Boots for the Gentleman

by Augusta Li

  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 delica
te 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.