FOOTPRINTS THROUGH the thick dust on the floor told Querry a sizeable team had recently searched the dilapidated little house. They’d left a series of overlapping trails, as well as squares and circles where they’d likely placed equipment. If they’d found anything, they’d taken it with them. Only empty bottles and trash filled the main room now. Squatters had scrolled all manner of obscenities across the walls over the years. Barely a square foot had escaped without a badly spelled insult or explicit drawing.
Querry stepped into the huge, stone fireplace. Chicken bones, or maybe pigeon, crunched beneath his boots. Carefully, an inch at a time, he felt along the inside of the chimney for a latch or mechanism that might indicate a secret passageway or compartment of some kind. Soot darkened his gloves and sprinkled the lenses of his goggles. Through the special glass he scrutinized the surface of every stone until he felt certain he hadn’t missed anything. Then he emerged from the hearth and sneezed.
Dusting himself off, Querry went up the rickety stairs to search the second floor a third time. Though he’d been all through the house, he knew he had to be overlooking something. Lord Thimbleroy and the duchess possessed teams of experts and expensive gauges and sensors, but they lacked the instincts of a thief. Querry could almost feel the presence of something valuable, a chest of money beneath the floorboards or hidden in the wall, maybe. He needed to find it. His assault two nights ago had left him depleted of funds. He hadn’t eaten since, and the cats were left to hunt the plentiful rats of Rushport’s alleys. Taking a shallow breath, mindful of his ribs, Querry entered the first of the three upper rooms.
It had probably been a bedchamber: small and square with a little window and recessed closet. Graffiti covered it now. Someone had relieved himself in the corner, and someone else left half a bottle of ale. The stump of a cigar floated within. Querry began the tedious process of tapping the walls. As he did, he held a curling, metal horn to his ear to amplify any irregularities. Once he thought he detected something and broke away the plaster, only to find the bricks worn away, exposing the timber supports.
Next he checked the floor, inspecting every plank. Even in the old place, none of them had come loose. Back then, craftsmen, rather than factories, made things, and they lasted. Finding nothing yet again, Querry checked the remainder of the second floor. Then he went back downstairs.
It was just a simple, middle-class home: bedrooms upstairs, sitting room, kitchen, and a storage room beneath. Normally Querry wouldn’t waste his time plundering such a house. How could the faerie gentleman even care to know the place existed? What could Lord Thimbleroy or the duchess hope to find here?
“Damn,” he hissed, frustrated. He’d spent most of the day searching. If he left empty-handed, it meant an empty stomach. He hated to ask Reg for a loan, after all those years in the orphanage, promising to take care of him. Spinning on his heel, Querry thrust his hands into his coat pockets and paced to the missing front door where he kicked the skeleton of an umbrella into the front yard. He pivoted again and strode all the way to the cold storage space beyond the kitchen, at the other end of the structure. Walking back and forth, he tried to think of anything he might have missed. He stopped in front of the blank, windowless stone wall. There was nothing here. Irritated, Querry pounded his fists against the stone. Immediately his bruised torso protested, and he winced and held his sides.
It occurred to him then that the room seemed too narrow. To test the theory, he hurried outside and around the side of the house. It definitely looked longer without than within. He felt certain that the storage room should be double its size. Ignoring the pain in his ribs and belly, he sprinted back inside and stood staring at the wall, made from the same gray stone as the chimney and then bricked over on the exterior. Something waited beyond it: another small, secret room. One by one, Querry pressed each of the stones. Nothing happened. He tried pressing them in different combinations. Again, nothing. Exasperated, Querry stepped back to look at the wall again. His eyes searched the surface for something, anything that might give him a clue to opening it. Just below the ceiling he finally picked out an irregularity: a tiny hole in one stone. Following the line of the ceiling he spotted another a few inches away. This had to be it. There were seven in all. Querry fished around in his jacket and found a ten penny nail. He fit it into the first hole and tried applying pressure at various angles. He pulled the nail toward the floor and heard an audible click.
