“Oh, and that’s Gorrn, don’t mind him,” whispered Kitty, “he’s a little shy on account of being so large and … colourless.”
Ned’s mouse still hadn’t moved a single hair, and his tail was sticking out as straight as a pin.
“All right, Whiskers, you can stand down now,” said Ned, and the little mouse scurried from his shoulder, down his leg and on to his foot, keeping his eyes firmly on the familiars as he went. “Were they with you on the Daedalus?”
“Oh no, my little lamb. I was taken in my sleep. Familiars only cross over to our realm when we’re awake. They can appear wherever we are, but only if they know where that is. Poor mites couldn’t find me.”
Whilst they worked, Whiskers sat with Ned and eyed the little creatures suspiciously. They helped Kitty prepare the last of her parchments before burning them and sprinkling the ashes around a chair at the centre of the infirmary.
Next, Frimshaw and Hookscarp poured rice wine vinegar around the room’s perimeter, before the others scattered M&M chocolates. Apparently M&M’s could befuddle an intruder’s mind, especially the red ones.
“What’s all that for?”
“A little insurance.”
“Insurance against what?” asked Ned, who was already dreading the answer.
“During the bonding process, part of you will be in the Shades. It’s the place we go to between asleep and awake,” explained Kitty.
“Is that how Barbarossa talked to me in my dreams? When we were on the Daedalus.”
“Exactly. Unfortunately for us, not everyone the butcher employs is from the outer world or the Veiled. Some inhabit the Shades. A bargeist is what happens when you mix a dead Darkling with the blood of a Demon. Sar-adin owns one. Like my boys here, bargeists can cross over from the Shades if they have your scent, and I’m fairly sure that after our stay on the Daedalus, his beast would have both of ours. Best to just keep your eyes closed. You can only see them when you’re scared, and if you do see one, you will be. Not very nice, let me tell you. But quite containable, if you know the way of it.”
“So you think once I put this ring on you might be able to help me find Lucy?”
“Most certainly, dear. I saw a link between the two of you when I first read your mind. Every generation of Engineer and Medic have a connection, which is magnified even further when they both come to bear their rings. Your father could work with Lucy – but it’s you two who are meant to be as one. After tonight, and a little time spent with your Engine, we shall have our first real chance at finding her.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Enter,” said Kitty.
They were joined by the Ringmaster and the Tinker, along with what looked like roughly half of his lab. Ned caught a glimpse of George pacing anxiously outside on all fours, muscles rippling beneath black fur, before the door closed behind them. Benissimo motioned for Ned to sit in the central chair, and handed over his ring.
“Well, my boy, if you think you’re ready, here it is. The moment of truth.”
Ned perched Whiskers back up on his shoulder. If he really was going to carry the weight of the world up there, then he would do so with his mouse at his side.
The Tinker got out a magnifying glass and held it up to the ring for Ned to see.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispered.
And it was. Under the lens, Ned could see that what had appeared to be solid metal was in fact made from thousands of tiny strands. More astonishingly, they looked like they were moving, some together, others in different directions, forming shapes and patterns that constantly evolved from one thing to another. It was like looking at a kaleidoscope of moving metal.
“It looks like it’s … alive,” said Ned, admiring the patterns and the workmanship.
“Indeed,” replied the Tinker. “The folk that made it are no longer with us. So although we think the Source may use similar technology, the truth is, no one really knows, sir. We don’t even know what it’s made of; not exactly.”
“Kit-Kat, some privacy if you will?” said Benissimo, who was now impatiently twisting the end of his moustache.
Kitty mumbled something unintelligible, took a small black pebble from her pocket, and swallowed it. A mushroom of darkness blew up over their heads, so that they appeared to be under a perfectly black dome. The outer world, for all intents and purposes, had gone.
“Well, dear,” she asked, “are you ready?”
Ned took a deep breath, and put on the ring.
At first nothing happened. Then, ever so faintly, he felt an itching sensation on his finger, just where it touched the metal. The itching grew stronger and was followed by a little heat. He closed his eyes. Somewhere on a microscopic level, the ring was trying to connect with him. He could feel it. Its thousands of little live wires were literally burrowing into the pores of his skin. In no time at all, the faint itching became a burning.
