She was watching him now, a new thoughtfulness in her expression. She twisted in the air and took form: a young woman, dark-haired, tall and lithe. Her face burned from within, the features like the thinnest of masks laid upon the flame.
“You truly came here just to find me,” he said, still not quite believing.
“I had to,” she said. “Once I realized that I alone could reach you, I knew that I must try, for both of us. To live alone, in exile from jinn-kind—it was like a small part of me was extinguished every single day.”
“Yes,” he said, startled. “Yes, that’s exactly how it was.”
She smiled. “You see? And this is our reward.”
She stepped closer, a blazing sun only inches away. One shining hand reached out and took his wrist, the one that wore the cuff. He watched as she examined the iron, tentatively brushing her fingers across the chain and the pin—as though, if she treated it too roughly, it might ensnare her as well.
“Now that I’ve found you, I want to see all of you,” she said, and reached up and took the leather apron from around his neck. Her fingers went to the waist of his trousers; and they, too, were gone.
A promise, he thought distantly. I made a promise, once. But that had been a different life. Here, there was only the forge at his back, and the fire before him. He closed his eyes, afraid his knees might buckle, suddenly certain that he’d disappoint her, that she’d find him inadequate—how could she not, considering—
A hand slipped into his. He realized that she, too, was trembling.
“Please,” she whispered; and the promise was broken.
* * *
“Miss Levy,” a girl said, “I think something’s burning.”
Charlotte Levy hurried across the kitchen and pulled the tray of dinner-rolls from the oven, fanning a hand over their blackened tops. “Open the windows, please,” she called.
The girls of her intermediate class all rushed to comply, pushing the wide sashes as high as they could reach. Gusts of spring air blew through the room; the smoke began to dissipate.
“Let that be a lesson, girls,” Miss Levy said, straining to add cheer to her voice. “A woman might consider herself an accomplished baker, but if she forgets to check the clock, her rolls will burn all the same.”
“Yes, Miss Levy,” the girls chorused. There were a few scattered giggles.
The bell rang, and they left their cook’s whites behind and filed out to the noisy hallway. Miss Levy carried the tray of ruined rolls to an open window and set it on the ledge to cool. If the birds ate them, so much the better.
She leaned out the window and took a deep, calming breath. Her advanced class would arrive in moments. She must be their teacher, and give them her undivided attention—but—how on earth had this happened? A golem, here at the Asylum! Had he been down there in the storage room this entire time, only two floors beneath her classroom? Who could have put him there? And . . . what did she intend to do about it?
She frowned, trying to think clearly. The truth was that it didn’t matter how long he’d been there, or the circumstances of his creation. A golem such as this one—without true intelligence, clearly built for brute strength—had no place inside an orphanage. And to be bound to a child! It was a miracle that he’d managed to remain hidden, that he hadn’t burst from his hiding-place to avenge some playground slight. And now that she knew, she couldn’t simply ignore the danger and allow it to continue. She would have to destroy him.
She pulled the locket from beneath her collar, the steel cold between her fingers. She’d go to the basement that night and do it quickly, before he could realize what was happening. Her conscience would remain clear. And as for his master . . . Well, perhaps they didn’t even know he existed. A child could hardly bind a golem on their own, after all. She imagined the desperate, impoverished parent creating an unseen guardian for their baby, as a way to protect them from afar. An understandable act, if deeply misguided. She would correct their mistake, and it would be as if the golem had never existed.
The advanced class began to file in behind her. Quickly she tucked the locket back into her dress and turned around. “Good afternoon, ladies. Today I have a treat for you all. Together, we will construct a lemon meringue pie. A pie such as this requires the mastery of multiple techniques, and we shall divide into teams to accomplish it. Ah, Kreindel—” She smiled at the girl. “I have a separate lesson for you, if you’ll meet me at my desk.”
* * *
In the basement, Yossele watched the cooking class through Kreindel’s eyes, the other golem distant from his thoughts.
This was not at all by choice, for the morning’s encounter was the most startling thing ever to happen to him. But his master was awake, which meant that he must observe her, protect her. That night, once Kreindel was safely asleep, he’d review the morning, and make what sense of it he could.
He watched as Kreindel sullenly read through the assignment, felt her wish that she could study Hebrew instead. Her teacher, Miss Levy, came to her side, asking if she had any questions; Kreindel looked up at her—
And something inside the morning’s memory clamored for Yossele’s attention. He peered at her, and saw—and recognized—
The golem. Miss Levy, his master’s cooking instructor, was the very same golem who’d come to his alcove! There could be no mistaking her—yet when he looked at her through Kreindel’s eyes, he saw only an ordinary
