by Alan Skinner
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking,’ Cres said, ‘but I saw you saying goodbye to the Muddles and I just wondered – have you ever seen them when they muddle?’
‘It’s called the Mix, Cres. And yeah, I have,’ Dot replied.
Cres looked at Dot with just a touch of envy. ‘You’re so lucky!’ She hesitated, and then said, ‘Next time they’re here, do you think you could ask them to, well, mix for us? I’d so love to see that!’
Dot laughed. ‘They can’t mix whenever they feel like it. It just happens. They never know when and for how long.’
Touch frowned. ‘You mean, they could be doing anything and it just happens? That spins! Imagine if you were just about to lick your ice cream and everyone mixed and you got someone who was eating sprouts! Ugh!’ Touch’s face wrinkled with disgust at the thought of licking sprouts.
Dot smiled at them. ‘Maybe you’ll see it for yourself one day. Right, now I have some things I have to get for Copper. He’s given me a list. There’s quite a bit of fixing to do after the explosion this morning,’ Dot explained, adding casually, ‘I hear that you two might have had something to do with that.’
Touch looked at his feet. He hated the idea that Dot might think they were, well . . . inept. ‘Ah, yes, we did have . . . um. . . something to do with it.’
‘Everything, actually,’ broke in Cres with surprising chirpiness. Dot smiled to herself. Cres always thought the sky looked blue, even when it was raining. She never stayed gloomy for long. ‘We blew it up.’ Her honest eyes looked right at Dot’s. ‘Didn’t mean to. But we did.’
‘And now we’re in trouble. Big trouble. Achillia is really mad at us,’ Touch explained. ‘She’s forbidden us to use the Vault until the Engineers’ Council meets and then they might ban us.’
‘For life, maybe,’ Cres added, just to make sure Dot got the right impression. Dot knew Achillia well enough though, and was in no doubt that things looked bad for the two young apprentices. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for them.
‘I’m sure it won’t come to that,’ she tried to reassure them. ‘They’ll probably just expel you for a few weeks and add a couple of months on to your apprenticeship.’
‘We’ve been trying to think of some way to get back into everyone’s good books,’ Touch confessed. ‘We thought maybe if we invented something really amazing, really out there, they’d be so happy that they’d forget about the factory.’
‘I think it will be quite a long time before Myrmidia forgets about what happened today,’ said Dot. ‘It might be better to keep your heads down and stay out of trouble, show them that you have learned your lesson.’
‘Oh, we have,’ said Cres. ‘Learned it good and proper.’
‘We have to do more than that, though,’ Touch broke in. ‘No one notices it when you’re ordinary, like everyone else. That’s the problem. You can do everything right six days a week and then one day a week you make a mistake and the six days don’t count for anything.’
‘We’re going to think of something really amazing,’ said Cres.
Dot was sure of that. She decided it was futile to try to make them see sense. She hoped that, just this once, inspiration would fail them.
‘It’s different for you, Dot,’ Touch said sadly. ‘You’re a hero. You’re famous. And everybody knows you’re the best apprentice engineer in Myrmidia.’ Touch looked wistfully north, towards the High Mountains. ‘I wish I could go on a great adventure. That must have been wild, going to the mountains with the Muddles and the Beadles. And frightening, meeting that woman who set the fires.’
‘Amelia,’ said Dot quietly. ‘Her name was Amelia. And yes, I was frightened.’ She remembered how Amelia had stepped into the fire and she shuddered involuntarily. Dot didn’t feel like a hero and she certainly didn’t want to be famous. Despite what people said, every day she felt as ordinary as she did the day before. It embarrassed her when people talked of her as a hero.
Cres’s voice crashed into her thoughts. ‘But the field of blue ice!’ she insisted. ‘The whole Land knows what you did! I don’t know how you could have run across the snow like that. Imagine if you had stepped on a piece of fire rock!’
‘Boom!’ shouted Touch, slightly carried away. ‘Boom . . .’ His voice faltered and he became thoughtful. He avoided looking directly at Dot. ‘Is it true that there is a cave filled with blue fire rock?’
