Wildspark Page 10

  “Oh right, of course.” Prue slid the door open and they climbed into the pod.

  Agapantha looked around the curved metal interior of the pod. “It’s a bit nerve-wracking doing this on our own, isn’t it?”

  “Silver lever to close the door. Come on, sit down, Ag.” Agapantha sat beside her. “And we’re…” Before Prue could finish, the pod shot forward.

  Prue and Agapantha were soon at the transport hut. It was late evening and the factorium and forest were washed with a dove-grey light. The messenger tower, which stood alone to the right of the factorium, was almost as tall as the main building and looked something like a large brick lighthouse, with the only windows at the very top. They left the path and cut across the grass, which was damp with evening dew.

  Prue noticed Agapantha glance nervously at the place where the personifate had been found dead the previous day. Prue shivered. “The library here is impressive, isn’t it? I’ve never seen so many books,” said Prue, to take their minds off the incident.

  Agapantha nodded. “The mathematics section is amazing. And I liked Phineas.”

  “Me too. He seems to really love it there. I wonder if he was a librarian in his first life?”

  “I bet he was!”

  “I must admit,” Prue lowered her voice and made sure there weren’t any personifates near, “I found the Hall of Lost Personifates a little creepy though.”

  “I suppose. But it’s good to remember them, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, but what will they do as time goes on? Fill the whole of the factorium with pictures and personifate shells?”

  “Maybe they’ll build a new wing.” Agapantha smiled.

  Silence fell for a while. Prue was still thinking about what Cora had done. “Do you really not mind, you know, about Cora taking your bed?”

  Agapantha shrugged.

  “She should have asked you,” said Prue.

  “Honestly, it’s fine.”

  Prue stopped walking and turned to face her. “It’s not fine. Who does she think she is?”

  “It means more to her than it does to me,” Agapantha said, then continued walking.

  At the messenger tower, a clackety door led to a metal spiral staircase that ran up the inside of the brick structure. They went around and around, until Agapantha said she felt quite dizzy. At the top, they emerged into a room with arched windows and a peaked high ceiling. The room was filled with comfy-looking sofas and tables covered in books and newspapers.

  All manner of personifates lounged around: a great raven was reading on an armchair; a turquoise owl with pink eyes was in conversation with an emerald moth as long as Prue’s arm, both perched on the window sill, and a giant black bat hung from the ceiling in front of them. It opened its eyes.

  “Can we help you?”

  Prue cleared her throat. “Hello. I have a message.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place,” said an exotic, bronze-feathered bird with three sets of layered wings, as large as a golden eagle. “I’m Thackery, thunderbird personifate, the fastest in the tower.”

  “Fastest? Certainly the most something,” said the green raven, looking up from his book.

  “The most modest?” said the bat.

  The owl and moth laughed and Thackery lifted his beak snootily.

  “Nice to meet you, Thackery. I’m Frances and this is Agapantha. But I need someone who can take a message outside of Medlock.”

  Prue noticed a pigeon perched on the back of a blue velvet sofa. “Are you free?”

  There was a moment of silence, then the pigeon looked around at the other birds. “Well, someone answer the girl.”

  Thackery extended his three sets of wings and gave them a little shake. “She appears to be looking at you, Lu.”

  “Me? I haven’t had an assignment for many moons. It’s usually the others who get chosen these days.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Prue.

  “No need to be sorry. I’m quite used to it,” the pigeon said. “I know I’m slow, but that’s because I was one of the original messengers. The craftsman used to go for the more traditional animals, based on what they knew, so a carrier pigeon was a logical choice for a messenger in the early days.” She lowered her voice. “Urgent post rarely leaves Medlock, so lately, it seems the more exotic the better.”

  “What was your name?” Agapantha asked.

  “Luella, but you needn’t bother remembering it. My qwortzite has held out a long time, so it will probably fade soon and I’ll just be another painting in the Hall of Lost Personifates.” She shook her head softly and sighed.

