Wildspark Page 18

  Prue gently stroked the pigeon’s head.

  The lights began appearing. Luella took flight, and everyone started leaping around the great lawn catching the new lights.

  After a while, Prue sat down to catch her breath while the others continued jumping with their nets. She pulled her cloak around her. It would be winter soon. In the dusk, the treeline looked like skeleton fingers reaching for the sky. The shadows of the forest were impenetrably black. Prue was glad she was nowhere near the forest edge.

  Then, Luella suddenly dived into the grass close by. For a moment, Prue thought she was trying out some new aerial manoeuvre, but she didn’t rise again – the grass was still. Then fear gripped her stomach.

  Prue ran over. “Luella! Are you all right?” she called. Her eyes found Luella’s bright shape in the grass, still as the night air. “Luella?” Prue said, panic making her voice high-pitched. She frantically looked around. “Ag, come quickly!” Prue scooped Luella up in her hands and said breathlessly, “Luella, wake up. Are you all right?”

  Agapantha joined her.

  “Ag, maybe she’s sleeping?”

  “Prue, personifates don’t sleep.”

  What was wrong? She slowly turned Luella over, but her body was intact. “I just modified her wing. Did I do something wrong?”

  Agapantha rested her arm on Prue’s. “I think it was just her time. She’s being showing signs that her qwortzite was failing for a while.”

  “But I just fixed her,” Prue whispered.

  Agapantha put a hand on Prue’s arm. “Some things can’t be fixed.”

  Prue felt the pain in her heart blaze again – it was like what Francis had told her with the hoppity wrench back at the farm.

  Edwin leapt nearby. “You two won’t win at this rate! … What’s the matter?” He joined the girls.

  A tear glittered on Prue’s cheek. “It’s Luella. She’s gone.”

  *

  Craftsman Primrose asked Master Woolstenbury if Edwin could paint the picture for the gallery of Lost Personifates.

  When it was finished, Prue, Edwin and Agapantha took it across to the Hall to hang it. The plaque read:

  Luella Harvest-Moon

  Messenger

  Capax Infiniti

  “You’ve done a great job, Ed,” said Prue.

  “Thanks.”

  “But there’s something lacking about the plaque – she was so much more than a messenger.”

  “Perhaps her frequency will be picked up again?” said Edwin.

  “But she wouldn’t remember us,” said Prue. She thought for a moment then took out a pencil from her bag. Beside Luella she wrote Edith Scamp and beside Messenger she wrote friend.

  Through the open door, Prue caught sight of Cora walking along the corridor. Anger was churning in Prue. After what had happened to Luella, she needed to make progress more than ever.

  “Wait here,” Prue said.

  Edwin called after her. “What are you doing?”

  “I want my journal back.”

  Prue stormed over to Cora. “Hey, what have you done with my journal?”

  Cora put her hands on her hips. “What are you talking about?”

  “I know it was you who took it. Hand it over.”

  Agapantha and Edwin joined Prue.

  “Look, I don’t know what this is about, but if you’re missing something, perhaps you should look a bit closer to home. I mean, what do you really know about your little furry friend? He could have been a thief in his first life.”

  “Steady on, Cora,” said Agapantha.

  “You shouldn’t even be hanging out with these two, Agapantha. They will never be like us.”

  “Like what, exactly?” said Prue, taking a step closer.

  “You know perfectly well what I mean. Like the people who should be here.” She flicked her hair and strode onwards, down the corridor.

  Prue bit the edge of her tongue to contain her anger.

  “She’s something else,” said Agapantha.

  “I’m not sure she has your journal, Prue. She seemed surprised by your accusation,” said Edwin.

  “Surprised that she’d been caught, more like,” Prue scowled.

  SAHWEN

  Prue surveyed the five outfits Cora had discarded on her bed, all of varying glitter and shine. Cora had finally chosen a sparkly silver fitted dress with feathered shoulders. She eyed the other girls’ dresses. “Hmm, a good idea to go plain: my mother says one’s dress should always reflect one’s personality.” Then she floated out of the room.

