The Alchemy of Stone - By Ekaterina Sedia Page 0,76

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