Wildspark Page 8

  She tucked the letter in her pocket and headed upstairs to join Agapantha and Edwin who were in the girls’ room. They sat on Agapantha’s bed.

  “I’m glad Cora’s not back yet,” said Prue.

  Edwin looked over his shoulder as though to check Cora wasn’t about to walk in. “She’s not the friendliest person, is she?”

  “If by not friendly you mean totally stuck up, then you’ve already got the measure of her,” said Prue.

  They laughed.

  “It’s been an interesting first day as an apprentice,” said Edwin.

  “You must’ve felt right in the spotlight at the meeting this morning,” said Agapantha shrinking back a little at the idea.

  He nodded. “It was a bit daunting, but not too bad.”

  “Craftsman Primrose and Master White are nice, aren’t they?” said Prue. “I think we got the best mentors. I definitely wouldn’t want Sollentude. Master White was so fascinating with all that knowledge of the moons and the qwortzite.”

  Agapantha turned pale. “I actually found it hard to concentrate, you know, what with the height.”

  Edwin nudged her with his paw. “You’d better hope she doesn’t take all her lessons up there.”

  “Oh no! She wouldn’t, would she?” Agapantha said, wide-eyed.

  There was a pause then they all giggled.

  The jollity soon faded to silent thought, their minds now on what had occured afterwards.

  “What do you think happened back at the factorium with that poor personifate?” asked Prue.

  “I think Master White was right and it had been attacked by a wild animal,” said Edwin.

  “Sorry, Edwin. It must’ve been pretty distressing to see that,” said Prue.

  Edwin gave a small nod.

  “It was probably a wolf or something that thought the jackalope would be real food,” said Agapantha.

  “But didn’t Craftsman Primrose tell us that wildlife stayed away from personifates?” said Prue.

  Agapantha nodded. “Yes, that did cross my mind.”

  “Whatever it was, it ripped the qwortzite right out,” said Edwin. “It’s quite scary to see that. I know this is a second life, that it’s almost a bit greedy to have two, but I don’t remember being alive before. Seeing what I just saw makes it, well, it makes it feel like it could be snatched away again so easily, and then what? I go back to being a frequency lost in some dark world beyond? And even if I happen to become a personifate again, I probably won’t remember any of this life. But I like my second life. I don’t want to die.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Agapantha said gently.

  Cora burst into the room. “You’ll never guess what happened by the forest today!”

  “We’re meant to keep quiet until Master Woolstenbury handles it,” said Prue.

  Cora’s shoulders slumped. “You already know?”

  “We were with Master White just after it happened,” said Prue.

  “Larkin overheard Master Sollentude talking to Master Ashby. Apparently, there were bits of internal mechanism all over the place,” said Cora, spreading her arms wide.

  “Cora!” Prue snapped, glancing at Edwin whose muscles were rigid.

  “Look, it was probably a confused fox. Things happen,” said Cora matter-of-factly. Then she sniggered. “Imagine expecting food and getting a mouthful of wires.”

  “Let’s hope others are as compassionate if things happen to you,” Prue snapped.

  Edwin jumped off the bed and left the room.

  Prue scowled at Cora.

  Cora shrugged. “What?”

  *

  Smoke trailed from the factorium chimney, gently rising to be captured by the breeze and sent twisting above the neighbouring forest. The dense trees stretched for many miles to the south, unbroken, apart from an abandoned and forgotten cluster of buildings deep in the forest’s heart, with crumbling brickwork, tiles hanging, and shutters unhinged. In the dusk, a single light shone.

  THE HALL OF LOST PERSONIFATES

  That night, Prue slept fitfully. She dreamt Francis was in the forest all alone, calling to her.

  She sat up in bed and took the photograph of her brother from beneath her pillow. It was too dark to see anything except the vague outline of his wild hair.

  “Hurry up and take the picture, Prue. Let’s race to the post.”

  “Only if I can pick my horse.”

  “All right, but not Lucky. I’ve just fitted a turbo to his front legs!”

