“Will it be able to speak?” Harold tried to construct a foot, but it resembled something he imagined Joseph Carey Merrick might say was a relationship breaker if his partner had one remotely similar. Devious, took the play-dough away from him gently and tried to separate the colours.
“No, sir. Golems can't speak. That's one of the blessings of them. Tireless and all but indestructible, but mercifully silent. He kneaded white dough with a small amount of yellow and brown to obtain an old bone colour, then proceeded to construct the twenty-six bones that comprised the cuneiforms, metatarsals and phalanges of Golem-Dill's new left foot. He repeated the process in mirror-image to get the right, then began using red, blue and purple dough for the ligaments, muscles and tendons.
Harold rolled out a lump of the flesh coloured composite with the aid of a beaten copper lamp base. It gave the dough a pleasing orange-peel effect. “What if we gave it lungs?”
“Lungs, Master?” Devious curled his snout. “I'm not sure I follow.”
“Like bagpipes. If we mad a chamber inside his chest cavity big enough for a cloth bag and a tube from that to his mouth, he'd be able to have a semblance of breathing. Add a tongue and lips and he'd have the rudimentary ability to talk.”
“Rudimentary indeed without vocal chords, sir.” Devious smiled and patted Harold on the arm. “Better still, we could connect the bellows to the lad's pelvic constructions and he could whistle through his widget and talk through his posterior.”