Along Came A Spider (Montaine)

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

68th Day of Spring, 512 AV (Preceding events span from the 62nd to 67th days.) There was a spider in Minerva's house. She hated spiders. It had been there the night she got home from learning glass with Montaine. She had screamed, and thrown her hammer at it. Her aim had been horrible, and she had just ended up denting one of her carving projects. The spider had scurried away, and she had lost sight of it. She ended up spending the night at the home of one of her University friends. The next day, she had come home hesitantly, searching the house for it. At first there had been no sign of it, and she had hoped it was gone. She had settled in to work on her readings for her classes, only to later feel something crawling up her leg. There had been more screams, followed by frantic stomping. Somehow, the spider had managed to evade her, and crawled under the bed. She had spent most of the rest of the night trying to kill it. She had gotten down on her hands and knees, chasing the spider around with a mallet. She had pulled out her bed and thrown blunt objects behind it. Eventually, the spider had crawled up the wall, and gotten out of her reach. Then she had stared at it. Mallet in one hand, the other clenched in a fist, she had watched it. 'Ow does 'e climb walls...? she wondered. Then it became a project. She had pulled her chair over, grabbed some paper and her quill, and a wooden board to lean on. She stood on the chair as close as she could get to the spider, peering up at it, and began to draw. It wasn't so bad, as long as it didn't get any closer. She spent hours sketching the spider, carefully balancing her paper and ink vial on the wooden board. After the third time she almost spilled the ink, she had paused and grabbed a few small scraps of wood, nailing them on the corner of the board in a square. She stuck the vial in there, holding it in place so she could draw more easily. Every once in awhile, the spider moved along the wall to another location. She dragged her chair across the room and followed it, getting different angles to view the rest of its form. She etched the details carefully, noting the way its legs bent, and the angles they moved at. She had gone to sleep that night dreaming of spiders, yet they hadn't been nightmares. On the third night, she had brought home books from the library. Books about spiders. She searched through them until she found this particular spider. The Golden Orb Weaver. It had an inch and a half wide body and two inch long legs. It was named for the golden color if its silk web, which could be quite intricate, with a huge orb design spanning as much as a meter wide. "'Oy, yer a smart bugger, ain'tcha?" she asked it, smiling up at the critter. Learning about how it worked made it a bit less scary. "Can't 'ave ya makin' a web bigger'n my arm 'ere in my 'ouse though, can I?" There were more detailed drawings in the books, and she started sketching her own from them. There was never really a point where the project became a conscious decision. It was just something that happened without her thinking about it. She started sketching joints, with small gears to help the legs move. She knew she wouldn't be able to duplicate the venom or the web weaving without some kind of alchemy, but the body? That she felt she could do. Before the end of the third night, her drawings evolved into blueprints. She didn't have precise enough tools to make the fine and tiny joints on a two inch spider, so she expanded it to six inches. With another six inches for each leg, the final product would span eighteen inches across the left legs, body, and right legs all spread out. She had to do some careful math to keep everything in proportion. Every segment of every leg had to be increased in size, the dimensions staying precise and accurate. She worked the numbers with great care, until she had a schematic she felt she could work with. On the fourth day, she brought her drawings to Professor Beadle, the University Gadgeteering instructor. He helped her go over the math, and they spent the morning adjusting the specs for the joints and gears. That afternoon, she started carving. Each leg segment and joint had to be cut out individually. Each leg had three segments, and the total leg would bend in two places, plus need a third joint to connect it to the body. She carved the body first. The main body would have no moving parts. It was just a block of wood, cut to size then carefully carved, chiselled, and smoothed out. The most detailed work went into the joints, four on each side, where the legs would connect. She chiselled out slots where the metal joints could fit, taking careful measurements to ensure a proper fit. Then she cut and carved the legs, twenty four segments in all. Small holes were carefully drilled into each end, where the movable parts would be attached. She didn't add any artistic touches to the body parts. They were just straight, smooth rods of wood. Maybe she'd paint him up nice and pretty later. It took her all day to finish the carvings. On the fifth day, she started assembly. She worked in the University lab, so her professor could advise and offer corrections as she worked. Metal joints were hooked into each of the connectors she had carved, and a network of gears was screwed into the underside of the wooden body. The gears connected the legs on either side to allow for more balanced movement. When one leg rotated on its joint to step forward, that motion turned a gear at the base of the joint, which channeled more movement throughout, adding power to gears on the opposite legs. The gears connected to rotate when a leg was raised to take a step, then unlocked when the leg lowered back into place. In this way, any legs in a 'raised' position would move the gears and aid the overall motion, but any in a 'lowered' position would be immobile. Some of the last physical touches she put in were a