[Continued from here]
[Part 31]
Quinton
starred daggers at Mendel as he spoke, then refused to let him near Stan.
Giving up, Mendel walked back to his house, calling for the pair of them to
hurry up.
"I
don't like him." Quinton said.
"He
is a bit grumpy, isn't he?" Beranwen admitted. "Still, it looks like
he knows what he's doing with Stan, and he's right when he says Stan needs some
sorting out." She sighed. "Well, up you get, Quinton. Help me get
Stan inside. He's too heavy for me to move alone."
Between
them they carried Stan back to the house. Mendel had left the door open for
them, and as they entered he gestured to the spotless kitchen table. After they
had deposited Stan there, Beranwen sent Quinton back for the horses, and eyed
Mendel suspiciously.
"Just
so you know, sir," She told him while Quinton was out of hearing, "My
demanding friend is quick to anger,
and quick to act. Be aware of what you do to Stan, or you may find yourself
sporting a black eye you never intended to have."
"In
my house, mistress Tuple, I will act as I wish. If your friend has a problem
with me, he may leave."
"If
only it were that easy."
By
the time Quinton returned, Mendel was leaning over Stan, too engrossed in his
work to notice the young lord returning. Beranwen motioned him to silence, and
stood him in a corner out of the way.
"What's
he doing?" Quinton whispered.
"I'm
not sure. I think he's just checking him over for any... oh my goodness!"
In
the centre of the room, with no thought for privacy, Mendel began pulling
Stan's clothes off. Beranwen turned away quickly.
"Timid,
mistress Tuple?" Mendel asked with a slight smile. "Advisors cannot
afford that luxury."
"I'm
not an advisor." She replied, back resolutely to him.
"No
use lying about it. Your friend is a Mad Man, and he calls you Master, that
makes you his advisor. I'm not blind."
"Not
you're not. Since you're so sure about us, why don't you tell us what you are.
You live alone in the woods, but you're not a forester, or a hunter."
"Why
am I not?"
"Because
you don't have the tools to be a forester, and you don't move right for a
hunter. I'd say you work with your hands, given the calluses and the
scars."
"And
given that I'm working with my hands right now?"
"That's
not the sort of work I meant." Cautiously, Beranwen looked over her
shoulder to see if it was safe to turn back around. It wasn't. "Could you
maybe put a blanket over him or something?"
"No.
It would get in my way. If this isn't working with my hands, then what
is?"
"The
scars on your hands are burns. You work with fire. Maybe a blacksmith, except I
can't smell a workshop nearby."
"Go
on."
"That's
as far as I go. If I could figure it out, I wouldn't have asked what you
do."
"If
I was going to tell you, I'd have done it by now. There, it's safe for you to
turn back."
When
she looked again, Stan was still unclothed, but his shirt lay modestly over the
tops of his legs, which themselves were detached and had been moved to one
side. Mendel was bent low over Stan's torso, removing a metal plate and easing
the broken oil tube out.
“Will
that be difficult to fix?” She asked, staring entranced as she realised that
inside, under the metal plate, Stan was a beautiful tangle of brass and steel.
“Would
have been if you’d left it any longer. Fat lot of use the tube was doing as it
was. No lubrication getting to his legs at all. You do this?”
“No.
Another advisor.”
“Another?
You lot get together for drinks or something? I thought you pretty much stuck
with your lords.”
“Sometimes
our lords get together.”
“Hmm.
Well advisors you might be, but engineers you are not.”
“That
is fairly obvious. But you can fix him?”
“Of
course. No problem. Wait here.”
Mendel
disappeared quickly into another room and returned holding a new length of
tubing.
“Are
you too timid to lend a hand? This bit can get tricky.”
“What
do you have to do?” Beranwen stepped forward before Quinton could jump in to
help.
“You need to hold him up so I can fit the
tube to the reservoir. Just grab his waist and lift him. Come on, girl. What
kind of advisor isn’t ready to get their hands dirty occasionally?”
Beranwen
bit back a sarcastic reply. Somewhat reluctantly, she put her hands on either
side of Stan’s torso and tilted him slightly.
“A
bit more. No, more than that. Come on, mistress Tuple, he’s not going to fall
apart. Lift him up!”
Stan
was practically on his head by the time Mendel was happy. Then it was a matter
of holding him still while Mendel reached into the inner workings and fiddled
with unknowable mechanisms. Stan wasn’t small, even in half, and Beranwen felt
her arms beginning to shake before Mendel finally stepped back and nodded.
“Right.
Same thing on the other end.”
“Really?”
She scoffed. “Do you think this is really work for a woman?”
“At
your age, mistress Tuple, I doubt anything will come as a surprise. I’d ask
your Mad Man to do it, but I wouldn’t trust him to tell me his name. Just hold
his legs, like before. I won’t be long.”
It
wasn’t as bad as Beranwen had imagined, although she did turn her gaze away
once she had found a safe place to hold. Then Mendel attached the other end of
the tube to somewhere inside Stan’s legs, and helped Beranwen lower him back to
the table in line with his torso.
“Is
that it?” Quinton asked from the sidelines. “Is he fixed?”
“Almost.” The tube seemed stupidly long now that
both parts of Stan’s body were almost back together, but Mendel seemed to have
a solution for that. Inside Stan’s torso was a reel, and there was just enough
excess to wind loosely around the reel once. After stowing it tidily back
inside Stan’s chest, the metal plate went back on the underside of the torso,
and Mendel took a damp cloth to the outside surfaces. Then, once he was ready,
and showing considerably more skill than Lucan had shown the day before, Mendel
adjusted Stan’s legs and slotted them easily back on. There was a click, and Stan
was whole again.[Part 31]
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