The ’kin chittered away, informing me in his high-pitched cadence that the gifts had begun arriving yesterday, shortly after I’d been seen in the village with Max. That pixie must have had a pretty big mouth.
Anyway, the news was that I had single-handedly held off the iron warrior; the fact that the pixie was the one who’d immobilized the brute was a little detail that the rumor mill had failed to mention. Well, since there was no current leader for those of copper, at least no one local, and I’d done such an awesome job of fighting off the enemy, others of my Element were now looking to me for guidance.
“We can’t accept these!” My outburst scared the ’kin, whose only real fear was of displeasing me or Micah, and he scuttled off for reinforcements. Another heartbeat later, Shep was kneeling before me, proffering his shiny hide as penance for whatever offense had been committed. Once I’d calmed them down, and assured them that no one had done anything wrong, I attempted to reason with Shep.
“Don’t you see?” I said. “They think I’m going to be their leader, but I’m not. I don’t lead anything.” Shep hung his head, so I crouched down to his level. “You didn’t do anything wrong when you accepted these, because you didn’t know. But if anyone else comes with a gift, can you explain—nicely—to the people that we can’t keep them?”
The silverkin both nodded vigorously, excited to have a new task, and the three of us set about opening the parcels. Even though I fully intended to return these gifts, I was itching to see what was inside the cute, little packages. Most of the items were perishable, food and flowers and such, so I couldn’t really have sent them back to the givers. Well, that and the fact that I didn’t know who had given them to me in the first place. The Otherworld wasn’t big on using return addresses.
The few nonperishable gifts were a sight to behold, comprising such varied items as candlesticks, jewelry, and ornate mirrors, all of highly polished copper. After we’d found the third such mirror, I asked Shep if it was customary to send gifts to one’s leader. To my utter horror, he replied that it was only done when two or more were vying for the position, and the gifts were used as a show of support.
“Support against who?” I demanded. When Shep claimed that he didn’t know (though I’m not so sure I believed him), I yelped, “But I don’t want any support!” Who did these people think I wanted support against? Another of copper? Whoever that person was, they could have the job. I did not want it. The silverkin freaked at my outburst, but I calmed them down…again. After we had opened the bazillionth package, I left Shep and his flock to sort out the gifts on their own. As for me, I continued on my quest for breakfast. This “support the ruler” fiasco wasn’t going to get resolved any time soon, at least not before I talked to Micah, and I had other fish to fry. Before I got to the kitchens, I found Sadie in the parlor, sipping something warm from a delicate silver cup.
“How do the silverkin manage espresso?” she murmured. I pictured the manor’s rustic kitchen with its large, open ovens and well-worn surfaces, and had to admit that I hadn’t the foggiest. “And the foamed milk?”
“Magic?” I offered with a shrug. I took a seat beside her and was promptly presented with my own frothy concoction. Really, I didn’t care what steps were necessary to create cappuccinos in a medieval kitchen, so long as those steps worked.
“And the muffins,” Sadie continued, now enamored of a basket of baked goods that had appeared alongside my cappuccino. Maybe the silverkin were really angels, sent to earth in order to watch over dry throats and empty bellies. “I never knew something this bready could be so delicious.”
I laughed and recalled that Sadie had spent her last few years subsisting on school food, which was little more than cardboard compared to what I had been getting from the Promenade Market and Mom’s garden, and had likely forgotten what real food tasted like. It was amazing that she had been able to complete two-thirds of her master’s degree while eating only government rations.
Sadie and I sat together for a while, sipping our drinks and talking about nothing, before I got up enough courage to ask, “Want to come to the village with me?”
“I—” she began, then she clamped her mouth shut. She knew that I knew she didn’t have anything better to do. “What for?”
“I need to hit the apothecary.”
“For what? To replenish your cauldron?”
“Something like that.” She pursed her lips and turned away. “Listen, I know it’s freaky out there, but you have to get used to it. It looks like we’re going to be here a while, and you’re the Inheritor. The Metal Inheritor. You can’t be seen as weak.” I left off the rest of my thought, that if Sadie was deemed incompetent, others of metal were likely to murder her, in the hopes that their own offspring would take her place. Her blanched face told me that she already knew that.