leather membrane on the head to simulate an eardrum, and two pieces of sharpened metal, two inches long each, to act as fangs. These she inserted into carefully carved slots on the creature's 'head.' Of course, taken by itself, there was a fatal flaw in the overall design. There was no power source to move the legs. As her professor explained, there would need to be a wind up mechanism somewhere to set the mechanical spider into motion. At least, she WOULD have needed such a thing, if not for the fact that the spider would be powered by magic. A fully functional wind up mechanical spider would have been a bit beyond Tock's skill in gadgeteering, if everything needed to work on gears alone. Making the legs move in unison was a tiny part of what would have been a much more complex machine, needing a wind up mechanism, more gears to transfer power into the legs, and most complex of all, a highly sophisticated mechanism to coordinate the movements of the legs to work in unison. Making TWO legs move in unison was complex enough; making eight work together in smooth, fluidic motion would have taken a very advanced machine. So instead, she would put a spider's mind into the device, and let it coordinate its own movements by instinct. She spent the next two days animating it. First she had to catch Goldie, as she had taken to calling the Golden Orb Weaver. "Okay, you," she said, holding up a jar and waving it threateningly at the spider. "It's been fun, but ya can't live 'ere no more." She stood on a chair and held the jar under the web the spider had been weaving in the corner of the ceiling. She used a stick to scrape the web into the jar, bringing the scampering spider with it. She screwed the lid on the jar, sealing the bugger inside. She had punched in some air holes to make sure it lived long enough to complete the process. She pushed all her furniture aside, and cleared off the floor to begin. She drew in two pairs of linked circles with chalk, then placed the captured spider and the created one inside the circles. She then pricked her finger and added a drop of blood, before sitting cross-legged next to the circles to begin. She closed her eyes and reached out through the astral plane, seeking out the tiny soul in the jar before her. She held up one hand, a soft glow emanating from it, spreading forth as it searched for the life. When she found it, she latched on, then raised her other hand towards the construction. Once she found the empty body, she began channeling and transferring energy, and soon formed the Automaton's Soulcore. The construct began to glow on its own, the newly birthed spiritual energy emanating from it. Then she began transferring the memories and persona. For such a simple minded creature as this, it was a very quick and easy process. She fed all the spider's instincts and behavior, and little else was needed. She added some basic directives, imbuing it with the command NOT to bite her. She programmed it with loyalty and affection towards her; at least, as much as its simple mind could understand such. It would be like a pet, drawn to her side and content with being in her presence, but its mind couldn't learn more complex concepts or emotions. It would simply have an urge to be by her side. It would be soothed by her touch and calmed by her voice, even though she couldn't get it to understand words. On the last day, she taught it to move, transferring the concepts of movement while Goldie crawled around the jar. With her magic binding the spider and the construct, an identical glow suffused them both. As the transfer strengthened, the Automaton began mimicking the spider's movements. It started crawling around the circle along the same path the spider took as it crawled around the jar. Finally, she severed the connection and grinned at her new 'pet.'. "Awright Bitey," she said, giving it its True Name. "Now, wake up!" She snapped her fingers, sending a last spark of energy into the circles. It suffused into the construct, then the glow faded. The construct shuddered, then stood shakily, before taking some hesitant steps. Bitey crawled around slowly without purpose until it blindly bumped into a wall. It tried on instinct to climb up it, but its body lacked the structure needed to scale a vertical surface. The wooden legs scrambled a bit at the wall, then it turned and wandered off. Tock frowned. It was supposed to be drawn to HER. "Bitey, come 'ere," she said, making kissy noises. It turned and scurried over to her, climbing into her lap. It had been drawn by the sound of her voice. But why...? "Oy!" she groaned, slapping herself in the forehead. "I done forgot ta give ya eyes!" That was why it hadn't found her until she spoke. She had installed the leather strip that reverberated with sound, mimicking an ear. But Bitey was blind! She could fix that with a second Awakening. But first she needed to make some eyes. Eyes were made best from gems or glass. She had neither, nor the skill to make multi-faceted pieces like a spider's bulbous eyes. Although... Grinning, she scooped her creation up, and headed out. It curled up its legs and nestled in her arms, content in its simple mind just to be held by its mother. Goldie she released into the wild, though she carried the jar a good half mile from her house before she let it out. Bitey was programmed not to bite her, and wasn't poisonous. Goldie? She didnt trust one bit. She got some strange looks as she moved through the city, but since the wood and metal spider wasn't moving much, no one noticed that it was alive. Likely there would have been a fair amount of fear if they had. She tried Monty's apartment first. It was late in the afternoon, so he might be home from work by now. If not she could check the glass shop up the road. "Oy, Glassman!" she shouted as she banged vigorously on his door. "Ya 'ome? I done got somethin' ta show ya!" Bitey squirmed a bit in her arms at the commotion, and she wore the wide grin and proud glow of a new mother.

