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

am a fool. No one can build a mechanical that thinks for itself.”
    Olena and Broom continued with their work. Broom was washing dishes while Olena swept the floor. The men kept their voices low, but Vasyl was sure Olena heard every word. Children always did.
    Petro squeezed Vasyl’s forearm. Vasyl felt as though he should pull away, but he was too full and too tired and too tense tobother. Besides, the physical contact was reassuring. “Nothing is impossible,” he said stoutly. “I will help you, my brother. But first, you must answer the question you have been avoiding.”
    Vasyl felt nervous again. “What question have I been avoiding?”
    “Why didn’t you make this mess last week or the week before? Why today, of all days?”
    Vasyl opened his mouth to say he didn’t know why. Then he looked at the extra plate of food and at the gathering gloom outside the windows, and he realized he did know why.
    “It would be easier to show you than tell you. But, Olena—”
    “If you are going out, I am staying in,” Olena said.
    Petro clambered to his feet. “You’re not going out!”
    “I must.” Vasyl dropped the half-empty vodka bottle and the rest of the bread into a sack and pulled on his coat and pack. “I went up there today because tonight is
her
night, and I knew I might need help.”
    Petro’s dark eyes went wide. “You want to visit
Baba Yaga
?”
    “I have no idea how to make a mechanical think for itself. She might.”
    “She’ll eat you alive!”
    “And the mayor’s punishment is kinder?” Vasyl hefted the sack. “If you want to come, then come. I have to leave now.”
    Petro looked torn. He glanced at his friend and then at his daughter. Vasyl felt a small stab of jealousy. Despite his earlier statement, he didn’t really want to do this alone—he had used up his courage for the week facing down the mayor—and he badly wanted Petro to come with him. When they were younger, Petro would have come without hesitation. But now Petro was a family man, and family men didn’t leave their families to help friends.
    Vasyl admonished himself. He was being unfair. Still…
    “Go, Papa,” Olena said. “I am not frightened. As long as I do not go outside, she will not touch me.”
    A soft rumble outside made Vasyl hurry to the door. “Quick!”
    Petro kissed Olena’s cheek, snatched up his own coat, and ran outside with Vasyl. Vasyl dropped the plate of food on thedoorstep, and the two men ran out to the deserted square. Every front step had a plate on it. Every window was shuttered tight.
    “Do you see anything?” Petro was looking at the darkening sky.
    “There!” Vasyl pointed. A streak of light rushed overhead and west. At the front of it was a strange contraption of iron and brass. It was shaped like a giant bowl or mortar, held together with an intricate pattern of rivets. On the back were fastened a pair of engines that blasted fire and light, carrying the mortar just high enough to clear the rooftops of Kiev. Vasyl took an involuntary step backward, and the autumn air grew colder. In the mortar stood a tall, thin hag in an earth-brown dress. Her gray hair streamed out behind her, and she steered with a rudder made from a brass pestle. The woman glanced down and her hard eyes met Vasyl’s for a tiny moment. His blood turned to thin ice water. Then she was gone, leaving a trail of smoke and thunder in the sky.
    “I can’t believe I am actually saying this,” Petro said, “but we must hurry if we want to follow her.”
    The two men ran through the empty streets of Kiev, their boots ringing on cobblestones. Ahead of them, the spreading trail of smoke arced downward as the hag brought her mortar in among the buildings, close to ground. Vasyl ran until his ribs burned, still following the smoke trail with Petro at his side. Unfortunately, the city grew too dark and the smoke trail too thin. They lost the path.
    “Where now?” Petro asked.
    Vasyl scanned the street. He could smell the