by Alan Skinner
Achillia turned to Crimson.
‘Now, I believe that Dot has something for you, Crimson.’
‘For saving my life at the river,’ said Dot, handing the box to the firefighter.
Crimson blushed. ‘You didn’t have to give me anything, Dot. I don’t know what to say!’
‘Open it, and then you might think of something to say,’ Copper chuckled.
Crimson opened the box. On the top was piece of polished wood. It had been hinged, so that it folded like a board game. Underneath were five spinning tops decorated with pictures of couples dancing. Crimson opened out the wood and placed in on Achillia’s desk.
‘A dance floor!’ Grunge exclaimed.
‘Spin them,’ urged Dot.
Crimson took out the first top, placed it on the polished wood and pumped the handle. The figures blurred, then reappeared and began to dance. Music came from the top, in perfect rhythm to the dancing figures.
Crimson set the second top spinning. ‘Do the others,’ she said to her friends.
Soon the five tops were spinning and weaving around each other on the dance floor. Each top played the same tune and on each top the figures danced to the tune.
‘These are wonderful!’ said Crimson. She gave Dot a hug. ‘You’re so clever!’
It was Dot’s turn to blush. ‘They can play four tunes,’ she said. She moved a small metal slider on the edge of each of the tops and once again sent them spinning. This time, they played a different tune with a different rhythm and again the dancing figures kept time with the music.
‘Don’t ask her how they work,’ said Copper. ‘She’ll spend all day explaining!’ And he beamed proudly at his apprentice.
‘Thank you, Dot,’ said Crimson. ‘Thank you.’
There was a sharp knock. The door opened and Beatrice stood in the doorway.
‘I have them,’ she announced.
Achillia nodded. ‘I’ll see them in your office, Beatrice, when I’m finished here.’ Her assistant turned to leave. ‘Oh, Beatrice, once you’ve deposited your charges in your office, would you please tell the attendant we are ready for our coffee and cake? And it would be nice if you could join us.’
‘Certainly,’ said Beatrice, closing the door behind her.
‘Some troublesome apprentices, I’m afraid,’ Achillia sighed. She forced a smile on her face. ‘I’ll let them stew for a while,’ she continued brightly ‘They need a very good lesson, the pair of them.’
≈
‘Sit,’ ordered Beatrice. She pointed to two hard-looking chairs against the wall.
Touch and Cres meekly took their seats. ‘Now don’t move. Achillia will deal with you shortly.’
Beatrice glared at the apprentices. Touch fidgeted nervously. Cres sat staring at her hands in her lap. Beatrice paused just long enough to make sure they were as uncomfortable as could be, then strode from the room.
Touch continued to fidget. He lifted his eyes and gazed out the window. He felt devastated. He was sure it should have worked. It was just bad luck, he figured. There was no way to get out of this.
The sound of voices came from the next office. ‘That’s Achillia’s office, he thought. I’ll bet they’re in there deciding what to do with us.’ Touch looked at the office door. ‘As long as there are voices in there, Achillia and Beatrice won’t be here,’ he decided. He slid off his chair and put his ear to the wall.
≈
‘Some cake, Grunge? And some for Miniver, of course. It’s honey cake. Dot said Miniver is very partial to honey cake.’
On the whole, Myrmidots are as nice as any other people you are ever likely to meet. So we shall give Achillia the benefit of doubt and assume that she did not realise that she talked to the Muddles as if they were children. It made Crimson feel like a little girl at a friend’s birthday party.
‘Thank you,’ said Grunge.
Achillia placed a piece of cake on a napkin and put it in front of Miniver. ‘There you go, Miniver. Just for you.’ She patted Miniver on the head. Crimson looked over at the bear just in time to see Miniver roll her eyes.
‘Now, Crimson, you were just about to say something?’ asked Achillia.
‘It’s probably nothing –’ Crimson started, when Achillia interrupted again.
‘Beatrice, I think Copper might like some more coffee.’ She turned back to Crimson and smiled. ‘Now, what’s this nothing that’s bothering you?’