Whiskers squeaked in mouse alarm and Ned opened his eyes and looked down at the ring. Hundreds upon hundreds of tiny metal wires were growing out of it. They moved like snakes – up his hand, his arm – becoming longer and longer till they reached his forearm.
“Err, g-guys, are you sure this is supposed to happen?” he stammered.
“Oh don’t worry, Ned, apparently your dad asked exactly the same thing!” grinned Kitty, who seemed to be enjoying the spectacle enormously.
“Twenty-eight percent connectivity and rising,” read the Tinker from his dials.
The wires started to twist their way up his arm. They were making a kind of pattern, like a giant loom stitching together cloth, only they were stitching themselves into Ned’s skin. The heat intensified and he had to hold back the urge to yell.
“Stay steady, pup, you’re doing just fine,” said Benissimo sternly.
But Ned did not feel fine, or steady. It was then that he had the feeling that someone else had entered the room. Ned heard a kind of growling, and the chattering of teeth, followed by paws padding across the floor behind him. He looked around, but could see nothing, so said nothing.
“Forty-six percent,” announced the Tinker.
“Guys, this is getting pretty weird,” said Ned.
“We’ll deal with the weird. Just focus on the ring,” barked back Benissimo.
But Ned still felt like something was horribly wrong. He heard a pained howl, and looked down and saw pawprints in the ash. Clearly they had an uninvited guest – Kitty’s first line of defence had slowed the bargeist, but not stopped it. He was about to say something when there was a sudden stabbing pain in his arm as the wires tightened their grip.
“Ow!” he spat through gritted teeth.
“The ring wants your undivided attention, dearie,” trilled Kitty.
“Sixty-two percent.”
His arm HURT. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the ring. But the bargeist had tiptoed over the vinegar and was now on the M&M’s. He could hear its horrid grunts as it gorged on the chocolates. It then occurred to him that Kitty hadn’t told him what would happen if it made it past her defences.
“Seventy-three percent, and … ahem, vital signs are … oh, that is strange …” said the Tinker nervously.
The ring’s wires crept further and further up his arm, under his T-shirt and around his neck.
“I don’t know if I’m enjoying this very much,” Ned hissed anxiously.
“Eighty-eight percent.”
“Don’t open your eyes, dearie, it can’t hurt you if you can’t see it,” chimed the witch cheerfully.
When he was a much younger boy, that logic might have worked with Ned. But not today, and certainly not now. There were angry snarls as the bargeist tried to break through the ash ring.
Whiskers squeaked furiously as the wires at Ned’s throat snapped tight, and burned. He tried to yell, but he had no voice.
“Ninety-five percent. Readings are not good, Bene. He can’t take much more of this!” yelled the Tinker.
The snarling s
uddenly stopped, and he felt the little footsteps of his mouse running down his back and heading for cover. Ned hoped for a moment that the thing had gone too till there was a horrid breathing noise and what sounded like the licking of lips. Ned snapped open his eyes and saw two long fangs floating in the air beside him. The more scared he became, the more of the bargeist he could see – teeth, lips pulled back, and then a blackened lolling tongue. The wires burned and tightened and the world started to spin into darkness.
“QUICKLY, KITTY!” ordered Benissimo.
“Gorrn, Groir … Now, please, my loves, be done with it.”
And with that, two of her familiars sprang out from hiding and lunged at the unsuspecting beast.
“Ninety-nine percent … his vitals, Kitty!”
Ned felt himself fall without moving, his friends, family, mission simply ceasing to be important. Overwhelming pain, unlike any other, shot through his arm, and from somewhere deep in the vast folds of the Shades, he felt a great, empty Darkness, longing to be free.
It watched without eyes and spoke without lips.
“Ned.”
“NED.”
“NEDNEDNEDNED …”
A hungry cacophony of hisses, mumbles and whispers, all calling his name, exploded in his mind.
“Ned?” called out Benissimo. “Can you hear us?”