  Prue thought of the old machines seized up on the farm, recycled for parts. “Actually, I think you will be perfect for this task.” She rolled the note and tied it carefully around Luella’s neck, then gave her instructions on the farm’s location.

  As Luella flew from the tower Prue called after her, “Thank you for your service!”

  Prue and Agapantha watched her fly away.

  “Come on, Ag. We’d best get back before Cora decides she wants my bed too.”

  AWEN

  Home visits outside of Medlock were only allowed one weekend per moon cycle, so Prue, Edwin and Agapantha decided to go for a wander around the city. Craftsman Primrose had sent the thunderbird messenger with envelopes for her and Edwin, each containing a florin. Prue hadn’t really thought about the idea that she might receive any payment as an apprentice. The three stepped out of the house into a sunny Sovereign Row.

  “Shall we go to Medlock Fudge & Co?” Prue said eagerly. “I think it’s near Deakins.”

  “Sounds lovely for you two, but seeing as I don’t eat, we’ll need to find somewhere else for me to spend my florin,” said Edwin, raising his brows.

  “Of course, sorry, Edwin,” said Prue.

  “Art supplies?” Agapantha suggested.

  “Hmm, I get everything I need from the Guild. I feel like doing something just for me, something different.”

  “Let’s head for Smithy Door and see what we find on the way,” said Prue.

  They made their way to the bustling main square and then turned into Burlington West. Prue still marvelled at the smartness of the city people with their plush clothes and shiny buttons, precision in every stitch.

  Edwin paused outside a shop called Denton Hats of Medlock – Suppliers of the Sovereign Chancellery. It had dark-green framed, multi-paned windows, behind which a machine whirled and crunched. A sign stated: Made to measure to your specification and design in minutes. They watched the cogs turn, piston’s chuff, and belts turn, then a straw boater hat appeared out of a chute at the end.

  Edwin smiled. “Wait here.”

  Minutes later, he appeared from the shop with a bag. He took out a brown woolen flat cap, then put it on to model it for the girls. “What do you think?”

  “Smart!” Prue remarked.

  Agapantha smiled. “It suits you.”

  He tipped his cap to them and they all laughed, then he put it back in the bag. “Are you two sure you wouldn’t rather buy a fancy hat?”

  Prue shook her head. “Sweet treats win for me, Ed.”

  They headed on through the weekend crowds, along Pickwick and towards Medlock Fudge & Co.

  “Isn’t that Finblewick?” Agapantha said as he hurried past them in the street, ignoring them.

  “Nice to see you again too,” Prue called after him.

  “It’s like he’d never met us,” said Agapantha.

  Prue watched as he disappeared from sight. “Is it me, or did he look like he was up to something?”

  Edwin glanced up at her. “I think it’s just his face. I mean, he does look a bit peculiar.”

  “I can’t imagine why they designed him to look like that?” said Agapantha.

  Prue shrugged. “He must be an early model, perhaps when someone was learning.”

  They reached Medlock Fudge & Co and stood open-mouthed, gaping at the glistening jars filled with candy twists, marzipan, j
elly cogs, clove rocks, marshmallows, pear drops, coconut ice, liquorice, toffee, bonbons, chocolate limes and at least twenty flavours of fudge – ten times the choice of Peck’s Supplies in North Owlcot.

  They were about to go through the open doorway when they heard a voice from inside. “Cora, you will do as you’re told.”

  Prue, Agapantha and Edwin looked between each other, surprised.

  Cora stepped outside. “Oh, it’s you,” she said in a bored tone.

  Behind her was a woman and man with the same dark eyebrows as hers and Larkin, immaculately dressed in highly-tailored outfits with a lavish mix of silk and suede.

  “Cora, aren’t you going to introduce us?” said Mrs Duval.

  “These are apprentices at the Guild too,” said Larkin.

  “Cora, be polite,” Mr Duval urged.

  “This is Agapantha Young,” said Cora.

  Mrs Duval lifted her chin. “The Youngs of Medlock?”

  Agapantha nodded. Mrs and Mr Duval shook her hand in turn.

  “They’ve been away working with the MMD in Gawthorpe, haven’t they?” said Mrs Duval.

