Treasure Chest

by Adam Bennett

  “Well, put it down then!” He gestured to her, palms up and fingers outstretched.

  Kello’s body refused to move.

  His finger curled, gesturing her over, and she slid across the stone floor—but she had not moved. She had not stood, nor stepped, nor considered leaving the shadows.

  He held his hand out, and she stopped an inch from his palm.

  Tick tock.

  “Stand,” he said, and, as though lifted from invisible strings, Kello was pulled from the cold stone, her toes skimming the surface with a shrill scrape. Then she dropped to her feet, the glass in her hands shattered, and she found herself embracing the plant inside. It happened too fast, and for a moment Master Pennifold did not react.

  Tick tock.

  Tick tock.

  “What is with you and that infernal plant?” he asked her through his teeth. His brows furrowed as he stared her down. She shook.

  A leaf fell. Kello reached down to stop it from touching the glittering glassy floor but froze. Invisible string hung her there, and Master Pennifold stood up.

  “Dammit.” He stepped around her. “I thought I got it perfect with you.”

  He squeezed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “I don’t know why you all keep malfunctioning, but I don’t have time to work it out tonight. Get in your crate. Stay there.”

  She moved despite her desire to remain. Dropping the plant, her stiff body floated across to her crate, by the pile of copper and bronze near the fireplace. She saw familiar things in that pile, things that reminded her of herself. Arm plates that had no wires inside, and wires with no arm plates. She saw a sheet of metal like the one on her chest, and joints and bolts and coils. They made a mess on the shelves, in crates, hanging from chains from the rafters, but that was all they were. She was alone with Master Pennifold and felt empty when released from her strings to climb into the crate.

  Master Pennifold muttered to himself again, flicked his fingers, and the plant rose from the glass. The glass twinkled and glistened as it followed suit. There was a swirl like snow; Kello quietly gripped the brim of her crate, unable to look away.

  Tick tock.

  “This is your fault.”

  Tick tock.

  Master Pennifold held up his hand and the cork bottom of the jar rose to meet his palm. He held it like a platter, and the plant landed on it with a soft thump. The snowy glass swirled around it, stilling and connecting into the shape of a frosted bell jar. Then it thawed. Kello’s fingers tighten as she watched the fractal cracks retreat, revealing perfect glass in their wake.

  The not-moving thing was moving.

  Like she was, but different.

  Tick tock.

  “You know,” said Master Pennifold, turning to the fireplace, “it is still better than you. Useless as it is.”

  Kello tilted her head, but she could not see what Master Pennifold could see, or hear what he could hear.

  He placed the bell jar back where it belonged and returned to his desk. He flicked his wrists and the ink puddle swelled and frothed. Kello almost rose from her crate, eager to see this unmoving thing move too.

  It lifted from the floor; the once dry stain now a liquid black cloud twisting through the air. It met the inkwell mid-flight and landed quietly on Master Pennifold’s desk, where he greeted it with a stab of his quill.

  “Whatever it is that keeps ruining my work, I’m sure you’re responsible.” He made a jabbing motion towards the chimney breast, and Kello followed the point of the quill. There was a picture above the fire. One that had been smeared with ink and oil, and scarred with slashes across its canvas. Fine needles had been poked into what might have once been eyes.

  The painting did not move. Kello would have seen it, and yet, it had sabotaged Master Pennifold’s work.

  Kello slipped her hands back into her crate and wrapped them around her metallic chest.

  Tick tock.

  She was a poor assistant indeed to have let a painting ruin his project. She deserved her crate, and his wrath, and this emptiness in the well of her chest.

  Tick tock.

  ***

  Master Pennifold worked through the night, only stopping to stare at a large bottle. Kello knew the label said red wine, but the glass was dark green and covered in dust and cobwebs. Candle wax had dripped from a hanging lamp and dribbled down its body.

  He looked at it like it was talking to him, but Kello heard nothing, just as she had heard nothing from the defiled painting. She watched him though, as he stopped and started, picked up his quill, tapped the point and returned it flat on his desk. His eyes narrowed, as though he could hear it scheming. Finally he rose.

