Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [92]
Yasmeen had no idea if that were true. But how could he have this? The Khan’s stable had been destroyed. She looked to Archimedes, who was also taking in the chamber with an astonished expression.
“Where did you find the mechanical flesh?”
“It was given to me.” He stroked the wall again, and Yasmeen thought that it responded—a slight flexing, like a muscle tensing beneath skin. “One summer when I was still a boy, a man came through the pass. He met with my mother, who was alive, and grandmother while they worked in the valley. He spent the night in the fortress, and my mother, grandmother, and I avoided the soldiers that evening and brought food to him, and we ate with him. They knew he was a magician, and asked him to take me on his journey, so that I could leave this place. They brought a toy that I had built, to prove that I was clever enough to join him—but the magician said he did not know where the road would take him, and to wait, and to build a machine made of my changing dreams, and he would return and help me leave.”
Obviously not recognizing this for a well-told story, and a family favorite at that, Archimedes interrupted the young man’s telling of it. “How did they know he was a magician?”
“Because he was made from this. Very big, all gray, no hair.”
Yasmeen laughed in surprise, and looked to Archimedes. He wore an expression of disbelief. “The Blacksmith?”
She couldn’t be certain, but the magician’s description resembled his. The Blacksmith of London was the only man she’d ever known made almost entirely out of mechanical flesh.
Terbish shook his head. “I don’t know that name. He said he was also Nergüi. He left, and I began to make the biggest, grandest machine that I could think of. My first was the pony, as strong as any that Genghis Khan used to ride across the steppes. Then my grandmother pointed to the mountain peaks, so near to the Eternal Sky, and I began to build that, instead. A year ago, the magician returned. He gave to me a piece of mechanical flesh no bigger than this”—he held his hands cupped together—“and told me to put it in the heart of my machine, and she would grow. And she has.”
Astonishing. Yasmeen could not stop grinning, imagining it. “And what will you do with your flying machine?”
“I will take my grandmother, and we will either travel everywhere in the world or return and lead the rebellion. Perhaps both.”
“The Blacksmith didn’t tell you what to do with it?”
“He said it was mine. He said it was for kindness.” Terbish stroked the metal again. “And that I only have to keep my heart big enough to match it.”
Chapter Twelve
After crawling out into the sunlight and dropping into the courtyard’s deep snow, Archimedes turned to her. “Are you as certain as I am that this thing will eventually fly?”
“I don’t know.” But he could see that she did. She was certain it would.
“I feel like I should be terrified. Can you imagine this in the sky?” He shook his head. “But I’m . . .”
“Overwhelmed.”
“Yes.”
“It’s a good story. Let’s hope Terbish doesn’t grow up to be a dictator.”
He looked to her. “And when will you tell me your story, steel flower?”
“Tonight. It isn’t something to tell by sunlight, but with firelight and food and wine . . . or mare’s milk.” She smiled. “Should we begin our search? Perhaps we will find something.”
They didn’t, but it was still incredible to walk through the fortress, to feel the size and strength of it. With the soldiers gone from the outpost, the worry of discovery was all but gone. That afternoon, he and Yasmeen added their supplies to the food stores, and though Nergüi looked doubtful as she sniffed the dried meats, she cooked a thick stew from it, made hearty with roots and onions and seasoned with herbs. With more fermented mare’s milk, he finished the day pleasantly full and warm. Terbish brought out an opium pipe, and