Weaver's Lament--Industrial Magic Book 2

by Emma Newman

  She set down the bottle and came and knelt beside him, resting her hand on his back. He was under incredible pressure. “I’m trying to help, darling. Please don’t take this out on me. I’ve been doing all I can and I’m not going to mislead you.”

  “I’m sorry, dear heart. I’ve been such a beast to you.” He kissed her cheek. “Is there nothing you can tell me about what’s causing these incidents? With two looms gone in as many days, Ledbetter’s on the warpath. That damn Paxton knows just what to say to him, and I’m not like that. I’m not interested in one-upmanship and petty politics. I just want to work hard and better myself and look after my family. And look what I’m doing to you. You look ill, Charlie. What kind of a brother am I?”

  She embraced him. “I understand, I really do. And I have made some progress.” The hope in his eyes made her appreciate how desperate he was. She went back to the armchair. “It definitely isn’t a socialist saboteur and it definitely isn’t a Latent.”

  “Is it someone from Cartwright’s?”

  Charlotte shook her head as she stared at the dusty floorboards. If she told him her ghost theory, she’d have to admit having seen them. Given his comment yesterday about turning her in for testing, she didn’t dare do that. “I don’t know exactly,” she said, making him groan. “But I can show you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I know what triggers the attacks. And I genuinely think it would best for you to see one; otherwise, it would be very hard for you to believe me.”

  He smoothed his moustache, thinking. “The mill is empty now. I could sneak you in. But another loom being destroyed will not go down well with Ledbetter.”

  “But isn’t it worth the risk? I’m sure that if we both put our minds to it, we’ll arrive at a solution. Better one loom now, than goodness knows how many before you’re blamed. Perhaps if you saw one being destroyed, you’d be able to work out the cause better than I ever could.” In reality, she hoped that if he saw it happen, any suspicion he still harboured about socialists would be wiped away. Perhaps, if she did it carefully enough, she’d be able to steer him towards the same conclusion she’d reached. It was always the best way to convince Father or George about anything: she would simply present certain details and let them think they’d come to the clever solution. She wasn’t sure that would ever work with Hopkins, though.

  “Very well,” Ben said, rising from his seat. “If you really do think I need to see this, we should go now. Ledbetter is at a function and Paxton is at the club. Let’s go out the back, just in case anyone did follow you.”

  After taking her to the back of the cottage and extinguishing the lantern, Ben led her through a stinking communal backyard and out onto the street. It was dark now, making it easier for them to walk without fear of being spotted. He buttoned his overcoat to cover his striped cravat and she covered her head with her shawl, hiding as much of her face as she could. She had to hurry to keep up with his long strides, and her legs soon ached again, but soon they were at the fancy entrance to the mill.

  Ben unlocked the door and ushered her inside to lock it again behind them. It was dark, with only a tiny amount of light reaching the interior from the street’s gas lamps. Knowing the space well, Ben guided her through the entrance hall and down a corridor in which he relit the lantern. She recognised the door they’d stopped in front of; it was the one that she’d seen from the other side in the mill itself. He unlocked it and she followed him inside.

  It was silent in the mill, much to Charlotte’s relief, and very dark. She was glad that Ben was with her. He shielded the side of the lantern that faced the windows on the far side. The shadows it cast made his face look unfamiliar and Charlotte shuddered.

  “Show me, then, Charlie,” he whispered.

  She would have preferred to go to a loom that people thought was cursed, but the only one she was aware of had been destroyed earlier that day. The one nearest to them was as good as any, so she went over to it. “This may sound very strange,” she said in a whisper. “But I believe that pain triggers an incident. When I was beaten by the foreman, he knocked me into the loom and then the . . . strangeness started.”

  Ben’s sigh conveyed how unimpressed he was. “Oh, Charlie, did you really bring me here to listen to such a fanciful story? It was just a coincidence.”

  “Stand back,” she said. “And I’ll prove it to you.”

