Clockwork Fairy Tales: A Collection of Steampunk Fables Read Online Free PDF Page A

Vaska,” she said anxiously as Petro put her down. Broom shut the door and Vasyl shrugged out of his pack. “Are you going to marry that girl, Uncle?”
    “We’ll see, dearest,” Vasyl said.
    “I don’t want you to.” Olena’s tone was serious. “I want you to move in with us and fix toys for children and be my uncle forever.”
    He forced a smile and twisted one of her pigtails around his finger. “Are you jealous, little one? Perhaps you want to marry me?”
    She made a face. “No. I want to marry someone who likes girls.”
    An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Petro cleared his throat, but before he could say anything, Vasyl jumped in.
    “I will always be Uncle Vaska,” he promised. “No matter what. Now, how about we eat supper, and then Broom can help clean up?”
    It was hog-butchering season, and on the table Olena had set a long, wide strip of white pork fat still on the skin, a loaf of fragrant dark bread, several cloves of garlic, a dish of salt, a bottle of vodka, and a pot of tea. The three of them sliced rich pieces of fat off the skin and ate them on the bread, alternating with cloves of garlic dipped in salt. The extra plate sat on one corner of the table, waiting to be put outside. Vasyl and Petro drank vodka while Olena drank sweet tea. Vasyl also drank in the scene itself. The cozy kitchen, the warm stove, the yellow lamp, the brass mechanical. The little girl who was a daughter to him in all but name. The strong, outspoken man who was his best friend and the one person he could always lean on. He wished it could go on forever.
    Broom, at Olena’s order, gathered up the dishes and took them to the washtub while Olena poured hot water over them from the kettle on the ceramic stove.
    Petro poured more vodka into their cups. “Why, Vaska?”
    Vasyl knew what he meant, but he wanted to hold on to the moment a bit longer, so he fell back on his usual trick. “I’m sorry, Petro. It must have been difficult to watch that today.”
    “Of course it was,” Petro said thickly. “You are like my own brother. When you went up there, my hands were ice.”
    “You felt helpless.”
    “No man likes that feeling.” Petro thumped his glass on the table. “Especially when someone he…when his brother does something dangerous and foolish.”
    Vasyl straightened in his chair. What had Petro been about to say? Hewanted to ask, but he knew from experience that would be a mistake. Petro was falling into the rhythm of speaking now, and Vasyl let himself fade away, become the listener. It was a skill he had honed over many years. When people were talking to you, they weren’t hitting.
    “It was foolish,” he said, echoing Petro’s last statement.
    “And now we both have to pay the price.” Petro’s dark eyes were serious. “Sometimes I don’t understand you, Vaska. You have everything—looks, intelligence, a strong body—but you always fail.”
    “I always fail,” Vasyl the echo replied.
    “So why today?”
    The question caught Vasyl off guard. “What?”
    “The mayor put his daughter on display six other Sundays. Why did you pick this Sunday to step forward?” Petro leaned forward again. “Why this sudden need to get married?”
    Petro fell silent, waiting, and the fine moment ended. Vasyl sighed. “I’m tired of being alone, Petya. I want to wake up with someone together and spend days together and go to bed together.”
    “I understand loneliness,” Petro said. “After nine years, I understand. But to relieve yours, you could choose Yilka, the baker’s daughter, or Larissa, the shoemaker’s sister. Instead you risk your life to choose Hanna, the mayor’s daughter. It hurts me that I don’t understand why.” He thumped his chest. “Right here it hurts. So, why her and why today?”
    “I’m also tired of being poor,” Vasyl blurted. “And I felt bad for her because she has to sit up there every week with no one to choose her. And now…I wish I could take it back. I