Magic Zero Read Online Free PDF Page A

things?” he asked the boy as he picked up what looked like an attempt to fashion a bird’s skeleton from pieces of wood. “You just imagined this—and you built it?”
    The boy carefully took the wooden item from the mage’s hands, careful not to damage the delicate construction. “I’ve come to believe that most things that can be done with magic can be duplicated mechanically.”
    Leander watched with interest as Timothy manipulated a tiny lever of the skeleton’s framework and the wings on the device began to flap up and down. “This is just my model,” the boy explained, placing it down on the worktable for Edgar to see. “If things test out, I’ll build a much bigger version and be able to fly just as well as Edgar here.”
    The bird flapped his wings in agitation, apparently as startled by the boy’s declaration as Leander was.
    “And have you always had this gift?” Leander asked.
    Timothy shrugged shyly. “My father encouraged me a lot. He brought me all the things I needed to create and survive here.” A pall seemed to fall over the boy, dispersing his excitement, as he was reminded that his father would never again visit the Island of Patience.
    “I think about what I want to do, and eventually a picture of the things I need to accomplish it forms in my head—then I build it,” he said matter-of-factly. He absently straightened some of the items on a nearby workstation.
    Absolutely wondrous, Leander thought. Denied the gift ofmagic, another ability had arisen in the boy to compensate: his very own, special kind of magic had developed.
    Leander wanted to inquire about more of the inventions and models in the workshop, but he was interrupted by the sound of a door rattling open at the back of the building. The thing that emerged from that open door startled him into silence, amazing him more than all the wonders around him combined. It came into the room pushing a wheeled cart loaded high with gleaming pieces of dark stone. Leander could only stare at the man-that-was-not-a-man. It was shaped like a man but made of a metal the color of coin. Smoke— no, steam —escaped with a hiss from a cylindrical opening connected to the side of its square head. Its round eyes shone brightly as its gaze fell upon them.
    “Oh, Timothy, you’re back,” it said pleasantly, its voice echoing as if from inside a well. “I stumbled upon a lovely vein of heatstone quite by accident while foraging some mannaroot for supper.” It wheeled the cart farther into the room, its metal feet clomping heavily upon the wood floor, and placed its load near the door leading into the furnace chamber. “I see you’ve brought home some company.”
    Leander stared at Timothy Cade in shock. “In Alhazred’s name, what is that?”
    “That’s Sheridan,” Timothy said, watching as the metal man began to unload its cart. “I made him, too.”
    “And what a fabulous job he did,” Sheridan said, executing a small bow as another hissing blast of steam jetted from the side of his head.
    “And he’s also a very good friend,” Timothy said with a chuckle. The boy presented his company to the machine. “This is Leander Maddox, Sheridan, a very dear friend of my father’s,” he said. “And, of course, you know Edgar.”
    “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Maddox,” Sheridan said with another slight bow. “And it’s always good to see you here, Edgar.”
    The rook squawked. “I missed you, too, handsome.”
    “Did Master Argus accompany you on this visit?” the mechanism asked cheerily.
    Leander dropped his gaze, hesitant, and neither Timothy nor Edgar leaped into the silence with an explanation. But that somber quiet was enough for the metal man to glean some understanding. “Oh, dear.” Sheridan’s red eyes dimmed. “How horribly sad,” he said with a shake of his blocky head.
    The room remained uncomfortably silent.
    “You made—him?” Leander asked, hoping to lift the oppressive pall.
    The boy hopped