“It's 'opeless” Kylee moaned. The dwarf slumped over herself in her chair, pulled her goggles from her head, and tossed them into the heap of scraps that had until quite recently been her prototype steam digger. Its ruin, Oisin reflected, was not his fault, nor Kylee's. For those men to try to end her story that way... it just wasn't right. “Years o' work... I could put it back together again but I don't 'ave the time or the money. Not anymore.”

“Cheer up,” said Oisin, “Why I remember just yesterday, you sang me that song about the dwarf and the steam drill, how the stubborn hammerer fought it every time, and every year the dwarf got weaker, and every year the inventors brought a new steam drill-”

“And the steam drill was stronger, 'till one of those times the stubborn old dwarf died with that hammer in his hands.” she repeated morosely, “And the moral of the story is that the mind's the mightiest muscle we've got, I know. But mine's not strong enough to put a steam digger back together in a single night.”

“Well,” Oisin said, “If you're sure, we've got some time for me to tell you a story of my own, right.”

He smiled – no, smirked, there was too much mischief for a smile.

Kylee didn't see it. “I guess.” she said.

“Well then,” Oisin said, holding his lute and getting ready to play, stepping so that Kylee faced him and not her wrecked machine, “Sit back and listen to the tale... of Mishra and the Clockwork Dragon!”

His strumming began, and with it waves of power. The magic was ready, he just had to give it its form, make the Æther remember the legend that used to be.

“Mishra was a mighty artificer – along with his brother Urza, one of the most powerful who ever lived! But the Brothers had been separated, a wedge forever driven between them by the tragic death of their mentor, Tocasia. Alone, Mishra wandered the vast desert, until he came upon an impossible, exquisite Clockwork Dragon...”

As Oisin began the tale in earnest, an apparition came into the room, a tall and dark-haired man with a thin goatee and a hard and hungry look. Mishra, as solid as flesh and blood. Mishra, summoned however briefly by hearing his story told. He was just magic, Oisin reflected as he began to recount Mishra's wanderings and inspection of the Dragon Engine, as ephemeral as a dream... but far more real. As Oisin's tale wove on, Mishra moved half of his own accord and half of Oisin's direction, and inspected the wreck of the steam digger even as the real Mishra had once inspected his Dragon Engine. Oisin didn't know the first thing about how a steam digger went together, but Mishra could look at such an artifact and understand it. Kylee didn't have the skills or resources to rebuild her machine in one night... but all the resources were there, and Mishra had the skill. Now and again he came and went from Kylee's view, and she probably thought it an illusion play. Good – he didn't know how well such a summoning would last if his story was interrupted.

Still it took hours, but the story of the Brothers could probably be told for days if the bard had the stamina, and so Mishra worked, spurred onward by his ancient deeds. Eventually, the steam digger was back in one piece, at least as much as this shade of Mishra could manage, and so Oisin found a good place for a dramatic ending, at Mishra and Ashnod's escape from Gix and the sealing of the Phyrexian Portal. It was as good end for a story that had started with the Dragon Engine, and with the final dramatic flourish placed on the piece, and everything brought to its conclusion, Mishra came around to in front of Kylee, took his bow, and faded from reality.

Oisin wiped the sweat from his brow, slung his lute over his shoulder, and stretched, “You liked it?” he asked.

“Very much!” Kylee replied, spirits lifted somewhat. That was a good start. “Are there other stories about Mishra and Urza?”

“Lots!” Oisin replied, “But... not for tonight It's late, isn't it? Big day tomorrow.” He would have been exhausted enough from playing so long under the best of circumstances, and doing magic made everything more taxing.

Kylee frowned slightly “That's how it was supposed to be, yeah,” she said, morose though not as morose as before the story. “I guess I'll have to clean up.”

“I wouldn't be so sure about that.” Oisin said, impish smirk returning to his visage.

Kylee gave him a quizzical look.

“Turn around.” he said.

Kylee looked, and if such a thing were physically possible her jaw would have hit the floor, for there was her steam digger, that last she'd seen in a heap of broken gears and shame.

“But... how?!”

“Mishra!” Oisin replied, “I'm not very good with machines, but I think he got the gist of those blue-paper-sketches of yours, and, well, you just heard how good he is at building things.”

“Even from a 'eap of scraps, overnight...” she muttered, “He was real?”

“He wasn't.” Oisin replied, giving his stock answer to anyone he needed to explain his summoning to, “But he wasn't not real either. It's really confusing, even to me.”

Kylee turned back to Oison. She was too proper for a surprise hug, but practically bounced on the balls of her feet, clearly not sure whether to show exuberance or not.

“How can I ever thank ye?” Kylee asked. "I'dve called ye a stranger yesterday and been more'n right, and now ye've saved my career!"

Oisin gave his winning smile. “Just tell a good story sometimes.” he said, and then after a moment “Aaaand, you could buy dinner after you get your big contract tomorrow.”

“It's a deal!” Kylee replied, “Och! I need to get some rest so I can make a good impression. You'll be fine?”

“Never better.” Oisin replied, “Go on! Don't let me keep you up.”

And Kylee tore off, though Oisin felt she wouldn't get to sleep until the crash from all the day's excitement hit her. For his part, Oisin sat down, tipped his hat over his eyes, and was out like a light.