Thmp. Thmp. Thmp.

Alex knocked on the office door.

“Come in,” Toraka Shale’s voice called from within.

Straightening his clothes and hair, the young wizard stepped into the office of his boss’ boss.

The room was much as he remembered: a large, well-ventilated office with older sturdy-looking chairs and a table covered in sheets of paper. Several sweating, copper pitchers lined a side table, surrounded by cups. The liquid within smelled strongly of mint.

But there were new sights he’d never seen before.

Against one wall was a mana powered waterfall that rose to the ceiling with water that glowed a sea blue, disappearing when it reached a basin below, and reappearing at the top. It was similar to the one in Noarc’s Rainbow Tower, though that one had been much larger.

There was also a strange device rising from Shale’s desk: a golem, about one foot tall and forged to resemble a graceful young woman. The little construct carried a brass horn, which she appeared to blow into through puffed up cheeks of bronze, and music wafted out, sounding like no horn Alex had ever heard. From the instrument came the melody of a full orchestra playing a song of a man wandering through the desert on the back of a nameless horse. The singer’s voice was smokey, and the music had a scratchy quality to it as it filled the room.

In some ways, that quirk made its melody more appealing.

Business must have been good: he doubted that either the song-golem or waterfall had been cheap.

“Ah, Alex Roth,” the grey-skinned woman said, looking up from a swath of paper on her drafting desk. There lay a design for a complex piece of machinery: notations for circuitry, projectile components and—

She closed her draftbook before he could see more.

“Is there something you’d like to ask me about?” she asked.

He glanced through the office window, idly noting that the bakery across the street looked even more rundown than before. Business for them was likely not so good, unlike trade for the merchants he’d seen in Borgia’s Square expertly bargaining with passing customers. He’d need the skills of those merchants today; he’d planned for two bargains with Toraka, and though he wouldn’t be making them today, now was the time to build rapport.

“Yeah, actually,” he said, subtly mirroring her body language to forge a connection; just a slight adjustment in the way his shoulders fell. Hours spent bent over a drafting table had left her with a slight slouch. “It’s a…personal question. A golem question, really. I talked to Sim and Lagor about it, and they said that you’d know better than anyone.

A mention of the problem to create intrigue. A show of subtle respect for Toraka’s expertise that came from Lagor and her son. A neutral but friendly tone, inviting discussion, but not sucking up: Toraka was a business woman, she’d smell a flatterer from a mile away.

“What kind of golem question?” she frowned. “Sim and Lagor should be able to answer just about anything. Does it have to do with a job?”

He read her body language: forearms crossing over her knees as she leaned forward in her chair. Usually, leaning forward meant interest, but those crossing arms could mean defensiveness.

“It’s about Claygon, actually,” he said.

‘She was interested in Claygon, so she should…there,’ he thought.

Toraka’s forearms uncrossed. Her body leaned slightly forward.

“Your golem, yes, the very powerful one,” she said, her eyes shifting to the doorway. “Where is he? He’s got to be close. I can actually feel that powerful core.”

“Just in the hallway outside,” Alex said. “Would you mind if I had him step in?”

Her eyes lit up with curiosity. “Sure, please do.”

He fought the smile threatening to curl his lips.

It worked.

Back in the market square, he’d seen a few merchants pull a well-disguised trick. First, they’d bring the customer into a conversation, then once they were engaged, do something completely unexpected.

They would ask the customer for a small favour. If they were tall, the merchant might ask them to fetch something from a high shelf in their wagon. Then they might offer the customer a hot drink while conducting business, but then ask if they could use the customer’s pen for a moment.

The back and forth helped build rapport and—to Alex’s surprise—would often lead to more sales.

And so Alex had filed that little technique away.

To be used now.

He’d asked Toraka for a small favour, one that also let her see Claygon—which was something she’d be curious about—while showing deference for her authority and respect for her space.

A ‘quad-play’ as he always called it…ever since he thought of the term approximately one second ago.

“Clagon, could you come in?” he called softly.

Golem filled the doorway a second later as Claygon turned sideways and stooped through the entrance.

Toraka whistled. “I can feel the power coming from his core all the way over here. Good response to your commands too. You gave him vague wording to work with, but he knew how to step through the doorway. His core must process information very well.”

“Yeah.” Alex grinned. “He’s my baby.”

Toraka Shale raised an eyebrow. “You don’t hear creators refer to their golems like that everyday.”

Rising from her chair, she came across the room and examined Claygon from a respectful distance, tapping her chin. “Hmmm…oh right, what was your question again?”

He smiled. “Claygon’s developing sapience,” he said. “And I wanted to get your advice on what I should do.”

Toraka raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure about this? Many wizards assume that their golem’s gaining intelligence…when they’re not. People will see golems doing normal golem things, but they’ll think ‘oh my golem moved slightly by itself. Can’t be the wind or anything, it must be getting smart!’ It happens all the time. Golems gaining sapience happens very rarely. What makes you think that Claygon’s gaining intelligence?”

“Well…” Alex took a deep breath. “For one thing, Mrs. Shale, I felt his mind through our link.”

She paused, slowly turning to Alex. “You felt a mind through the link?”

“Yeah. Almost fully formed.” He explained the actions Claygon had taken in the past—like the time he’d raised an arm to shield him from the rain—and that gentle mental touch Alex had felt through the mana connection. Though he went into a lot of detail about that mental connection, he left out everything about the surrounding circumstances: he shared nothing of the explosion, or the dungeon cores.

Toraka nodded along with his words and—by time he was done—her eyes were narrowed, like she was puzzling over a problem of high mathematics by way of candlelight.

