Lantern

by Chess Desalls

  Serah nodded, thinking about the candle lanterns and oil lamps she’d seen in Havenbrim and in her parents’ home.

  “But, there is one globe at this table that will become one of those.” Machin raised a finger to the lanterns that hung from the ceiling. Their globes glowed and sparkled without wicks or candles. The lanterns were filled with light from no discernable source.

  Serah’s breath hitched. During my interview, Machin said he’d reveal the source of the light to his apprentice. She waited, hoping he’d continue on the subject.

  Machin slowly bent forward until his nose touched the table, and then he disappeared behind it. When he emerged, his hands were filled with a gilded casing that shined copper.

  “While you’ve been away,” he said, “I’ve been crafting this.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  He lifted a round, crystal clear globe from the table and slid it inside the casing. It fit snugly between the gilded edges of the frame, allowing the bottom of the globe to stay suspended without a bottom. Serah’s breathing shallowed as Machin untied the pouch from his belt and shook its contents onto the table: a domed lid that matched the casing’s copper gleam.

  He twisted the cap into the hollowed end of the globe. A sharp hiss drowned the clinking of metal to glass. The cap’s lower ridge glowed red.

  Serah reached out, pausing when she felt a warm, dry heat, not unlike fire from the furnace. She snapped her hand away.

  “How is this possible without fire?” she said.

  “The metal reacted with the Celestial Glass to form a seal,” said Machin. He rubbed his hands together and smiled. “An impenetrable seal.”

  Serah had difficulty returning his smile. Her brows pinched together. “Master Machin, if the globe is sealed, how are we to light the lantern?”

  “That, Serah Kettel, will be one of your tasks. You must figure out how to open it again.”

  Uncertainty pressed upon her lips and deepened into a frown. When the lantern cooled to room temperature, she held down its base and grasped the lid—she dug her fingers into the lid’s lower ridge, pulling and twisting until her fingers were creased with pink. But it wouldn’t budge from the globe.

  An interesting puzzle, she thought. And, yet, something about that globe seems familiar.

  She sat staring at the lantern, with her chin wedged in her hand, long after Machin had left the table.

  Gelsey set her palm on Serah’s shoulder. “Dear, it’s time to rest. Machin has gone to bed.”

  “Oh!” Serah blinked and searched for an open window, but they were shuttered for the night.

  She rubbed her eyes. The candles in Mother’s lamps lasted only a few hours before needing to be replaced.

  “Gelsey, will the lanterns stay lit all night?”

  “Yes, which is why the bedrooms are in the cellar, underground.”

  “But isn’t it cold?”

  “You needn’t worry,” Gelsey tittered.

  Serah shadowed the round woman’s featherlight steps to where she pulled a hatch—a trapdoor—from the floor’s surface. The opening uncovered a stair ladder that descended into the darkness. After waiting for her hostess, Serah took small, careful steps down the stairs. When her head dipped beneath floor level, something from below clicked three times. A long scratching sound followed.

  She looked down and over her shoulder to where Gelsey held a torch, much like the one Machin had given Graham. Blue light flickered and spread until it illuminated the underground space.

  Serah covered her nose with one hand and tried not to gag as she continued downward. “The smell is terrible, enclosed like this.”

  “I know.” Gelsey’s voice, now thick and nasal, had lost some of its sparkle. “Which is why I devised this.” She held out a clamp with jaws no bigger than a toddler’s fingers. She wore an identical clamp on her nose.

  Serah’s pout stretched into a wide grin. She slid the clamp over her nose and twisted screws on both sides until its wooden jaws pinched her nostrils shut. “Are you an inventor too?”

  “Me? No. Though, I suppose I haven’t escaped Machin’s influence. Sometimes I create tools to make his eccentricities more bearable.” She winked and pointed the torch at a tunnel.

  Serah followed, trailing fingertips across tubing that ran along walls of earth and stone. “What are these? They’re warm!”