Crimson gritted her teeth. ‘Lately, I’ve been having strange feelings. It sounds silly, I know, but . . . well, at first it was the same as when I went to Beadledom, and I felt there was something wrong with the Land. Then the feeling got stronger, like it did when we were in the High Mountains and Amelia was trying to . . . call to me.’
Crimson’s words unsettled Achillia. Her eyes flicked to Beatrice, then back to Crimson. She looked hard at the Muddle for a moment, then asked, ‘And when did these feelings start?’
‘About five days ago. It’s been stronger since yesterday.’
‘You think something is happening?’
Crimson shrugged. ‘Yes – to me or to the Land. I’m not sure which.’
Beatrice was sitting in her chair beside Achillia, watching Crimson closely. Her back was straight and her hands were folded in her lap. ‘Maybe there’s no difference,’ she said. ‘Maybe one is the same as the other. But that doesn’t solve anything.’ She dropped her eyes and looked at her hands.
Grunge was studying Beatrice. He noticed she clasped her hands so tightly that her knuckles were white. ‘You’ve felt something, too, haven’t you?’ he asked her. ‘What aren’t you telling us?’
‘Yes, I am aware of something. That’s all there is to tell. I cannot explain it any more than Crimson can.’
Achillia leaned forward. ‘Beatrice told me how she felt. We discussed what might be causing it.’ She wondered how much she should say to the Muddles. ‘I think it is likely that there are still some effects from the rock of blue fire having been in the Land. Nothing more.’
Achillia paused. What harm would it do to say what she thought? Not everything, of course . . . ‘I’m also wondering if we did the right thing in not finding out more about the fire stone. We just assumed it was harmful but we know little about it. There are some who believe we could benefit from it.’
‘Benefit? How exactly?’ asked Crimson. She suddenly felt uncomfortable.
It was Achillia’s turn to shrug. ‘Who knows?’ she said casually. ‘Just because it’s powerful doesn’t mean it’s bad.’ Consider this. Amelia used it to cause harm. That doesn’t mean it is always harmful. Maybe we should have brought some back to Forge to study it. Maybe we will one day. It would be simple now that Copper and Dot have produced this book with the map.’
A loud thud came from Beatrice’s office.
‘Can’t they keep out of trouble for even a few minutes?’ muttered Achillia. ‘Beatrice, would you . . .?’
Beatrice walked to the door leading to her office. She opened it and peered in. Touch and Cres were sitting just as she had left them. Everything looked as it should. She gave the apprentices a warning glare and closed the door again.
‘As it happens, Beatrice disagrees with me. She thinks the rock is where it belongs and we should leave well enough alone. But, anyway, we have other things to worry about right now,’ Achillia continued when her assiatant had sat back down. ‘And I don’t think we should dismiss Crimson’s or Beatrice’s feelings lightly. We should be on our guard. If anything strange happens, please let us know. We will do the same if anything happens in Myrmidia.’
Crimson and Grunge nodded their agreement.
‘That’s settled. It was such a pleasure to see you again, and to meet you, Miniver,’ Achillia declared. ‘I’m sorry I cannot spend more time with you, but today’s unfortunate incident has thrown my schedule into disarray. And there are two young apprentices who require my attention.’
Achillia rose and accompanied them to the door.
‘I h
ope you have a pleasant journey back to Home. Copper and Dot will walk you back to the tram.’ Achillia hugged Crimson and then Grunge. She turned to Miniver and smiled. ‘Such a well-behaved bear!’ she said and hugged her. Miniver thought seriously for a moment about giving Achillia a little nip on the bottom.
≈
‘What were you doing? You nearly got us into more trouble falling off that chair!’ Touch whispered angrily to Cres.
‘I just wondered whether there was anything behind the painting, that’s all. You know, like a secret spy hole or something. And anyway, I’m not the one listening to other people’s conversation. If Beatrice had caught you then we’d be in more trouble,’ said Cres defensively.
‘They have Muddles in there!’ Touch exclaimed. ‘The ones who went with Copper and Dot to the High Mountains!’
‘I’ve never seen a Muddle. Do you think they were, like, muddled?’ Cres pondered.
