Wildspark Read online

  “I mean it. It wouldn’t be that difficult; I know how to set traps. And if it doesn’t work, no one will ever know.”

  “Shouldn’t we keep away from the forest?” said Agapantha.

  “It’ll be fine – nothing will attack us if we’re together. Now, look at all that netting on the pumpkin patch. There’s bound to be more of it lying about. We can use that! Let’s set it at the weekend, when less people are around. Come on, it might even be fun,” she added.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” said Edwin. “I would actually rather do something than sit here moaning.”

  They both looked at Agapantha, who frowned uncomfortably.

  “We’ll need someone to work out the mathematics of the counterweight…” said Prue.

  “Come on, Ag, live a little…” said Edwin.

  Agapantha sighed. “All right.”

  “That’s settled then,” said Prue. “Let’s think on it this afternoon and start working on it tonight.”

  *

  They met Craftsman Primrose immediately after lunch and followed him to a large oak door on the first floor different to all the other doors.

  “Welcome to the most important place at the factorium: the library,” said Craftsman Primrose. He pushed the door and it swung wide.

  Warmth radiated from the room in the auburn and umber tones of book spines and dark wood shelving that ran the length and height of the room in two layers. Enormous world globes, illuminated within by chaos lamps, were set in tables down the centre of the room. Close by, sitting at a desk, was a huge brown bear. Prue’s muscles tensed, such was his size. When he saw them, he stood up suddenly, which made the desk screech forward and his chair tip backwards noisily.

  “New visitors!” he exclaimed, rather over-excitedly. He rushed from behind the desk, accidently sending a pile of books flying. “Whoops-a-daisy!” he said, carrying on towards them. He towered above them and would have been utterly terrifying, were it not for the fact he was wearing a garish red bow tie with bright yellow spots, and an enormous grin.

  “Apprentice Haywood and Young, this is our librarian, Phineas. Apprentice Snow-Moon, you already know Phineas, of course.”

  Edwin nodded and smiled.

  “Never was there a more bookish personifate!” Phineas declared. “When Edwin was a technician, he would be in here every break time, always learning.”

  “Indeed, it’s where I first noticed your interest and talents,” said Craftsman Primrose.

  “You’ll find many of the personifates like to come here whenever they can. It’s open to all, even those working within Medlock occasionally pop back.” Phineas reduced his voice to a whisper. “The Municipal Medlock Library isn’t always the friendliest of places for them. Don’t get me wrong, the librarians there are lovely, and they have several second-lifers. Indeed, I work very closely on new fiction stock with Milly, a delightful ferret personifate.” Phineas reduced his voice even more, so that they were all leaning right in to listen. “It’s the ASL. They target it as a place to spin their propaganda and hate for second lifers.”

  Prue remembered the poster she’d seen the day she arrived.

  “Anyway!” Phineas said suddenly in a voice so loud that they all jumped back. “Anything you need at any time for your studies, just come and ask. If you can’t find it, I’ll locate it in the blink of an eye,” he said, waving his arm to the side and knocking another pile of books over. “Oops! Come along, no need to hover by the door!”

  “Do you mind if I show them around, then let them choose some books?” Craftsman Primrose asked.

  “Be my guest. Perhaps start with the history section – that’s my favourite – then mechanics, art and design; oh, the joys you have ahead of you! Now, you may borrow as many as you can carry out of the library, aside from those with the Guild stamp on the spine; those must stay within these walls. It helps protect the secrets.” He winked.

  “Thank you, Phineas,” said Craftsman Primrose, and he led them deeper into the great room. “This is the history section, where you’ll find anything from ancient times right up until the mechanical revolution. It’s so important to have an understanding of where we are in time and place. There’s a fantastic shelf dedicated to the history of pre-personifate ghost theories and studies – absolutely fascinating stuff.”

  Prue made a note to have a good look in that section.