  He did as she asked, and Charlotte went to the loom at the end of the row. After steeling herself, she raised her arm and hit it against the cast-iron frame as hard as she could bear to. She winced, knowing that another impressive bruise would bloom there tomorrow, and waited.

  She heard the screaming first, and there was a change in the quality of the lantern light, as if mist were rising inside the mill. A glance at Ben told her that he heard nothing, so she masked her fear, trying her best to ignore how the sound built in volume until the loom shuddered. She jumped back from it and then Ben pulled her to him, wrapping an arm around her protectively as the loom creaked and the threads snapped.

  Above it, the mist was coalescing and changing shape constantly. Wispy tendrils peeled off and shot towards the loom and the wood splintered at the points of contact. She felt Ben jolt with each impact, his grip around her tightening. All the while, the screeching was growing louder and she wanted to cover her ears, but she forced herself not to, lest Ben wonder why. Once the wooden frames were broken, hanging useless in a tangle of cotton threads from the iron frame, the violence stopped. The haze above the machine dissipated but not the noise. Charlotte struggled to ignore the continuing screams as Ben let her go and went over to the loom.

  “Good God in heaven,” he whispered, staring at it. “That’s the first time I’ve actually witnessed it.”

  Charlotte leaned against the wall, relieved that the sound of the ghosts had faded as she listened to Ben. She recalled the first incident she’d witnessed, and how there had been only one wisp. She wondered if she simply hadn’t noticed the rest, or whether it was because the machines were in motion. If that was a factor, why hadn’t the ghost been sucked in? Then she recalled that the drive belt had snapped, thus breaking the connection to the line shaft.

  “Charlie? Shall we find you a chair?”

  Dear, sweet Ben had mistaken her thoughtful silence for shock. “Do you know what could cause that?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I have no idea. You were right about the pain . . . how utterly bizarre. You’re not badly hurt, are you?”

  “No.” She went over to look at the loom with him. How could she explain what had happened without jeopardising herself? He was holding the lantern close to the loom, inspecting the damage. “Ben, something about these looms is . . . odd.” She pointed to the symbols on the drive belt. “Have you noticed these marks before?”

  “They’re from the manufacturing process,” he said with barely a glance.

  “They do something to the workers,” she said and he diverted his attention fully to her. “Darling . . . you need to know about this. I think these looms steal the life from people, literally, just a tiny amount each day. I know that sounds ridiculous, but that’s why everyone is so exhausted and why they are ill.”

  “Whatever gives you that idea?”

  She paused. He didn’t laugh or even look like he disbelieved her. Perhaps he thought she was being overdramatic. “Do you believe me?” He didn’t immediately respond, but she knew him too well for the silence to hide anything. She covered her mouth. “Oh, Ben,” she whispered through her fingers. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  “It is far more complicated than you understand, Charlotte,” he said, his back straightening as if he could shrug off the shame with good posture.

  “That’s why you’re so strong now, isn’t it? Is this what you meant by your breakthrough? How could you steal life from these poor people? They’re treated badly enough without this! It’s despicable!”

  “How dare you judge me when you know nothing of t
he challenges we face!”

  “What challenges? Making the most money?”

  “I meant we as in magi, Charlotte. And I include you in that. This is a humane solution to—”

  “Humane? I beg to differ!”

  “You have no right to judge me when you won’t take responsibility for what you are and the damage you can do!”

  “It’s under control!”

  He leaned closer, lowering his voice lest they both start shouting. “More than during my test? Or the month before that? Don’t you remember how many people died in our street?”

  “There was a flu epidemic. What does that have to do with—”

  “Don’t you remember our neighbour dying on the very same day of my testing? You obviously haven’t noticed the pattern. You killed them, Charlie. This is what happens if you try to do too much.”

  She moved away from him, feeling nauseous. “I don’t believe you.”

