The Devil's Paintbox. Robin Jarvis
‘But you fell to pieces with all the other impossible gadgets, months ago!’ Verne declared. ‘How can you be here now?’
‘Begging your pardon, young master,’ the automaton replied, ‘but I did not fall to pieces; that would have been most undignified. Whilst the Nimius exists, so shall I. The coins that trigger my consciousness and motion ran out, that is all. The next thing I was aware of, I found myself in a scrapyard in the early hours of this morning.’
‘Who revived you?’ Cherry asked suspiciously. ‘And why’d they wait so long?’
The chains in Jack Potts’s neck rattled and he turned his hockey-mask face towards her.
‘There was a bent coin jammed in the slot at the side of my head,’ he answered smoothly. ‘Something must have jarred me and dislodged it.’
‘So what’d you come here for?’ Cherry pressed.
‘I was created to serve the Thistlewood family, yet I was compelled to come directly to this cottage, though I knew not why.’
‘This is Cherry Cerise; it’s her cottage,’ Verne said. ‘This is Lil Wilson. And this is my dad’s steampunk butler costume that the Nimius made real. Don’t ask me how. He’s called Jack Potts.’
‘“Potts” will suffice,’ Jack Potts told them. ‘I am but a biddable domestic mechanism. I am, however, enchanted to make your acquaintance.’
‘You sure it’s safe?’ Cherry asked Verne. ‘I don’t like hotshot appliances that answer back.’
The boy chewed his lip thoughtfully. ‘He was controlled by Melchior Pyke before, so he must be free of that now. I wouldn’t touch his toast though.’
Lil found Jack Potts fascinating. She had never seen any of the ludicrous inventions on that day of the town battle because she had been possessed herself.
‘A real, actual, thinking, working robot?’ she breathed in wonder. ‘That’s so galoptious.’
‘Galoptious,’ Jack Potts repeated. ‘An archaic word, meaning splendid, delightful, delicious. Why, I am none of those things, but I thank you most humbly.’
Cherry shrugged, unimpressed. ‘I skipped being excited about whizz-bang gimmicks back when they invented the pocket calculator. The world’s gotten dumber since people stopped workin’ things out for themselves.’
She stared at Jack Potts’s soiled clothes and the kitchen utensils that formed his hands. They weren’t just spattered with dirt, there were also dark splashes of blood.
‘Do not be alarmed,’ he explained. ‘Walking the country roads last night, I encountered an unfortunate sheep that had been hit by a car. I carried it gently to the verge and remained with it until the poor animal’s suffering was over. I am most anxious to divest myself of these grubby garments and shall attend to my attire as soon as I return to the home of Master Verne, where I trust there will be a quantity of ironing to do. A stack of neatly folded, crisply pressed linen cheers the soul.’
‘How would you know?’ Cherry muttered. ‘You ain’t got one.’
‘You can’t come home!’ Verne said quickly. ‘Mum’d have you up for sale in a flash.’
‘Well, the creepy heap of yappy scrap ain’t stayin’ here,’ Cherry said flatly. ‘I don’t want that contraption rifling through my frillies and looming over me at night.’
‘Then where am I to go?’ the automaton pleaded. ‘I beg you, do not turn me away.’
‘You can stay with us,’ Lil offered brightly. ‘Dad won’t mind a bit, ’specially as he’s been doing everything around the house lately. Mum might take a bit of convincing, but it’ll probably be OK.’
The impassive mask turned to her and the torch eyes shone on her eager face.
‘That is most generous of you, Mistress Wilson. I am overwhelmed with gratitude.’
‘That still doesn’t solve my problem,’ Verne said, holding up the Nimius. ‘What am I going to do about this?’
‘There is some difficulty?’ Jack Potts asked.
‘It’s why you ended up here,’ Verne explained. ‘I pressed a symbol for wealth and now I can’t go anywhere without people chucking money at me.’
‘And you do not wish for these riches? Yes, I can see that would be most distracting.’
‘What if you could block that gadget’s mojo somehow?’ Cherry wondered. ‘Hey, Lil, you’ve been searching for a project to test your gifts. How about knitting Verne a muffler for it?’
‘I could try,’ Lil said.
‘Remember, you gotta focus on what you want the spell to achieve and recite the intention with every stitch. The simpler the chant, the better.’
‘I do not comprehend,’ Jack Potts began. ‘You speak as if you are witches.’
‘You got a problem with that, Butlerbot?’ Cherry demanded.
‘In no way. I am, after all, a consequence of the occult studies of a seventeenth-century magician and natural philosopher. But perhaps if I may examine the Nimius? I might find a more straightforward solution to Master Verne’s predicament.’
He held out his metal hands and, before Cherry could stop him, Verne passed across the most powerful object in the world.
‘The Nimius,’ Jack Potts’s metallic voice sang softly. ‘How splendid it is.’
‘Do you know how to work it?’ Verne asked.
‘Like, is there an off button?’ Cherry said bluntly.
Jack Potts held it close to his face and the left eye flickered once more. The reels in his chest began to turn.
‘The glittering wonder-worker,’ he whispered. ‘After so many years . . .’
‘Hey!’ Cherry called. ‘Walking toaster oven – we’re speaking to you.’
The automaton twitched to attention.
‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I was wondering why this symbol of the lantern remains proud. Should it not have been pressed in conjunction with the one for wealth?’
‘What?’ Verne asked. ‘I could’ve sworn they all sank back down.’
‘Evidently not, Master Verne. See, here it is. I would hazard that you erred in pressing just one motif. Your command was not specific and that is why the result has been less than satisfactory.’
‘So pressing that as well would do what? People start giving me light bulbs?’
‘I cannot be certain, but I believe that the lantern is symbolic of more than mere illumination. Perhaps if pressed in tandem with the wealth rune, it could bring to light treasures that are normally hidden.’
‘Buried treasure?’ Lil asked. ‘Like pirate gold or a stash of Saxon coins?’
‘There are many things in this world prized more highly than gold,’ Jack Potts said.
‘If that thingamajig could sniff out a pair of size four Mary Quant ankle boots in bubblegum pink,’ Cherry put in, ‘that would be awesomeness in a bun.’
‘Do you think we should try it?’ Verne asked.
Cherry wrinkled her nose. ‘I wouldn’t fiddle with that doodad any more than you already have. It’s way too strong, way too unpredictable and I don’t like the vibes it gives off.’
‘But it might stop