  Kello sat back in her crate, perfectly still.

  Tick tock.

  He strode over and snatched the bottle from the shelf. He flicked the wax from its top and the cork followed. Master Pennifold’s hands moved as though drying them, and then a drinking glass appeared; its neck between his fingers and its brim tilted towards the bottle.

  “You know, I was saving this for you. For us.” He scoffed as he poured himself a glass of wine, and Kello let her fingertips dance on the edge of the crate. The rich liquid inside the green bottle really was red, and it shimmered in the firelight as it swished in his glass.

  “You having fun?”

  Kello tilted her head, and it creaked and groaned. She could not straighten it. Her frolicking fingers twitched and squeaked and, one by one, became stiff. She tried to tap louder, for Master Pennifold, but failed.

  Tick tock.

  “At your new place?” Master Pennifold wrinkled his nose and sipped his drink. “A botanist’s basement? Why did you even go there? All plants need is some light and a bit of water. There’s no magic in that.” He snorted and took another sip. He lowered the glass, looking down as if it angered him, then drank some more. “Did you tell them you’re a thief?”

  Tick tock.

  Kello’s glanced at the plant. She had not meant to steal it.

  Master Pennifold whirled around his desk, glancing the surface with the butt of the bottle, and strode to the fireplace. His back was to Kello, and she wished for a mouth to call him.

  Tick…

  “We were supposed to make magic together.”

  She tried to tap at the edge of the crate, but her joints groaned and shook.

  “You used me!” Master Pennifold threw the glass into the fire. There was a roar of flame, followed by black smoke that consumed the chimney breast with a palpable rage. The heat shrank back, and the tendrils of smoke withered away, leaving the brick and ruined painting stained with sooty shadows.

  Master Pennifold was breathing heavily, staring at the soot that now stained his wall. “Thanks to you I am stuck here with these defective machines!” He turned now, and Kello tried to hide, but her whole body creaked and groaned.

  Tock.

  “Incredible.” He didn’t sound amazed or delighted.

  Master Pennifold moved with sluggishness and hesitation as he made his way back to his desk. Kello watched him rifle through the top drawer, and as he drew out a long bronze key, she felt what she thought Master Pennifold must feel when he solved a particularly vexing problem.

  “Clean up the mess,” he said as he wound her. “And leave that damn plant alone.”

  ***

  It was a beautiful key. Not like the ones kept by the back door, or the ones Kello had seen in books. This one was reddish, with a long coiling loop at the end. It was bigger than the rest of Master Pennifold’s keys, and it sat in the top drawer of his desk, on a plush cushion of royal velvet.

  Tick tock.

  A piece of her that only he could carry.

  Master Pennifold grunted when he saw her looking. In the morning light he looked limp, lounging on his armchair with puffy red eyes and morning shadow.

  “Leave it alone,” he said, and Kello backed away from the desk. She returned to sweeping the wooden floor and watching the motionless plant in the corne
rs of her vision. It had moved again, somehow, with its leaves spread out and angling toward the sunbeams. “I’m getting tiles tomorrow,” he said. “You need to fix the roof before it rains.”

  Master Pennifold had woken with the dawn but remained fixed to his chair. Whatever mood he was in, he was stewing in it, ruminating so intensely that the shadows seemed deeper on his face.

  A knock at the door, and Master Pennifold was pulled from his reverie. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” came the reply.

  Master Pennifold’s eyes widened, and his hand slowly fell away from his chin.

  Kello moved towards the door, her body chiming to the rhythm of her feet. It had been a long time since Master Pennifold had received visitors, but he had told her to be courteous, to never leave a customer waiting. To bring drinks and biscuits. To play a tune should he be busy elsewhere.

  She stopped. Her whole body felt taut on strings.

  Tick tock.

  “Come in,” said Master Pennifold, and the door opened.