  “Yes.”

  “Be sure to tell your parents to visit us when they’re back in town.”

  They turned to Prue.

  “This is Frances Haywood,” said Cora. “She’s from a farm miles away, somewhere like Near Ollet?” said Cora.

  “North Owlcot,” Prue corrected.

  “A farm worker?” Mrs Duval said, looking at Cora in disbelief.

  “How … interesting,” said Mr Duval. Neither of them moved to shake her hand.

  “Edwin is an apprentice too,” Prue said challengingly.

  “Oh,” said Mrs Duval, looking down and noticing Edwin for the first time. Mr Duval said nothing and glanced at Mrs Duval. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Mrs Duval, sounding merry on the surface, but Prue could hear the venom within her words. “Cora, perhaps you could invite Agapantha to visit while her parents are away.”

  Agapantha looked down to her feet.

  “Remember to pass on our good wishes to your parents, Miss Young. Come along, Cora,” said Mrs Duval, breezing away, closely followed by the others.

  Mr Duval muttered something about falling standards as he walked away.

  “Come along, Cora,” Prue mimicked. As she watched them move along the street, she observed Mrs Duval snap her fingers at a small hedgehog personifate who had been standing imperceptibly at the side of the street beside Fortesque’s Fanciful Footwear. Mrs Duval pointed to Cora’s boots and the hedgehog hurried in with a cloth to clean and shine them.

  “She didn’t even talk to him, so I doubt there was so much as a please,” Prue said, shaking her head. “Come on, let’s go inside and get some fudge.”

  *

  Later that day, Agapantha and Edwin were drafted in to help Lavender with dinner preparation, so Prue seized the opportunity to take the pneumerator to the factorium, as she wanted to make notes on the page numbers she’d marked down in the library previously. Also, another letter had arrived earlier in the day and she wanted an opportunity to read it alone. To her relief, when Lavender passed it to her, it was addressed to “Apprentice Haywood”. She read it on the pneumerator. They were still cross with her, but it was less red hot than the previous letter and they’d included more general talk about the farm this time. Perhaps they were coming around to the idea of her being a Guild apprentice. But it was still written in her dad’s hand, not her mum’s.

  There were still a few craftsmen, personifates and the odd apprentice to be seen as she headed for the library, but the factorium was much quieter at the weekend. She knocked on the door.

  “Hellooooo!” said the cheery voice of Phineas. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The librarian was sitting among piles of books at the far end of the room with his great furry back legs crossed. He looked up. “Ah, Apprentice Haywood wasn’t it?”

  “I hope you don’t mind me coming here at the weekend. I wanted to get ahead with some studies.”

  “Not at all, I greatly admire your dedication. Do excuse the state of disarray; I decided to reorganize the section on ancient history. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

  Prue’s skin prickled with expectation. It was the first time she’d been able to really research by herself. “I’d like to find out more about the harnessing process and the wildspark.”

  Phineas pushed himself clumsily to standing. “Harnessing is an advanced subject. Perhaps An Introduction to Harnessing by E.B. Sollentude, or The Wildspark Frequency Guide by Master Tinubu?”

  “Yes, they sound good. But I was actually after some of the more specific areas too. For example, do you have anything on the theories of past lives of personifates, or … memory?”

  Phineas scratched his head.

  “It’s just that I would like to try to understand all aspects of the process, if I possibly can.”

  “A noble pursuit, but I can’t say anything comes to mind on memory… Ha! I can’t remember books on memory! Get it?” Prue smiled and Phineas danced gawkily to a section and pulled several books from the shelf. “These are the two I mentioned, and this one by Master Hannah Woolstenbury herself may interest you. But I’m afraid you can’t take these from the library. You will have to read them here.”

  “Thank you,” Prue said.

  She sat at a table and opened the journal: First Harnessings: Trials and Tribulations by Hannah Woolstenbury. She skipped over the introduction and went straight to the diagrams of equipment. Most of them were for something called a spectral oscilloscope. It was fascinating reading, and she was thrilled to follow the calculations, but eventually they became so complex that she wished she had Agapantha to help her.