  “Ah, that’s Machin’s idea of a heating system. Air from the furnace blows through the pipes, throughout this passageway, and into bundles of coils installed in our rooms.”

  If Serah had a reply, she didn’t get a chance to share it. Gelsey placed a round hand on a door handle and pushed.

  “And here we are. Your room, the apprentice’s room. It’s nearest the stair ladder to the floor level. We’ll keep the hatch open until you adjust to the cellar’s lack of light.”

  Serah poked her head through the doorway. The torch’s glow cast shades of blue on a bed with a pillow and blanket, a table, a bench, and an empty shelf. Instead of a fireplace, a system of small tubes coiled together and crisscrossed back and forth along one of the walls. Serah pressed her fingers against the tubing and smiled.

  “Thank you, Gelsey.”

  “We hope you’ll be comfortable. If you need anything, I’m down that way.” Gelsey pointed a finger toward the darker, deeper end of the tunnel. “Your torch is on the table.”

  Gelsey waited for Serah’s torch to spark blue before she yawned and slipped away.

  Serah sat on the edge of the bed and listened to the soft rattle of heating coils as bursts of air passed through them. Jumping at the soft sucking sound above her, she lifted the torch for a better view of the ceiling. Row after row, ends of pipes lined the top of the room like a slice of honeycomb. After another minute or two it happened again—an intake of air, soft but determined, as if something at the other end of the pipes was inhaling the room.

  With nothing to unpack and nothing else to do, Serah removed her shoes and outer frock, and crawled into bed. Despite the gassy smell of rotten eggs, she removed her nose clamp soon after extinguishing her torch. With a sigh, she pulled the blanket to her chin. For the first night in weeks, she smiled as she closed her eyes.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, Serah poked her head through the hatch and was greeted with warmth, light, and the clang of metal to glass.

  Machin stood before the furnace. He pulled back the tongs he’d held inside the fire. His gloved hand scraped across a glowing object wedged between the tongs. He dipped his head to inspect his work more closely. Heat from the glass singed shocks of gray that stuck out from behind his goggles.

  Serah pinched her nose against the stink of burning hair, wishing she hadn’t left her nose clamp in her room.

  “Good morning,” she said with a cough.

  Machin spoke without turning. “Breakfast is ready. Be hasty. There’s much to do.”

  “Yes, of course.” Serah all but skipped to where Gelsey spooned a helping of barley porridge from a kettle to a bowl. She flinched at a basket of berries on the table before she could stop herself.

  “You don’t have to eat them.” Gelsey moved the basket to a shelf and frowned. “Machin likes fruit with his breakfast—” Her voice raised to a level of reprimand. “Which he often skips after grabbing a biscuit so he can get right to work.”

  The grunt from the next room prompted Serah to swallow three rushed mouthfuls of porridge. “Mm,” she murmured, enjoying the chewy texture and nutty flavor.

  She eyed the plate of biscuits that were baked to a golden brown. Remembering her stomach’s limits, she set down her spoon. Just as her stomach settled, the smell of singed hair wafted into the room.

  She smothered a gag and scowled. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll burn down the house?”

  Gelsey lowered her head. “Yes. But that’s neither hither nor thither. All my dresses are underground.” She rested her fists on her hips and winked. �
�Though, it seems he’s more concerned about making new lanterns than keeping those he has.”

  Serah took another bite. The lanterns he has now seem indestructible, she thought, frustrated by her inability to unseal the globe the night before. Her brow creased as she scraped the remaining porridge from its bowl.

  “Thank you, Gelsey. You’re a wonderful cook.”

  Gelsey beamed until her face was redder than it was round. She waved the rag she used to wipe biscuit crumbs from the table. “Go on and get learning.”

  Serah rose from her seat and peered around the corner. The only change was that Machin was feeding a different combination of metal and glassware into the furnace’s gangly-toothed mouth of flame.

  She cleared her throat. “I’ve been thinking about the seal on the globe and—”

  “Later, Serah Kettel. Right now, I need you to tend to the lanterns.”