‘Didn’t sound like it, but maybe they sound the same, muddled or unmuddled,’ said Touch. ‘They were talking about the rock that burns, the blue rock.’
‘Everyone says it’s very dangerous,’ said Cres.
‘How would everyone know? No one’s actually seen it, except Copper and Dot. And Achillia said –’
‘Shh!’ Cres hissed. ‘They’re coming!’
Touch and Cres sat bolt upright in their chairs. The door opened and their hearts beat faster. Achillia and Beatrice stood in the doorway. The look on their faces told the young apprentices this wasn’t going to go well.
Chapter 2
Masterless Apprentices
If ever you travel to Myrmidia and wander at leisure through its main town, Forge, you will be impressed by how orderly and practical it is – although it can sometimes be a bit untidy, too, since Myrmidots are not as good as Beadles at managing things. Still, very few people are good at everything so we shouldn’t judge them too harshly. The folk of Myrmidia are industrious, conscientious and spend quite a deal of their time thinking of things to make and then making them. Between the hours of 7:30 a.m. and 6 p.m., they work. While they work, they are serious and diligent, and anything frivolous is a serious breach of good manners.
Of course, people cannot be dedicated to work all the time and Myrmidots are no exception. Once evening comes and tools have been put away in drawers and hung in their place on large tool boards, Myrmidots like to gather at Bellows, or one of the other taverns or restaurants, to eat, tell stories, laugh and generally have a good time. Though they rarely smile from the moment the morning whistle blows until it sounds again in the afternoon, afterwards they are full of laughter and good cheer until they finally put their heads on their pillows. Then they sleep soundly and dream of gadgets and machines, of engines and motors, of nuts, bolts, washers and grommets.
Almost every young Myrmidot aspires to be an engineer, though it is no easy task. Between the ages of five and twelve there are eight long years of Foundation School. Teenage Myrmidots graduate to Tinker School, where they trade the terrors of teachers and classrooms for instructors and workbenches. They spend three years studying the basics of woodwork, metalwork, propulsion, energy, reaction, friction, stress factors and many, many other things of great technical importance. They learn words like fulcrum, triangulation and combustion (young male Myrmidots are particularly fond of combustion classes). Before those three years are up, they learn how to design and draught plans and to use one of those long L-shaped ruler things.
You might think that that seems like more than enough time to learn how to invent and make things, such as self-folding beach chairs, a gadget that shells peas while peeling potatoes and makes those pretty little rose shapes out of the skin of tomatoes, and an alarm clock that makes coffee. Yet, having endured three years of Tinker School, Myrmidots then serve an apprenticeship for five years. One of the best things about being an apprentice is gaining admission into the Vault. The Vault is the largest building in Forge. It is where Myrmidot engineers gather to invent things, discuss things, fix things and try things; in fact, where they do almost anything they like. So you will appreciate how upset Touch and Cres were at the consequences of their little mishap . . .
‘She can’t be serious!’ cried Cres. ‘She just can’t be serious!’
Cres and Touch sat on the steps behind the transport factory, where bikes and carts, skateboards and scooters, and even the occasional tram, rolled off the production line. Touch sat with his head in his hands. Of course, none of the factories was producing anything at all at that moment. Ingeniously, they all were powered by one, central furnace. Unfortunately, it was the one Touch and Cres had blown up.
‘No Vault,’ he said, his voice glum and low. ‘We’ve only been allowed in there less than a year and already we’re banned.’ Touch scuffed the step under his foot as if trying to erase the idea. ‘I’ll bet we’re the only apprentices – the only Myrmidots – ever to have been banned from the Vault!’
‘Achillia really was angry,’ Cres said. ‘Do you think she was serious about sending us back to Tinker School? When I was in Tinker School what I wanted most was not to be in Tinker School.’ She sighed. ‘I couldn’t wait to be an apprentice.’
‘And we are apprentices, Cres. They can’t make us go back. It wouldn’t be right. They can’t do it! We were just trying to help!’ Touch moaned. ‘And now we’re banned!’
‘We’ve not actually been banned, Touch,’ said Cres. ‘Just suspended until the next meeting of the Engineers’ Council and then they’ll ban us.’
