by Vashti Hardy
Prue nodded. “Good work. We’ve found an old parabolic reflector in one of the boxes. It’s a bit dented. Edwin, do you think you can fix it?”
“I’ll do my best,” he said.
Prue pointed to a page in her journal. “I’ve sketched out the area and made a few calculations for range. Ag, if you could check them over.”
It was dark by the time they’d finished.
“Let’s go over the plan. We hide the equipment in here until the last minute because we don’t want the messengers in the tower getting suspicious. At nine-thirty p.m., when all the personifates, craftsman, masters and members of the Sovereign Chancellery are gathered in the atrium pre-harnessing, Ag slips away to get the equipment from the memory lab. Then Ag exits the room by the fire escape. You’ll need a big back pack, maybe one of the garden sacks and rope to haul it down.”
“Yes, that should work.” Ag nodded.
Prue noticed that Agapantha looked pale and clammy just thinking about the ladder.
“You can do it,” Prue said, putting a hand on her arm. “Then Ag takes the equipment around to the tower for nine forty-five. Craftsman Primrose aims for his army to arrive at ten, so it should be time enough to set the equipment up ready for the arrival of the stag-men.”
“What could possibly go wrong?” said Edwin.
“Cora,” both Prue and Agapantha said together.
“If she doesn’t believe us, she won’t say anything,” said Edwin.
“Let’s hope you’re right,” said Prue.
By the time they’d got back to the house they’d missed tea. Thankfully, Lavender had set some aside for them.
“Do you mind if I take mine up? I’ve got some work to finish,” Prue asked.
“That’s fine, dear,” said Lavender. “My, you are working hard!”
“I’m going to speak to Cora,” Prue whispered to Agapantha and Edwin.
Upstairs, Cora was lying on her bed looking at the ceiling.
Prue laid on her own and did the same. “We’re not making it up,” she said.
It was silent for several minutes before Cora huffed and turned to her. Her eyes narrowed. “It is a pretty ridiculous story.”
“None of us want anything bad to happen to the Guild – it’s all of our futures, right?” Prue thought about what she’d heard Cora’s parents say at the Grand Principalia. “Right?” she said softly.
“But stag-men? Craftsman Primrose plotting to overthrow Master Woolstenbury and the governor?”
“I know how ridiculous it sounds, and I know you don’t think much of me. But believe me, I wish I weren’t here, either, knowing what’s about to happen.”
“Well, I don’t have a choice but to be here, Frances. It’s expected. You have no idea what’s it’s like being told what to do from the moment you were born, to act in the way that’s expected of your position in society, to achieve the best grades, attend endless boring dinners with members of the Sovereign Chancellery to secure your future.”
Prue didn’t. She had so much freedom on the farm. “I’m sure your parents want the best for you, they’ve just forgotten to listen on the way.”
Cora stared at her. Her face seemed to have lost its hardened mask.
“We really are telling the truth, Cora. I wouldn’t make up stories about something so important. Perhaps if you help us, when it’s all over your parents will see that you can think for yourself and will give you a choice? Maybe you’ll have the strength to tell them what you really want.”
Cora sighed. “Maybe farm girls aren’t all stupid after all.”
“Thank you for believing us.”
Cora huffed and turned away. “I said maybe.”
BLOOD MOON
Snow arrived with a portent chill on the morning of the blood moon. Fitful sleep left Prue edgy and nervous. She knew she needed to be focused, so she put on her warmest clothes and decided to take a walk in the park at the end of Sovereign Row to clear her mind for the day ahead.
All was quiet and an expectant calm hung in the air. She headed across the white-carpeted grass, treading fresh tracks. There wasn’t a breath of wind, and snow rested delicately on branches and leaves. The wintry air somehow made her thoughts sharp and the impending reality all too clear. Her dreams of finding a way to Francis had become buried like the white-blanketed hills, and not only that, by the end of the day she risked losing what was left of her family.