‘There is,’ said Dot. ‘A big cave, deep in the heart of the mountains. A huge stone sits in the middle of the cave, just burning. Hotter than any fire I could have imagined.’
‘How come it doesn’t explode? I thought that the blue fire rock explodes when it comes into contact with air,’ Touch asked.
‘Or water,’ Cres chimed in. ‘Water makes even a small piece explode.’
Dot shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. Copper talked to Grunge and Crimson about that. They think it has something to do with the river that flows near it. The river is water from the melting blue ice and maybe that keeps it under control. Perhaps there’s a lot of moisture from the river in the air. I’m not sure,’ she admitted, suddenly becomming very serious. ‘One thing I do know is that the blue fire is terrible. It just burns. It burns everything that it touches. Even water. And when there is nothing left for it to burn, it goes into the soil and waits for something else to burn.’
‘Except water from blue ice,’ put in Cres.
‘And metal,’ added Touch. ‘Everyone says that it doesn’t burn metal.’
‘Copper thinks it will even eat metal after a while,’ Dot said.
‘Wow. It’s too bad you didn’t bring some back with you,’ Touch said wistfully. ‘I’d like to see some. It sounds awesome.’
‘Awesome isn’t the word I’d choose,’ Dot replied. ‘And the blue fire rock is better off where it is, not here in Forge.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Touch agreed. Cres looked sharply at him. He didn’t sound very convincing.
‘Now, I’d better get those things for Copper or I’ll be in his bad books.’ Dot hugged Cres and then Touch. ‘Bye.’
The young apprentices watched Dot walk into Karl’s Ironmongery and Smithy Supplies.
‘Well, how about that ice cream?’ Cres said.
There was no reply from Touch. Cres glanced at him. He was staring at the footpath intently, his brow wrinkled. Cres gave him a gentle poke on the arm.
‘Touch?’
Touch raised his head slowly, a huge grin spread across his face. ‘I’ve got it, Cres. This is the best! After this, they probably won’t even make us finish our apprenticeship!’
‘An idea, Touch? You’ve got an idea? A really good one?’
Touch’s exuberance flooded out of him in a torrent of words. ‘Listen, Cres. What are we? We’re Myrmidots. And remember what the Myrmidot philosopher Gaucart said? “I think, therefore I am. I make, therefore I am useful.” So what do Myrmidots do? They invent things. They make things. Lots of things. Everything. And what do we use to make things? Factories. Lots of factories. And what do factories need? Fuel. Lots of fuel. Oh, Cres, this is brilliant!’
‘What’s brilliant, Touch? What’s the idea –’ Cres started, but Touch was too busy surfing the crest of inspiration to listen.
‘What if we found a way to power all the factories with almost no fuel? A fuel so powerful, the tiniest amount could keep all the furnaces at full power? That’d be brilliant, wouldn’t it? That’d make us famous, for sure. And it would make up for all the accidents, don’t you think? It would, Cres! I should have thought of this before!’
Cres was puzzled. ‘What should you have thought of, Touch?’
‘Blue fire, Cres. Copper and Dot said that all it needs is air to burn, and that water makes it burn even more. It’s hotter and more powerful than any other fire. Imagine if we used blue fire in the furnace. One small piece would last maybe for ever and all it needs is air. There’s plenty of that around!’
‘But we don’t have any blue fire rock,’ Cres observed.
‘You’re perfectly correct.’ Touch turned and started walking the other way. ‘But we know where to find it! C’mon, Cres! Let’s go!’
Cres looked towards the town centre, sighed and then hurried to catch up with her friend. ‘I guess this means you don’t need the ice cream, Touch?’ she said.
‘No time, Cres! No time for ice cream now. We have to make plans.’
‘Plans? For what?’
‘To get a map, Cres.’ Touch flashed a smile at her. ‘A treasure map!’
≈
The hinges of the large oak door creaked as Touch pushed it open. For a moment he froze, listening, but the only sound he could hear was Cres’s quiet breathing behind him. He pushed the door again, opening it just wide enough for him and Cres to enter the large room beyond. Moonlight washed in through tall windows on the far side and the pair could clearly see Achillia’s massive desk beneath them.