A smile broke across Querry’s face as he removed the nail and fit it into the next hole. Another click sounded. This lock operated on the same system as the one he’d built to protect his room: the pins had to be pushed into the tumblers in a specific order. Leaning closer, Querry listened and visualized the mechanisms within the stone. Subtleties of the sounds they made told him if the pins had clicked into place. He used the nail in each of the seven holes and stood back. Nothing happened. “What? Why?” Querry paced back and forth in front of the wall, fist balled against his mouth. This was it, the solution, but why didn’t it open? He tried the locks in reverse. Nothing. “Some combination?” he asked the empty room. He tried every other lock and then the ones he skipped. Still nothing! This was maddening! Listening more carefully, Querry heard some of the pins slipping free as others snapped into place. For every one he managed to secure, another knocked loose, and no combination prevented it. Querry paced furiously, trying desperately to find the solution. He stopped abruptly as the thought occurred. “Oh! Of course!” He dashed outside and retrieved the decrepit umbrella. He quickly bent the spine into something that resembled a fork and placed one rib in each hole. Querry breathed deeply and then pulled the handle toward the floor. Simultaneously all seven locks clicked.
Querry stood amazed as the wall slid away. He heard gears and pulleys working somewhere out of sight to retract the heavy slab of stone. Slowly it sunk into the floor, revealing a thin corridor with a set of steps at the end. Beyond the first three, Querry saw only darkness. From an inside pocket, he took a small glass cylinder on a chain. Flammable oil filled the lower half. Querry unscrewed the metal lid and lit the wick with a wooden match. Then, carefully, his every muscle tensed and hurting, he descended into the black.
Far below the house, probably three or four stories down, Querry came to a metal door. He tried the handle and found it locked, of course, so he took out his picks and set to work. Some rust and damaged mechanisms impeded his progress, along with low visibility, but he’d always had a natural affinity for deciphering clockwork and had spent his childhood learning about it from anyone who would teach him, and in a quarter of an hour he heard the final gear click into place. He turned the handle, and the door creaked loudly as it swung open. Querry heard a loud snap from the ceiling followed by the rush of something heavy, and had only a moment to dodge the giant iron mallet that swooped through the space he’d occupied only seconds ago. The mallet dangled limply now and from the spot on the floor where he’d rolled, Querry could see the mechanism above the door that released it.
Interesting, Querry thought. A locked door with a backup trap. He smiled, reassured that something valuable lay ahead of him. No one went to this much trouble to protect nothing. He picked his way slowly along a short corridor, choosing his steps carefully. All the tiles along the floor looked identical but the thief wasn’t taking any chances. He tried to detect any irregularity in the tile ahead when the one beneath his foot sank an inch into the floor with an ominous, grinding tick. He heard gears moving in the walls on either side. Querry looked at the walls and detected thin canals just below eye level. Without thinking he dropped to the floor and watched as two crescent-shaped blades slid from the ducts, slashing in opposite directions. Querry reached up and touched his neck without realizing he’d done it. Were he still standing his hand would not have found his head in the proper spot. He rose slowly, his situation growing much more serious. Someone thought something down here wasn’t just worth protecting, but worth killing for.
Querry held his breath as he took another tentative step. His eye caught a gleam near the floor: a trip wire. The thief lay on his belly and cut the wire. Jets of flame burst from the ceiling and walls, focusing on the point where the target would have triggered the trap. Querry shook his head and crossed the remainder of the corridor to the opposite door without incident. The door was simple. Querry tried the handle, expecting resistance, and found none. It occurred to him that whoever designed these traps didn’t expect anyone to make it this far so there was no need for this door to be locked. Slowly, suspiciously, Querry turned the knob until he heard the faintest of clicks. Nothing waited beyond except a small, empty room. Gently Querry released the knob and looked for an alternate means of entrance. He spotted it high on the wall: a tiny hole like the ones upstairs. He stuck his finger in and felt the familiar lever. Querry flipped the tumbler up and found himself slipping through a trap door and sliding down a chute.
