steps before the walls began to give off a slight glow. Within seconds, the barbarian could see Molly standing next to the far wall with her hand pressed flat to its surface. As the glow intensified, the details of the room became visible, pretty much dispelling any question that Caerus had found the first tangible proof that the workshop had not been completely destroyed.
One wall was covered with a brass construction in the shape of the Tinker and Jones logo, the same one on the key Molly used to wind her personality springs. The furniture in the room was as odd as anything Ferra or Caerus had ever seen. The arms and legs of the couch and three chairs had actual hands and feet connected to them, and the cushions were adorned with two closed eyes, while the seat had a painted mouth. After a second glance, Ferra could see they looked like they were actually squat, wide people.
“The lights are a good sign,” Molly said, pulling her hand off the wall. A small metal protrusion slid back into the palm of her hand with a whir and a click. “It means the generators are still carrying a current.”
Caerus was the first to notice. “Where are the doors?”
Ferra looked around and frowned; being boxed into a situation without an escape route wasn’t on any warrior’s list of favorites. All four walls were smooth, seamless metal. A quick glance downward confirmed Ferra’s suspicion that there was no way out under their feet. “What kind of room is this?” she asked, irritated.
Molly answered her. “A waiting room, I believe. This is where customers would wait to see a design constructor and explain what kind of a clockwork they needed.”
“How could they meet with anyone if there were no doors?” Caerus asked, floating around the room slowly.
“A fair question,” Molly said, walking over to the couch. “Maybe we should ask the assistants.”
Ferra looked around in confusion. “What assistants?”
Molly knelt down next to the side of the couch and slid a panel open, revealing a complex series of cogs and gears. Taking her own key, she inserted it into the center of the panel and slowly began to wind it clockwise. The high-pitched sound of rusted gears slowly beginning to move, screeching and groaning, grew so loud that Ferra clapped her hands over her ears to protect them.
“The self-lubrication system has failed,” Molly called out over the din. “That means it’s been sitting dormant for at least three centuries.”
“What are you doing?” Ferra practically shouted to be heard.
As if in answer, the two eyes on the couch, which Ferra had assumed were painted on, slowly started to open. “Oh dear Logos!” she exclaimed as she realized the couch was alive.
It took almost a minute and several eye blinks for the couch to “wake up” completely. Two bright yellow pupils looked back and forth, taking the entire scene in before the couch opened its mouth slowly. “W-w-w-eeeeeelllll…,” it moaned.
“Is it in pain?” Caerus asked, concerned.
Molly shook her head. She removed the key from one slot and slipped it into another. “No, its speech and congeniality springs need winding now.” Another couple of minutes passed as Molly wound four additional springs before putting the key away and stepping back.
The couch blinked a few times. Ferra could hear the slight sound of whirring gears from inside it now. Its mouth curved into a huge smile, and in an exaggeratedly cheerful voice, the couch exclaimed, “Welcome to Tinker and Jones, the premiere clockwork inventors of the Nine Realms and beyond! How can I assist you gentle beings this fine morning?”
Ferra looked to Molly and then to Caerus. “Is it morning?”
Molly shook her head as she examined the chairs. “Its internal clock has been reset. It thinks the day just started.”
“I hope you have not been waiting long,” the couch went on, ignoring Molly’s words. “It appears that the workshop is very busy right now. May I offer you a