  The door creaked open and Prue glanced up.

  “Frances, I’m pleased to see you putting in extra time at the weekend,” said Craftsman Primrose. “Very diligent with all the work that’s to be done.”

  “I thought I’d get ahead.” She hoped the half lie didn’t show on her face. But maybe she was getting good at lying.

  “I’m rather partial to a bit of weekend study myself.”

  “You must’ve read everything in these sections, Craftsman Primrose!” Phineas called from behind the pile of books he was sorting. “Lucky I’ve just taken a new delivery!”

  Craftsman Primrose walked across to Prue. “What are you reading?”

  She showed him the book.

  “It’s certainly the most fascinating aspect of what we do here. The design and mechanics are crucial, of course, but the real magic is in the harnessing. Good to see you going straight for the tricky learning.”

  As he moved to turn, Prue hesitantly said, “Sir, I have a question.”

  “Yes?”

  “I was just wondering if there might be a way to unlock memory in the ghosts.”

  Craftsman Primrose frowned, then pulled out a chair and sat opposite. “Memory loss is a by-product of the process. It’s a curious thing, memory. Some say time leaves a trace in the frequency – all of our experiences stored in the very fabric of our imprint on the Universe.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully behind his thin-rimmed spectacles. “I’ve often thought if only there was a way to pull out a particular part of the signal after a ghost was brought back, we might—”

  “You think there could be a way?”

  “If there is, it will be a bright, enthusiastic young mind like yours who finds it.” Craftsman Primrose stood up. “I’ll leave you to your studies. I believe Phineas has just unearthed an excellent new book on Ancient Mercia for me. Fascinating culture; the way they looked at the after-life thousands of years ago was in many ways far advanced to our own thinking. Until the last eighteen years, of course, with the introduction of the Imperial Personifate Guild. To people of Ancient Mercia, death was only a temporary interruption, or pause to life. They believed in the existence of a person’s spirit, that there was a unique spiritual characteristic of an in
dividual. They called it the awen; we have come to know it now as the wildspark.”

  “So, this is why personifates retain their personalities?”

  “Yes, I like to think so.”

  “Did the ancients have ghost machines?”

  “No, their thinking and technology was greatly different, although they did believe that preserving the body was important because it was believed that the awen would return to it every night to receive new life. If you like, that was their version of our personifates!”

  “Ah, here it is! I knew your book would be in the delivery somewhere!” called Phineas.

  “Thank you, Phineas.” Craftsman Primrose collected his book then called back to Prue. “Make sure you get back before dark, Frances.”

  As Prue read through her books, everything turned over in her mind. She felt she’d taken a big step towards finding out more about memory. She was certain that the answers were already there in the wildspark, she just had to find a way to reach them through building some sort of machine. Prue realized that in order to make real progress, she had needed to start experimenting with equipment, so she’d need a secret space to work in.

  She said goodbye to Phineas and left the library. Through the glass ceiling high above, the coral glow of the setting sun tinged the clouds. The atrium below was now empty, and an eerie silence hung in the air. Her footsteps echoed as she took the walkway around the edge to the other side where the design lab corridor was. There were still voices coming from the main design lab, probably craftsmen working on the hundred. She hurried past to the very end, where there were a couple of storage rooms that she’d spotted the week before. One of them looked orderly and neat and the other was in more of a state of disarray, with a layer of dust covering the shelves. It was perfect: stacked with boxes which she could hide her journal in, and she could get her hands on any tools she needed. She opened some of the boxes and looked inside; one had synthetic fur, another had rolls of wire and various tools, and the next box had oddments of machinery marked “faulty”.

  Smiling, Prue said, “I hereby name you, The Memory Lab.” It would be hard to get time away from the others to come and work here, but she’d try to find excuses to whenever she could. She glanced out of the window – it was dusk, and she had to get back for dinner or Lavender and Liddy would start to worry. At the door she took one last look and made a promise to Francis. “I’ll be back to start work soon.”