Chances

Brass hid in corners of the workshop while thieves carted off the Master's tools and materials by the trunkload. In broad daylight. Brass had not much mind to do anything but follow instructions, but it thought it odd the Master would not prevent that. It also did not want to be stolen. Where was the Master?

This sorry state of affair continued for days, growing sorrier, since less things were left to hide behind or under. Brass snatched bits of conversation from the air, and eventually caught one that shook he world of the loyal little construct.

They weren't thieves, but heirs.

Brass worked through the implications one by one, because all together they were too big. It realised it would not beable to hide long enough to decide if it should do anything without its Master, so it worked out an idea how to gain time.

One box of metal scraps and half-finished works the heirs carried off held one piece that was more than finished, but still busy with thinking.