  “When I came home, half dead, only your nursing had any effect. Now I understand that I took spiritual energy from you, and to save yourself, you took from everyone around us. It’s exactly the same as this place, only here it’s controlled; only a tiny amount is taken from each person each day. This way, the mill can function without killing any elderly people in the vicinity.”

  Charlotte could only shake her head, speechless. Ben sighed and cautiously rested a hand on her shoulder. “You need to report yourself, Charlie.”

  “No one else has died, or even been ill!”

  “That’s because you don’t have to keep me alive anymore. What about when you finally lose control?”

  Hopkins hadn’t mentioned any of this. Ben was trying to distract her. “Stop making this about me. We have a problem to solve here and now. Is there any way these symbols could be the cause?”

  Reluctantly, he directed his attention back towards the loom. “I don’t see how.”

  She suppressed a frustrated groan. “People have died, whilst working the looms, haven’t they? Before any of these incidents started?” When he nodded, she pointed at the symbols. “What if when they die, a sliver of their soul is taken but the rest is left behind?”

  “Not soul, Charlie. Spiritual energy.” Scratching his chin, Ben looked at the symbols. “That could be why pain triggers this, I suppose. Perhaps something of those people is left behind and doesn’t want anyone else to suffer the same fate. It seems . . . bizarre, but I cannot think of any other explanation.”

  “The workers think some of the looms are cursed, and the attacks do seem to cluster. As George always says, clustering gives us clues. Perhaps if someone died at a loom and something was left behind, then maybe they watch those ones more closely and react violently when someone gets hurt. That makes the pattern.”

  “Yes, it makes sense.” He looked at her. “How did you know about the symbols, Charlie?”

  “It’s a very long story and one that I don’t want to share here. Let’s focus on this problem.”

  He nodded, but she could tell he wasn’t happy about it. “I know what the symbols do, but I’m not very good at altering them. I find that part of my training quite difficult. I suppose I should tell Ledbetter about this theory, and then he can decide what to do.”

  “No, that’s not enough. You need to prove you’re more capable than Paxton. I have an idea about how to stop this from happening again.” She paused, hating the tension between them. “If I do this for you, will you promise you won’t report me to the Royal Society?”

  He looked horrified. “I cannot promise that! It would be irresponsible.”

  “Can’t you trust me to do the right thing if the time comes?”

  “I fear you won’t realise when that is.” He looked down into her eyes. “Oh, Charlie Bean. You’re putting me in such a difficult position. I love you. I want you to be safe and happy and fulfilled. You could have all of that in the Royal Society.”

  “I would rather find my safety and fulfilment with George. Please, Ben. I’ve done so much for you. Can’t you do this for me?” Pressing his lips tight together, he nodded. She breathed more easily. “You need to leave the lantern with me and stand right back.”

  “What are you planning to do?”

  “I’m going to make some alterations. Once the loom is going again, you need to keep back until it stops. Otherwise, it could kill you. Go on, stand back. Let me do this without worrying about you.”

  Reluctantly, Ben gave her the lantern and retreated into the shadows along the back wall whilst she moved to the next loom along. She recalled the two new symbols that Hopkins had drawn for her as she took one of the shuttles, opened it and pulled off the bobbin. She broke off the metal spike and held it like a pencil as she searched for the first of the symbols to alter. It was on a cog at the side of the loom and scratching the amendment took a little effort, but it was manageable.

  She found the second symbol on the drive belt and was aware of Ben watching as she altered it. They were going to have a very difficult conversation about this, but that was something to worry about another time. Tucking the spike into her waistband, Charlotte held up the lantern and checked her work.

  The machine needed to be started, but she feared using her ability would make her more prone to turning wild. “Can you start this by moving the drive belt?” she asked Ben. “You must stand back, though. Don’t come close to the machine—it will be dangerous.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll trigger an attack and then run. I’ll be fine.”

  The drive belt started to turn, making the loom spring into life. Charlotte hit her other arm against the frame as before and then dashed up the row as the screeching started again. When she was more than halfway down the row, she turned to watch the wisps gathering above the loom.