Touch and Cres moved quickly to the desk. It only took Touch an instant to realise what they were looking for was not there.
‘Jelly beans!’ whispered Cres, picking up a jar. Apart from that, the only things on the desk were a large leather desk pad, some pens, neatly aligned on the pad, and a notebook.
‘Cres!’ Touch whispered sharply. ‘You can’t! That’s stealing!’
Cres replaced the jar on the desk. ‘You’re right,’ she sighed. ‘There’s nothing here, Touch.’ She thought for a moment. ‘If we did find it and take it, wouldn’t that be stealing, too?’
‘I told you, Cres, we’re not going to take it away.’ Touch pulled a pencil and a pad of paper from his pocket. ‘We’ll just copy it and take the copy. That way, no one will know what we’re up to.’
Cres just nodded. Her attention was caught by the portraits that filled the upper walls of the room. While Touch checked the desk drawers, she wandered away to gaze at the paintings of Forge’s previous Lord Mayors.
‘They don’t look very happy, do they, Touch? You’d think that they’d be happy to be Lord Mayor,’ she said very quietly. ‘In fact, they look miserable.’
‘It’s not here,’ said Touch, closing the last drawer. Along the wall on the right was a glass-fronted bookcase. Touch went over to it and opened the doors.
‘Maybe they were happy when they started and then became miserable later,’ Cres continued. ‘What do you think made them miserable, Touch?’
‘Apprentices.’
Achillia’s voice came out of the darkness. Touch was so startled he dropped the book he was holding. Cres froze.
There was a click, barely audible, and the room filled with light. Achillia stood in the doorway, her face impassive as she gazed at the two apprentices, frozen like rabbits caught in torchlight.
‘Especially the troublesome ones.’
Achillia took a couple of steps into the room and stood studying them. Neither Touch nor Cres moved a muscle.
‘And you two are the most troublesome in the history of Myrmidia. What are you doing?’ she demanded.
Touch wanted to speak but fear had a grip on his tongue and refused to let go. Cres could only stare at Achillia, her head filled with thoughts of all the dire punishments they were about to suffer.
‘You are looking for something. What?’
Maybe it wasn’t guilt. Maybe Touch was startled and confused, or maybe he was distracted by the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. Whatever it was, he found himself giving a simple answer.
‘The book,’ he said in a low voice. ‘The one Copper and Dot made.’
For what seemed ages to Touch and Cres, but was really no more than a dozen heartbeats, Achillia remained silent, staring at them. Then she walked to the door to Beatrice’s office. She stopped, her hand on the door handle.
‘Sit,’ she said, indicating the visitors’ chairs in front of the desk. Touch and Cres sat. Achillia opened the door and went into the other room.
A minute later she returned. In her hand was the copy of the book that had been given to the Muddles. She stood between the two apprentices and held out the book. Neither Touch nor Cres dared move.
‘Take it,’ she ordered. Tentatively, Cres reached out and took the book. ‘Now, tell me why you want it.’
‘We . . . we heard you say there was a map in it,’ Touch answered. ‘And we wanted to find our way to the cave where the rock of blue fire is –’
‘To get some of the fire rock –’ said Cres.
‘For the factories,’ Touch added.
‘It burns without fuel . . .’
‘Just imagine –’
‘Enough,’ commanded Achillia. ‘You should have discussed this with us.’ She held up her hand to stop Touch interrupting. ‘I know what you’re going to say: we wouldn’t have let you. You’re right. You’re too young.’
Achillia paused, looking hard at the two apprentices. ‘It doesn’t belong down here. And you don’t know how powerful it is. None of us do.’
‘But you said that maybe we should have it here to study it,’ Touch protested.
Achillia’s eyebrows arched. ‘Eavesdropping, could get you into more trouble than you bargained for, Touch.’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘You would be risking your lives. Are you sure you want to do that?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I assume you have a plan. It had better be a good one. Copy the map.’ She pointed to the door to her office. ‘When you’re finished, put the book back on my desk. And turn the light off when you leave.’
Without a further word, Achillia left. Touch and Cres were dumbfounded.
‘She’s letting us go!’ Touch exclaimed.