  “Well, that just leaves Pippi and Admiral. Dibs on Admiral.”

  “I knew you’d choose Admiral.” He smiled. “But I’m still going to win!”

  Click.

  She drifted off again, then woke as the first hint of light edged around the curtains. Agapantha and Cora were still in what looked like a deep sleep, so Prue dressed silently in her white shirt and trousers and crept downstairs. The comforting, yeasty smell of proving loaves wafted up from the kitchen. If she closed her eyes, she could almost be back on the farm.

  To her surprise, Edwin was already in the dining room with Queen Adelaide.

  “You’re up early,” Prue said. “Couldn’t you sleep?” She wondered if he was still bothered about the personifate attack.

  Edwin shook his head. “No need – qwortzite keeps going.”

  “Oh, of course. I can’t imagine what it’s like, not even needing to sleep. So, it runs for ever?”

  There was an awkward silence as Edwin and Queen Adelaide exchanged a glance, then Edwin said, “Not quite for ever – it varies. They say ten to fifteen years is the average life of a fully charged unit of qwortzite. With a spirit in it, the material degrades over time.”

  Prue hadn’t realized the personifates had a time limit, and that it was such a short lifespan. She thought it must be hard to live with the knowledge that there was probably only ten years to do all the things you wanted to in life.

  But she would give anything for one more week with Francis, let alone ten years.

  “But the craftsmen advise resting our bodies,” Edwin added. “Some say it may prolong second-life a bit. But my thoughts are usually too active.”

  Lavender came into the room carrying a tray full of pastries. Prue grabbed one as she passed, like she used to at home.

  “Hey, they’re not even on the table yet, Missy!” said Lavender.

  “Manners,” Queen Adelaide said, shaking her head.

  Prue felt a little embarrassed, but she took a bite anyway.

  “How are you, Queen Adelaide?” said Lavender. She turned to Prue. “Master Woolstenbury sent a note over explaining what happened in the forest yesterday. She said you all saw it. A terrible business, to be sure, but Master Woolstenbury says there’s likely nothing to worry about.”

  “That’s easy for her to say – she’s not knee-high to a human,” Queen Adelaide scoffed.

  “Oh, Queen Adelaide, you barely leave the house!” said Lavender.

  “Well, I have my subjects to think about.”

  “They’ve searched the area and found nothing. She thinks it’s likely a wolf or fox passing through, hungry with autumn setting in. Nevertheless, they are assigning more guards and telling the personifates to be careful of the forest.”

  “I’m not certain that I feel reassured,” said Queen Adelaide haughtily.

  Liddy walked briskly into the dining room and put a jug of juice on the table. “Stop fretting, Queen Adelaide. I’m sure it’s nothing to get overly panicky about.”

  “That’s what I said, Liddy.” Lavender gave a “told you so” nod.

  “Good morning, all!” said Craftsman Primrose, who was waiting for them outside the factorium. He was holding a bundle, which he passed to Edwin.

  Edwin unwrapped it; inside was a small version of the Guild uniform coat. “I asked Finblewick at Deakins to make it specially.”

  “Wow, thank you,” said Edwin as he put it on, blinking in amazement.

  Prue caught Cora rolling her eyes.
r />   “It fits you perfectly,” said Prue.

  Craftsman Primrose clapped his hands together. “Right, time for one of the most important lessons you’ll have.”

  They followed him into the atrium, to the back of the factorium, where a long corridor ended in a cast iron doorway marked with the Guild symbol.

  “Welcome to the Hall of Lost Personifates,” said Craftsman Primrose, pushing open the door.

  They entered an enormous space; it was something like a gallery, with long benches and framed works of art. The paintings were all portraits of animals. Glass cabinets dotted throughout the room contained what looked to be various inanimate personifate bodies.

  Craftsman Primrose took a seat beside a painting of a hawk and gestured to them to sit on the bench opposite. “Now, who can tell me where we are?”