  Kello was released from his hold, and instead stood by the coats staring at her outstretched hand. When she turned back to Master Pennifold, he was not looking at her but at the visitor now standing at his desk. An elegant woman, with a long deep blue coat, and a twisting red cane that found a knot in the wood of the floor.

  “I’m here for my sketchbooks,” she said. “I know you have them.”

  “Burned them,” said Master Pennifold. “Why would you want them? I thought you were only after my ideas.”

  The woman sighed and sat back against the desk. She tapped the tip of her boots as she pursed her lips, working her jaw while Master Pennifold watched her. His face was new now, an expression Kello had never seen. An equation possibly, with all sorts of old emotions adding together, multiplying over and over, removing the weakest, and resulting in whatever it was that Master Pennifold was offering his guest.

  “I’m licensed now,” she said, finally.

  Master Pennifold rolled his eyes but said nothing.

  “I need you to understand why I left,” she continued. “I didn’t steal your work, or your ideas. I was your apprentice. You took me on to teach me what you knew. I left to find myself. My own identity, not yours.”

  “I didn’t take you on for you to just leave me, Serina!” Master Pennifold sucked in and withdrew back into his chair.

  His guest looked startled at first, but quickly grew angry.

  Tick tock.

  “Apprentices owe you respect,” she said through her teeth. “Not sex.”

  Master Pennifold waved, dismissing her words. Yet something had been added to that strange expression of his. Kello hurried forward with a teapot and biscuit, hoping to soothe her master’s mood.

  “What is this?” Serina asked as she leant toward Kello. “A doll?”

  Kello stepped back.

  “An apprentice, my dear child,” said Master Pennifold. “As defective as it is, it cannot steal from me. Unlike some.”

  Serina’s eyes softened as she focused on the features of Kello’s perfect face. When she reached out, Kello stepped back again, and offered the teapot and biscuit. Serina smiled.

  “You made her?”

  “Of course I did.” Master Pennifold was up now, strutting across his office and waving to the piles of disused metal by Kello’s crate. “There are issues, of course, but it’s worked longer than the predecessors, that’s for sure.”

  Tick tock.

  Serina didn’t look away. “Is that so?”

  “Practice makes perfect.”

  Serina took the teapot and biscuit and set them aside on the desk.

  “I’ll get your sketchbooks,” said Master Pennifold. “I never burned them…” He waved a hand and black spiral stairs descended from the ceiling. Kello had only seen him climb them once before, and he’d destroyed half the workshop when he’d returned.

  Kello trembled, watching as Master Pennifold’s boots stomped up the staircase and disappeared into the attic.

  The teapot lid lifted into the air, and Kello froze. She turned in time to see it twist and knot and re-shape into a cup. The rest of the pot moved too, this time tilting and pouring out a steaming brew of freshly made tea; camomile, Master Pennifold’s favourite, and Kello longed to smell it.

  “I wonder,” said Serina as she took a sip, “what is your favourite thing?”

  Kello tilted her head.

  Tick tock.

  “What do you like here? Or better yet, what makes you happy?” Serina pursed her lips. “Do you know what I mean by happy?”

  Kello straightened herself and placed the tips of her copper fingers together. They clinked out a soft tune, one after the other. She would have smiled if she could, and she wanted Serina to see it.

  Serina seemed to sense this and smiled back weakly.

  Kello flexed her fingers and returned them to her side. This was the first time a guest had shown any interest in her. Master Pennifold usually sent her to her crate before they could ask.

  A favourite thing, Serina wanted. She was still asking for it. Kello could tell by the softness of her expression, and the furrow of her brow. A bright woman with reddish braided hair and a flourishing pink feather in her hat. She had bandaged fingers and a long white scar across her face, just under her steel grey eyes.

  Kello’s copper fingers reached out, before Kello herself realised she wanted to touch it.

  Serina startled but didn’t move away. Instead she took Kello’s small hand and ran her fingers across the smooth scar. It was warm, and Serina’s cheeks pinked as she smiled.

  “I knew it,” she whispered.

  Tick tock.