  Prue was wearing a red dress that she’d bought in town the previous weekend. Although Agapantha had said she’d pay, Prue insisted she use her own money as she didn’t want any jibes from Cora about not being able to afford one. Agapantha had chosen a similar dress in green.

  “If dresses reflect personalities, hers would be made of mouse traps,” said Prue. She and Agapantha laughed.

  “It’s a shame craftsmen don’t wear green, Ag. It suits you so well.”

  “I think you’ll be a craftsmen before me!”

  “Don’t be daft.” Then Prue had a sudden realization and looked down at her feet. “Err, I don’t have any shoes?”

  Agapantha shrugged. “Well, the dresses are long, and I personally feel pretty comfortable in my boots.”

  Knowing that Agapantha must’ve had shoes and was just being kind, Prue smiled. “Me too. I wonder if there will be dancing?” She twirled and made herself dizzy, then flopped down on her bed. She felt something under her head. Sitting up, she pulled the pillow back.

  It was her journal!

  “Ag, look what’s turned up! I think someone had a guilty conscience, don’t you?”

  “At least you got it back,” said Agapantha “But what if she’s told Sollentude about all your notes on memory?”

  “I’d probably know it by now,” said Prue. “I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.” She stood up and hooked Agapantha’s arm. “Let’s forget about strange things in the wood, memory machines, and Cora Duval just for one night and have fun.”

  Everyone gathered in the hallway of the house. Lavender wore a purple puffy skirted dress, and Prue thought how nice it was to see her out of an apron. Liddy had opted for trousers and a lilac shirt. They smiled at the girls as they came down the stairs. Edwin was waiting at the bottom, wearing his electric blue bow tie and waistcoat made for him by Bard’s Precision Tailouring.

  “Very dashing!” Prue remarked.

  “Likewise! Loving the boots, girls!”

  The apprentices made their way to the pneumerator. It seemed strange, all the apprentices sitting in the red leather seats in fancy outfits rather than in their Guild uniforms. When they stepped out of the transport hut, they stood in awe – the factorium looked spectacular. Thousands of fairy lights streamed the length of the walls and drooped between chimneys, coloured lights lit up the fountain, and huge pumpkins carved with animal shapes lit the path from the hut to the main factorium building.

  “Wow, it looks magical,” Prue said.

  “Look, even the messenger tower is sparkling,” said Agapantha, pointing.

  “And the trees!” Edwin sprang forward. “I can’t wait to see inside!”

  As they neared, sweet music filled the air. A choir of personifates and people sang together outside the factorium. Their harmonies were wonderful, with tenor and soprano melodies entwining in a sonic dance.

  Prue thought how lovely it was to see the personifates enjoying such a magical evening together, and she pictured Luella perched with the choir singing her heart out. Her chest burned at the thought that she would never get to see her again. Biting her lip, she tried to focus on the beauty of the sound and not on the consuming blackness that came on when she thought of how much she’d lost.

  “They’re amazing. Mum says I sound like a strangled cat when I sing,” said Prue.

  “Oh!” said Agapantha.

  “No, it’s fine, she’s completely right!” Prue laugh
ed, pulling herself away from the dark thoughts.

  Inside was filled with more glittering lights trailing the iron balustrades of every level and crisscrossing high above. They reflected on the glass ceiling, making it look like a galaxy of gleaming stars. Long rectangular tables filled the central atrium, with crisp white tablecloths and flickering silver candles. They were laden with pumpkin soup, wholesome loaves, roasted corn, peas and pumpkin pie.

  All the craftsman and masters wore suits and black bow ties and dresses, and Prue had to look twice at some before she realized who they were. Some of the personifates had dressed up too, although they mainly just accessorized with the odd tie or silk scarf. She caught sight of Phineas in a bow tie with flashing pink lights, sitting beside Craftsman Primrose who smiled at them from the other side where he was talking with Master White.

  “Come on, let’s sit together,” said Prue.

  “Now I really wish I could eat!” said Edwin.

