by Heidi Lang
She laughed in spite of herself, finally relaxing. One dance, she told herself. It can’t hurt, right?
And then she saw him.
Greg’s eyes met hers across the dance floor just as the song ended, his vibrant phoenix mask shadowing his expression. For some reason, Lailu couldn’t look away, until Ryon released her waist, then bent over her hand and kissed it.
Lailu gasped, surprised, Greg forgotten.
“Thank you for the dance, Lailu.” Ryon let go of her hand.
“N-no wink this time?” Lailu felt like she was strapped into Carbon’s harness again, her balance all off.
“No wink. I am in all seriousness. You’re . . . not a good dancer.”
“Hey!”
“But you’re a fun dancer, and that’s much more important.” With a final bow, Ryon weaved his way through the crowd just as the next song started up.
Lailu was frozen there a moment longer until an enthusiastic couple trod on her foot, and she realized the middle of the dance floor was not a safe place to stand still, especially when you were only five feet tall. Shaking her head, she pushed her way through, almost running right into Greg.
“Oh! Er, h-hey, Greg.” Lailu hated how her voice was all shaky. It was the dancing. It made her dizzy and confused and not at all herself.
Greg didn’t say anything, his face still beneath his mask.
“LaSilvian!” a lanky boy called out. He knocked into Lailu, bumping her backward, and clapped Greg on the shoulder.
“Um, excuse me?” Lailu said, staggering back.
The boy glanced over, his mask—a painted and bejeweled dog face—laughing at her. “Who are you?” he asked coldly, just as another boy in a dog mask trotted over. It was like facing down a pack.
“I’m Lail—”
“She’s just the chef,” Greg interrupted. “So maybe she should get back to cooking, yeah?” Greg’s brown eyes were dark as he looked at her, the eyes of a stranger.
Lailu took a step back, then another, and Greg turned, laughing at something one of the boys in dog masks whispered in his ear. Lailu’s vision blurred, and she stumbled away.
She reached the doors at the far end of the room, grateful for her mask. It hid the tears spilling out of her eyes. Not that she was crying—it was just the heat. It was just really hot in here. She didn’t care if Greg was a jerk. She knew he was a jerk. She’d always known.
She tried to open one of the doors, but a man staggered in front of her, blocking her in. Lailu’s hand reached for her chef’s knife before she recognized Carbon’s bowl of a hat.
“You have to tell Starling that my invention worked perfectly,” Carbon slurred. His breath stank of fermented grapes, his eyes bloodshot and watery beneath a crooked white mask.
“But . . . it didn’t work perfectly.” Lailu inched away from him.
“No, no, no. That’s not true, not true. You must not have been using it right. I can help, I can—”
A man seized Carbon roughly by the shoulder. “Go away, pawn.”
Carbon looked up into cold blue eyes, half-hidden behind a black domino mask, and blanched, his face turning the color of his own mask. “Y-you. You wouldn’t d-dare do—”
“Wouldn’t I?”
Carbon threw one last frightened look at Lailu before scurrying away.
“Eirad?” She couldn’t believe it. Eirad, the elves’ second-in-command, here at Lord Elister’s party? Even though his long, pointed ears were disguised beneath a black top hat, there was no mistaking those impossibly sharp cheekbones, the elvish point of his chin. But from far away, Lailu could see how he would fit right in here, his whole outfit designed to blend, from the simple but elegant cut of his peacock-blue coat to the subtle gray cravat.
“That one is weak,” Eirad sneered. “Even Lord Elister’s pet scientist thinks so. I’d be doing her a favor getting rid of him.”
“What are you doing here?” Lailu asked carefully, remembering Ryon’s words.
“Working.”
Working? Coming from someone like Eirad, that sounded quite ominous.
“Ladies and gentlemen, a moment of your attention, if you please.” Elister’s voice boomed all around the room, and Lailu was forced to put the puzzle of Eirad away for now. Starling Volan’s presentation was about to begin.
