Stealing the ring was going to be harder than he thought. Lyle wasn’t alone, and he wasn’t drunk.

Dally hadn’t never wanted that combination before, but now that he needed the son of a bitch to pass out on a sofa Lyle was wide awake and surrounded by flunkies. They packed out the drawing room, spilling into the hall. Too-loud laughter filled the air, along with a choking fog of smoke. The part of Dally’s brain that automatically spied for Gita listened in; they were writing Lyle’s inauguration speech, planning last-minute rallies. All the hangers on were sure — dead certain — Lyle would keep the Governorship.

There was a gap in the crowd, so Dally shoved through, feeling the men in suits shrink away from him as he passed too close.

“Why don’t you go hunt,” Lyle told him, waving him off. “Go out with Jona.”

The next day was worse; most of them hadn’t slept, and the room reeked of boozy sweat. Instead of trying again Dally watched the edge of the crowd, standing motionless in an alcove. The mage’s earrings glittered under tangled hair. Occasionally their bleary eyes met his and slid off without connecting. He was still invisible.

After a while Dally shook his coat sleeves straight, and strolled off down the hall. This needed some kind of actual plan.

Dally found Ajdin methodically polishing one of the dining tables. The homunculus didn’t look up as he approached.

“Hey,” Dally said. No response. He rubbed hard at the back of his neck, rocking in place. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to,” he said, “but I need your help again.”

Ajdin folded the polishing cloth, over and over into a perfect rectangle.

“I need you to come with me,” Dally said, “so I can get in the office.”

The motion slowed, and eventually Ajdin looked up at him, the hollow eyes empty as usual.

“I know we’re not meant to be in there,” Dally went on. “I know. I need to get in to send that note you had.”

That meant something to it. There was a long pause where Ajdin shuddered slightly, like a machine with gears grinding. Then they made a sign with slow, thick fingers; open-close-open. Dally blinked, wondering if he’d imagined it. That gesture was something thralls did, but he never saw anyone else use it before. It meant something like ‘okay, but gods help us.’

The two of them edged into Lyle’s conference room, stepping over piles of fliers strewn on the floor. When they were halfway to Lyle a drunk staffer bounced into Ajdin’s chest, clawing for balance. “Where’s the coffee? We ordered coffee-“

“Coming, boss.” Dally smiled with sharp teeth, and the man pulled away.

Lyle was hunched on one of the lounges, surrounded by flunkies. He didn’t look up for a long time. His shirt was rumpled, damp hair sticking to the back of his neck.

“Dally,” he said, and finally seemed to notice the homunculus. “What are you...?”

“It’s the new one,” Dally said, “for the office? It just got delivered.”

“Oh,” Lyle said, confused.

“I think you ordered it last week.”

“Oh—“ Lyle lurched like he was going to stand up, then slowly sank back onto the lounge. “I can’t—“ Some flunky was trying to get his attention, and Lyle waved him off.

He looked Dally up and down, and eventually whined in soft frustration. With one hand he tugged the signet ring off of his finger. “Now, I’m too busy to go with you, but do you think you know how to use the lock?”

Dally pretended to think about it, then nodded, earnest.

Lyle pat him on the arm. “Good lad. Take this to the office and put it where the other one was. Bring the ring right back when you’re done.”

The ring lay heavy in Dally’s palm, and he had to stop himself staring at it. Was it really this easy?

No one stopped them on the way out. Dally clenched the ring in his fist, and when no one was looking flashed Ajdin a wide grin. The homunculus watched him in silence.

“Dally.” Gita’s voice rang down the hall. Dally’s face went blank again, as she stepped out from a doorway ahead of them. “Where are you going with that?”

“Replacing the office clayman, Mistress.”

“I didn’t order new homunculi.” Gita’s eyes narrowed. She was the one who actually did the household management.

Dally froze for a long moment, feeling Ajdin judder to a halt next to him. Eventually he took a step closer to her, muttering under his breath. “Look, you said you wanted to know what’s in the Anvil contracts? Well this is the only way to get them. Your man doesn’t even talk to Butler anymore; he just shoves the letters in a drawer.” That last part was actually true. No one had ever accused Lyle of facing his problems head on.