  “Over here is a section on art and design, where you will find both practical and aesthetic guides. This section here is mathematics – one for you, I hear, Agapantha – and personifate mechanics is above; the whole section there is devoted to the various aspects of synthetic muscle and internal mechanisms. Indeed, there are one-hundred and ninety-one books on internal mechanisms alone, I believe.”

  “One-hundred and ninety-two,” said Phineas, flying along the rolling ladder above them and popping a book into a vacant slot. “And opposite is our fiction section, somewhere to truly lose yourself, or find yourself, in fact. It’s rather bursting at the seams. I’ve had to ask Master Woolstenbury’s permission to extend into the old storeroom next door, but it won’t be ready for a while. If there’s anything you can’t see on the shelf, then I may have it tucked in a box somewhere – just ask.” And with that he scooted his foot along the floor and flew back the other way, holding the ladder with one paw and waving the other.

  Craftsman Primrose clapped his hands together. “I think the best way to learn is to explore. Find your own interests and spend some time discovering. I have some research to do myself, so just ask me or Phineas if there’s anything you can’t find.”

  They began browsing, and Prue went straight up the ladder to the mechanics section. A book titled Early Personifate Technology by Grenvil Ashby caught her eye. She had a quick flick through – it was utterly fascinating, seeing how simply constructed the very first ghost machines had been and to see how far they’d come in just eighteen years. But it wouldn’t help in her search for Francis. She needed to work out how to find him, and how to make sure that when she did, she could bring his memory back.

  She carried on browsing the shelves and found a subsection labelled The Art of Harnessing, which sounded promising, and within that, a book titled Unlocking the Secrets: How Hannah Woolstenbury Broke Through to the Other Side’, which looked like an excellent place to begin. She also grabbed one called Constructing Lifelike Mechanimals: A Study of Basic Framework Principles on her way back down the ladder; she didn’t want her real interests in being at the Guild to become obvious.

  Prue paused as her eye was caught by some ancient-looking books. She gently ran her fingertips across their old fabric spines. They were just like her mum’s old fairytale books back at the farmhouse. She and Francis used to take them on free afternoons and he’d read her stories under Haywood’s Oak. The thoughts made her ache for carefree summer days on the farm and what had been. She pulled one out a little way – The Talking Sparrow and Other Tales. It was the exact same book they had at home. Francis had loved the talking sparrow.

  “Francis,” someone said in a hushed voice.

  Prue looked up suddenly, searching the room for her brother.

  “Frances, over here, come and sit with us.” Edwin beckoned.

  “Oh, right, sorry,” she mumbled, her heart sinking back down into a black pool. She took her books over to the table where Edwin and Agapantha were sitting.

  “It was like you’d forgotten who you were for a moment!” Edwin laughed.

  “Ha, I know, sorry,” Prue said, her face filling with warmth.

  Edwin was reading something about art and Agapantha had a book called Mathematical Principles of the Wildspark. As Prue read, there was so much she wanted to take notes on, but it would look too obvious perhaps, so she decided to simply mark down the page numbers and come back another time to start a new journal, just for making notes related to her mission to find Francis.

  Shortly, Craftsman Primrose joined them, putting a large book on the table called The Variant
Power of the Moon Cycles. “Thought I’d brush up on the blood moon,” he smiled. “Ah, I see you’re reading about harnessing, Frances. Straight in at the deep end!”

  The sound of books tumbling made them all look up to the other end of the library, where Phineas had knocked a great pile over. “Sorry!” he called, pointing at his rear. “It’s so much smaller in my mind.”

  Craftsman Primrose hushed his voice. “You’re probably thinking he’s an odd choice for a librarian. We were hoping for a guard, but Phineas turned out to be quite the peace-loving book fanatic and so took the library under his wing.”

  “Couldn’t the craftsmen have just moved him to a new body, maybe something less … bulky?” Prue asked.