  Kello pulled away and tapped her fingers together again, and felt the features of her own face. She was cold. She touched Serina again, this time feeling the hairs of her brows and the lashes on her eyelids. Serina chuckled and blinked, with water welling in her eyes. So Kello felt them too, and then her own face again. She was smooth and dry. Her cheeks did not colour like Serina’s did, nor did her painted lips move.

  Tick tock.

  Kello took Serina’s hand again, feeling the warmth of her fingers and palm as she gently pulled her upright. She turned the hand and looked at the delicate patterns and creases that her own hands did not possess. She had gaps in her copper plates, with wires and metal joints and coils underneath.

  Tick tock.

  Serina had joints. Kello could feel them under her skin.

  Tick tock.

  Kello flicked the knuckle of Serina’s thumb, but instead of a dink, she heard, “Ow!”

  Tick tock.

  Serina pulled away. Her eyes were wide, and she held her hand to her chest.

  Tick tock.

  “I’m not metal, no,” said Serina as she lowered her hand.

  Kello watched her, tilted her head, and straightened again. Serina had been an apprentice once, like Kello, but she was flesh and bone. She had scars and freckles, blemishes and creases.

  Serina took Kello’s hand and held it to her chest, to where her heart beat a curious chime.

  Ba-dum, it went.

  Ba-dum.

  Ba-dum.

  Kello pulled back and tapped at her metal chest.

  Tick tock.

  Serina smiled and Kello led her by the hand to the plant in the bell jar. She tapped its smooth glass surface and turned to see Serina smile again.

  “What’s this?” Serina asked. “A friend?”

  Kello tilted her head.

  “Company?”

  Kello nodded.

  “Do you like it?” Serine raised a brow. “Its colour?”

  Kello nodded again.

  “Dolls are appalling company,” said Master Pennifold as he descended the iron stairs, several books in hand. “Even if it could talk, I doubt it’d have anything interesting to say.”

  Serina scoffed. “I had no idea you were pursuing sentience.”

  “Sentience?” Master Pennifold asked with a confuse
d scowl. “What possible use could I have for sentience in a machine? Have it leave me, like you did?”

  “You mean, you didn’t mean to do this?”

  “Do what?” Master Pennifold shoved the sketchbooks into Serina’s hands. He looked down at Kello and chuckled. “You think it feels? You think it…wonders? No, you daft child. It’s defective. It seems you left me far too soon.”

  “If she’s defective—”

  “It is defective.”

  “Well, I’d like to buy her,” said Serina, pulling a purse from the air with a roll of her hands. “How much?”

  Master Pennifold’s eyes flashed wide, but then narrowed as he leant against a shelf. A smile slid along his face.

  Tick tock.

  Tick tock.

  Kello carefully, quietly, slunk back towards her crate. Of all the faces Master Pennifold wore, this one scared her the most.

  “Ah!” He swung around the bell jar and faced Serina. The shadows of his eyes darkened. “So, I have something you want again?”

  Serina sighed, and the bag chinked and grew.

  “No,” said Master Pennifold. “I am a busy man. My funding review is next week and I cannot afford to waste time building another assistant. I wonder whose fault that is.”

  “Damn it, Emery, this will pay for your funding.” Serina shook the bag, and it grew again. It now sagged over her palm.

  “I thought you came here for your books, not to lord your wealth all over me.” Master Pennifold waved his hand, and the bag vanished. “Your assistance is no longer required.” The shadows on his face darkened once more.

  Tick tock.

  Serina’s eyes lowered to the bell jar. She pressed her hand against the glass, and the plant moved. Kello craned her neck to see. It was slow, but its leaves twisted towards Serina’s palm.

  “What plant is this?”

  “You know what it is.” Master Pennifold walked back to his chair. “You are the botanist, after all.”

  Serina looked closer, and her eyes widened as she stared at its fluttering leaves. “I thought this was extinct.”

  “It very nearly is.”

  “Why do you have one? Who would sell you one of these?”

  “It doesn’t matter how I got it.” Master Pennifold twirled his fingers, and a glass of wine appeared between them.