Terra Mechanica: A Steampunk Anthology Read Online Free PDF Page B

when he spotted a thin figure watching him from the shadows. The man was ragged and shivering, and Toby waved him over to the fire. “Come and have a seat. I have plenty for the both of us. It's too cold to stand in the dark when there is a fire before you. Sit and warm yourself.”
    The man sidled over and sat on a root outcropping at the edge of the firelight. “Thank you, kind sir.”His voice was breathless and hollow, like the wind through the trees. His clothes were more holes than cloth, and a tangled beard hung halfway down his chest. “Who's your friend then?”
    “He's a quiet sort, but a good walking companion. It's a mite chilly to be wandering the dark ways,” Toby commented again.“I'd be happy to have you share the fire for the night.” He broke off a piece of the toasted bread and handed it across to the man. “It ain't much, but I'm pleased to share what I've got.”
    The man took the food and ate it with wolfish haste.
    “Been awhile since you had anything to eat, huh? Here.” Toby handed his portion to the stranger. “I can miss a meal or two without no trouble.”
    “Much obliged,” mumbled the man around a mouthful of bread and cheese. “You wouldn't have any beer to wash it down, would you?”
    Toby thought of the bottle squirreled away in Chester's belly for just the right occasion. So far, he hadn't found it, but charity was its own reward, they said. He popped open the little mechanoid and pulled out the bottle, passing it over with a last regretful glance.
    “Thanks, I'm parched.” The man grinned, showing a lot of teeth in the firelight. They seemed in mighty good health for a man wandering. Toby found his tongue touching the hollow where he had lost two of his own.
    “You sound like you are far from home, too,” Toby remarked, snapping Chester back together. “Whereabouts you come from?”
    “Oh, here and there. I move around a great deal.”
    Toby shrugged. “None of my affair, if you don't want to say.” He stifled a yawn behind his hand. “Been a long day, sir. I think I'll just hit my bedroll.” He pulled his blankets out of his pack and prepared to make his bed.“Feel free to sleep by the fire.”
    “Before you settle in, Tobias, I'd like to discuss something with you.”
    In the process of shaking out his blankets, Toby froze. He wasn't stupid enough to have given this fellow his name. He thought of the old rifle he had debated bringing on this trip. Now he wished he had. Slowly and methodically, he finished making his bed and then turned to the stranger. “And just how do you be knowing my name, friend ?” Toby put the slightest emphasis on the final word.
    “I know many things.” The man grinned again, and it seemed like even more teeth caught the firelight.
    Toby frowned, disconcerted by the illusion. “Well, I'm not sure what I feel about that, stranger. Seems like you have an advantage over me.”
    “They call me the Toymaker,” replied his companion. “It's the only name I know or care to answer to these days. A sample of my wares.” With a flourish, he produced a small brass box from one of his pockets and handed it to Toby.
    Toby took it cautiously and examined it. The box was etched with complex symbols, and there was an indention on the side.
    “Place your thumb on the depression,” the Toymaker told him with a wink.
    Pursing his lips in thought, Toby hesitated. It was a little thing. Nothing that small could be too dangerous . . . though he had seen grenades not much larger.
    With a shrug, Toby did as instructed. After all, the worst it could do was kill him, and that would be an adventure, wouldn’t it? The moment his thumb covered the depression, the box shifted in his hand. The lid rose on its own, lifting on thin scoping rods. Inside the box was a miniature room with a delicate dancer spinning across the floor. He could hear tinny music rising into the night, accompanying the dancer's movements. “What a cunning thing!” he