assisted the funeral director’s companion, Wallace, in laying out her body for the service. Mr. Featherbottom had brought Anna’s favorite afternoon gown of light green georgette edged with cream lace, and Wallace tinted her cheeks with a pale pink rouge. As always, Anna was the picture of elegance.

  When the service was over, Mr. Featherbottom waited until the last guest had departed, then sat on a chair he placed next to the casket. Wallace stood near the doorway, unsure whether to stay or leave. He watched as Mr. Featherbottom touched Anna’s cheek and then lovingly rearranged her hands, which clutched a lace handkerchief over her midsection.

  Finally Mr. Featherbottom stood, but he still did not leave. Instead, he slowly removed his coal-black mourning suit and crisp white shirt. Wallace, unaccustomed to seeing other companions without clothing, did not know how to react. Mr. Featherbottom folded each garment neatly, tucking them along the inside edges of the casket. He placed his shoes at the bottom, near Anna’s feet, and then straightened up to his full height. Turning towards Wallace, he gestured toward the casket, indicating that he was ready.

  Wallace, accustomed to observing the small details required by his profession, could not help but notice Mr. Featherbottom’s left hand. One of the fingers had a slightly raised band, as might result from a too-hasty solder repair. It seemed out of place compared to the companion’s otherwise immaculate appearance, but perhaps Miss Frostwich’s illness had demanded all of Mr. Featherbottom’s attention in recent months.

  As Wallace moved to close the casket lid, he paused. The ring that Miss Frostwich was wearing -- hadn’t it been on her right hand rather than her left? Involuntarily, he looked back at Mr. Featherbottom.

  Without a word, Mr. Featherbottom inclined his head, then turned and made his way to the front entrance of the funeral home. In spite of his unclothed state, his gait was as dignified as ever.

  Wallace knew that due to AnnaBella Frostwich’s lack of direct heirs, Mr. Featherbottom would report to a companion co-operative to decide his own future: either service to an adult who had lost his or her companion in an accident, or complete dismantling, so that his own parts could be passed along to the next generation of companions. Wallace felt fairly certain which option Mr. Featherbottom would choose.

  The Touchstone

  Robert Louis Stevenson

  The King was a man that stood well before the world; his smile was sweet as clover, but his soul withinsides was as little as a pea. He had tw
o sons; and the younger son was a boy after his heart, but the elder was one whom he feared. It befell one morning that the drum sounded in the dun before it was yet day; and the King rode with his two sons, and a brave array behind them. They rode two hours, and came to the foot of a brown mountain that was very steep.

  “Where do we ride?” said the elder son.

  “Across this brown mountain,” said the King, and smiled to himself.

  “My father knows what he is doing,” said the younger son.

  And they rode two hours more, and came to the sides of a black river that was wondrous deep.

  “And where do we ride?” asked the elder son.

  “Over this black river,” said the King, and smiled to himself.

  “My father knows what he is doing,” said the younger son.

  And they rode all that day, and about the time of the sunsetting came to the side of a lake, where was a great dun.

  “It is here we ride,” said the King; “to a King’s house, and a priest’s, and a house where you will learn much.”

  At the gates of the dun, the King who was a priest met them; and he was a grave man, and beside him stood his daughter, and she was as fair as the morn, and one that smiled and looked down.

  “These are my two sons,” said the first King.

  “And here is my daughter,” said the King who was a priest.

  “She is a wonderful fine maid,” said the first King, “and I like her manner of smiling,”

  “They are wonderful well-grown lads,” said the second, “and I like their gravity.”

  And then the two Kings looked at each other, and said, “The thing may come about”.

  And in the meanwhile the two lads looked upon the maid, and the one grew pale and the other red; and the maid looked upon the ground smiling.

  “Here is the maid that I shall marry,” said the elder. “For I think she smiled upon me.”

  But the younger plucked his father by the sleeve. “Father,” said he, “a word in your ear. If I find favour in your sight, might not I wed this maid, for I think she smiles upon me?”

  “A word in yours,” said the King his father. “Waiting is good hunting, and when the teeth are shut the tongue is at home.”

  Now they were come into the dun, and feasted; and this was a great house, so that the lads were astonished; and the King that was a priest sat at the end of the board and was silent, so that the lads were filled with reverence; and the maid served them smiling with downcast eyes, so that their hearts were enlarged.

  Before it was day, the elder son arose, and he found the maid at her weaving, for she was a diligent girl. “Maid,” quoth he, “I would fain marry you.”

  “You must speak with my father,” said she, and she looked upon the ground smiling, and became like the rose.

  “Her heart is with me,” said the elder son, and he went down to the lake and sang.

  A little after came the younger son. “Maid,” quoth he, “if our fathers were agreed, I would like well to marry you.”

  “You can speak to my father,” said she; and looked upon the ground, and smiled and grew like the rose.

  “She is a dutiful daughter,” said the younger son, “she will make an obedient wife.” And then he thought, “What shall I do?” and he remembered the King her father was a priest; so he went into the temple, and sacrificed a weasel and a hare.

  Presently the news got about; and the two lads and the first King were called into the presence of the King who was a priest, where he sat upon the high seat.

