I counted each creak of the carriage's wheels, marking time as travelers bustled past my window. The shadows lengthened across the leather seats until voices approached, followed by the door swinging open.

  An elderly couple climbed in first, their fine clothes marking them as wealthy merchants or minor nobility. The woman wore an emerald dress with delicate lace trim, while her husband's coat bore silver buttons that caught the light. Behind them, a man in black robes took the remaining seat beside me, his expression as dark as his attire.

  The woman's face brightened as she settled across from me. "Oh, hello dear! I'm Helena, and this is my husband Kolm." She gestured to the man beside her, who gave a polite nod. "We've been visiting our nephew. Such a clever boy, just opened his own shop in town."

  The man in black cleared his throat. "Romas," he said, then turned to stare out the window.

  "Ah." Helena turned and looked at me expectantly. When I didn't respond, she tilted her head. "And you are...?"

  I lifted my hands in apology, gesturing to my throat and shaking my head. My mechanical body remained perfectly still beneath the mourning clothes, not moving an inch to give away its artificial nature.

  "Oh!" Helena's hand flew to her mouth. "You poor dear, unable to speak!" She reached across and patted my gloved hand. "Don't you worry about a thing. I'll talk enough for both of us on this journey." Her eyes crinkled with warmth. "Won't I, Kolm?"

  Her husband chuckled. "That you will, my dear. That you will."

  I nodded gratefully, though my thoughts raced beneath my calm exterior. The trip to Remembrance would take almost a week. I would be spending days trapped in close quarters with these people. Days of maintaining this careful illusion of humanity. One wrong move, perhaps a too-mechanical gesture, or a glimpse of my true form beneath the clothing, and everything would unravel.

  But Helena's kindness, however misplaced, eased some of my tension. Sometimes the best hiding place was behind other people's assumptions. They saw what they expected: a grieving widow, rendered mute by tragedy. It was safer than the truth.

  Some time later, there was a tap on the glass of the carriage door before it was opened. A short man in a dark blue jacket smiled and informed us that he was our driver and that we would be departing shortly.

  "Are our things aboard?" Helena asked suddenly.

  "Your luggage is all secured, ma'am. Everything's strapped down tight on top," the driver said.

  Helena leaned forward. "Are you certain? There's a blue trunk with silver clasps. It has my best dresses."

  "Yes ma'am, saw it myself. Right next to your husband's cases."

  "And the small red box?" Her fingers twisted in her lap.

  "All present and accounted for." The driver tipped his hat. "We'll be heading out in just a few minutes once the horses are ready."

  I kept my gaze fixed on my hands, folded neatly in my lap. The mechanical joints beneath my gloves could pass for human as long as I didn't flex them too much.

  "Oh good." Helena settled back against the cushioned seat. "I always worry about our things when we travel. Last summer, if you can believe it, we lost three trunks between here and Port Marin. The carrier claimed they fell off during a storm, but I suspect their porters of theft."

  Kolm patted her hand. "Now dear, they did compensate us."

  "After three months of letters! And my mother's silver was never recovered."

  The carriage rocked as the driver climbed onto his perch. Outside, hooves clopped against cobblestones as the team was brought into position. The familiar sounds of harness and tackle followed, with leather creaking, metal jingling, wheels grinding as the carriage settled under the horses' weight.

  Romas shifted in his seat, still staring out the window. His black robes marked him as either a scholar or a priest, though he lacked the typical medallions or symbols of faith. The fabric was plain but well-made, with careful stitching at the seams. A traveler's garment, meant to endure long journeys.

  A whistle cut through the air, followed by the snap of reins. The carriage lurched forward, wheels rattling over the uneven street. We passed through Cobb Town's western gate, the guards barely glancing into the vehicle before waving us through.

  Helena's chatter filled the carriage like a river flowing over stones, constant and unstoppable. I nodded at appropriate moments as she described her niece's wedding in exhaustive detail: the flowers, the dress, even the exact shade of blue used for the tablecloths.

  "And then poor cousin Marta's youngest got into the punch bowl." Helena shook her head, her graying curls bouncing. "What a disaster that was. Though not as bad as when Uncle Ferin brought his new wife to the family reunion last spring. Now there's a story-"

  Kolm's hand covered hers. "Perhaps our fellow travelers would enjoy some quiet contemplation of the countryside, dear?"