The tube deposited him on the floor of a room just below the corridor. The chamber smelled of damp earth, oil, and metal. It was cold so far below the ground. By the light of the oil lamp, Querry saw several long tables, some affixed with drill presses and vice grips. Piles of gears and metal pieces sat stacked on top, covered in dust and cobwebs. He crept along the perimeter of the room, examining what he found. Most of it looked worthless: spools of tarnished wire, shapes cut from sheet metal, incomplete mechanisms of unknown purpose, something that looked like an eggbeater. A shelf held a variety of obscure liquids in glass vials. Scattered over the floor, clinking as Querry’s feet waded through them, were more discarded gears and metal bits. In a corner lay a construct that too closely resembled a rib cage, and Querry shuddered.
On the wall Querry found the skeleton of a large fish, only forged in iron. He could see where, when wound, complex clockwork would enable it to move its tail and fins. If covered, it could make a marvelous toy, but Querry didn’t think he’d be able to sell it unfinished. Beyond, dangling from pegs, were about two dozen tiny metal wings, each feather cast in incredible detail that made Querry’s breath catch in his throat. Even so, they wouldn’t put coins in his pockets, so he continued his trek through the darkness. He passed a half-finished dragon head, the left side covered in blue steel scales. Opening a wooden case, he found a dozen different eyeballs resting on a scrap of black velvet. A skinned human arm, the bones, tendons and sinew perfectly replicated by metal tubes and wiring made Querry clap a hand over his mouth. He squinted into the darkness, eager to find his prize and leave this place behind. A strange silhouette appeared a few feet ahead. It looked like a human form sitting on a bench, its hands folded in its lap and its head down. Cautiously, Querry approached.
Decades worth of dust coated the most magnificent doll Querry had ever seen. Nothing distinguished it from a beautiful young man, except that the face looked a little too perfect, in the way that some faeries appeared. But the full, bow-shaped lips looked soft, fleshy. Somehow each strand of hair had been produced and shaped into loose, ringlet curls. Leaning closer, fascinated, Querry saw that the doll maker had even formed each eyelash individually. The eyelids above them creased like real skin. The artist had dressed his creation in finery a century old: blue satin breeches and hose, a gauzy blouse with a high neck and ruffles surrounding the face like a blooming flower, little slippers topped with bows. At the ends of the fingers resting over a large, leather-bound book, clear nails caught the firelight.
It looked human, astoundingly so, a masterpiece. But what was Querry supposed to do with it? Finding a buyer would be a challenge, if he could even lift it. Could this really be what the gentleman meant? If he wanted it, why not just hire Querry to fetch the thing? If he wanted it, why not wave his pretty hand and make it appear beside him?
Holding the lamp-chain in his teeth, Querry picked apart the buckles of his right glove and pulled it off a finger at a time. With his thumb, he cleared a line of dust away from the doll’s cheek. It even felt like real skin, and, under the accumulation of gray, blushed a subtle rose. The whole thing reminded Querry of a winged, adolescent love god painted by one of the old masters. He’d seen such subtly sensual portraits hanging in the houses of the wealthy while at work, and this doll held the same innocent appeal in its slender limbs and round face. Perplexed, Querry could only stare and marvel over the detail while he wondered how he might benefit from his discovery.
As he watched, the doll’s eyelids fluttered. A soft hum came from within it, and its fingers began to move, not with the choppy motion of most clockwork, but with complete fluidity. Its eyes opened, revealing stunning golden irises that darted back and forth. The corners of the mouth curled up. It was smiling.
“Hello,” it said, in a voice as idealized as the rest of it.
“Uh, hello….”
As the doll stood, nothing betrayed its mechanical nature. No one watching would have been able to distinguish it from a real boy as it tucked its book under its arm and looked expectantly at Querry. Every few seconds, it blinked.
“Do you have a name?” Querry asked. It occurred to him that he conversed with an inanimate object, but it felt like the right thing to say.
“Name?”
Touching his chest, he said, “My name is Querrilous Knotte, but that’s kind of a mouthful, so most people just call me Querry.”
“Keh-ree,” the doll repeated.
“What are you called?”
It looked confused, brows knitting and lower lip jutting out. If it hadn’t been a machine, Querry would have said it looked damned adorable.
“Well, that’s all right,” he said instead. “How long have you been here?”
“I’ve always been here.”
“Do you know if there’s money, or anything valuable, hidden down here?”