  “Little I reck of gear,” said the King who was a priest, “and little of power. For we live here among the shadow of things, and the heart is sick of seeing them. And we stay here in the wind like raiment drying, and the heart is weary of the wind. But one thing I love, and that is truth; and for one thing will I give my daughter, and that is the trial stone. For in the light of that stone the seeming goes, and the being shows, and all things besides are worthless. Therefore, lads, if ye would wed my daughter, out foot, and bring me the stone of touch, for that is the price of her.”

  “A word in your ear,” said the younger son to his father. “I think we do very well without this stone.”

  “A word in yours,” said the father. “I am of your way of thinking; but when the teeth are shut the tongue is at home.” And he smiled to the King that was a priest.

  But the elder son got to his feet, and called the King that was a priest by the name of father. “For whether I marry the maid or no, I will call you by that word for the love of your wisdom; and even now I will ride forth and search the world for the stone of touch.” So he said farewell, and rode into the world.

  “I think I will go, too,” said the younger son, “if I can have your leave. For my heart goes out to the maid.”

  “You will ride home with me,” said his father.

  So they rode home, and when they came to the dun, the King had his son into his treasury. “Here,” said he, “is the touchstone which shows truth; for there is no truth but plain truth; and if you will look in this, you will see yourself as you are.”

  And the younger son looked in it, and saw his face as it were the face of a beardless youth, and he was well enough pleased; for the thing was a piece of a mirror.

  “Here is no such great thing to make a work about,” said he; “but if it will get me the maid I shall never complain. But what a fool is my brother to ride into the world, and the thing all the while at home!”

  So they rode back to the other dun, and showed the mirror to the King that was a priest; and when he had looked in it, and seen himself like a King, and his house like a King’s house, and all things like themselves, he cried out and blessed God. “For now I know,” said he, “there is no truth but the plain truth; and I am a King indeed, although my heart misgave me.” And he pulled down his temple, and built a new one; and then the younger son was married to the maid.

  In the meantime the elder son rode into the world to find the touchstone of the trial of truth; and whenever he came to a place of habitation, he would ask the men if they had heard of it. And in every place the men answered: “Not only have we heard of it, but we alone, of all men, possess the thing itself, and it hangs in the side of our chimney to this day”. Then would the elder son be glad, and beg for a sight of it. And sometimes it would be a piece of mirror, that showed the seeming of things; and then he would say, “This can never be, for there should be more than seeming”. And sometimes it would be a lump of coal, which showed nothing; and then he would say, “This can never be, for at least there is the seeming”. And sometimes it would be a touchstone indeed, beautiful in hue, adorned with polishing, the light inhabiting its sides; and when he found this, he would beg the thing, and the persons of that place would give it him, for all men were very generous of that gift; so that at the last he had his wallet full of them, and they chinked together when he rode; and when he halted by the side of the way he would take them out and try them, till his head turned like the sails upon a windmill.

  “A murrain upon this business!” said the elder son, “for I perceive no end to it. Here I have the red, and here the blue and the green; and to me they seem all excellent, and yet shame each other. A murrain on the trade! If it were not for the King that is a priest and whom I have called my father, and if it were not for the fair maid of the dun that makes my mouth to sing and my heart enlarge, I would even tumble them all into the salt sea, and go home and be a King like other folk.”

  But he was like the hunter that has seen a stag upon a mountain, so that the night may fall, and the fire be kindled, and the lights shine in his house; but desire of that stag is single in his bosom.

  Now after many years the elder son came upon the sides of the salt sea; and it was night, and a savage place, and the clamour of the sea was loud. There he was aware of a house, and a man that sat there by the lig
ht of a candle, for he had no fire. Now the elder son came in to him, and the man gave him water to drink, for he had no bread; and wagged his head when he was spoken to, for he had no words.

  “Have you the touchstone of truth?” asked the elder son and when the man had wagged his head, “I might have known that,” cried the elder son. “I have here a wallet full of them!” And with that he laughed, although his heart was weary.

  And with that the man laughed too, and with the fuff of his laughter the candle went out.

  “Sleep,” said the man, “for now I think you have come far enough; and your quest is ended, and my candle is out.”

  Now when the morning came, the man gave him a clear pebble in his hand, and it had no beauty and no colour; and the elder son looked upon it scornfully and shook his head; and he went away, for it seemed a small affair to him.

  All that day he rode, and his mind was quiet, and the desire of the chase allayed. “How if this poor pebble be the touchstone, after all?” said he: and he got down from his horse, and emptied forth his wallet by the side of the way. Now, in the light of each other, all the touchstones lost their hue and fire, and withered like stars at morning; but in the light of the pebble, their beauty remained, only the pebble was the most bright. And the elder son smote upon his brow. “How if this be the truth?” he cried, “that all are a little true?” And he took the pebble, and turned its light upon the heavens, and they deepened about him like the pit; and he turned it on the hills, and the hills were cold and rugged, but life ran in their sides so that his own life bounded; and he turned it on the dust, and he beheld the dust with joy and terror; and he turned it on himself, and kneeled down and prayed.

  “Now, thanks be to God,” said the elder son, “I have found the touchstone; and now I may turn my reins, and ride home to the King and to the maid of the dun that makes my mouth to sing and my heart enlarge.”