Country Gentry (2/2)

“I'm a little confused here. What do you mean, whose child was I? Are you asking who my maker was?”

“No! I'm asking who they stole you from?”

“Stole... I was a donated toy, pretty sure about that.” Buttons removed her cloth hat, to show a smaller, metal one underneath it. It was actually part of her head. “I would have been designed differently if I hadn't been donated. But hey, I'm not quibbling.”

“No, your soul,” The woman's eyes were clouding with frustration. “The one they ripped from a little baby to make you. Does some part of that remember yer mam?”

“You think... hang on. You think that someone did something horrible to a baby to make me? Where did you hear that load of baloney?”

“Oh, everyone knows it! Everyone that's not fooled, I mean. There's black wagons that goes around, snatching up children and taking them to the soul forges!”

“What's a soul forge?”

“It's where you came from!”

“Where I came from was the Rumpus Room, and there's no babies allowed in there. Only golems and grown ups who understand the risks and get paid well to work there.”

The woman took a drag on the pipe, and shook her head with pity. “That's 'coz they fooled you. There's more, secret soul forges, and there's whole rooms of babies there wailing and being sacrificed to make...” she blinked. “Ain't there, I mean?”

“Pretty sure no. I've been traveling with the guy who made me, and I guarantee you he wouldn't hold with that kind of stuff. He'd be horrified.”

“But I heard things.”

“Have you ever seen one of those black wagons that snatch up babies? And who leaves babies out for black wagons to grab, anyway?”

“Well no, but... I know someone whose cousin's daughter saw one.”

“Where?”

“Er... she didn't say.” The woman frowned. “But it's true. That's what they say.”

“Who's saying it?”

“Well... THEY are...” the woman shot Buttons a suspicious look. “You really ain't heard of any of this?”

“Not a word.”

“There ain't no baby soul in yer?”

“If there is, it's one I came by naturally.” Buttons shrugged. “Technically I'm a year and a half old so I... guess you could call me that? I don't like it. Far as I'm concerned I'm an adult.”

“Huh.” The woman's confusion seemed to grow. Then her eyes went wide, and she handed the pipe back, before picking up the basket. “Oh! Young master! Welcome 'ome!”

“There you are!” Apollyon called.

Buttons turned, to see him coming up from behind. She cursed the fact she'd let a man in full armor sneak up on her, but the washerwoman's confusion had been very diverting.

“Shall we go meet with the others?” Apollyon said.

“Oh. We're not staying for dinner? Don't you want to spend a night with your family, say goodbye proper-like?” Buttons let her head tilt back into a grin, again.

“No.”

She started to throw a taunt his way, but stopped.

PER+1

The corners of his eyes were tight, and something looked to be eating him. And after the last hour, she had a feeling she knew what it might be.

“Lead on big guy,” she said, tapping the ash from her pipe, and stowing it back in her kit as she marched forward. She did take care not to put it up against the stolen spoons. It wouldn't do to have them clank suspiciously at a bad time.

Apollyon shot her a look as they headed around the house, aiming back towards the road. “Why does a golem have a pipe? I wouldn't think that would do anything for you, without lungs and all.”

“It's a habit I got from my garrison duty,” Buttons said, mind still working over the things she'd found in the house, and from the washerwoman. “It's amazing what you pick up from the friends you make along the way...”