‘I don’t like it,’ said Cres. ‘I think we’re getting the twisty end again.’ She shook her head. ‘We haven’t thought this through properly, Touch. Risking our lives, she said. And remember what Dot told us about the fire rock . . . Maybe we should just forget about it.’
‘C’mon, Cres. Would Achillia let us go if it was really that dangerous? You know how she is. Everything always sounds serious. We have to go. It’s our one chance.’ Touch took out his pencil and paper. ‘Let’s get this copied. We’ve got work to do.’
≈
A figure stood in the shadows behind a pillar in the great entrance hall, listening to footsteps resounding on the stairs as Achillia came down and went out of the door. A few minutes later and Touch and Cres could be heard leaving the same way. When the sound of the front door closing stopped echoing through the foyer, the figure stepped out from behind the pillar.
‘It’s done,’ it whispered. ‘Now we shall see.’ Cloaked by the shadows, the figure walked into the night.
Chapter 3
Harvest
The weather in the Land never gets too hot or too cold, except in the High Mountains, where winter’s snow settles on the peaks and in the valleys. Now autumn held court and the sun shone over Home. Autumn is a special time of year in the Land. The coffee cherries, ready to be harvested, turn the coffee trees warm with their rich brownish-red hue. The air is cool and fresh, nipping at the cheeks of Muddles as they play on the Common or ready the crop for harvest. The days are slightly shorter but the purple air of evening lingers considerately, allowing the Muddles to ready themselves for the cosiness of the hearth. Once the sun goes down, the chill of night makes the warmth of a cup of coffee as welcome as the taste itself. Autumn is the season of satisfaction in Muddlemarsh, the comfort of a year well done.
Grunge whistled a tune as he walked, feeling the joy of being part of such a beautiful day. The sun had just risen and the air was fresh and cool. Dew still sparkled on the grass and the blue of the sky was filtered by dawn’s hazy gauze.
Grunge turned into the driveway of the firehouse. He heard the sharp tapping of claws on the paving stones, then a moment later Calamity came racing towards him. The puppy bounded to Grunge with a yelp of delight. She leapt up, her front paws barely reaching past his broad red belt with silver studs.
‘Hi, Grunge! Hiya! How are you?’ Calamity yapped incessantly. ‘Nice th
reads!’ She ran a circle round the musician, admiring his baggy trousers that had more pockets than a billiard table, the snappy white shirt with up-turned collar under a black leather jacket with red sleeves and the blue polka-dot bandana round his head. She paused a moment at his bright green trainers, then decided that they were OK, too; all in all, he looked pretty cool. Of course, Calamity knew that clothes didn’t make someone cool. They just had to be cool. Take her. All she wore was a bright red collar and she was way cool. Iced, really.
Grunge bent and patted his friend and scratched behind her ears.
‘I’m pleased to see you, too, Calamity,’ he laughed. ‘Why the fuss? Feeling neglected? Where’s Crimson?’
Calamity was Home’s firehouse puppy. Usually, wherever Calamity was, Crimson wasn’t too far away. Grunge looked around the gleaming fire station. Home’s neat red fire cart, with its water tank and brass fittings, stood ready in the middle of the floor. The fire equipment was in its place and on the racks were the hats, coats and boots for the volumteers who would respond to the call of the fire bell. The floor was swept and the windows were clean. Everything seemed just right.
‘Not sure,’ barked Calamity. ‘She went for a walk a little while ago. I offered to go but she said she wanted to be alone.’
Grunge was worried. He sat on the edge of the fire cart, his elbows on his knees and his face cupped in his hands. Calamity dropped to the floor in front of him, rested her head on her front paws and raising her eyes to look at Grunge. Grunge told Calamity what Crimson had said in Forge the day before.
‘I hope it’s nothing, Calamity,’ he sighed. Whatever it was, he decided, he couldn’t make it better by just sitting around. He hopped from the cart. ‘C’mon, let’s see Sparkle. Maybe she needs feeding or grooming.’
Sparkle pulled Home’s fire cart. Like Calamity, she didn’t really belong to Crimson; she was the fire-station horse. But Crimson looked after her, and Grunge knew that the little grey horse would be missing Crimson, too.