4
STARLING’S DEMONSTRATION
Starling Volan swept into the middle of the rapidly clearing floor. She gazed out at the crowd, her head thrown back, her red hair tumbling from a low ponytail. Beneath her dainty bird mask, her smile was wide and triumphant.
“Good evening, lords and ladies. Your Majesty.” Starling inclined her head toward the queen. “Tonight you all bear witness to something . . . game-changing.” She glanced at Elister. Even from this side of the room, Lailu could see the eager way he stood. “Tonight, you have the privilege of seeing our newest invention!” She spread her arms wide, the sleeves of her blue silk gown trailing around her like wings.
Carbon stumbled over, placing something small and boxlike into one of her outstretched hands. Starling fiddled with a knob on top, and a long, thin piece of metal extended out two feet. She hit a button, shifted a lever on the side, and with a flourish, held out the object for all to see.
An excited murmur broke out among the waiting guests. Lailu peeked at Eirad, who leaned casually against the wall next to her, a predatory look on his face. She noticed he was staring at Carbon, and not Starling and her invention.
“And now,” Starling announced, jabbing dramatically at a large red button on the front of the contraption in her hand.
A moment passed. Then another. Nothing happened, and the crowd grew louder and more restless. On the other side of the ballroom, Elister whispered something to the queen as she nervously picked at the lace around her throat.
Starling frowned down at the box in her hand and pushed another button, jiggling the lever again. Still nothing. Her frown deepened, and she glared at the slouched, bald figure of Carbon. He shriveled under her stare like burnt vegetables on a frying pan.
Reaching into her wide belt, Starling pulled out a tool resembling a small chisel. She used it to pop the back off the box, then fiddled with the wires inside. A moment later, she put the box back together and looked up at the waiting crowd. “My apologies, honored guests. I wished to build up more suspense.” She smiled, and a few people laughed nervously. “But without further ado . . .” Starling pushed the red button again, and in the hush, Lailu heard it.
Click-click-click, whirrrrrrrrr.
The doors next to Lailu burst open.
Lailu jumped back, her hand falling to her chef knife as something roughly her height stepped slowly inside the now silent room. It looked almost like an overgrown child, but a nightmare child that had been twisted and dipped in metal, with long, spindly arms and legs. Its torso was lined with glass, giving a clear view of the many gears and spokes inside, each clicking and rotating constantly, and glowing blue lights lit up its faceplate where eyes should be. It just looked . . . wrong.
It turned its brass head toward Lailu, fixing those glowing orbs on her, almost as if it could read her thoughts.
Lailu took a small step back.
The creature tilted its head to the side, then moved through the room with a long, gliding stride toward Starling. At the last moment, it turned and stood next to Carbon instead, who went white as milk.
Starling’s expression was a frozen promise, an avalanche one breath from falling.
“It’s not . . . I didn’t program it to . . . I . . . ,” Carbon said, flailing.
“My associate here will be assisting in this demonstration,” Starling said, her voice sugary sweet. “Carbon, if you’d be so kind?”
Carbon lurched forward and took the gadget from her. His movements were jerky, abrupt, a strange contrast to the graceful motions of the machine moving beside him as it finally slid over to Starling’s side.
Click-click-click, whirrrrrrrrr.
S
tarling rested her hand on top of its head like a proud parent. “Ladies and gentlemen of Twin Rivers, I present to you all—the automaton.” She waited a beat, the silence thickening faster than griffin stew. “And what exactly is an automaton, you may ask?” Another beat. “Why, whatever we want it to be. This is our first prototype, but we have many more in progress. They are still learning, but eventually they will be able to mimic and then even surpass humans at all but the most complex of tasks.”
The words “many more” and “still learning” filled Lailu with dread. It was like taking a mouthful of striped vibber stew and then noticing that some of the creatures were still slithering. Why wasn’t anyone else worried? As she glanced around the crowd, all she saw were rapt and wondering faces. Except for Eirad, who had no expression at all.
“For instance,” Starling said, nudging Carbon, “if you need a server, just call your local automaton.”
