The Music of Razors by Cameron Rogers

their own. It was the instruments that Dorian had used to create this place, and to create Nimble, and others. More often than not, though, he sends his curious little manservant, Tub, to fetch what he needs or to go somewhere on his behalf. At first Nimble thought perhaps maintaining contact between father and daughter was one of the reasons for which she had been created, but in the months since Nimble first awoke she has decided that this is not the case. Rather than existing in order to ensure Millicent’s father is never forgotten, Nimble has decided she was created in order to ensure that Millicent’s father is never missed. It is to that end that Nimble strives, and takes joy from each laugh or smile she receives.
    Tub is a nice enough fellow, if hopelessly naïve. Takes the world at face value, he does. In a way he and Millicent would be a good pair.
    In another universe Millicent says Nimble’s name. Her mother has left, she is alone now, and Nimble goes to her.
    Millicent’s room has bookcases from which Nimble has memorized many stories. There is a wide bed, soft and full. A few dolls look on from corners and chairs. It is a beautiful room, but may not remain beautiful for much longer. In the time Millicent and Nimble have been together a veil has descended over the house. The spirit of the place is becoming sour, and a bit wretched.
    “Here I am,” says Nimble.
    Millicent sighs and says, “We must take the roses back.”
    “Oh? Whatever for?”
    “Mama doesn’t believe that we were dressing you with these roses. She thinks I have lost all the silk she gave me.”
    “Oh.”
    “Oh Nimble, I get so tired of not being able to tell anyone about you, show you to anyone…”
    Millicent is becoming sad again, and Nimble plumbs anxiously for something to lighten her mood. “Come,” Nimble says. “Let’s cover the bed with them. That’ll give her a surprise.”
    Millicent laughs. “Yes!”
    And so they do, taking every last rose from within Nimble’s arms and legs till they can see through her again like a lovely walking window.
    “There we are,” says Nimble, surveying the fine crimson blanket they have made. “Princesses wake upon beds like this.”
    Millicent surveys their beautiful work, but the smile slips from her face. “I wish Mama would smile again,” she says. “It’s been so long.”
    Nimble’s heart-box speeds up just a little. Millicent deserves to be happy. “I know,” Nimble says. “Let’s play cat’s cradle.”
    Millicent seems twice as forlorn now, her mouth turned glumly to the side, and she shakes her head. “No. But thank you. Mama will want me in bed soon.”
    “Oh.”
    “Good night, Nimble.”
             
    Nimble waits for Millicent to call her back, but she doesn’t. That’s all right. Millicent wants time to herself nowadays, and so Nimble doesn’t intrude. Instead she sits upon an earthen slab in one of the larger caves and ponders. She runs a cool brass finger down one white cheek, and wonders where she came from.
    “Hello,” says a voice, deep and thoughtful.
    Nimble returns from her reverie. “Oh hello, Mr. Tub.” The little thing actually blushes. She begins again, inclining her head. “I mean, hello, Tub.”
    “Hello,” Tub says again.
    Nimble notices Tub has something in his broad hand: it is brightly silver and sings faintly—one of her creator’s instruments. “And how is Mr. Athelstane,” she asks.
    “His friend died,” Tub says, low and thoughtful. “Fell under a streetcar, he did. And now he’s scared.”
    “Mr. Athelstane is frightened?”
    Tub nods, eyes wider than usual. “He says something talks to him. He wants it to stop talking to him, but it won’t.”
    “How very, very odd. What is it, this thing that speaks to him?”
    Tub shakes his head. “He won’t say. He says if I know about it, it’ll talk to me, too.”
    “Oh dear. I see you here more and more often these days.”
    Tub nods again. “Dorian doesn’t