“Something’s wrong … we’re losing him!” shrieked the Tinker.
“DO SOMETHING!” roared Benissimo, grabbing on to Ned’s shoulders and shaking him.
From somewhere beyond them all, somebody did indeed do something. In the midst of the blackness, Ned saw a pinprick of light, and felt an echo of a thought, a glimmer of a notion … that was not his own. He saw the girl’s hands first, and in them he saw a flower.
The Darkness did not like the flower.
French Steel
Everything seemed to move slowly and all to the pounding beat of his heart. That was, until his heart stopped. He did not notice George tearing Kitty’s door from its hinges, after she’d lowered the black-domed barrier. He was not aware of how close the Darkness had come to taking him, nor did he know how hard the Farseer had fought to stop it. The only thing he remembered clearly was the notion of a girl holding a flower, that and a room raw with shouting before George’s great arms carried him back to his bunk.
Much later, when Ned woke, the thought of the terrible voice and the girl who had reached out to him were still fresh in his mind. The voice had been ancient and frightening. Different again to the one aboard Barbarossa’s ship. But if not Barbarossa then who or what was it? He decided to say nothing about it, at least until he had a better understanding of what it meant. As for the girl, it must have been Lucy Beaumont. Kitty had been right – as soon as he’d bonded with the ring, their connection had come alive. He switched on his sidelight and studied his hand. The band of metal looked quite normal. From the outside you couldn’t tell that it was connected to him through the pores of his skin, as much a part of his nervous system now as the hand that carried it. He’d survived the bonding. Ned had become an Engineer, just like his father before him. It was at this precise moment that he felt something he had never felt before. Ned felt special.
“Well this is weird, Whiskers,” he whispered, but his Debussy Mark 12 was pretending to be asleep. “Oh and yeah, I’m fine, thanks pal,” he added, which was when his mouse turned over and started to snore.
Ned left Whiskers ‘recharging’. He was met outside by Monsieur Couteau who was waiting in full fencing gear, rapier in hand, with his customary expression of French severity.
“Monsieur Neede, follow me.”
“It’s actually Ned, Mister Couteau.”
“Swish! swish!” said Couteau, as the tip of his blade did just that in front of Ned’s nose.
“Monsieur Couteau, if you please, Neede.”
Ned had had little to do with the man since their run in with Barbarossa in Shalazaar, but had heard from the others that he took his job and the Ringmaster’s orders extremely seriously.
“Er, yes Monsieur Couteau,” replied Ned now, eyes fixed on the rapier’s tip, only inches from his nose.
With Ned’s new status as an Engineer, Benissimo had evidently given the French Master at Arms instructions to begin his battle training immediately. Having Ned taken again, by whatever means, was not an option. He needed to be ready for anything.
Couteau led them over to the big top, where Finn was wrestling with a level two tiptoe – a slim, grey-skinned, oily-looking creature that reminded Ned of something between a snake and a frog. He’d caught it giving nightmares to young children throughout the Italian countryside. The tracker was about to demonstrate how best to deal with the nuisance when Couteau dismissed the gathering for his one-on-one session with Ned.
One of the younger Tortellini boys smiled at Ned on his way out. “Good luck,” he said, as Ned realised that the smile had actually been more of a knowing smirk.
“Under this great canvas,” began the Frenchman, “you will learn the secrets of ze blade. You will learn to be ze blade. Work hard and you will become an artist who paints in steel.”
Ned was starting to wish he was still in bed.
“Choose your blade, Monsieur Neede.”
Ned went to the armoury and picked out one of the lighter-looking foils. As he turned around, he came nose to tip with the end of Couteau’s blade. This time it made contact with his skin. It was razor sharp and it hurt.
“Never turn your back on your enemy,” said Couteau icily.
“But we’re not enemies, we’re just training,” grimaced Ned, though he was beginning to wonder.
“Monsieur Neede, en garde!”
Startled, Ned tried to raise his foil, but it was only halfway up when Couteau struck with such speed and force that it went flying from his hand. The Frenchman was not playing games.
“Again. Faster, please,” ordered Couteau.