Carbon fiddled with the remote, and the automaton stepped into the crowd, which immediately opened to let it pass. It picked up a tray and some empty glasses from a nearby table and carried them effortlessly back to the middle of the room.
“Entertainment? They can do that.”
The automaton tossed the tray and glasses up into the air, then began juggling, its arms a blur.
“Or perhaps dancing?”
Smoothly, the automaton snatched the tray out of the air and used it to catch the glasses, while simultaneously dancing a jig. Lailu’s mouth fell open. This was unbelievable!
All around her, people chattered excitedly. One man even stepped forward and danced in front of the metal creature while his friends laughed and cheered him on.
“Or maybe you need protection,” Carbon said suddenly. He jabbed at a button on the remote, and the automaton slid from a dancing pose to a fighting stance.
Zing!
Knives extended from its fingers. It cocked its head at the dancing man, who stumbled back. A woman nearby screamed. The automaton spun toward her, and with a speed that even Lailu would have trouble matching, its arms sliced through the air, the knives glinting in the light as it moved. It ended with a backflip, then crouched, putting one knee to the ground and elbow to knee in a posture of respect and servitude in front of Carbon.
Carbon nodded once, and the knives slid back into its fingers. It stood, a motionless doll once more.
Starling was silent for a long moment as she studied Carbon, and then she turned back to the crowd. No one spoke. No one moved. “I think this performance has been very . . . informative. For everyone,” she said into the stillness.
Informative indeed. Lailu could picture that thing moving relentlessly, cutting people down without a thought. It was a glorified tool. A dangerous tool. And Starling was the last person Lailu would trust with something like that. She shivered.
Elister stepped forward, bringing his hands together in sharp, ringing claps. “That is marvelous,” he declared, still clapping. A couple of people picked it up, and then the room erupted in sound.
Lailu couldn’t bring herself to join in.
“Maybe Fahr is correct, and times are changing,” Eirad said, narrowing his eyes at the automaton and the clapping, cheering people around it. “We’ll need to change with them.” He was silent a moment before he turned to Lailu. “I’ll be seeing you again soon, little chef.” Then he slipped out the doors and was gone.
Lailu found Slipshod packing up their stuff.
“Enjoy the show, Pigtails?” He put the last of the leftovers into their Cooling and Containment cart, then closed and locked it.
“I’m not sure,” Lailu admitted.
Slipshod grinned. “I understand what you mean. Times are changing.”
His words were such a close echo of Eirad’s that Lailu felt a momentary pang. “I think they’re changing too fast,” she said. She watched the crowd. The musicians had started another lively tune, and people were already drifting back out onto the dance floor. In the corner, Elister was examining the automaton as Starling gestured emphatically at it. There was no sign of the queen, or Wren, or Ryon, but Greg was still there, standing with one of the dog-masked boys a few feet away. Lailu caught him looking at her and deliberately turned her back on him.
“Should we get going?” Lailu asked Slipshod. No answer. “Master Slipshod?” she tried again.
He was smiling at a woman in the crowd wrapped in magenta velvet, the top of her face obscured by a peacock mask. And the weirdest thing about her was that she was smiling back. Right at Slipshod.
Lailu cleared her throat.
“Eh?” Slipshod jerked his gaze back to Lailu. “What? Go?”
“We’re all packed up. They don’t need us here anymore.”
Slipshod adjusted his mask. “A good chef is always needed. Remember that, Pigtails. I’ll see you back at home.”
“You’ll—what?”
“Opportunities abound here,” Slipshod called over his shoulder as he stepped out into the swirling mass of people. They closed around him, leaving Lailu alone with the food.
5
EIRAD IS SURPRISED
Lailu was grateful to Lord Elister for sending her home in a carriage. With all the parties and decorations for the Week of Masks, Twin Rivers had morphed into a creepy place to walk around at night. Emboldened by their masks and costumes, once the sun set, people were allowing their inner demons to run free as they tore through the streets, cackling and fighting and destroying things. Houses and apartments had candles lit in every window and carved pumpkins beside every door to chase away the darkness, but outside on the streets, anything went.