  “A good question, Frances, but transferring spirits is against the regulations set by the Guild and the Sovereign Chancellery. It was briefly tried before the Guild realized the risks. It’s a delicate enough procedure to harness a ghost in the first place. There would be a chance of disrupting the wildspark signal held within the qwortzite if we moved it to a new body.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Obviously it’s good when we get a serendipitous match. We’ve been experimenting with different forms for many years,” said Craftsman Primrose. “Sometimes it works out and sometimes there is disparity, so we try a wide variety and celebrate when they do match well.”

  “Are most personifates happy with their new bodies?” Prue asked.

  “Usually they are. The biomorphic principle means there is usually a connection formed, but our sense of self is quite fragile and rooted in our physicality. But perhaps Edwin would like to provide us with his unique insight, from a personifate perspective?”

  Edwin shrugged his small furry shoulders. “I guess I was lucky to be brought back as a stoat technician. My paws are nimble and I like drawing and working with machines, so it seems like a good fit. But also, I am who I am, I don’t know otherwise. But if you think about it, isn’t that the case for first and second lifers? None of us can help what we are born into.”

  Craftsman Primrose nodded. “Exactly, Edwin. An excellent point. It is what you make of what you have that means something. What you choose to do with your time here, whether second or first life.”

  “But there’s really no way of knowing who Edwin was before?” asked Prue.

  Craftsman Primrose shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

  Silence fell for a moment and then Edwin, Agapantha and Craftsman Primrose went back to their reading.

  But Prue’s mind was still turning over. After a while she said, “Could there be a way of making sure of a suitable match by locating the right ghost? Some way of making it less random?”

  Craftsman Primrose looked at her over his wire-rimmed spectacles. “I’m afraid not, but our experience over the years has given us some clues. For example, we know the ghosts harnessed at the factorium are from a certain geographical radius because we can safely assume the voices and languages originated in their first life. We have occasionally harnessed a second lifer with the ability to speak in two languages, meaning they were likely living in this land but were originally from another.”

  “Do you know how far the radius is?” Prue crossed her fingers under the table.

  Craftsman Primrose’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she hoped she hadn’t been too inquisitive.

  “We estimate somewhere in the region of two hundred miles.”

  Prue contained a smile; that meant there was definitely a chance she could bring back Francis at the Guild.

  Craftsman Primrose looked at his pocket watch. “Ah, time for me to get along. You three finish up here and check out any allowed books with Phineas. I’ll see you all soon.”

  Agapantha was suddenly scribbling furiously in her notebook.

  “What are you doing?” Prue asked after a while.

  “Calculations; the current population of Medlock and the surrounding area, and the population history of the city. What Craftsman Primrose said got me thinking about the probability of being brought back. And this equation should work it out. It’s not accurate by any means, without precise statistics, but it would give a rough idea.”

  Prue wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Edwin peered over at Agapantha’s calculations.

  “I mean, these are approximate guesses at numbers, but I would say P, that stands for probability, equals something in the region of 1 in 859,746.”

  “Oh, that’s low,” Prue said, suddenly deflated.

  Agapantha thought for a moment. “True, but what are the chances of you being born into a first life?”

  “The odds of that are probably off the scale!” said Edwin.

  “And there may be other factors at play that are not in my calculation. For example, I was reading that based on a predominance of modern languages and dialects, some believe that it’s easier to bring back someone who has recently passed on from their first life.”

  Prue felt a surge of hope knowing that.

  Edwin nodded thoughtfully. “And maybe if a spirit wants it badly enough there’s more of a chance too.”

  Prue thought back to a time she’d been out with Francis at the river near North Owlcot. They’d made a rope swing to get across; Francis had gone first and just made it to the other side, teetering on the edge for a while, flailing his arms before gaining his balance. He called back to her to join him.

  “I won’t make it!” she’d shouted.

  “You will if you want to! It depends how much you really want it.”

  “I’ll fall.”

  He folded his arms. “Then you stay that side and go on back to the farm, and I’ll stay here and eat all Dad’s apple tart to myself.” He grinned, took it out of his backpack and held it to his mouth.

