The Dollmakers

by Lynn Buchanan

Seclusion and silence; those were Nock’s ways of demonstrating how disappointed he was in her. Well, fine.

The Mistress had said to destroy the Shod. But how could Marble destroy something that so clearly needed to be studied, inspected, learned from? To destroy something before learning its secrets—knowing all the information in every line and dip of its shape—would be a shame. A great disappointment. The first Shod reached the top of

He saw something on the Shod’s belly. Nine lines twisted into an odd shape that, even

warped, was familiar. Still recognizable as the

Mark that’d given Marble his f...

“But what if I think my dolls are one thing, but they’re not? Isn’t it better to just want my dolls to help people?”

“Whose approval do you seek?” Coen had asked, tousling her hair as she leaned against him, weeping. “If it’s mine, you have no need to fret. I’m proud to have an apprentice who makes such wonderfully unique dolls.” He’d

laughed when Ikiisa looked up at him in amazement. “Be proud of your work, little bird! Don’t apologize for being different.”