“What’s money?”
“Coins? Jewelry?”
The doll shot him the cute, bewildered look again. The two of them regarded one another for many minutes as Querry decided the best course of action. Eventually he said, “I guess I’ll be going.”
He turned and started his way across the cluttered room. To his surprise, the doll followed him. Stopping, he faced it, ready to tell it to remain. But it looked so broken, so tragic, that Querry’s words caught in his throat.
“I,” it said, touching its chest as if aware, for the first time, of itself, “I feel—”
“Feel?” Querry stammered. This was just not possible. To mimic life, perhaps, but to create emotion—
“I feel—I am alone here.”
“Lonely?” Querry asked, incredulous. “You’re lonely?”
“I think—Yes.”
“Well, you can’t come with me.”
“Why?”
“I—” Querry wanted to say that he had no use for a doll, but as he looked into its large, sad eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “I need you to wait here, while I check that there’s nobody upstairs.”
The doll nodded, and Querry left it behind in the dark. When he’d made his way back to the storage room, he considered just escaping. But he told himself that the doll might be what Lord Thimbleroy wanted. It seemed absurd, but one never knew with aristocrats. Maybe Querry could still make a profit. And in the end, Querry just knew too well how it hurt to be cast aside. He checked the house and the street beyond. Satisfied that they wouldn’t be seen leaving, he returned to the cellar workroom to fetch the doll and guide him past the traps meant to protect him.
IN THE orange light of sunset, Querry watched the doll walking beside him: silvery hair and skin coated in grime, except for a streak of peach-pink on its right cheek. Every tree stump, fence, and dumpster filled his gorgeous eyes with astonished delight. They’d kept to the back alleys, since the doll would certainly attract attention in his antique costume. Now that they’d made it to Rushport, Querry considered his predicament. He still had no money. The smells wafting from the taverns and stalls made him salivate. Since the doll was with him, he couldn’t fall back on finding a crowd and cutting purses. Its beauty would be too much of a disturbance.
“Hello, darling,” said a whore with bright red curls and a cheap, velvet frock to match. She stroked the doll’s cheek and positioned her bulging chest at his chin.
“Hands off, Jane,” Querry warned, stepping around and putting himself between the doll and the whore.
She held her lace-gloved hands up. “Sorry, Querry. I didn’t see you there, and I’m just trying to put food in me mouth, ain’t I?”
Querry guided his awe-struck companion away by his elbow. The first gaggle of Rushport beggars appeared on the corner, calling out, “I’m sick and I’m hungry. Anything, please. Take pity on us. I lost my eyes in the foundry.”
“A crust of bread, please! An infection in Rajallah took my feet.”
The doll stopped. “Querry,” it said, touching his arm lightly. “Those people are hungry.”
“So am I.”
Eyes wide with surprise, the doll walked straight to the nearest kiosk and picked up a loaf of bread. Then he walked back toward Querry, with the attendant following.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the red-faced, chubby baker shouted. “You got to pay for that!”
On the street, people stopped walking and turned toward the commotion. Quickly Querry snatched the bread from the doll and returned it to the shopkeeper, saying, “Please forgive my cousin. He was born simple.” Then he grasped the doll’s hand and pulled him away from where he stood with that bemused expression on his dirty face.
Walking fast, Querry succeeded in getting away before the two of them attracted curiosity. They made it to his building without further incident, though the doll talked the entire time.
“If that man had food, why wouldn’t he give it to people who are hungry?”
“You have to pay for it,” Querry said. “You mustn’t do that again. You can’t take things. At least not when you’ll get caught.”
“But why?”
“It’s just the way it is.”
“Isn’t it wrong?”
“In a way, I guess it is,” Querry conceded. “But it can’t be helped. Here, this is my room.” He unlocked the door, went inside, and lit the candle on the table.
The doll looked around at Querry’s meager possessions. When he saw Tosser and Toerag curled on the bed, he laughed out loud with enchantment and crouched down to stroke them. The big book he carried fell to the floor.