  “The Hall of Lost Personifates,” Prue said, suddenly realizing it was an utterly daft thing to say because he’d just told them that. She didn’t need to look at Cora to know she would be smirking.

  “Continue, Frances. Look around. What do you see?”

  She stared at the various canvases. “Are they designs for new personifates?”

  “Not quite,” said Craftsman Primrose.

  Cora coughed. “Sir, they are the painted records and bodies of personifates who have lost their second life. The room is a shrine to their service. Every uninhabited machine here was once a ghost brought back from beyond, a second life personifate. The esteemed Hannah Woolstenbury believes it’s important to recognize the commitment and contribution that the personifates make to modern community in Medlock. Without respect we lose our humanity.”

  It was as though she was reciting a passage from a textbook, Prue thought. No doubt something she’d pre-learned from Larkin.

  Prue glanced at Agapantha and raised an eyebrow. Agapantha gave a quick smile. On the other side of Agapantha, Edwin seemed a little on edge and quiet. The room was, Prue supposed, the ghost machine equivalent of a tomb and must’ve been yet another reminder to Edwin of his own limited time as a personifate. She thought about what Edwin had told her at breakfast about qwortzite having a limited lifespan of ten to fifteen years. She swallowed… Francis had only been twelve.

  “Indeed,” said Craftsman Primrose. “Of course we don’t keep all of the machine bodies in here, some are archived in the factorium, but all previous personifates have a painting displayed.”

  “Would the Guild use the bodies again for another spirit?” asked Prue.

  “A very good point, Frances – these machine bodies are expensive to create. It was tried, but Master Woolstenbury found that newly harnessed qwortzite does not take to a machine body which has been inhabited previously.” Craftsman Primrose stood up. “Now, I’d like you all to choose a painting and I want you to spend some time looking at it. Read the plaque, think about the words, and then choose another.”

  The paintings depicted many different animal types: for some, you wouldn’t know they were machines, but others looked more experimental and robotic with part-visible metal frames and cog work, perhaps the early models. Prue looked around and found herself gravitating towards a painting of a hound. She’d always liked the dogs on the farm, before money became tight after Francis and they’d had to give the last away. Mechanimal sheep dogs weren’t the same, but they didn’t need feeding. Prue imagined how wonderful it would be to have a personifate sheep dog that could talk. She smiled to herself and read the plaque:

  Wilhelmina Blue-Moon

  Companion

  Capax Infiniti

  She looked around. There were numerous other dogs, many cats too, which also read companion – they seemed a popular choice – and there were gardeners and messengers, and shop workers too. Then she noticed a painting of a storm-grey hare with intelligent eyes.

  Carl Cold-Moon

  Technician

  Capax Infiniti

  A technician was different to anything she’d seen so far. Technician of what? It certainly had paws that looked like they could manipulate machinery, almost person-like, rather like Edwin.

  “Ah, one of my favourites,” said Craftsman Primrose, approaching Prue. “From before my time at the Guild, but I believe he was the first technician to be created.” Craftsman Primrose addressed the group. “What do you notice that the paintings have in common?”

  They were all animals, of course, but Prue wasn’t sure that was what Craftsman Primrose meant. She read the hare’s plaque again and was about to speak when Cora said, “Capax infiniti.”

  “Which means?” said Craftsman Primrose.

  “Capax infiniti means ‘holding the infinite’ in the old language.”

  “Correct. Thank you, Apprentice Duval.”

  “And the names,” Prue jumped in. “They’re all something-moon.”

  “Quite right. Do you know why?”

  Cora’s hand shot up, but Craftsman Primrose ignored her and turned to Edwin. “Perhaps Edwin could tell us.”

  “We take on the name of the moon under which we were brought into our second life.”

  Prue thought that was nice, and quite poetic. Perhaps Francis could be Francis Harvest-Moon.

  “Now, going back to the words below, Capax Infiniti; I would like you to think – and without giving me a textbook answer – tell me why we choose these words?” Craftsman Primrose looked at all of them in turn.