[Montaine]

Monty groaned and rolled over in his bed. The bright sun slipped through the gaps in his wooden shuttered windows and caused his whole head to ache. The night before was a blur. He pulled his thin sheets over his head as he struggled to recollect the memories of yesterday evening before the flitted away forever. There had been a celebration, a birthday of some variety, and drinking, oh yes a lot of drinking. The glassworker whimpered as there was an unrelenting banging inside his skull. What else had happened? They hadn’t stayed at the Head. Someone had thought it was a good idea to go down the docks in their inebriated state and it wasn’t just the crew. Fuzzy lights and indistinct faces swam across the inside of his eyelids. Kissing, there may have been kissing. Petching Nikali, he sure hoped not. There were few people down the docks he’d enjoy letting explore his tonsils, and none of them were likely to want to do so to someone in such a state as he had been. The sort of person who did that was more than likely to have been in an equally poor condition which brought up the entirely unpleasant possibility that not all of the foul taste in his mouth was his fault. The banging was still there. Then he realised, it wasn’t the sound of his brain repeatedly throwing itself against the back of his eyeballs. Well, it wasn’t that sound alone. Someone was knocking at his door, knocking loudly, knocking roughly, knocking over and over again. Maybe they’d go away if he stayed silent. But then the visitor called out and the voice was terrifyingly familiar. It was the eccentric carver. She was a delightful woman by all accounts but she was also an unrelenting, unstoppable force of nature that would soon enough bang the door right off its hinges. At least if he talked to her she’d stop that infernal banging. ‘’m up! ‘m up!’ he mumbled and slowly rolled his way to the edge of his bed. He briefly thought that the previous night was going to revisit him in a slightly more visceral fashion than the broken memories of his reverie but he managed to quell the urge to bring it all back up. He very carefully eased himself to a sitting position, his feet finding the cold floor. He stretched his arms and cracked his wrists and finally, painfully found himself standing up. He grabbed the bed sheet and wrapped it round his naked waist. Hopefully the eccentric carver could be convinced to give him a couple more hours of sleep. He flipped open the lock on his shutters and pulled them open, wincing at the brightness of the afternoon sun as it burned his retinas to dust. He swiftly brought a hand to his forehead to give his tired, hung-over eyes some shade and leaned his bare torso out the window. What he saw, stood at the top of the steps leading to his door on the side of his building, caused him to doubt his newfound sobriety. The woman was still hammering on his door but in her other hand she clutched the oddest contraption he had ever seen. ‘Okay Tock,’ he said, his voice still hoarse and his hand rubbing his eyes, ‘Two questions, how late is it, and what the petch is that thing?’

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

"Look what I made!" Tock shouted with glee, shoving the foot and a half long wood and metal spider in the hungover glassmaker's face. It had the mind of a spider, and thus was quite agitated at such treatment, squirming and kicking its legs, the long metal fangs thrusting out on defensive instinct. Tock giggled, "Ain't 'e CUTE!" After a moment she pulled him back and cuddled him, and Bitey grew calm and content once he was in her arms again. Stroking her baby lovingly, she said, "'Is name's Bitey. I just done made 'im. 'E's a newborn!" She beamed with pride. "I need ya 'elp though, come on!" She waved eagerly, beckoning him to come with her. "'E needs eyes. Ya know, proper ones," she made a circle with her thumb and forefinger, holding it up over her eye. "Big, bulbous kind like what a regular spider done got. Come on!" She was bouncing on her toes in excitement. Even before she made Bitey, she'd been aching for a chance to get back in the glass shop. Up until now, she hadn't noticed that he was wearing nothing but a sheet, nor the fact that he had clearly just woken up from a long night. She also had no clue what time it was... she'd been so focused on her work that she'd lost track. She glanced up at the sun and realized it was afternoon. Way too late to still be in bed! She grinned and said, "Oy, its 'alf past 'git yer star outta bed, Glassman!' Ya can't sleep the 'ole day away! 'Ere's work ta be done!" She continued bouncing eagerly. Having a project like this made her full of energy! As far as she was concerned, being hung over was no excuse to let a poor spider stay blind!