  “You wouldn’t dare!” she shouted.

  “I did dare, and now I’m this side of the river. It’s you who won’t dare!” He laughed, and Prue tightened her lips and scowled at him.

  “But the chances of me falling in the river are higher than reaching the other side. If I stay here the odds are one hundred percent certain I’ll stay dry.” She sat on the bank.

  “Oh, come on, Prue; the odds are better if you believe it’s possible! Just believe.”

  She’d stood up, closed her eyes for a second, then took an almighty run up and grabbed the rope. For a moment she’d felt like she was flying.

  “Let go!” Francis called, and she released the rope and hurtled into her brother on the other side, knocking the wind out of his chest and sending the apple tart flying into the grass.

  “Are you all right, Frances?” Edwin said. “You looked like you were miles away for a second.”

  “Err, yes – I was just thinking about the wolf trap,” she said quickly. “Come on. Let’s get back to the house and sketch some plans before Cora gets back.”

  LUELLA

  In the parlour, Prue and Edwin used Edwin’s sketchpad to draw a plan for their trap. Prue instructed him on the design, until at one point, Agapantha gave a little cough and asked them if they minded, and she made a few adjustments to the calculations for the counter balance and rope lengths.

  “That’s brilliant, Ag. Yes, I think that will work better,” said Prue, impressed.

  They decided the quietest day at the Guild would be Sunday, so it would be easiest to sneak around and get equipment to set the trap then.

  When they finished planning, Prue put the drawing in her bag and they went into the dining room for tea.

  Afterwards, Agapantha and Edwin went upstairs and Prue sought out Liddy in the parlour to ask for some notepaper and an envelope to write to her parents.

  “When you’re done, you can go to the messenger tower at the factorium, and one of the personifates will deliver it. It’s the quickest way to send letters these days. Take someone with you if it’s after sunset.”

  The parlour was busy with an older group of apprentices, so Prue went upstairs to write. Agapantha was sitting on the smallest bed in the room, and on the large be
d nearest the window, where Agapantha had slept the previous night, sat Cora Duval.

  “What are you doing?” Prue asked.

  “This is my room too,” Cora laughed.

  “That’s Agapantha’s bed,” said Prue hotly.

  “It didn’t have her name on it.”

  Agapantha stood up behind Prue. “I don’t mind.”

  “There, see, she doesn’t mind,” said Cora.

  “I mind,” said Prue. “It’s the principle of it.”

  “Would you like me to move?” Cora said to Agapantha, with her eyes wide and a sickly smile.

  Agapantha shook her head.

  Prue huffed and went to the desk. She tried to push it all aside and begin writing to Mum and Dad. Her pen hovered over the page for a painful amount of time before she decided to describe what it had been like to ride on the Gigantrak, what Medlock was like and even Deakins Entire. But she had to stop after that – she had so much to say, but the secrecy regulations prevented it. It felt as though she was even further from her parents, and this was a distance she would never be able to breach. She signed it Sorry, Prue. P.S. Please address any envelopes to my official title, Apprentice Haywood. It’s Guild rules.

  When she’d finished, she turned to Agapantha and said, “Would you please come to the messenger tower with me? Liddy said we should go in pairs after dark.”

  Agapantha’s eyes flitted to the window. “It’s getting late.”

  “Come on, the stars are coming out. Please?”

  Agapantha nodded. Prue felt a bit bad because she knew Agapantha’s good nature made her easy to persuade, but she also knew it would be a chance to get to know her better.

  “Don’t be long,” said Cora. “I need my sleep. Master Sollentude says Larkin is the brightest young apprentice the Guild has ever seen, and I intend to take his crown.”

  Prue resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “We won’t be long.”

  They headed down the stairs to the pneumerator.

  “Was it lever up to bring the pod this way or down?” Prue said.

  “Up, I think, but it’s already here because it’s already up.”