  "Oh! Yes, of course." She peered out the window at the rolling farmland. "Such lovely wheat fields. Though I do wish the farmers would clear those old stumps. Makes everything look so untidy."

  The wheels hit a rut, jolting us. My mechanical body stayed perfectly rigid while the others swayed. I forced myself to rock slightly with the motion, mimicking their natural movements. The last thing I needed was for them to notice how unnaturally still I remained.

  "Did you know," Helena started again, "that this road was built during the reign of King Aldric? My grandfather helped survey the route. He always said-"

  Romas shifted in his seat, his dark robes rustling. His jaw clenched slightly, but he kept his gaze fixed on the passing landscape. The afternoon sun caught his face, highlighting deep circles under his eyes. Whatever drove him to travel to Remembrance, it wasn't pleasure.

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  "And of course the tolls were much higher back then," Helena continued. "Though nothing like what they charge at the bridges these days. Why, just last month we had to pay nearly double what it cost last year to cross at River's Rest. Wouldn't you agree it's highway robbery?"

  She looked at me expectantly. I nodded, keeping my head slightly bowed as befitted a grieving widow.

  "Poor dear," she murmured. "It must be so difficult, traveling alone in your condition. Are you headed to family in Remembrance?"

  Another careful nod. The less detail I provided, the fewer lies I needed to maintain.

  "Well, you simply must let us help you get settled when we arrive. We know all the best boarding houses, don't we Kolm?"

  Her husband smiled indulgently. "Indeed we do, my dear."

  The carriage rolled on, wheels crunching against the packed earth of the road. Fields stretched to the horizon, dotted with farmhouses and the occasional stand of trees. Helena's voice rose and fell like waves against a shore, carrying us forward into the gathering dusk.

  The carriage rolled to a stop in the small town of Mayes just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Buildings lined the main street, their windows glowing with lantern light. A wooden sign creaked in the evening breeze, telling all about "The Wanderer's Rest."

  "Finally." Helena stretched her arms. "My old bones can't take much more bouncing around today."

  Kolm helped his wife down from the carriage while Romas gathered his things in silence. The driver called out that we'd depart at dawn.

  "You're not coming to the inn?" Helena's brow furrowed with concern when I remained seated.

  I shook my head, gesturing at my coin purse and then making a dismissive wave.

  "Nonsense! You shouldn't stay out here alone. It's not proper for a lady-"

  "Let her be, dear." Kolm touched her elbow. "The widow likely wishes to conserve her funds."

  Helena's lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. "Well... if you're certain. But do join us for breakfast before we leave?"

  Another head shake. I pulled my shawl tighter, projecting an air of wanting solitude.

  "Poor thing." Helena's whisper carried as they walked away. "Still deep in mourning, I expect..."

  The town grew quiet as night settled in. A few guards patrolled with lanterns, their boots scraping against the packed dirt. One peered into the carriage, but my stillness convinced him I was merely sleeping.

  I didn't need rest; my mechanical body could function indefinitely. The night hours stretched long, but I'd grown used to solitude. The stars wheeled overhead while I reviewed my plans for reaching the Academy. My Assembly ability had proven invaluable for crafting this disguise, but keeping to the role of the grieving widow grew more complex with each passing day.

  Dawn painted the sky in pale gold. The driver returned first, checking the horses and harness. Helena and Kolm emerged from the inn, followed by a subdued Romas. Dark circles shadowed his eyes; apparently the inn's beds hadn't provided much rest.

  "Good morning!" Helena climbed in, fresh and cheerful. "I do hope you weren't too uncomfortable out here all night?"

  I shook my head, shifting as if just waking. The driver cracked his whip and we lurched forward, leaving Mayes behind. Fields stretched toward the horizon, dotted with early-rising farmers already at work.

  "The weather looks promising." Helena settled into her usual stream of chatter. "Though my joints always ache before rain, and they've been quite bothersome lately. Still, we should make good time today if the road stays clear..."

  I turned to watch the landscape roll past, letting her words wash over me like background noise. The capital lay ahead, and with it, my best chance at reaching the Academy. Every mile brought me closer to my goal, assuming my disguise held.

