Page 11 of Practical Boots

But even more shocking than her name, was the request. She stood there, almost swaying with it, and simply stared at her father for a long time. Long enough that anger began to creep in thin lines across his face, making him more the man she remembered, and less beautiful than before. Still she stared, in part because her mind ran ahead of itself with all the wretched things he could do with such an Artifact, but more because of its absolute fucking difficulty.

Artifacts could, in theory, do nearly anything. Seven-league boots to walk the earth, or glass slippers to charm a prince; spinning wheels to change straw to gold, or to lay a sleep on the unfortunate who touched the spindle. Other things, too, not out of fairy tales, although she found Artifacts easiest to shape when they held something in common with an element from the old stories. Whatever form they might take, though, they challenged and changed the reality around them, to be sure; that was the purpose of an Artifact. But they didn't change thepeoplewho used them, and this…

"I can probably do it," she said before his anger burst. "I can probably do it, but it's not going to be bloody fast or easy and it's not going to—" She broke off, looking for the words. "It'll work," she said after a moment. "But it won't work forlong. Because if you want it to work permanently, I'd have to…" She went silent, staring at him again, and this time, although the anger remained in the angles of his face, he had the air of one who was willing to wait. "I'd have to make you mortal," she finally said. "I'd have to bind your blood to the blood of the World. I don't even know if that's possible."

"What," he said in controlled, icy tones, "do you thinkyouare, but my blood bound to the World?"

Cat threw her hands in the air and spun in exasperation, striding across the room to plant her hands against a window sill, her head lowered and her body vibrating with agitation. "Dude, you have—"

"'Dude'?"

"Dude," she repeated, at volume, and turned back to her father. "I am yourchild.Maybe, justpossibly, because your blood flows in my veins, as does that of the World, Imightbe able to shape an Artifact that'll allow you to tell lies. But it won't last. It would have to—" Her mind ran ahead of itself, trying to see the ins and outs of a challenge like that. "It would have to activate the commonality between us. It would have to—maybe a pin-prick, to send a drop of my blood into your veins. You wouldn't shrivel and die of it. Probably. But it would burn up within you, your body defending itself against the World's mortality. Five minutes, maybe? I could do that. Probably. But I can't make something that will just let you tell lies all the time."

He stepped back and leaned against his desk, perhaps the most casual stance she'd ever seen her father take. Leaned, and studied her, and in time, said, "Five minutes?"

Interesting, she thought. Interesting that that he focused on that, and not the possibility that he might shrivel and die of her iron-laden blood. "Give or take," she said. "I can't know for sure because I don't know how your immune system will react, but…I'd guess about five minutes."

"Very well. Begin."

Cat closed her eyes, exasperated again. "I'm going to need to go to the Waste. I'm going to need to go to theWorld. What you're asking…I don't think I can do it with just the stuff of the Torn. I'm sure I can't."

"You are wearing a great deal of the World right now. It will do."

"Dad, I'm wearing mostly leather and steel. Do you really want me to shape something that will burn you at a touch into your Artifact?"

Something glittered in his gaze, and she knew that at some point soon, he would want her to make an Artifact that rendered him immune to iron. Or to try, at least. She genuinely didn't think she could do that, but there was no value in saying so now. "Use the leather," he said, and she sighed.

"Leather will rot. If you want something that lasts, the materials have to last."

"Artifacts don'tfade."

"Most Torn-made Artifacts are built from pure Waste. They're just pure shaped magic, and will survive as long as the Artificer does. But you're asking for something that bridges two worlds.Nothingof the Torn would permit you to lie, and the Waste is closer to the Torn than it is to the World. Trust me. If you want this to work, I need a permanent object from the World."

"Make the object," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "Add the thing of the World to it later."

"You really have no idea how Artifacts work, do you?" A brief, betraying expression darkened her father's face and a bolt of clarity shot through Cat. "Shit, you really don't. They're not like this manor, Dad. You can't add bits to them as you see fit. They're singular, all or nothing. I don't even knowwhatwould happen if you tried to piecemeal an Artifact together, but I'm absolutely certain it wouldn't do what you wanted or meant it to."

Something shone in his gaze again, and a sick certainty rose in Cat's stomach. "You've tried, haven't you? Or you've had people try. You…" Pieces fell into place faster than she could speak, and left her speechless. After long moments she managed, "That's why you were trying for another child. You thought the problem was not knowing how to put the pieces together. You thought that because I know how to do it, another kid like me would. But that's not how Artifacts work. It's not how they work at all. How many people have you gotten killed, trying it like that?"

"Few enough, and none of import."

"I bet they were important to someone." Cat turned away, went back to the window and stared bleakly at its impossible view. The tangled gardens looked entirely different from here, almost like an image, one that she couldn't quite bring into focus. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe it wasn't her heritage that let her make Artifacts. Maybe it was just the ability to envision and create what she wanted all in one effort. Or maybe it was both. "What else do you want? What other Artifacts do you dream of having?"

"One to change my appearance."

A low whistle escaped her. "So you want to be able to lie while hiding your face. Nothing good can possibly come of that."

"Perhaps not for you, but that is hardly your concern."

"You know, some of us occasionally consider the consequences of our actions."

Her father's voice sounded like a smile made of knives. "Fortunately, as my vassal, you need, and indeedmustnot, choose your actions based on what you imagine the consequences are, as you know very clearly the consequences of failing to."

"That's considerably less reassuring than you might imagine." He wasn't wrong, though. Cat had chosen the World years ago, and the Torn had never had much time for her. What her father did with his new Artifacts didn't—or shouldn't—make much difference to her, as long as it only affected the Torn.

Except, of course, it did matter. “What do you want them for?”

Her father’s eyes glimmered. “There are instabilities in the Torn’s power structure that I wish to take advantage of. You need not know more.”

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