Querry stood with his palm resting on the table, watching the doll rub his head against the cats, as he’d seen them do. They purred loudly, and he nestled his cheek on the worn quilt next to them, eyes closed, smiling. Querry had never seen someone in such bliss.
Another stray, he chided himself. You fool.
“What do you say we get you cleaned up?”
The doll opened his eyes and smiled. He really was beautiful, Querry thought, with those harvest moon eyes and little blossom of a mouth. He’d like to meet a human man that looked like that—
“I need to be cleaned?”
“We both do. I need you to stay here, in this room, while I go get some water from the pump outside. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Querry.”
Querry went to the pump and returned to find the doll sitting on his bed, both cats curled contentedly in his lap. The thief cleared enough space on the table for his wash basin, and filled it from the bucket. As the doll watched, Querry unbuckled his waistcoat and placed it in the chest. He draped his shirt over the back of a chair. In imitation, the doll stood and picked open the little white buttons of his blouse. When it fluttered down behind him, Querry saw that, protected from the dust, the skin of his chest shone smooth and fair. Again, nothing indicated he’d been formed from metal and gears. His creator had even given him small, pink nipples, complete with a few silver hairs surrounding them. How long would it take to construct such a thing? Twenty years? Fifty?
“Those clothes need a washing too,” Querry said. He’d laundered his own the previous day; they were fresh enough.
Unabashedly, the doll toed off his delicate shoes and removed his shorts and hose. He stood waiting without the slightest embarrassment, rippling the surface of the water with his finger. Querry couldn’t believe what he saw. The doll imitated a real boy in every way: from the trail of hair down his belly, to his flaccid cock and balls that huddled next to his body. Who would give a doll, presumably meant as a child’s plaything, a cock? And why? The skin of his scrotum even possessed the proper texture, along with a few more silvery hairs. He looked so genuine that Querry felt things stir that shouldn’t be stirring as he regarded a doll. Something occurred to him then, and Querry said, “You know, you mustn’t just take off your clothes for anyone who asks.”
“Why?”
Somehow, the doll maker had imbued his creation with basic knowledge: it knew about food and it could speak. But it had never seen a feline, never been taught shame over nudity. Carefully Querry said, “There are plenty of people in the world who would want to”—he considered—“hurt you. They might want to use you for… things.”
“Only when you ask, Querry?”
“That’s right.” Plunging a cake of yellow soap into the chilly water, Querry tried to banish the possibilities he imagined. He reminded himself that no matter how much it looked like a young man, a beautiful, young man complete with bands of lean musculature, accentuated by the candlelight, and the face of an angel, this doll didn’t live. But if it’s not alive, I can’t hurt or take advantage of it, can I? Can’t take advantage of a fancy sewing machine or cookstove, right?
But Querry knew it wasn’t the same thing. Through some unimaginable means, this doll understood. It either felt or mimicked emotion. It needed delicate handling.
The thief splashed some cold water on his face to clear his head. The doll watched expectantly as he lathered up and shaved. Of all the luxuries he coveted, Querry desired a bathtub most of all. They’d even invented ways to pipe water, heated by a furnace, directly to the spout, removing the need to carry buckets. Soaking his injured body in hot, fragrant water sounded heavenly to Querry. He’d even heard of a self-emptying chamber pot. He rinsed his face and turned to the doll, who regarded him with fascination. “Your turn.”
Querry immersed the cloth and wrung it out. Coming closer, he held the doll’s curly fringe from its forehead and wiped its face. It inhaled sharply.
“You feel the cold?” Querry gasped.
“Yes,” answered the doll. “Different temperatures can’t damage me, except for the most extreme heat, but I can process the information.”
“Can you feel this?” Querry placed his hand just above the doll’s hipbone and squeezed the side of his waist. He felt amazing, satin skin over sinew—
“The pressure? Yes, I can perceive it.”
“Amazing! It’s just incredible.”
“That means you like me?” it asked, beaming. “That we’re friends?”
“I guess so,” Querry said cautiously as he cleaned the doll’s cheeks and round chin.
“I don’t want to go back to that dark room,” he whispered.
Querry rinsed his cloth. To wash the back of the doll’s neck, he needed to lean forward. This caused their chests to bump, and Querry’s cock to skip in his pants.