“Give the ring to me,” she said. When Dally hesitated she snorted. “You can’t read, can you? How exactly were you planning to find the files?”

“I know where they are.”

Gita laughed, and Dally felt any last scrap of hope dissolve. He forced his fingers to unclench from the ring in his fist. As soon as he’d dropped it in Gita’s palm she turned on her heel, stalking off towards the office.

Dally grit his teeth to stop a howl, and rocked in place once, hissing through his lips. Then he jogged after her. As Gitaa looked back at him he held up a hand, appeasing.

“Boss sent me. I oughta at least come with you, you know, for cover?”

Gita looked him up and down, shrugging her stole up around her shoulders. But she didn’t tell him to leave, and when he started following her she just kept walking. The quiet tink of Ajdin’s feet faded behind them — she was going too fast. The homunculus only caught up at the door, as Gita pressed the ring to the lock’s gently breathing surface. The door shuddered, clanked slowly open.

Inside she cursed at the mounds of loose paper, the crusted-over tea cup. She started opening drawers at random, rifling, tossing pages out onto the desk.

“They’re over here,” Dally muttered, going to an abandoned cabinet in the corner. Maybe he couldn’t read, but he knew the Anvil logo. It was tattooed on the back of his mother’s shoulder.

As Gita flipped through the files he watched her sidelong, feeling his chance trickling away. Okay, okay. This was fixable. He was in the office, he just needed her out of this room.

“Actually,” he said, “I uh. I needed to talk to you about something.”

“Not here,” she hissed,

“It’s about Jona.”

Gita glanced up.

“He... um. He said some things to me.” Dally, paused, struggling to latch onto his own fragile plan. “He doesn’t want to be here.”

“He doesn’t?” That clearly hurt, but she covered pretty well, only blinking a little fast, brushing hair away from her face. “Of course not, he loves that school. He misses his friends.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“No, I mean, um.” Dally glanced away. “I mean he doesn’t want to be in this world anymore.”

Now she was really stopped, with the file hanging forgotten in her hand. “He didn’t say that.”

Dally let her think on it. He picked up a thick wad of paper off the desk, rifled through it, slowly, and put it down again.

“Of course you hate him,” Gita said. “Maybe you would like if he hurt himself.”

“I don’t hate him.”

“So you liked that burn he gave you?”

Dally only twitched a little. “He’s just a boy, Mistress. With Mariel gone, he’s just... lost.”

“You misunderstood him.”

“Maybe. I hope so.”

“He wouldn’t confide in a thrall, anyway. He’d talk to me.”

Dally tried not to laugh. “He’s the wrong age for that,” he said, as flat as he could manage. “Who are you more honest with, your servants or your mother?”

It was working; Gita glanced around the room like there’d be some answer in the corners. “When did he say this?”

“Yesterday, on the hunt.”

“Oh.” Gita went back to the files, flipping listlessly for a few seconds. Then she shoved the drawer closed. “Take the ring back,” she said. “Put these in the greenhouse under the sump hood.”

She barely paused to shove the file into Dally’s hands before stalking out. The door hissed shut behind her.

“Mercy,“ Dally breathed, catching Ajdin’s eye. The homunculus had stopped next to the other one; the still, lifeless statue. Ajdin had turned their back to the body, and was wiping down a benchtop.

“Don’t do that,” Dally said, suddenly horrified. “I’m sure as hell not leaving you in here.”

The room felt weirdly sharp and clear without humans taking up the air. There was so much clutter. Dally shoved a stack of dog-eared files aside and started digging through the cabinet they were blocking, looking for something with his name on it. Somewhere in here was his own Bill of Sale - he knew what that looked like. He knew what the word ‘name’ looked like. He didn’t know what ‘Dally Harper’ looked like.