  The routine settled into a predictable pattern. Each evening, the carriage would halt at some new settlement or waystation. My fellow passengers would shuffle off to whatever lodgings awaited while I remained in my self-imposed isolation, maintaining my widow's vigil.

  "You simply must try the meat pies at the Golden Ox," Helena told me on our fourth morning, crumbs still dotting her shawl. "Best I've had since leaving home."

  I kept my gaze fixed on the passing countryside, nodding just enough to acknowledge her words. The mechanical joints of my constructed body hadn't needed adjustment yet, though I monitored them constantly. One loose component could shatter this carefully crafted illusion.

  Kolm dozed through most days now, his gray head bobbing with each bump in the road. His gentle snores provided a counterpoint to Helena's endless stream of conversation. She'd covered everything from her grandchildren's latest achievements to detailed critiques of every inn's bedding.

  Romas worried me more with each passing day. Dark shadows deepened under his eyes, and his clothes hung looser on his frame. He barely touched the meals Helena insisted on sharing, and his hands shook when he thought no one was watching.

  "The roads aren't what they used to be," Helena commented as we jolted over another rough patch. "I remember when the king's engineers kept everything properly maintained. Now look at these ruts! It's shameful, really."

  I adjusted my position, letting the movement mask the metallic grinding from my right shoulder. The constant travel was wearing on my constructed parts more than expected. I'd need to perform maintenance soon, but finding privacy grew harder as we pushed deeper into settled lands.

  At the next stop, a dreary place called Crow's Corner, Romas didn't even pretend to seek lodging. He huddled in his corner of the carriage, wrapped in his cloak despite the mild evening. Helena cast worried glances his way before Kolm guided her toward the inn.

  "Young man," she called back, "are you certain you won't join us? A hot meal would do you good."

  Romas mumbled something unintelligible and turned away. The concern in Helena's expression deepened, but she allowed Kolm to lead her inside.

  The pattern repeated as we wound our way closer to Remembrance. Helena's stories grew more elaborate, as if trying to fill the heavy silence that had settled over our group. Kolm's snores became louder, punctuated by occasional snorts that made Helena pat his arm fondly. And Romas... Romas seemed to fade more each day, his skin taking on an ashen cast.

  The carriage slowed as we approached a crossroads near a small cluster of buildings. Through the window, I spotted a somber procession winding its way toward a hilltop cemetery. Men and women dressed in black walked behind a wooden coffin, their heads bowed.

  "Oh, how sad." Helena pressed a hand to her chest. "Someone's loved one gone to rest."

  A choked sob broke the usual quiet of our carriage. Romas hunched forward, shoulders shaking as he pressed his face into trembling hands.

  "Dear boy, what's wrong?" Helena reached across to touch his knee.

  "I-I'm sorry." Romas wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "It's just... I'll be joining their ranks soon enough. My wife..." His voice cracked.

  "Your wife?" Kolm leaned forward, suddenly alert.

  "She's in Remembrance. The healers say she hasn't much time left." Romas stared at his hands. "I'm trying to reach her before... before..."

  "Oh, you poor dear." Helena moved to sit beside him. "How old is she?"

  "Thirty-eight this past summer." Romas's voice was barely a whisper. "She's an elf."

  "Ah." Helena placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "She's had a good long life then, for one of her kind."

  Kolm nodded gravely. "Indeed. Few elves make it past thirty these days."

  I froze, my mechanical body going rigid beneath my mourning clothes. That couldn't be right. The fragments of memory that surfaced in my dreams told a different story, of elves living centuries, their grace and beauty unchanging across generations. I remembered them as the longest-lived of all humans, some reaching five hundred years or more.

  Yet here were these people, speaking as if thirty-eight years was a remarkable achievement for an elf. Their words held no doubt or uncertainty, just the weary acceptance of a known truth.

  "She's been so strong." Romas's words pulled me from my confusion. "We knew this day would come, but... you never truly prepare yourself, do you?"

  "No," Helena said softly. "You never do."

  The carriage started moving again as the funeral procession passed. I watched it recede into the distance, my thoughts churning. Something was wrong with my memories. Either they were false, or the world had changed in ways I didn't understand. But which was it? And why?