The Novelty Maker by Sasha L. Miller

The Novelty Maker

    Cole slipped through the bustling shop, aiming for the door behind the counter. The shop was bustling as usual—the two shop girls had their hands full flitting between customers and the register and the owner was busy showing off his latest creation, some contraption that blatantly ripped off the novelty box Lady Kiely had displayed at her party last week.
                    He made it to the back of the shop without being stopped, but the girls knew enough to leave him be and the owner was too busy boasting to notice Cole's presence. The crystal doorknob turned easily under his hand and Cole shut the door quickly behind him.
                    It was much quieter back here, though no less crowded. Bits and pieces of half-finished machines covered every surface, surrounded further by tools, bolts, cogs, and shimmering jewels and bulbs. The windows in the back of the room were open, letting in the sea breeze and showing off the ships floating out in the bay below. The city of Cadogan was perched precariously on the cliffs of Shinnick; it followed the edge of the cliffs, dipping down when the cliffs smoothed into a giant bay that was Cadogan's main source of trade.
                    "Harlowe?" Cole called, ducking under the flexing arm of a life-size caricature of the winter spirit. Its head was only half-finished, a toothless smile beaming unnervingly from the lower half of the machine's face. The top half was missing completely, and Cole looked away, heading deeper into the workroom. "Are you in here?"
                    No reply, which wasn't completely unusual. Harlowe tended to get caught up in what he was doing to the point he forgot other people existed and occasionally visited him. There was a steady ratcheting noise coming from the right corner of the room, and Cole headed that way, ducking under a low-hanging chandelier and pausing every so often to admire the half-finished works.
                    Harlowe mostly created novelty boxes. They were the latest rage in Cadogan; some of the Ladies in town were in an unspoken contest to see who could commission the most outrageous and outlandish boxes in the city. Cole had seen boxes that did everything from feature a small, dancing figure to those that simulated a small fireworks display when the box was open to those that were of such poor quality that they completely fell apart when they were opened.
                    Rounding the edge of the table, Cole found Harlowe was kneeling in front of a work table, carefully ratcheting something into place on the box in front of him. He was slowly ratcheting a bolt into place on the side of long, flat box. The box was a dark blue velvet, covered with delicate gold whorls punctuated by the occasional stylized cog.
                    Cole hovered, not willing to break Harlowe's concentration at what looked like a pivotal point in the process. There was grease and oil streaked across Harlowe's fingers, and a small metal cuff around his left wrist. His sleeves were pushed back, crumpled just above his elbows. He wore his usual black vest, frayed at the bottom and filled with pockets into which he tucked all manner of instruments and odds and ends. Cole had more than once wanted to dig through all of the pockets to find out what treasures the vest concealed, but Harlowe had threatened his fingers the first time he'd tried to act on that.
                    Harlowe finished whatever tweak he was making and tossed the ratchet wrench aside. His fingers touched the lever he'd been winding, caressing it gently, and then he stood, unfolding from the floor with a grace that most of the Ladies Cole knew would be jealous of.
                    "Who let you back here?" Harlowe asked, startling Cole.
                    "I always let myself back here." Cole followed as Harlowe stalked away,