Kid Gloves Read Online Free Page A

“This specifically, though? A few years.”
    “Oh.”
    “I started out making standard prosthetics,” Dalton said. “Wooden legs, that sort of thing. The more I learned about that, the more possibility I saw in making things that moved as the missing limb would have done. It took a lot of time, a lot of research with very intelligent men, learning from them, before I started working on pieces like yours.”
    “How many have you done?”
    “Bespoke pieces… maybe thirty-five.”
    “I thought more!”
    Dalton smiled. “Standard pieces, like this,”—he held up the knee joint, that would be fixed to a more traditional wooden leg, for those who couldn’t afford to buy a full leg—“a few hundred.”
    Looking down at his mechanical hand, Finn felt a sense of unease; anyone who looked upon it would know immediately that this wasn’t a part of his own biology. It was beautiful, there could be no doubt about that, but it stood out.
    “Can you cover it?” he asked, wondering if this was what he wanted after all.
    “Yes,” Dalton said. “If that’s what you want, there is a type of rabbit skin that can be worked to give it a more natural look.”
    “Do many people request that?”
    “Only a few, so far,” Dalton admitted. “I suppose there is a cosmetic reason why one might not want the metalwork on show, but it will dull the sensation in the very ends of your fingers, if I cover them. If that’s what you want, though, I am happy to do it for you.”
    Finn nodded and thought some more. “Can I let you know, at a later time?”
    “Of course.”
    They were silent, then, for a long time as Finn waited for something… anything to happen.
    “You don’t speak much, young soldier.”
    “I was taught respect.”
    “And silence? I almost took you for a religious boy at first.”
    Finn nodded. “A few have. But no. I’m an archer. You too, sir, are well known for being cautious with your words.”
    “It is a good way to live,” Dalton said. “There is less chance of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person.”
    Finn agreed. He stood, feeling more steady now, the weight of his new hand still feeling lifeless at the end of his arm. He walked slowly around the workshop, taking the time to examine the rows and rows of tools attached to the stone walls, the materials carefully stored in large chests.
    He turned to ask Dalton more questions, wanting to demand how long it would take before he could feel something—anything—and felt himself caught for words.
    “What is that?” Finn asked.
    “What is what?” Dalton said, turning on his seat.
    “That… underneath your shirt.”
    Dalton caught his eyes in a level stare. “What do you think it is?”
    “It looks….” Finn was blushing again, wondering why on earth he even mentioned it. Now he would have to admit what he thought it was. And if he was correct, surely Dalton would be the one with cause for embarrassment, not himself? “It looks,” he continued, “like a ladies’ undergarment.”
    Without changing his expression, Dalton’s fingers went to the top button of his shirt and began to undo each one in turn, the deep blue fabric falling apart as, inch by inch, he revealed his own chest to Finn.
    Wrapped around his waist, up to his chest, was a leather and whale-bone, tight stringed contraption. Finn blinked, knowing the word for it but ashamed to speak it aloud.
    Dalton finished shucking off his shirt and carefully hung it on a nail in the wall. As he turned away, Finn got his first look at the back of the corset, tightly laced and neatly tied.
    “Would it make you more comfortable if I left my shirt off too?” Dalton asked affably.
    “It’s not… I mean, don’t feel you have to….”
    “I don’t mind,” he said in the same, even tone. “I spend a lot of my time hunched over one of my workbenches and it causes pain in my back. My doctor sent me to a corsetièreto construct this for me. It keeps my spine straight while I work and