The Heartsmith's Daughter

Chapter 9.

"And it is with great pleasure that I welcome you to The Rusty Spigot!"

Before me lay a bar, constructed entirely from sheets of steel, with a cast iron hanger supporting a sign stating The Rusty Spigot in bold lettering.

"A bar? Can Automatons even drink?" I asked. I couldn't see how it could run through their system, or why they would even want a bar if they couldn't taste.

"Can they drink?" Oliver mimicked in a mockingly high voice. "Of course they can, although they more use this as a place to unwind. Literally." He broke into a short burst of laughter at his own joke. "Honestly, there isn't all that much they can't do, but I'll let you see for yourself." His hand was on the top of my back again, and he ushered me inside.

I was immediately greeted by the sounds of song and laughter, and an Automaton girl with cornflower blue hair, if it could be called that, right in front of me. She was dressed in a thin black dress, a tall navy top hat, adorned with pipes spewing smoke, and an apron clinging to her steel frame. Her eyes, looking almost too human for the rest of her silver body, glanced between Oliver and myself, dilating back and forth until she appeared to recognize him, breaking into a smile.

"Oh my goodness! Oliver, it's been such a wind since I've seen you last. You've grown so tall!" I was taken aback at how smooth her voice sounded. I had always heard that it was short and metallic in sound, but it was actually rich, and seemingly heartfelt, although I knew that that was impossible for anyone of her... type. "Well come come. Let's get you two situated, and then you simply have to tell me where you met this charming young fellow."

"Well, it's actually a funny-" But she was already off, the two hinged doors to the back rooms flapping back and forth. Instead of being frustrated however, Oliver started chuckling. It was almost cute, the way his skinny shoulders shook from his little bursts of laughter. "She always does this. Come on. I know a good spot in the back." He grabbed my hand and started to lead me there.

"Why is it a good spot? Shouldn't every table in a restaurant be the same?" They all appeared the same to me. Short, crude cut wooden tables set with copper stools. Some were empty, some were filled with Automatons, in pairs, large groups; it seemed almost no one sat alone.

"This isn't just a restaurant Eva." He turned his head over his shoulder to smile at me. "And I would hate for you to miss the show."

Show? What kind of show would weapons put on? Certainly nothing safe, I couldn't help but think as we sat down across from each other at the table Oliver had chosen.

With the center of the large room filled with a boxy peninsula of a stage, this table, being in the front, and just slightly right, was indeed a good viewing point. But for what?

"Oliver? Are you sure we should be here? What if-"

"Shhhh!" he whispered fiercely. "It's starting."

And sure enough, the stage was being lined with Automatons. A sharply dressed golden-man and woman took the center, with three more rusted-looking fellows sat in the back, one with drums, one with a piano, and the other with a strange instrument, like a horn with buttons. The golden one assumed a large stick, with a wired ball attached to the end, and with a short countdown they began to sing. Actually sing, and play, like Humans. The girl danced to the lively tune, all while the man belted out:

The North always made machines

The South always worked the lands

They worked together until they couldn't decide

If a man should own a man