  The meaning of Capax Infiniti rolled through Prue’s mind: holding the infinite.

  Edwin raised a paw. “Is it a reminder that the thing that makes us who we are is not the outer body, but something deep inside, and that our bodies, whether flesh or ghost machine, are just a shell. It’s a stage in our history and future; which is, you know, infinite? Or something.”

  The silence became enormous for a moment.

  Then Cora said, “That was a bit deep!”

  Craftsman Primrose smiled to himself. “Edwin is correct in his line of thought – truly only an insight that a personifate perspective can bring. Although none of us truly understands the nature of what Master Woolstenbury discovered by harnessing the wildspark in qwortzite, this certainly opened a new chapter in the infinite story of life.” He let it sit with them for a while, then added, “Your journey as an apprentice is about so much more than the mechanics we achieve here.”

  Prue’s cheeks blushed with warmth and the word imposter, unbidden, echoed in her ears.

  “But understanding the greater picture is entirely something else.” He observed each one of them carefully with his knowing eyes, staying a moment longer with Edwin and Prue. Prue could tell it was so much more than a job to Craftsman Primrose. He was part of something that made history.

  “Take some time to look around. I want you to pay specific attention to the different types of machinery in the early personifates, make sketches and take notes in your journal. This will all form part of your ongoing research into the evolution of personifates.”

  They spent two hours drawing and recording their observations. Prue’s depictions were dreadful; she thought a baby would’ve drawn better. Agapantha’s were good, and Cora Duval’s drawings were annoyingly neat and exact again, but it was Edwin who was in his element. He drew not only with precision, but with flair; his sketches seemed to bring the inert paintings before him to life, as though inhabited once more.

  Cora sidled up to Agapantha and smiled sweetly. “These are impressive, but I’d expect no less from a Young.”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure being skilled at art is to do with—”

  “Don’t be modest. I can spot good breeding and talent from a hundred furrows.” She glanced at Prue. “Perhaps Edwin was from a respected family in his first life too.”

  Prue was just about to rise to the bait when Craftsman Primrose approached.

  “Excellent work, apprentices. Now, you may break for lunch. Cora, you will meet Master Sollentude afterwards; Frances, Agapantha and Edwin, I will meet you in the atrium at one o’clock sharp. You have had your most importan
t lesson, and after lunch I will take you to the most important place.”

  THE MOST IMPORTANT PLACE

  There was a lounge room on the ground floor where apprentices could gather at lunch and break times. Cora bounded off to meet Larkin, while Prue, Edwin and Agapantha decided to go outside. The sun was unusually warm for autumn, and they sat on a bench in the gardens with the lunch packs Lavender had made. To her surprise, Prue discovered there were two packs in her bag. She opened the first and inside was what appeared to be a pretend sandwich knitted from wool.

  “Do you think Lavender is a bit bonkers?” she said, holding it up.

  “Look, there’s a label,” said Agapantha.

  Prue read it. “For Edwin – so he doesn’t feel left out, L&L x.”

  Edwin frowned. “It’s a nice thought, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with it?”

  They all giggled and shrugged and Prue and Agapantha ate their vegetable pies while watching a rabbit personifate busily digging up potatoes several furrows away. Along the perimeter wall, a large black bear personifate was on patrol.

  “It’s all right for that guard personifate,” said Edwin, nodding in the bear’s direction.

  Queen Adelaide did have a point this morning: the smaller personifates were more vulnerable if there was a rogue wolf in the forest. Prue wondered whether she could do something to help. It wouldn’t be difficult to go into the woods and set a trap and try and catch the wolf or whatever it was. Prue used to love creating traps on the farm with Francis. Catching the perpetrator would be an excellent way to prove herself as being the capable young apprentice they expected from Frances Haywood, and it would also show that being from the country had its benefits. And at least Edwin and the other personifates would all feel safer too.

  “I was thinking: we should catch the beast of the forest.”

  “Us?” Edwin asked doubtfully. “And how do you propose we do that?”