No, he scolded himself as he lifted the doll’s too-soft hair, you are not attracted to this thing! Even so, he burrowed his fingers into the doll’s ample tresses, squeezed a handful of the springy curls, and let his lips move near to the doll’s forehead. He just wanted to know how his—no, its!— skin would feel, brushing against his lips. Close to his perfect, round ear, Querry said, “If you were aware of a world outside of that place, of buildings and people beyond that room, then why didn’t you leave? Why stay if you were unhappy there?”
“I was meant to wait.”
“Why?” Querry asked. “How do you know?”
The doll sighed. Indeed, air moved in and out of it in a semblance of breath. “I can’t say. I only know I was meant to wait.”
“But then,” Querry continued, letting the tip of his nose burrow into the doll’s locks, “how did you know you were meant to go with me?”
“I just knew,” the doll said softly. The inflection in his voice changed, and his eyelids drooped languidly. If Querry hadn’t known better, he’d have said the doll enjoyed the closeness between them. Querry enjoyed it, whether he could admit it or not. He still held the doll’s hair, his face pressed into it, and his other hand, clutching the rag, draped over the doll’s shoulder.
“Turn around, now,” Querry said. “And I’ll wash your back.”
“Thank you.”
Another surprise awaited the thief as the doll spun gracefully. Beneath his artificial skin, the knobs of his spine showed. He’d been constructed with ribs that grew more prominent when he drew in breath. He had a cute, relaxed way of standing, with his hips and belly thrust slightly out and his lower back curving forward. Querry stretched his palm over the little dip, drawing it down over a rounded crescent. His hand worked its way into the divot between the doll’s lovely ass cheek and his thigh, and Querry squeezed, feeling a cushion of soft over the muscle beneath. The tip of his pinky touched the doll’s balls, and again he pondered what purpose this anatomy meant to serve. Curiosity and a good amount of arousal compelled Querry to take the doll’s other cheek in his hand. Slowly and gently he eased them apart.
“I’m not, um, hurting or upsetting you, am I?”
“No, Querry. I’ve never been cleaned before, and it does feel—I don’t know the word. I’m in no distress, though.”
Reassured, Querry spread the doll’s cheeks wide enough to inspect his cleft. Again, no deviation from reality belayed his origins. Querry’s finger brushed the wrinkled mound of his anus, and it even twitched at his touch. With his other hand on the doll’s hip, he knelt down for a better view. He inhaled, but the doll didn’t emit the masculine aroma he’d anticipated. He had no scent at all.
“Querry, that feels very strange.”
“I’m sorry.” Flushing and ashamed, Querry quickly moved away. What on earth had he been thinking? Ignoring his erection, he finished wiping the doll down in silence. Then he soaped up his underarms and rinsed. Normally he removed his pants to cleanse his lower body, but he felt awkward displaying his arousal to the doll. So instead, Querry replaced his white, button-up shirt and tied a blue ribbon around his neck to hold his collar shut.
“I’m going out for a bit,” he said to the doll, who still stood naked, watching Querry’s every move.
“I’ll go with you,” he replied brightly, clearly excited by the prospect.
“No,” Querry said. “I have some work to do.”
The doll’s lower lip shot out and his brows curled down, his whole beautiful face a mask of the most sincere sorrow. Querry worried he might cry, if that was possible. Guided by instinct, he took the doll’s hand and held it between both of his.
“Listen, it’s dangerous out there. You don’t understand yet. I want you to stay in this room, where you’ll be safe. Don’t open or unlock the door until I get back. I’m going to try to get some money, and I’ll get you some new clothes, so you can blend in. And then tomorrow night, I’ll take you out and show you around. How does that sound?”
“I don’t want to be alone.”
“Well, you won’t,” Querry said. “After all, you’ll have these fellows.” He indicated the cats, both of whom sniffed the doll’s discarded garments intently. “Will you need food?”
“I don’t require it.”
“All right,” Querry said, releasing the doll so he could sling his many belts across his hips. “Is there anything else, then? Before I’m off?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what is it?”
Looking very seriously at the thief, the doll said, “I don’t know why, Querry, but….”