She decided to head back and at least have a good breakfast, then saw Edwin in the snow a short distance away. She waved, and he jumped through the white towards her.
“Hey. Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “Never better. How about you, Jack Swift?”
He smiled. “Just thought I’d take a walk and clear my thoughts. It’s strange, you calling me that, but I kind of like it. It makes me feel more like a first-lifer and forget that I might only have nine years left.”
“Don’t say that. Things change, inventions move on. What if there’s a way to extend your second life, and we just haven’t found it yet? Maybe we can find a way to move your frequency into newly mined qwortzite.”
“You never see a problem you can’t fix, do you?”
She shrugged and looked at him. For a moment, she let herself imagine the boy he was in his first life; perhaps chestnut hair, green eyes, the same warm side-smile he had as a personifate.
“The masters are worried the cloud cover might weaken the harnessing potential this evening if it gets any worse,” said Edwin.
“Let’s hope it does and the whole thing gets called off.”
*
At the factorium, late adjustments were being made to the hundred for the rest of the day with a flurry of last-minute paperwork. After an early tea, Prue, Edwin and Agapantha met in the memory lab. Edwin had sketched a map of the area and Prue added notes and arrows.
“When the stag-men march on the field towards the factorium and they are all within range, don’t wait. Transmit the signal no matter what. Is that clear?” said Prue.
Agapantha nodded.
“Everyone will be gathered in the atrium, so like we said before, you’ll have to take the fire escape, or you’ll be seen. Are you sure you’ll be all right, Ag?”
Agapantha nodded and went to the window. “I’ll just imagine I’m a lizard or something.” She giggled nervously.
“We should probably get going,” said Prue.
Dusk was upon them and the factorium lights glowed orange in the grey-blue of the descending evening. Agapantha walked with them to the forest edge and the three of them stood together for a moment, facing the wood. A break in the clouds to the south revealed a russet sliver of moon, peeping above the forest. Fine snowflakes began drifting like breath from the sky above.
“The blood moon,” said Prue. “It’s beautiful.”
“When this is all over, I’m going to paint this scene,” said Edwin.
Agapantha looked across at them both. “You’d better get going.”
They hugged quickly. Prue’s stomach twisted painfully and she swallowed hard. Then, without looking back, Prue and Edwin dashed into the trees.
As they made their way in the direction of the abandoned village, they barely spoke. They paused when they reached the crumbling buildings. Golden light flickered inside, casting ominous jagged shadows from the stag-men antlers on to the windows.
When they opened the door, Craftsman Primrose looked up. He was wearing his tweed suit and matching waistcoat, just like when Prue had first seen him on the farm.
He glanced at his pocket watch. “Precisely on time. We’re almost ready to go.”
Prue saw what appeared to be a small transmitter attached to the pocket watch. Probably the one he’d created to communicate with the stag-man on the farm.
“Finblewick will be along shortly. I suggest for quickness’ sake, you two work on a harnessing while Finblewick and I will work on another. When you make a connection, you will call me straight over. I need to
be the first thing they see, so that they imprint on me and are within my control.”
They nodded.
“The blood moon has risen, and we need to make a start.”
In the middle of the room was a box filled with iridescent qwortzite.
“Won’t the Guild realize it’s missing?” said Prue.
“Not until they begin. As long as they stick to their planned schedule, they won’t be opening the safe until ten o’clock.” Primrose led them over to one of the stag-men. “You can watch me do the first one, then you can do your own. The chest cavity opens like so. They’ve been designed for speed of harnessing.”
Craftsman Primrose worked swiftly with the GODAR machine. He spoke as he adjusted the dials. “Your journal was very interesting, Prue. I noted your observations on the emotion portion of the signal with fascination. The more extreme the saw tooth signal, I believe the more heightened the emotion will be. So, we will select those with the most extreme patterns, and then we will have an army to reckon with!”
Craftsman Primrose had soon isolated a wildspark signal and wired the qwortzite into place. He stood facing the stag-man. The hollow red eyes lit like a struck match, its great jaw opened.