[Montaine]

Monty recoiled as the spider was proffered towards his face, its pointed fangs and thrumming legs reaching a shade too close for comfort. Was this creature what the woman had meant when she spoke of golems? This creeping, crawling little creature that wiggled and writhed in her grasp. He wiped the sleep from his eyes with a hand and looked at her face. She was so happy, so giddy, like a child with a new toy, so pleased that she saw no fault in her own designs. The creature was strange and animated by some bizarre magic and disturbed the glassworker, its legs stretching out blindly into a world in which it didn’t belong. But petch it, her good humour was infectious. ‘Hold on, I’ll get myself dressed ‘n’ let you in,’ Montaine pulled himself back in and shut the window, the searing sunbeams sealed outside by the wooden slats of his shutters. He let the sheet drop to the floor and stepped over it, making his way over to his chest over which what few clothes he possessed lay unceremoniously draped. He must have managed to slip out of them last night prior to falling unconscious on his bed. It was fortunate. A pang of queasiness rose up from the pit of his stomach and he had to steady himself before grabbing his underwear and pulling them on. It wasn’t often that he let someone in to his apartment, certainly not without the intention of them staying the night. He briefly scanned the place before yanking on his trousers. Once again he was struck by the sparseness. Hopefully the eccentric carver would be too preoccupied with her own obsessions to notice his squalid environs. He grabbed his shirt and unlocked the door, pulling on one sleeve as he opened up his home, wincing slightly at the renewed solar onslaught on his pained eyes. She wanted to give the spider this curse of vision? Of course the mechanical monster wouldn’t be able to drunk. Would it? He shoved his arm through the other sleeve and beckoned the woman in, waving a hand to the single chair at the single table. He grumbled as he painstakingly sealed each button, his head still pounding and making it incredibly difficult to concentrate. He sighed deeply and blinked heavily a few times, trying to keep the spoils of last night from causing the room to sway so much, ‘Ugh, rough night,’ he cleared his throat and looked at his guest, ‘So, tell me one more time whatchya want me to do?’

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock carried her baby inside and sat down in the chair, setting Bitey on the table so he could wander. Blind, he crawled here and there, stopping when his foot caught air off the edge of the table. Eventually he settled into a crouch near his mother, lying in wait, as if expecting a fly to land on his web. Tock couldn't be prouder. She pulled one of the spider books out of her pack, opening it and flipping through the pages until she found the diagrams of eyes. "'E's blind," she said sadly, frowning and petting her poor, handicapped baby. "I needs yer 'elp makin' 'im eyes. I dunno 'ow. 'Ere, look," she showed him the diagrams, which showed the complex, multi-faceted eyes of a Golden Orb Spider. "'E can't run around blind, aye? But 'ose..." she tapped on the page, shaking her head. "'At's beyond me, mate. Do a girl a favor, an' 'elp out?" She looked up at him with a wide eyed, quivering lipped pout. She wasn't laying it on either... she felt horribly guilty that her baby was blind, and desperately wanted to help him see. "Please?" she asked, uttering that oh so rarely spoken word. She stroked Bitey lovingly, and he crawled over into her lap, drawn by her voice and her touch. She continued to pet him as he nestled in, legs curled up under him, content. She didn't care that he was made of gears and wood. He was her baby.

[Montaine]