“What?”
“I’d like to put my mouth on your mouth. I know it sounds an odd thing….”
Chuckling, Querry set his pistol aside and took hold of the doll’s waist. As his hands snaked to the small of the doll’s back, pulling them together, Querry said, “Not at all. It’s called kissing.”
Tilting his head, Querry smashed his lips against the doll’s soft mouth, holding them there. Then, slowly, with the utmost relish, he opened his mouth and let his tongue slip between the doll’s perfect teeth. He explored the ridges on the roof of the doll’s mouth, the smoothness of its sides. Soon, learning quickly, the doll twisted his tongue around Querry’s, poking playfully in and out of Querry’s mouth. Too quickly the thief approached the point where the directions of his body drowned those of his conscience and mind, and he growled with satisfaction and desire, drawing the doll tighter into his arms and grinding his swollen cock against his naked thigh.
But then Querry broke away, panting and wiping his mouth with his knuckles. It wasn’t right; it was a doll, a machine. It knew nothing of the world. To take it—no, him—like this would be selfish and sick.
But the doll reached up and touched the bow-shaped lips Querry had just tasted. He smiled and said, “That felt very pleasant.”
“It’s like taking your clothes off,” Querry said, disgusted with the possessiveness he already couldn’t deny.
“Only for you?”
“That’s right. And while I’m gone, try to think of something I can call you.”
With that, Querry secured the complex locks he’d designed and hurried out into the night. As he blended into the crowd, heading from Rushport toward the bridge to the more affluent neighborhoods across the river, he thought, in spite of himself, Won’t it be nice to come home to someone?
QUERRY RETURNED midmorning to find the doll curled nude on his quilt, with his knees tucked up against his chest, his eyes closed and a serene smile on his face. Both of the cats slumbered between his back and the wall, the three of them monopolizing the narrow bed. Even so, the sight made Querry grin as he closed and locked the door.
The previous evening, a full moon had drawn many onto the streets. The night had been warm: one of those last summer nights that made the cold sting even crueler when it set in. Dew sparkled beneath the gaslight on the cobblestone. The wind came off the sea and almost vanquished the industrial stink. The well-off fell under the evening’s cheerful spell. Faeries mingled with mortals within the bazaar held nightly near Leopold’s Folly Square: fine ladies and gentlemen, equal to the human aristocracy in every aspect, as well as more peculiar creatures that kept to the tree branches and undersides of the hedges. As they moved about and conversed beneath the colored strings of lights, inspecting the latest mechanical novelties and listening to the loud voices of the men hawking them, Querry found it a simple thing to pick out those with the glaze in their eyes that wouldn’t be able to recall exactly what they’d discussed after the fey departed. His nimble fingers relieved them of their worldly goods as they swooned. Tomorrow, they’d think they’d lost their coin on one of the elaborate, mechanical games, or squandered it on some foreign trinket.
Thankful for the luck, Querry placed the things he’d purchased next to the piles of gears and wire that occupied the table. He’d done well enough to afford a loaf of bread and a block of cheese, canned fish enough for himself and the cats, a pint of ale, and a tin of biscuits. He’d procured some second-hand clothing for the doll, the most unassuming he could find, since his striking beauty and unnatural coloration would undoubtedly draw enough curiosity. He bought a newspaper to see if there’d be any mention of the doll maker’s house. And he’d paid too much for a pair of apples. Though the doll didn’t require sustenance, Querry wanted him to have one, too, since they were so lovely: pale golden spheres flecked with green and blushing crimson around the tops. When he’d passed the stall, Querry envisioned the doll cupping the fruit in his hands with a bemused smile on his face.
He looked down at the bed. Last night, only work occupied the thief’s thoughts. His every sense tuned to his surroundings and quarry, as they must for him to avoid detection. Now, watching the doll sleep, all of the uncomfortable questions returned. Querry recalled the doll’s request for a kiss. He hadn’t known the word, but somehow he’d desired intimacy. It was unfathomable. Though he hated to consider it, it seemed more and more to Querry that he’d been designed for pleasure with his soft, exquisite body. There were plenty of lecherous old nobles and clergymen who preferred young men of just his type, and paraded them around in the guise of apprentice or page. But to spend so much time and endow something like that with such artistry? This doll had been a labor of love to his creator, Querry felt sure. How else could one invest the decades he must’ve taken to complete?