“Where am I?” said the voice of what Prue guessed to be someone about the age of her father.
“There is someone trying to enslave you and your brothers and sisters, and you need to kill them in order to stay alive in this world.”
It flexed its clawed hands.
“I am your master. Await my command,” Craftsman Primrose ordered.
An icy snake slithered the length of Prue’s spine.
The door opened, letting in a flutter of snowflakes. “All is going ahead at the factorium according to schedule,” said Finblewick.
“I feel sick,” Prue whispered to Edwin. “I can’t believe what we are about to do.”
“Think of your parents. Just as soon as this part is over, we’ll be able to help them.”
Prue nodded. “Did you see the transmitter attached to his watch chain? I need to get it somehow.”
Edwin frowned. “We’ll find a way. Just focus on not looking suspicious.”
Prue put her bag down beside one of the stag-men. She couldn’t think of them as second lifers. They weren’t like the Guild personifates, made with care and kindness; these were made to look fierce, to be powerful and domineering. They were fighting machines.
“Come on, let’s make a start,” said Edwin.
Soon they’d picked up a jumble of frequencies. Edwin turned the dials and although he took longer than Craftsman Primrose, he eventually managed to isolate a wildspark signal. Prue called Craftsman Primrose over, who had already awoken another three in the time they’d harnessed one. She carefully connected the wiring and the eyes ignited.
“Where am I?” This one was a female, young, perhaps in her twenties.
Primrose repeated the words he had said to the previous stag-man, then left them to finish up while he went to harness another.
Sweat beaded on Prue’s brow. “The transmitter was so close. I could almost grab it.”
“I saw it, but you can’t risk it,” Edwin whispered. “We’ll leave it towards the end, when there’s less chance he’ll realize it’s gone. Then I’ll take it while he is focusing on getting the last one to imprint. Come on. Let’s get this done.”
The next stag-man awoke speaking another language. “I think we’ve done something wrong?” Prue said.
“No, just carry on; it happens from time to time. It’ll just follow the others.”
They harnessed two more young females, then an older man. They were getting quicker every time. Prue checked her watch. It was seven o’clock. By eight they only had another dozen to go.
It was Prue’s turn to isolate the frequency. They danced across the screen and she turned the dials, until one remained. She called out to Craftsman Primrose as they fixed the final wire into place. The piercing eyes ignited.
“Where am I? What’s happening?”
The ground suddenly crumbled beneath Prue’s feet. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It couldn’t be true! She swallowed hard and reached for the table to steady herself.
Utterly helpless, Prue watched as Primrose said the words to the stag-man then turned to them. “Hurry along, now. Not many left to go.” Then he joined Finblewick who had just harnessed another.
Prue stared at the stag-man before her in disbelief. “No, please, no,” she gasped.
“Prue? Are you all right?” Edwin said, but his voice had become distant.
She tried to focus. Surely she’d misheard? “Can you hear me?” she whispered, grasping the stag-man by the face, her voice shaking.
“Yes. Where am I?”
“Say it again.”
“Where am I?”
In panic, Prue looked over at Craftsman Primrose, but he was busy with another stag-man.
“Prue, you’re scaring me,” said Edwin.
“I recognize that voice,” Prue said breathlessly.
“What? But that’s…”
“A chance in a million,” Prue said.
“Are you sure? It might just be someone who sounds similar.”
Prue grappled with her bag, where the adapted name-finding GODAR was buried at the bottom. “I need to find out.”
Her heart pounded like a locomotive, as she attached the wire. She kept glancing at Primrose and Finblewick, but they were both busy wiring. With shaking hands, she turned the dial, separating the history data. She enclosed the face of the stag-man in her hands and whispered, “Say your name.”
There was a pause, then it opened its mouth.
It looked around and swayed slightly.
“I’m Francis, Francis Haywood.”
STAG-MEN ARMY
Prue tried to stop it, but a cascade of tears ran down her cheek.