  The bread was still warm, and they dipped it into the steaming orange-coloured soup.

  Prue licked the butter from her lips. “Mmm, sorry, Ed, but this food is so good!”

  “It’s all right; I’m imagining every mouthful.”

  “Maybe they could find a way of personifates being able to taste without eating?” Agapantha looked thoughtful, then took a bite of corn.

  “There’s an idea,” Prue said, switching to pumpkin pie with a large dollop of cream. “Perhaps some sort of smell detector to activate simulated flavour.”

  “Whoever reaches craftsman first needs to make it their first priority!” Edwin laughed.

  After they’d eaten, there was more singing outside, and the tempo was faster and jauntier. People began getting up and going out to dance. Prue hadn’t danced since the North Owlcot fete two years ago.

  “Come on, let’s join them!” Prue said, pushing the memory away before she thought about Francis again.

  Edwin needed no persuasion, but it took some dragging to get Agapantha to her feet.

  The music changed and a soloist replaced the choir.

  “That singing is amazing! Let’s see who it is,” said Prue.

  They hurried outside. To their amazement, Cora stood at the front of the choir, singing her heart out.

  “Goodness, I hate to admit it, but she’s pretty good!” said Prue. “Look how happy she looks.” Every line of her looked relaxed and at home, like a different person; Prue realized this must be Cora’s real passion.

  They got pulled into a stream of people and personifates dancing in a loop around the glittering box hedges. When Prue couldn’t dance another step, she made her way to the fountain and sat on the edge, running her hands in the cool stream of water. Agapantha was dancing happily with some of the first-year apprentices – her shyness seemed to have been washed away by the lights for a while.

  Edwin jumped up beside Prue. “I’m glad to see you happy.”

  “It’s funny, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “How music helps you both forget and remember.”

  Edwin tilted his head. “I think I know what you mean.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be insensitive about your first life!”

  Edwin laughed. “It’s all right.”

  Craftsman Primrose came out of the factorium and joined them. “Ah, I’m glad to catch you both alone. I’ve been meaning to speak to you on a matter of some importance, but it requires your absolute trust and discretion.” He surveyed the crowd.

  “Of course,” said Prue.

  “You were both at the Inventors Parade a while back?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you saw the incident?”

  Prue frowned. “The leopard personifate?”

  “Yes. I wanted to ask you how you really felt about it? I mean, Rights for Personifates is one thing, but to actually attack the float of the Guild with the Governor in it is something else.”

  Prue glanced at Edwin. “Well, it was a bit extreme, but,” she took a breath, “I kind of thought the personifate had a point.”

  “I agree,” said Edwin.

  Craftsman Primrose put a hand to his chin.

  “Please don’t misunderstand us, Craftsman Primrose. What the Guild is doing is marvellous, but perhaps the Sovereign Chancellery and the Governor just need to consider the feelings of the personifates a little more,” said Prue.

  “Indeed. I suspected you would both feel the same as me. I would have spoken to you both about this sooner, but I had to be sure of your position on the matter, and I’ve seen you share similar opinions to me, Frances, with your Rights for Personifates badge. There is much going on beneath the surface.” He paused and looked around, then continued, “The one hundred personifates is an unprecedented act of treating personifates almost like factory machines to be produced and exploited. And things will only get worse. The ASL is growing stronger by the week. I think it’s time to empower the personifates. If we on the inside can’t do it, who will stand up for them? I want you to meet me at the factorium entrance at day-break. But this must be top-secret. I could be arrested. Do I have your trust?”

  Prue had trusted Craftsman Primrose from the first moment she’d met him.

  They both nodded. “Then I will see you bright and early before the others stir. Now, enjoy the rest of the party. You have a very important day tomorrow.”

  After he left, Prue and Edwin stared at each other.

  “What in Medlock was that all about?” said Prue.

  PRIMROSE’S PLAN

  When Prue crept to the window and peeled back the curtain, it was the ghostly half-light of daybreak. A thin layer of ice coated the rooftops like cold dust beneath a cloudy sky.