  “Oh, but I thought—”

  “I expect you to keep thinking about it. That task is intended to be long-term.” Machin dropped the metal tongs into the bucket.

  He adjusted his goggles and looked at her for the first time that morning.

  “Gelsey will help you find a cloth and a stepladder. All of the ceiling lanterns need to be polished.”

  Serah wrung her hands. Her chin tightened. “Yes, Master Machin.”

  He nodded and picked up a stack of thin metal strips, all mangled together, which he proceeded to untangle and sort.

  Gelsey tutted when Serah relayed her master’s request. “I don’t see why he doesn’t let me tend the lanterns. My duster would be faster, and you wouldn’t need a ladder to reach them,” she said, reaching a clenched hand in the air.

  Serah grinned. She imagined Gelsey holding out an invisible sword instead of her duster, posed like a soldier readied for battle.

  Cloth in hand, she reached the topmost step on the stepladder and stopped. Her lips parted in disbelief. The light from the lanterns was even more dazzling than it was from below. The pure light softened and lightened in a lazy twinkle despite the lanterns’ lack of flame. Where does the light come from? How is this possible?

  She slid the cloth along the top of one globe. A fingernail brushed the edge of a metal cap. The space between her brows creased. It’s warm, but not hot. Are each of these sealed as well? She looked over her shoulder, careful to keep her balance, to confirm Machin was still absorbed in his work.

  After releasing a slow breath, she dug her fingernails into the bottom of the cap of the lantern she’d been dusting and attempted to pull it from the globe. She did so gently at first. And then tugged more forcefully. Both metal and glass resisted.

  More curious than discouraged, Serah wiped away the prints left by her fingers and moved on to the next globe. Satisfied that this, too, was sealed, she inspected and polished all the remaining lanterns—all of which were filled with white light despite caps that would not budge.

  Before descending the stepladder, Serah blotted beads of sweat from her forehead and smiled, admiring the view once more. The lamps look brighter somehow, even though they were dazzling before.

  “Fine work, Serah Kettel.”

  Serah gasped. Her arms flailed forward and to her sides, and then to the front again, as she fought to keep her balance. Machin caught her arm with his gloved hand and cautiously helped her to the floor. When both of her feet touched the ground, he said, “I expect you to complete this task every morning. Tell me immediately if any of the lanterns burn out.”

  She nodded and sat at the table filled with globes, and gazed upon the new, unlit lantern. Her own special puzzle. Her long-term task.

  Serah’s lips battled between frowning and smiling as she considered Machin’s words. Tell me if any of the lanterns burn out.

  “Can the lanterns that burn out be opened? Is that what breaks the seal?”

  Gravely, Machin shook his head. “Those that burn out are closed doors; they can no longer be opened.”

  Serah shifted in her seat. “Master Machin, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how long has it been since you last employed an apprentice?”

  Machin peered at the girl through his goggles and blinked twice. With a sigh, he removed the apparatus from his face and set it aside. Without the lenses exaggerating the size of his eyes, his gaze was squinty and far more serious.

  “Many years. But then, time is more than what most give it credit for.”

  Serah had trouble absorbing his words due to a question that bubbled up, something she’d been wondering since she’d first applied for the position.

  “Who was your last apprentice?”

  Machin smiled. “Jared Timber, a young man neglected by his only kin—a sister, a young woman forced to grow up too fast. Instead of growing stronger, she grew in bitterness and took her anger out on Jared. Which is why he came to me. Well, that and he wanted a new leg.”

  “A new leg!” That prompted a whole new line of questions, but Serah reclaimed her focus, hoping it would lead to a clue to opening the unsealed globe. “Was Jared here long?”

  “Shorter than most, actually. So, no.”

  “But he figured out how to light a lantern that had been sealed?”

  Machin’s smile stretched wider. “He did.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “He found happiness. Wholeness.” His words were accompanied by a strange flickering of light that faded and disappeared.

  “What does that mean? That he got his leg?”