Touch’s looked at Cres, a scowl on his face. ‘By the clouds! I don’t know which of us is more stupid!’ he said angrily.
Cres thought for a second or two and then said, ‘I think we agreed I am. Remember? When the wheels came off . . .’
The cloud vanished from Touch’s face. ‘That should have worked, though. I think we almost had it there.’ He was thoughtful for a moment. ‘We really should be famous, Cres. It only takes one simple idea.’
‘And you have more simple ideas than anyone,’ Cres said, as supportive as usual.
‘You’re right,’ he cried. ‘And at least they didn’t take away our toolkits. We have to think of something special. Something that will make them never even consider banning us from the Vault. Or sending us back to Tinker School. We’ll show them. We’ll come up with something!’
For several minutes they sat in silence on the step, heads cupped in hands, deep in thought.
‘Anything?’ said Cres at last.
Touch shook his head. ‘Nothing.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Cres reassured her friend. ‘It’ll come.’
‘Ice cream,’ Touch declared.
‘Ice cream?’ said Cres, puzzled. ‘That doesn’t sound very special. How will ice cream help?’
‘I think better when I’m eating ice cream. C’mon. Let’s get some.’ Touch stood and started walking. Cres hurried after him.
‘Does it really make you think better?’ she asked. ‘It doesn’t help me. It makes it harder to think, actually. If I eat it too fast it freezes my head and then I can’t think at all. That’s odd, don’t you think, Touch? You know, that it freezes my head and not my stomach.’
The two friends walked amid the factories towards the centre of Forge, trying to solve the mystery of ice cream. At the main street they had to wait for the afternoon tram, on its way to the Muddlemarsh border, to rattle past. It stopped a short way down the street, and Touch and Cres spotted Copper and Dot saying goodbye to some strangers.
‘That must be the Muddles!’ Cres cried. Her face fell. ‘They don’t look very different, do they?’
‘Except the bear,’ said Touch. ‘You don’t see many of those getting on a tram.’
Now they were just themselves, the Muddle firefighter and musician looked pretty much like any other firefighter or musician, except Beadle ones, who would have been rounder and shorter. So Cres’s disappointment was understandable. They watched as Copper and Wave bid the Muddles farewell, and Cres f
elt a bit envious when she saw Dot hug Miniver and the bear lick Dot’s cheek. ‘I wish I had a bear as a friend,’ she thought. The Muddles boarded the tram and leaned out the window, waving to Copper and Dot as they were carried away down the street.
Copper and Dot exchanged a few words, then Copper headed towards the factories. Dot stood for a moment, reading something in her hand, and then walked to a place Touch and Cres knew well and looked in its window. Karl’s Ironmongery and Smithy Supplies was one of the most popular shops in Forge.
‘C’mon, Cres. Let’s get that ice cream,’ Touch urged his friend.
‘Wait. I want to speak to Dot.’
‘Is that a good idea, Cres? I mean, she’s a third-year apprentice. Why would she want to talk to us? Especially now, she’s famous. We’re . . . we’re . . . nothing.’ Touch glanced over at Dot. ‘Anyway, she probably wouldn’t like us to talk to her. She’s so shy.’
‘I know!’ Cres said. ‘But that’s why we should say hello.’
‘Huh? How do you figure that?’ asked Touch.
‘Well, just because she’s shy about talking to people doesn’t mean she’s shy about people talking to her. And if we don’t say hello and she notices us, then she might feel she has to say hello, and then she’ll feel bad because she has to talk to us. Or if she doesn’t say hello, she’ll feel bad because she didn’t talk to us. But if we talk to her first, then she won’t feel bad. It’s simple, really.’
Touch stared at his friend for a moment, then grinned. ‘You’re really smart sometimes, Cres. Between us, everything’s simple!’ he said.
Touch and Cres walked to the ironmonger’s. Dot was staring so hard at something in the window that she didn’t notice the two young apprentices standing nearby. She jumped when Cres spoke to her.
‘Hello, Dot,’ said Cres, very politely.
Dot turned to look at them. ‘Oh, hi, Cres, hi, Touch,’ she replied, and smiled.