Montaine glared at the thing on the eccentric carver’s lap. He slowly approached and took the book, peering at the page. The wiggles and squiggles that adorned the page seemed to writhe and twist in his dizzy vision to such an extent that he had to look away and shake off the ill effects. He sniffed and took another look. The craftsman try to make out the words, opting for the biggest, they seemed the most important, first. He leaned in close and mouthed the sound of each letter and muttered them under his breath. Suh-puh-ih-duh-uh-ruh. Spidder? Spidder… Spider! His head jerked back from the page and he smiled triumphantly. It said spider. Spider was what it said. And that was a picture of a spider, that was a picture of the spider. The spider from the word. The spider on the page was the spider to which the word spider written just above it referred. This reading lark wasn’t nearly so hard as people made it out to be. Monty suddenly remembered he was in company and cleared his throat. He took a look at the eyes of the image and frowned. ‘I can make these, I think,’ he paused and looked back at the mechanical monster on the woman’s lap, ‘But I don’t know if’n they’ll work or not. You’re the-the golem lady, how accurate do they have to be? I can make you some glass spheres, or half spheres that you could attach round the head but I ain’t no eye expert, and I don’t know no anatomy neither,’ he placed the book down on the tabletop, ‘I’m a glassworker, not a doctor,’ He crouched down and rested his elbows on his knees, staring the creature in its blind face. This thing was a creation of magic. Now magic wasn’t so rare a thing in the harbour city, what with the university right there on the hill, but usually the wizards kept their spells and weirdly unworldly dealings confined within the solid, safe walls of the school. It was strange coming so close, face to faux-face as it were, with something so inherently magical. Not just strange, it was disturbing. ‘Okay, Bitey,’ he said in his sternest voice, ‘Now, no biting me, y’hear?’

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock frowned slightly when Monty leaned so close to the book and struggled with making out the words. Was it because he just woke up, or did he need spectacles or something? She shrugged it off, not overly concerned with the state of the Glassman's literacy or vision. She had a spider that needed eyes! "Can ya make 'em look right?" she asked when he talked about making the half-spheres. "Look 'ow 'ey is," she tapped on the page. "I wants 'em ta look as real as ya can, aye?" She was proud of her baby, and wanted him to look as much like the real thing as possible. "'Ey don't gotta be anatomy-nothin'," she said, shaking her head. "Jus' long as 'ey can reflect light, 'e can see. The magic takes care o' the rest. But can't be like, clear class, aye? 'As ta reflect good. Like a gem, sorta." The Animation magic could work with any reflective surface. Gems worked best, but the right kind of glass would work just fine. When he leaned forward and talked to Bitey, the spider squirmed in reaction. "Ya wanna 'old 'im?" Tock asked, holding her baby out. "'E don't know words, 'e's jus' a spider. But 'e won't bite 'less ya scare 'im. 'At's 'ow all spiders is." She hadn't known that before she started reading these books. She's always been in fear that Goldie, or any other spider, would just bite. But she'd read that they only bit as a defensive reaction. "S'okay," she said, holding the spider out with a proud grin. "Jus' be gentle, an' 'e won't bite. Jus' don't scare 'im, aye?"

[Montaine]

‘Alright,’ Monty said, straightening up, ‘Let’s bring him down to the workshop, see what the boys think,’ Of course, there was every chance that the boys wouldn’t be in the workshop at all. The entire glassworks had been out last night and they were all heavy drinkers. Shyke, even the old man had made an obligatory look in during the earlier hours of the evening. It had been Banden’s thirtieth, if he recalled correctly and that in and of itself was a stretch in his current condition. The craftsman grabbed his coat from the hook on his door and opened up his home to the wide, ever so bright, outside world. He flinched and turned his head and assured himself that he would get used to it in a bit. His stomach grumbled, he’d have to address that later. The glassworker made his way down the stone steps that wrapped round the side of his apartment building and praised his luck last night in managing to clamber up them in the dark. Practice made perfect, he guessed. There was some activity in the glassworks across the street, but not nearly as much as one would expect during the mid afternoon of a working day. Mory was slumped back in a chair in one corner of the workshop, his head lolling about over the back, whilst Fogle, who had kept reasonably sober throughout the celebration, stood over him with a frown across his face. Mory was groaning, ‘Aaach, kill me boy, put an ol’ bastard out of his mis’ry, won’tchya, lad? Yer a good boy, just get the boss’ etching knife ‘n’ stick in me eyes ‘n’ scoop out me head, there’s a good lad,’ Monty made himself known with a clap of his hands. Alas, as well as his actions achieved their desired goal of making Mory suffer intense pain of the brain, the sound also reverberated through Montaine’s own skull, causing him to wince and clutch at his sore head. It took him a few seconds to recover and look around. It really was just the three of them on the crew. Just an incapacitated old man, a barely competent novice and his own hung-over hands were all the garrulous gadgeteer had to work with to solve her beloved work’s vacant vision. ‘Alright you two, we’ve got a job. I’m sure you both remember Miss Tock, well she’s got a bit of a problem with ‘er spider. Stop that sniggerin’ Mory, we’ve got to find a way to make eight, reflective glass eyes, so let’s grab our pipes and fix her spider,’ Monty glared at his co-workers, ‘Seriously Mory, grow up,’