  Hurriedly, she pulled on three layers of clothing and two pairs of socks, then turned the door handle as quietly as possible.

  Edwin was pacing in the hallway. “I was about to tap in case you didn’t wake.”

  They hurried silently down the stairs to the pneumerator, and pulled the lever up to bring it their way. Once inside they sat opposite each other, both deep in thought, tentative but curious.

  “What do you think he means by empowering the personifates?” asked Edwin as the pod shot towards the factorium.

  Prue leaned in. “Maybe there’s a secret meeting of Rights for Personifates? Perhaps there’s a classified meeting place and an initiation.”

  Edwin shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  They stepped from the transport hut on to the frozen lawns of the factorium. The grass crunched like fine shards of glass beneath their feet, and Prue’s breath chugged in steamy clouds before her.

  “Look, he’s at the forest edge,” said Prue, spotting Craftsman Primrose.

  They hurried towards him.

  “I’m so glad you both came. Come along.” He turned towards the forest.

  “Craftsman Primrose, what about the guard?” said Prue, peering into the forest nervously.

  “It poses us no threat whatsoever, trust me.”

  Prue was too intrigued to let her apprehension get to her. She stepped after him alongside Edwin.

  “You are both very talented young apprentices.”

  “Thank you,” said Prue.

  “I took a chance on both of you which I believe was right. Now I will continue what I began to tell you yesterday evening. Then I must ask something of you.”

  Edwin glanced up at Prue.

  Craftsman Primrose walked onwards. “The personifates are owned by the Sovereign Chancellery.”

  “Owned? I’ve never really thought of it like that,” Prue said.

  “The Governor sees it as a business. The personifate programme is paid for and commissioned by the Governor of Medlock using the money of the citizens. The personifates are citizens too. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Yes,” said Edwin wholeheartedly. “We contribute to society as much as anyone in their first life.”

  “I agree,” said Prue.

  They trudg
ed on through the frozen landscape of the forest, branches snapping like brittle bones beneath their feet.

  “Then who do you think should be in charge of the lives of personifates – Master Hannah Woolstenbury and Governor Henri Watson-Wentworth, or the personifates themselves?”

  Prue thought he was right. Why shouldn’t they have more freedom? Wasn’t that what she was trying to do with her memory machine?

  “But I suppose we have been given chances,” said Edwin. “Look at me; you took me on as the first apprentice personifate.”

  “Indeed, so you, of all personifates, have had a taste of the possibilities.”

  A glimpse of the rising sun appeared between the clouds and shone between the tree trunks, casting bands of light on the forest floor.

  “Have you tried talking to the Governor or Master Woolstenbury about these concerns? Perhaps Master White?” suggested Edwin.

  “Come now, I had you both down as bigger thinkers. Especially you, Apprentice Haywood. Your memory research is groundbreaking.”

  Prue paused. How did he know about her research? Then it hit her. “You took my journal?”

  Craftsman Primrose stopped walking and smiled. “Let’s say, borrowed. I’d suspected you were working on something for a while with all your questions on memory.”

  “Master Woolstenbury doesn’t know about it, does she?” she said, panicked.

  “Of course not. But it did confirm for me that the three of us could work on some great projects together. We have a chance to really change things for the better.”

  They carried on walking; they were deep into the forest now.

  Prue’s mind felt as though it had suddenly become a whirlpool. Did Craftsman Primrose know she wasn’t Frances? “Where are we going?” Prue asked.

  “I’m going to show you the first project we’ll be working on together. It’s not far now.”

  The trees thinned, and large crooked shapes loomed beyond.

  “Is that a village?” Prue asked.

  “It was, long ago, but nobody has lived here in many years.”

  They stepped from the treeline and looked below. A dozen or so ivy-strangled buildings huddled together, most barely standing, with crumbling brickwork and tumbledown roofs. A few were more intact and had been reinforced and repaired. An old well was in the centre and there were clusters of broken carts and machinery littering the moss-covered cobblestones.