His contract was at the bottom of a pile, half crumpled; the piece of paper that said he belonged to Tannis Lyle. The page felt light and flimsy, and he had to pause for a second just to stare at it. Then he smoothed it out on the desk, and started copying:

‘Gov. Tannis Lyle still keeps a thrall,

Dally Harper.‘

Could Ajdin read? Dally hesitantly held his work up to the homunculus, who was wiping dust off of a side-board. Ajdin looked at the page with black-pit eyes. After a long time they raised a hand, pointing at Dally.

“Yeah,” Dally mumbled, pleased. “That’s my name.”

The mirrorboys rustled as he came up to them, flashing silver wings. They weren’t clamoring to get to the door like they did with Lyle, but when Dally reached in they didn’t back away. He took the closest one out, gingerly, feeling it vibrate in his hand. Up close the mirrorboy’s ruby-red eyes had a thousand glittering facets, like a cut jewel. It looked up at him, and put an eerily human hand up to its mouth to lick.

Dally carefully rolled up his message. The mirrorboy snatched it instantly, clasping it to its chest. A second passed, with Dally just watching it on his palm.

“Where?” asked the mirrorboy.

Its voice was almost impossible to hear; a soft buzz like cicadas in summer. Dally didn’t know they could talk.

“Uh.” Dally blinked, trying to get his bearings. “The Wesend Tribune. Their office.”

The Tribune was a paper Lyle complained a lot about — always reporting on his bullshit. They would like the note.

The mirroboy’s mandibles slowly opened and closed. Again it combed one of its small hand over its face, cleaning the gem-like eyes. “Whe...re?”

Shit.

“I don’t know,” Dally admitted. “Can you find it?”

The mirrorboy purred to itself. In the cage behind it the others were crowding up to the bars, wings flickering. Dally squinted against the flashes of sunlight. There was a quiet metallic sound too, like a knife on steel.

“What are they saying?” Dally asked, though it was just a guess. The flashing had patterns in it, very fast and complicated.

“Saying thrall not master, don’t going.”

Shit. “Well, master sent me —”

“Not true.” The mirrorboy tilted its head.

“I, um.”

Why had he ever thought that the mirrorboys were just machines? Dally saw them almost every day. Why didn’t he notice? Why was his plan to just use them?

“You’re right, okay?” he said, eventually. “But, I really need to send this. I really need to.” Dally swallowed. “Please. I can’t stay here.”

He never said that before, even to Red. It felt pathetic, and came out quiet and rough-sounding.

There was more shuffling in the cage, but the one on the desk still just stood there, watching Dally instead. Finally it clicked its mandibles again. “Where?”

Dally let out a rushed breath. “Can you uh...” he hadn’t thought this far ahead. “Can you find one of the paper boys selling it? They sell it on the street, they yell ‘Wesend Tribune’. If you go to Salnit, you’ll see one on the street if you circle around.”

The mirrorboy held a tiny hand in front of its face, and for some reason curled its fingers, one at a time, like it was counting. When it got to zero fingers the eerie head swivelled to look at Dally again. “Yes.”

Sunlight flashed off its wings as they vibrated. The mirrorboy launched off the desk and out the window, already a blur. It gained speed until it was just a bright streak against a grey sky, then it was gone. Dally watched the place where it disappeared, slowly dragging a hand back over his hair. Ajdin stood next to him, silent.

Dally went to close the cage door, but got stuck halfway through the motion, his fingers clenched on the bars.

“You should all go,” he said, and swung the door wider open. “Just go, right now, wherever you want.”

There was a long moment when nothing happened, then another fast series of flashes rippled through the group.

“Message,” said one.

“You don’t need one. You can do what you want.”

“Message.”

“Mess— Take this,” Dally snatched up a random page from the desk, “take anything you want. It’s all bullshit.”

They looked at him, their crystal eyes blank. Maybe they understood him better than he understood them.

“Message.”

A heavy thump on his shoulder made him flinch. Ajdin had come up behind him and laid one thick, clay hand on Dally’s shoulder. The homunculus was right — this was not something the could fix. Dally breathed out slow through his nose, and made himself shut the cage door. They walked out of the office together.