Ned tried again. This time Couteau let him raise his foil, but no sooner had he done so than the Master at Arms attacked with a flurry of such ferocious blows, he thought his foil might actually shatter. There were three more attempts, each one ending with Ned’s blade lying in the sawdust. The Frenchman was irritatingly calm, as though he’d been casually swatting a fly throughout. Ned, meanwhile, was already dripping with sweat.
“Faster, Neede, faster! Take me down!”
“I can’t!”
“Why can’t you?” challenged Couteau.
“Because I’m just a boy and you’re the finest blade in Europe!” Ned quipped.
“Non, Monsieur Neede,” said Couteau, still duelling. “We are nothing, there is only steel on steel. Ze blades do not care who holds them, only who wins. Forget me, forget you, strike faster, win!”
“But—”
Ned was about to try to lighten the mood once more, but Couteau’s face turned ice cold with intent. His eyes narrowed and he lunged forward, hacking at the air so fast, that Ned couldn’t see which blade was which. Had the Master at Arms gone mad? All Ned could do was stagger backwards, trying desperately to fend off Couteau’s attacks, till he tripped and fell to the floor. Couteau disarmed him with a flick of his blade and cut Ned across the cheek. The cut was so fine and Couteau’s blade so sharp, that there was no blood, just a hot sting of pain.
“All right, that’s enough!” yelled Ned indignantly, grabbing at his cheek.
“Non, Monsieur Neede, it is not. Do you think ze butcher will stop when he comes back for you? What will you say? ‘That’s enough’? Will he listen? Will he show you remorse if you will not do as he demands? Ze boy that would save ze Veil? Non, Monsieur Neede, he will not.”
Couteau’s point had sunk in. Ned stood up, readied himself, and they went again. Properly this time.
The Frenchman finally let him go after two disheartening hours and sent him on for the next stage of his training, which would be with Kitty. As Ned wandered to the infirmary, he felt pretty sure his tutor hadn’t been as hard on the
rest of the troupe, and he had no doubt that Benissimo was behind his ‘special treatment’. On top of that, despite his best efforts, he didn’t feel like he had improved at all.
On his way to Kitty’s infirmary he passed by three white-skinned elves, a large family of bearded gnomes and what looked like a Minotaur, all of which were being offered shelter. Ned hadn’t noticed the day before, he’d been too angry to see it, but the unveiled were arriving, and in increasing numbers.
Aboard Kitty’s bus, things were no better. As Ned entered, he saw Rocky attempting to trim Abigail’s beard. He was doing so rather hopelessly, and with a pair of garden shears.
“Don’t worry, Babooshka, Rocky mek you pretty again.”
But ‘Babooshka’ did not answer, nor had she since the night her Farseer was taken. Her skin was as white as a sail and her mouth open in a permanent and silent scream. Despite Kitty’s best efforts, they had yet to find a cure for the strange coma that had so cruelly taken her.
Rocky nodded to him. “Dey upstairs, boy.”
Ned nodded back and continued up the stairs. Though his session with Couteau had made its point, it had done little to encourage him. Could he really help? Would he really be enough to make any kind of difference, and if he was, what was he actually going to do?
When he reached the top deck, the Tinker and Kitty were both waiting with his answer.
A Single Grain of Sand
“Sand? The world’s falling apart out there and you want me to use my Amplification-Engine – one of the rarest devices on the planet – to make sand?”
“It’s just the one grain of sand, dearie, though it is a lot harder than it sounds.” Kitty twirled her Hello Kitty bracelet merrily.
“What about finding the Source … and Lucy? I don’t know how, but last night I’m sure I sensed her, Kitty. She’s got to be more important than … sand?”
“Oh, my little gum-drop, don’t be such a fusspot. Trust me when I tell you that everything is in hand. I am a Farseer, after all, and I’m quite sure that the Source’s location will reveal itself to me momentarily. As for Lucy, the power of your connection with the girl is quite unprecedented, and will only grow as you master the Engine-ring. When it’s strong enough, we’ll use it to find her, dearie, together. First things first, though – a grain of sand.”
Circus of Marvels Page 14