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock grinned wide when Monty agreed to the job, scooping her baby up in her send and giggling with giddy glee as she followed him out the door. She barely noticed the poor state of his coworkers, nor would she be even remotely aware of any looks they gave her baby. She was swelling with a Mother's pride, and as far as she was concerned, her creation was perfect. Well, except for the whole being blind part. Thus, blissfully unaware that these men might be either looking upon her creation as a frightful, dangerous device, or a freakish monstrosity, she lovingly stroked her pet then set him on a table so he could wander around a bit. Then she stepped up to Monty, looking over the Glassworking tools and rubbing her hands together eagerly. "'Ow can I 'elp?" she asked. She had picked up some of the most basic premises of the process last time she was here, though that was far from being able to do anything herself. But she wasn't about to stand by and watch. This was HER baby, and she was going to insist on being involved in the process, even if only in a minor way. "Jus' lemme know whatcha need, Bossman," she said. "I done stoked a furnace 'fore, fer blacksmithing, if'n ya need 'at done. O' I can be yer assistant. O' whatever ya need. I'm yers, aye?" She was quite used to playing assistant for a variety of trades. She'd been apprenticed to mages, blacksmiths, metalsmiths, clockmakers, and carpenters. She was quite skilled at doing work with her hands, used to following someone's directions, and eager to learn more about this fascinating trade.

[Montaine]

‘Eeh, Monty,’ the toothless old Mory smiled passed the glassworker at their redheaded guest and her arachnid automaton before turning back to Montaine, whispering harshly, ‘A private word inside?’ Monty raised an eyebrow as the other two crewmembers made their way over to Calbert’s office door. He shrugged at Tock and followed suit, closing the door behind him and leaving the eccentric carver out on the workshop floor. Mory was peeking out of the room’s side window, subtle as the Snapper, and scowling. Young Fogle twiddled his fingers, nervously shifting his gaze between the two of them yet refusing to catch any eyes. ‘Yer brought a petchin’ magicker down ‘ere? Shykin’ idiot!’ Monty rolled his eyes and sighed, ‘She’s alright, Mory, you were fine with her before,’ The old man growled and shook his head, ‘Afore I ain’t know she were a bastard magicker. ‘oo knows what wicked things she’s up’n done to get that petchin’ monster movin’? I ‘eard they kill critters ‘n’ the like to fill ‘em with spirit and spill their blood to get the petchin’ magic workin’!’ ‘I heard that too. From Banden,’ Monty cocked his head to one side, ‘Who ain’t the most reliable source of information is he? He was the one who told you Gertie was an ethaefal an’ where did that get you?’ the glassworker looked at Fogle and smirked, ‘He stalked her all night waitin’ for her to change ‘n’ she thought he was a pervert tryin’ to get in her knickers ‘n’ clocked him on the nose, right out cold on the street,’ Monty and Fogle sniggered as Mory’s furrowed brows deepened, ‘Yeah well I still don’ trust ‘em, petchin’ magickers. Yer hear stories don’tchya? About people goin’ missin’ at night round the college way ‘n’ that ain’t just Banden makin’ shyke up is it? I’m tellin’ yer I ain’t helpin’ ‘er ‘n’ you can’t make me. You ain’t the boss yet, boy, an’ I don’t owe yer nuttin’!’ With that the old crafter stormed out of the office and with a token forced smile bid the gadgeteer goodbye. Fogle shifted uncomfortably. Monty sighed and nodded towards the door, ‘Go on, Jon, you don’t have to stay if’n you don’t want to, I’m sure I can figure it out by meself,’ Fogle had reached the door before he turned back, ‘Aren’t you scared of her? Mory’s right, no one likes magickers. Father had a magic clock once and it scared the wits out of me,’ ‘She’s alright, Fogle. I don’t know nothing about magic, so if she says it’s safe she probably knows better, right?’ The novice frowned, shrugged, and left. Monty rubbed his eyes and returned to the workshop, where Tock waited. ‘Just you ‘n’ me then,’

OOCSorry for the late reply. I was just considering the ramifications of introducing magical constructions to gods-fearing ignorant city folk and how best to represent the distrust much of the world has of magic while retaining the believability that Monty wouldn't mind it. I think it works.