  “More.”

  He looked away from the table. His lips curled into a curious smile.

  Serah followed his gaze to the lanterns above, one of which was now strikingly different than the others. She pointed a finger. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s empty.”

  Machin freed the darkened lantern from its overhead hook and set it on the table. He re-donned his goggles and trailed two fingers along the glass. “This belonged to one of Jared’s predecessors, several apprentices before him.”

  “Has it burned out?”

  “Yes, just like Jared’s did.”

  He pulled a hammer from his work belt and struck it against the glass. A thin line, shaped like a lightning bolt, spread across the globe. Soundlessly, the crack splintered and deepened and expanded. Then, with a soft crash, the glass shattered. The crystalline sphere was now a pile of shards.

  Chapter 8

  Machin scraped a hand brush across the tabletop and guided the shards into an open pouch. After the last splinter of glass reflected light from overhead, he pulled the pouch’s strings together and tied it to his work belt.

  The remaining lanterns—those that were still lit as well as the puzzle Serah had yet to solve—shined smudge free.

  Serah rubbed her eyes and exhaled, waiting for further instruction.

  “Well now,” said Machin. His palms smacked together briskly. “When you’ve finished mid-meal with Gelsey, you may attend to your earlier project.”

  “To unseal the lantern with the copper frame?”

  “Yes, that will be sufficient work for today,” said Machin. His lips bore a faint smile.

  “What will happen to the lantern that broke?” Her eyes narrowed as she searched Machin’s face.

  He glanced at the pouch on his work belt. “I will attend to it.”

  Serah nodded and licked her lips, uncertain whether it would be appropriate to inquire further. She longed to solve the puzzle of the sealed lantern—unlit but also impenetrable and unbroken, unlike the remains of the lantern that had burned out. Why the difference? “And how do I light this one?” she mused, staring at the lantern on the table.

  Machin slipped away at the same time the aroma of vegetables and meat tickled Serah’s nose. She shook her head back and forth in an attempt to ignore Gelsey’s cooking. Her mind buzzed with curiosity about the lanterns, but the growl of her stomach was stronger, and twice as loud.

  “Serah,” called Gelsey. “Mid-meal is ready.”

  The girl’s lips
pinched together in a frown as she tore herself from her task to help Gelsey set the table.

  With mid-meal sitting happily in her belly, Serah returned to the lantern. Her finger traced the glass wedged inside the copper frame. “How do you become one of those?” she whispered, stealing a glance at the lights overhead.

  She frowned, wondering what would happen to her if she failed. Her eyes watered from staring at the empty globe. She’d tested every inch of the seal, and the outdoor light had begun to fade when she heard a mumbling from behind her—a mumbling with Machin’s voice. Seeing as I’m not getting anywhere with this, I might as well see what he’s up to and if he could use my help.

  Serah slowed her footsteps as she neared the warmth of the furnace where Machin’s words could be heard more clearly.

  “Light and soul,” he muttered, followed by the scratching and sprinkling of glass. “Encased in a vessel that returns to dust.”

  Serah frowned. Such words were strange to her ears. What could he mean? Is he talking about the lanterns and their light?

  Instead of making her presence known, she tucked herself behind the heavy border of the archway that led to the furnace, and peeked out along its edge.

  The pouch at Machin’s belt was open. With his gloved hand, he reached inside and grabbed a handful of shards and poured them into the largest pepper grinder Serah had ever seen. He twisted the top of the grinder, crunching the shards into glittering particles. Grains of glass fell from the bottom of the grinder into a bucket wedged between Machin and the furnace.

  Serah’s fingernails pressed into the archway’s wooden frame as she watched, her mouth hung open.

  “Life returns to light and light becomes life,” said Machin. He set aside the grinder and poured the contents of the bucket inside the mouth of the furnace. “And so, we begin anew.”

  The light from the furnace changed from orange, to blue, to a dazzling white. The room grew warmer with each transition of color until the air was too hot to breathe.