Lailu wasn’t scared of monsters, but people were often scarier.
She thought of the automaton, the way it moved in graceful, short bursts, those glowing blue eyes . . . She wasn’t scared of most monsters, she amended. But man-made monsters? They were a whole different story.
The carriage pulled to a stop in front of Mystic Cooking, and Lailu climbed out, lugging her Cooling and Containment cart after her.
“Don’t forget to wear your mask,” the carriage driver said.
Lailu instinctively pulled her griffin mask down over her face. It was considered bad luck to be out on the streets at night during the Week of Masks without one.
“That’s quite unique. Did you get it from Melvin’s Marvelous Masks?” the driver asked, studying her.
“From where?” Lailu asked.
“That little shop that just opened in the market. You haven’t seen it?” The carriage driver tapped his own mask, an elaborate affair with a horse’s muzzle, complete with a silky mane. “I picked this up there. Never thought I’d be able to afford something so nice, but the chap who runs the place is very reasonable, practically giving them away.”
“Oh. That’s . . . that’s great,” Lailu said. She closed the carriage door and stepped back.
“You be safe now, little miss.” The driver clucked at the horses and headed back down the road. There was something comforting about the way his horses moved in step with the carriage. How soon before that ended and everyone drove those strange steam-powered contraptions instead?
Times are changing.
Lailu shivered.
A couple of men in bowler hats and their own cheap masks laughed boisterously as they walked down the cobblestones. They gave Lailu a halfhearted wave before disappearing into the brick complex across from her. Mystic Cooking had been open long enough that all the neighbors now seemed to recognize Lailu. Hannah had insisted on giving a “neighborhood” discount—appetizers on the house!—to anyone who lived on their street, which definitely increased Lailu’s popularity in the area. Supposedly it was a strategic business move meant to generate positive word of mouth and harbor good feelings with the locals. Lailu had to admit, she just wasn’t very good at anything that wasn’t hunting or cooking, so she was forced to take Hannah’s word for it.
Still, with Hannah and Slipshod’s help, Lailu had managed to get Mystic Cooking up and running.
She patted the front of her two-story establishment. It wasn’t big, and it wasn’t in the center of town, but she loved every inch of it. Feeling better, she unlocked the front door and pushed it open.
“. . . not ready yet.” Hannah’s soft voice carried from the kitchen.
Lailu opened her mouth to call to her friend when she heard Vahn’s voice. “Hannah, my beautiful Hannah, what can I do to change your mind? I feel like I’ve been waiting for you forever.”
Lailu froze, her body going icy all over, even as her ears burned. Should she leave? She should. She shouldn’t be listening to this. But somehow her feet stayed where they were, her eyes fixed on the blue curtain pulled shut across her kitchen doorway, hiding Hannah and Vahn from view.
“You’ve been waiting, huh?” Hannah said. “Is that what you call stolen kisses with Millie the Baker and Sandra SalConte?”
“Millie was months ago, and Sandra is just spreading jealous lies. You know you are the only one for me.”
“What about Lailu?”
Lailu’s heart stopped for one impossibly long moment. It was like coming face-to-face with a mountain dragon.
Vahn groaned. “Would you leave her out of this? She’s just a silly kid with a silly crush.”
Lailu’s hand clenched on the door handle. After everything she’d done for him, how dare he? Silly kid? Without this silly kid, he’d never have solved his first quest. Lailu was the one who had figured out where the kidnapped elves were being held, and Lailu was the one who had helped him rescue them. Otherwise he would have failed, and the rest of the elves would probably be using him for spare parts right now, a thought that suddenly gave her a great deal of comfort. How had she ever liked that guy?
“That’s harsh,” Hannah said after a long minute, her voice as cold as Lailu’s breaking heart. “She’s my best friend, and if you can’t even be nice to her, then how can I possibly date you?”
“But I am nice to her.”
“You beg free food off her and then think it’s a reward when you give her a smile. Where I come from, that doesn’t qualify as nice.”