Page 30 of The Iron Raven

She snorted. “Issubtlealso a four-letter word in your world?”

“Nope, buttactis. Also,meek,mild,calm,care,plot,plan,mind,quit,stop,test... I could go on if you want me to.”

A creaking, jingling sound interrupted me. I turned to look at the gate and saw the top of a covered wagon making its way over the bridge toward us. At first, it looked like it belonged to a snake oil salesman in an old Western, until it drew closer and I saw it clearly.

Instead of wheels, four segmented legs jutted from the sides like those of a huge metal insect, picking their way over the ground as the wagon crawled forward. The sides were tall and banded with copper, and a pair of lanterns flickered at the back and front, swaying in the breeze. The painted sign on the side of the wagon read Tinkerer’s Workshop. Repairs, Adjustments, Custom Pieces.

I groaned. “Oh yeah,” I muttered as Nyx rose beside me, watching the wagon lurch toward us on jointed metal legs. “Forgot to mention... Lots of things in the Iron Realm have a really disturbing fascination with insects. Just a heads-up, in case you loathe spiders and all their ilk and believe anything with more than four legs should be cleansed from the world with fire. Except octopi—they get a pass ’cause they’re cool and can squeeze their bodies through pretty much anything. Everything else, kill it with fire. Spiders, scorpions, centipedes...”

“Butterflies?”

“Have you seen a butterfly’s face up close? It’s terrifying.” I grimaced. “Besides, the amount of times I’ve been swarmed by carnivorous butterflies in the Nevernever is more than once. So, yep, kill ’em with fire.”

Nyx chuckled, and it sent a strange little flutter through my insides. “Well, hopefully there will be no killer butterflies inside,” she said, and together, we walked toward the bridge and the Tinkerer’s wagon, crouched like a giant cricket at the edge of the chasm.

9

BUG WAGONS AND KILLER BEE FEY

The things I do to deliver a message.

My skin crawled as we approached the Tinkerer’s wagon. Maybe it was my own paranoia, but it felt like the wagon was watching me, patient and unmoving, like a spider ready to scuttle toward me as I got close. And it had legs. Creepy insect legs, when four nice normal wheels would have been just fine.

Squashing down my reluctance, I walked around the back of the cart and found the steps that led to a single, bright green door covered in brass cogs and wheels. A doorbell rested beside the frame, glinting bright copper in the wood, and I pressed it firmly. Something within buzzed, but there was no answer.

“Hellooooo?” Standing on tiptoes, I peered in the single frosted-glass window next to the door, but all I could see were blurry shapes against hazy orange light. “Anyone here? Are you open?”

The door clicked, then swung open a crack, and a trio of very long, very thin fingers curled from the opening. I peered into the gap and was met with a pale gray eye in an equally pale face.

“Hey.” I raised a hand as the eye blinked at me slowly. “Did anyone order a pizza with extra olives?”

“Robin Goodfellow.” The voice was soft and rusty, and the door creaked open a bit farther as a head emerged on a long, skinny neck. A nose like a beak narrowly missed my chin as the head rose to stare me in the face. A jewelry loupe, jutting from one pale eye, glinted as it fixed on me. I suddenly felt like I was being studied like an uncut diamond. “You are the one the first lieutenant told me about. Can I help you?”

“Yeah, actually, you can.” I leaned back from the giant honker before I was impaled. “I heard you were the faery to see about getting a certain trinket? Something small and stylish, that prevents your face from melting off if you go into the Iron Kingdom?”

“That is true. I am the crafter of the protection amulets used by the regular fey to survive the Iron Realm. However...” The withered head pulled back a few inches. “I have already crafted your amulet, Robin Goodfellow,” he said. “I remember each and every piece I create, and yours was commissioned by the Iron Queen herself. You do not need another amulet.” His open eye narrowed sharply. “Unless of course you have lost it.”

“What?Moi?Lose something so important? What gave you that idea?” I smirked at his unamused expression, then motioned behind me. “I don’t need one. This amulet is for my friend. She needs to get into the Iron Realm to see the queen and would like to do so without imploding from iron sickness. That would be very inconvenient. Also messy.”

The Tinkerer’s gaze slid past me to Nyx, hovering at the bottom of the step. Two extremely long fingers came up to twirl and adjust the loupe, before the faery drew in a slow breath.

“A Forgotten? Well, now, what an interesting request. So that is the reason the knight seemed rather agitated when he delivered the message.” He observed Nyx a moment longer, then frowned. “Her kind is not well received by some residents of the Iron Kingdom.”

“Yeah, we got that. So, can you make her one, or not?”

He sighed. “Come in and shut the door, and please do not touch anything.” He drew back, disappearing from sight, and the door creaked on its hinges as it swung open.

We stepped through the frame, shut the door behind us, then turned around.

I expected to see the interior of the wagon, cramped and crowded, with lots of items on shelves and barely enough room to stand up, much less move around. Instead, I stood in the doorway of a large room, soft orange light glowing from several lamps on the ceiling. Shelves lined three of the four walls, filled with all manner of doodads and thingamabobs, and heaps of what looked like junk lay piled in every corner. Gears, levers, springs, wires, and other metallic parts glittered under the lamps, and a faint hum filled the air from some machine in the back.

It looked part workshop, part storefront, and the faint smells of iron, copper, and various other metals were making my nose hairs tingle. Worriedly, I glanced at Nyx, knowing the presence of so much iron was probably making her insides squirm.

The Forgotten’s jaw was set, her twilight-gray skin looking a bit washed-out, and her eyes were hard.

“Nyx.” Stepping close, I put a hand on her elbow and felt her muscles contract under my fingers. “You okay? Hanging in there?”

The Forgotten gave a grim smile. “I will admit, I’ve felt better.”

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