“I have to admit,” she finally said. “What you’re telling me’s consistent with reports of spontaneous sapience in golems of the past. Have you told anyone else about this?”

“Professor Jules and Chancellor Baelin,” he said. He might be talking to them about this again, but the ancient wizard was busy, and the alchemy professor was resting; Alex didn’t want to bother her with much of anything after that explosion. She had enough to worry about.

“Right…and what did they say?” she asked.

“Largely to let his mind develop on its own,” he said. “But…that was before I actually felt that mind. It’s forming—I thought it was here—but then it slipped away. Anything I could do to help Claygon’s mind grow?”

“Hmmmm.” She frowned. “That’s a little beyond my area of expertise. Ask me how to build a golem, construct its core and attach magical items to it? I’m your woman. But golem sapience happens more by accident than anything else. You’ve been treating Claygon well?”

“Yeah.” He patted the golem on his side. “As best I can.”

“Then that’s the most important thing. Golems who become sapient might…resent their masters. Some wish for freedom. Some are happy to serve their creator, but get driven insane by cruel masters. There’s a few stories about golems growing in consciousness and let me tell you, most of them tend to end in dead wizards, angry mobs, torches and pitchforks. But, if you’re treating him well, that’s what counts. Leave him be…”

She squinted at the golem. “And be prepared to destroy him if you have to. You don’t know what kind of consciousness he’s going to have.”

“Not going to happen.” He shook his head.

She raised an eyebrow. “What if he rampages?”

“I’ll talk him down,” Alex said. “Claygon deserves better than that.”

She shrugged. “Was there anything else?”

“No, Mrs. Shale, thanks for your time,” he said, hiding his disappointment with her answers. He’d hoped that she might’ve had some secret technique that would help Claygon’s mind bloom faster and brighter. Oh well, sometimes things just don’t work the way a person wants them to. “I’ll let you get back to what you were doing...what were you up to anyway, if you don’t mind me asking? Some new design for a golem? A weapon?”

“A toy, actually.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

Shale walked back to her drafting desk, opening her draft book to reveal the page she was working on. The diagram for the proclaimed ‘toy’ looked like a walking nightmare: a four-legged monster with too many arms, projectiles and parts that spewed flame. He squinted. No wait, on closer inspection, those parts weren’t supposed to spew fire, but water instead.

He glanced at the scale listed on the side of the page: from the look of it, the construct would be no more than a foot tall. A big toy…or some kind of sinister assassin construct disguised as a toy.

“It’s for my nephew—” Toraka started.

Okay, yeah, definitely a toy and not a sinister assassin construct. Unless Toraka really, really hated her nephew—

“—for his fourth birthday,” she said. “It’s just a simple little construct…well, simple on the inside at least. On the outside—” Her eyes shone with enthusiasm. “It has projectile components, tanks to store water, and glyphs to create water.” She tapped the glyphs. “Each glyph is activated by a couple of little puzzles that I’m going to include with the toy. He wants infinite water squirters? He’ll need to work for them. The puzzles can change over time too. There’ll always be a new one, and his parents can set how simple or complex each one is.”

“Wow, I would have killed to have something like that when I was a kid.” Alex peered at the drawing. “Well, maybe not literally. Either way, he’s going to think you’re the best auntie ever.”

“He already does.” Toraka puffed out her chest. “But I just want to prove him right.”

Alex chuckled, visually tracing the puzzles. “I take it he likes puzzles?”

“Oh he loves them,” she said with pride. “Just like his auntie, and a good thing too. Puzzles are great for stimulating a child’s mind: they help them learn patience, problem solve…all sorts of things! An unstimulated child is a dull child.”

“Don’t I know that.” He thought back to certain late evenings when a young Selina would sneakily build her little toys and models under their parents,’ and later the Lus,’ noses. She’d grown up to be sharp, unlike a classmate of his. Richard Firstenberg had been a dullard from day one and his constant avoidance of anything having to do with using his mind, had only made him duller.

The last Alex had heard of him, he’d nearly drowned himself trying to throw rocks at ducks on an old pier. He’d stood too close to the edge and when it collapsed, well... Also, he’d apparently been doing strange things to corpses and…the less thought spent on Richard, the better.

In any case, he definitely didn’t want Claygon’s young mind to grow up to be unstimulated—

Wait.

Stimulating a child’s mind, eh?

His eyes glanced over at Claygon. Didn’t he just call Claygon his baby?

A smile spread across his face. “Yes, I totally agree. Mrs. Shale. I’ll keep what you said in mind for when I have a kid.”

“Right, right,” she said. “Now then, off you go. It’s your day off, after all.”

“Got it, thanks!” He nodded to her as he turned to leave the room.

Her voice was a bit warmer toward him than it had been when they’d first started talking.

His smile grew.

With this unexpected circumstance, step one of the financial portion of Operation Grand Summoning Ascension was complete.

Now it was time to work on the mana, spell and physical portions.

And a new portion as well.

It was time to head back to the encampment, but first, he’d be stopping by a bookstore in town: Claygon was most certainly not going to be a dullard if he had anything to say about it.

As he was about to close the door behind him, he caught the sound of music one final time.

Then a ridiculous, wonderful idea hit him.

He’d spent his entire youth buried in books, and it was only after he’d gotten to Generasi that he’d realised how limiting that had been. No way he’d make the same mistake with Claygon.

As the music echoed in his mind, he remembered a certain battle at the patrizia’s ball. A battle where golem and master had moved nearly as one.

What if he leaned in that direction too?

What if he taught a golem how to dance?