Noticing the leather book on the floor, Querry bent down and opened it, hoping for a clue. Must rose from the crumbling pages. Nothing but gibberish was written within. Tiny, lowercase letters, with no space between and in no particular order filled every page from top to bottom. Shaking his head, Querry set it aside.
No matter how much he tried to convince himself that his reaction to the doll meant nothing more than that he was healthy and human and touching a naked man, a stunning, sensuous form that would tempt anyone with a heartbeat, Querry couldn’t banish the warmth that filled his chest and belly as he watched the doll’s long, white lashes flutter. Could he be dreaming? Whatever he’d been intended for, he belonged to Querry now, and Querry wouldn’t let him be ill-used. Reaching down, he ran a finger from the doll’s round shoulder to his elbow. As anyone might, the doll shifted slightly before falling still. Querry stroked the silver curls at the back of his head, then down his neck and between his shoulder blades, enjoying the texture of his skin, getting aroused again.
Maybe it was sick to feel this way, but Querry had been lonely too. He saw Reg less and less. Whores and men seeking easy thrills couldn’t fill the void left by his first love. Reg, Querry thought. He and this doll were a little bit alike: delicate and vulnerable, but with strength running through like a vein of gold. Both inspired a strong protective instinct in Querry. Querry remembered the last time he’d watched Reg sleep this way, so long ago, when the leaves were still just tightly curled buds on the trees. They’d met for a drink and come back here. Too vividly, Querry recalled shutting the door, just before throwing Reg against it and pinning him, driving his tongue hard into Reg’s mouth. He saw Reg’s hands pushing against his chest, and his own closing around Reg’s wrists and holding his arms at his sides. He could almost taste Reg’s sweat, feel the skin of Reg’s neck beneath his tongue, hear his halfhearted protests.
Querry’s hand went to his groin, and he gave his aching cock a squeeze through his pants. He looked at the doll’s idealized little feet, tucked up and almost hiding his balls and the dark line of his crack beneath. Querry unbuttoned his trousers and quietly let himself poke out. As his left fist squeezed hard at the base of his shaft, his right hand groped for an old rag on the table. Hand moving up his length, Querry felt a stir of guilt at the thought of pleasuring himself while the doll slept. But the tension in his body felt so unbearable, he brought his palm to his cock head and gave it a twist and a tug. He tugged again, churning himself with quick, short strokes, watching the doll’s rosebud lips and remembering their softness.
He thought about how he’d practically torn away Reg’s proper, gray suit and linen shirt, how Reg had almost tripped trying to get his feet out of his pants, and how Querry had caught him around the waist and thrown him, belly-down, on the rickety bed. A hard squeeze summoned the first droplets of come, and Querry used the heel of his hand to swirl it over himself and ease the friction. He picked up speed, desperate for release.
It was nearly there now. Querry drove his fist against himself hard and fast. His anus clenched and released as he watched the doll’s graceful neck, blanketed in ringlets the color of a stormy sky. Biting down on his lip, Querry lifted the oil-stained scrap of cloth and prepared to finish.
But then the doll’s eyes opened, and without the drowsiness of a human waking. His lids drew back like clouds parting to reveal a full, faerie-ringed moon, clear and alert. The shock dammed Querry’s orgasm, and he knew that of course he should stop. But he’d reached the point where he didn’t think it would be possible. Balls hurting, frustrated and embarrassed, he looked apologetically into the golden eyes, and the doll met his gaze without judgment. He didn’t know to feel awkward, and within a few seconds Querry, too, felt at ease and began to slowly stroke himself. In no time he found himself ready to reach for the rag. Eyes locked with the doll’s, Querry delivered the releasing jerk. He ground his teeth together and came with a single, stifled groan. Then he cleaned up and undressed, shooed the cats out of the bed, curled up behind the doll with his arm stretched protectively from his shoulder all the way to his ankle, and slept until late in the afternoon.