Edwin’s mouth was locked open in shock.
“Everything all right down there?” Craftsman Primrose called.
“Yes, we’re just finishing this one and we’ll move on to the next. Only one more to go,” Edwin called.
Prue was still grasping the face of the stag-man.
“Prue!” Edwin said in an urgent whisper.
“It’s me – Prue. Francis, can you remember me?”
“Prue, we need to move on to the next stag-man – Craftsman Primrose will realize something’s wrong.” He scurried up to sit on the shoulder of the stag-man and prised Prue’s hands from its face. “Come on.”
The burn of grief rose in her chest again as she forced herself to move to the next stag-man. “What do we do, Edwin?”
“I don’t know,” he said urgently, “but we’ve got to pretend like nothing’s happened.”
Craftsman Primrose and Finblewick had harnessed their last soldier and Craftsman Primrose joined them. He looked at his pocket watch. “Nine-fifteen. Perfect. Almost time to march.” He began repeating his speech to the final stag-man.
Prue looked back at the stag-man that was Francis and willed him to turn and look at her. “Francis, it’s me, please!” she breathed. He remained staring forward. What had they done? Prue glanced at Edwin on the table beside Craftsman Primrose.
Then Edwin jumped down and hurried her to the back of the building while Primrose and Finblewick were occupied. Panic was escalating inside of Prue. She followed him, and Edwin scampered up to sit on her shoulder, thrusting something into her pocket on the way.
“I got the transmitter,” he whispered.
“Oh, thank you. I almost forgot, with Francis and…” she looked at him with tear-dashed eyes. “I can’t send my brother back,” she said in a desperate hushed voice.
“But what can we do?”
“I don’t know, but we have to find a way to stop Agapantha.” She stared at him with tear dashed eyes. “I can’t lose him again. I can’t.”
*
The factorium atrium was rapidly filling with people and personifates. The kitchen personifates were
walking around with trays of drinks and canapes, and there was a merry atmosphere of expectation. Spirit lights hung from the iron rails, and soft music was being played by a string quartet with a fox, two cats and Phineas on the cello.
Agapantha was waiting for the right time to sneak away.
Governor Watson-Wentworth stood close by in an emerald velvet suit with waistcoat and large gold buttons, along with with some fine-looking members of the Sovereign Chancellery.
“Ah, good to see you, Apprentice Young,” said Master White, appearing from behind her. “Sorry – I would’ve been here earlier, but I was looking for Craftsman Primrose. You haven’t seen him, have you?”
“Yes, he was talking with Apprentice Haywood. I saw him over there not so long ago,” said Agapantha in a rush, crossing her fingers behind her back.
“Oh, I can’t see him. Never mind. It’s ever so busy in here. I’ll be glad to get started, to tell you the truth. It’s certainly been a frantic introduction to the Guild for you. I hope you’re not regretting being here!”
“Not at all,” said Agapantha. She glanced at the clock: Nine twenty-five. Almost time.
“Right, I’d better mingle. See you at ten in the labs,” said Master White, disappearing into the crowd.
Agapantha was about to move, when a bell rang out and silence fell. She tried to edge back through the crowd, but she was penned in on all sides.
Governor Watson-Wentworth addressed the room. “Masters, craftsman and esteemed members of the Sovereign Chancellery. We all come together to celebrate this landmark day in the production of personifates. When I set Master Woolstenbury the task, I wasn’t sure it could be done, but as always, when Master Woolstenbury sets her mind to things, she finds a way.”
Master Woolstenbury smiled politely beside him, but she was clearly unimpressed with the whole spectacle the Governor had insisted on.
“Now, we have a no-expenses-spared blood moon firework display to enjoy, just to start the evening off with a bang. And don’t you worry – we’ve printed a story in the Medlock News that today is the Medlock & Co Chaos Production’s big anniversary celebration.” He winked theatrically. “Come along. I’d like everyone to gather outside.”