  Someone grabbed her hair, exploiting the distraction to sneak up behind her. “I knew ye were up to sommat!” Horcombe said in her ear.

  He must have been lurking outside, looking for her as he waited for his sovereign. She reached back to try to pull her hair free of his hands, but he merely grabbed one of her wrists and twisted her arm behind her back sharply, making her cry out. “This isn’t what you think it is!” She gasped.

  “You can explain it all to Magus Ledbetter ’imself. Apprentice Paxton is fetchin’ ’im now. You’re done for, ye Cartwright bitch!”

  Charlotte remembered the large metal pin tucked into her waistband and plucked it out with her free hand, jabbing it behind her. With a yell, he threw her forwards to crash into one of the looms, winding her. All she could do was grab the iron frame as the pain filled her chest. Fearing that Ben would run past the doctored loom to get to her attacker, Charlotte looked for him in the shadows, but he was out of sight. She struggled to draw a breath as Horcombe approached.

  In the background, she was aware of the screeching fading and risked a glance at the loom to see the cloud of wisps being sucked into the frame with each attempted strike. It was working!

  A blow came out of nowhere, knocking her down onto her bruised hip, and she couldn’t help but cry out in pain again. Horcombe was standing near her feet, poised to strike her again, when Ben appeared behind him and pinned his arms. With relief, Charlotte realised that her brother had kept his head, and instead of just careering up the row of looms like a mad bear, he’d crept down the next row along to take Horcombe by surprise.

  Ben was strong, but it was clear that Horcombe had done some brawling in his time. He didn’t stay pinned for long, knocking his head back to crunch his skull against Ben’s nose, making her brother roar in pain and let go.

  “Blood and sand!” Horcombe said at the sight of him. “And you an apprentice! I don’t know what Cartwright is payin’ yer, but I bet it won’t be worth the lashin’ you’ll get from Ledbetter!”

  “You imbecile,” Ben said, blood pouring out of his nose. “You have no idea what’s happening here.”

  “Oh, don’t I?” Horcombe stood, fists up, light on his feet like a boxer. “It all mak
es sense now. I couldn’t work out ’ow a Latent could get a job ’ere, but I suppose y’brought ’er in to help yer.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know.” Horcombe sneered. “Y’think I’m stupid. I saw what she did to that loom this mornin’!”

  Charlotte pulled herself up by clutching the iron frame, finally able to draw a breath. The screeching of the ghosts was fading rapidly, and as Ben squared off against Horcombe, she risked another look at the loom. There was only the faintest haze above it now, and the loom itself was undamaged. The new symbols had sucked the wisps into the line shaft before they could do any damage.

  “I can’t wait to tell Apprentice Paxton that you were in on this,” Horcombe said. “He’ll be ’ere any moment, and you’ll be clapped in irons before the night is out, you and that Latent bitch.” He laughed. “Yeah, I can see how scared you are. Go on! Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m stupid. Go on!”

  Ben was staring at Horcombe with the most terrifying, murderous glare. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” he said. “I think you are dangerous.”

  With a contemptuous flick of a wrist, Ben sent one of the metal buckets full of empty bobbins flying into Horcombe’s face. It knocked him down, and Ben sent another whistling past Charlotte, who leaned back in shock. It hit Horcombe’s side and then pushed him down the row away from her, bringing him to a stop next to the working loom.

  “No!” Charlotte cried out as she watched the colour drain from Horcombe’s startled face. She focused on the loom’s drive belt and snapped it as quick as she could, but by the time the machine rattled to a stop, she could see he wasn’t breathing.

  Charlotte ran over to kneel beside him and held her hand over his mouth. There was no breath. She looked up at Ben, distraught, who approached slowly.

  “Is he dead, Charlie?”

  She nodded, tears running down her cheeks as he leaned against the loom opposite. “What are we going to do?”