Engn II

XII

XIIThey spent most of the night pulling away the rubble of the ruined workshop. Once again, people came from miles around to help. Even Mrs. Megrim hobbled up to perch on a rock. She watched their progress in silence, a grim look on her face. Finn's mother did what she could, helping to roll away some of the smaller stones before retiring to sit with Mrs. Megrim.

When darkness fell, the people of the valley lit torches and carried on working. The smoke from the flames, the cries from the rescuers, all put Finn in mind of the day of the avalanche, when the whole village had come looking for him and Connor. Now it was the other way around: Finn desperately searching for his father.

Most of the time, he was too out of breath to talk, but every now and then he stopped to rest screaming limbs and exchange a few words with Diane. Neither talked about Engn and Finn's insistence they had to return. They had other matters on their mind.

“I have to go back home,” said Diane at one point, a simple statement of fact. “Find out what's happened there.”

“I'll come with you.”

She wiped the dirt from her face and looked around. “I think you're going to be needed here for a while, Finn.”

She was right. Still, he didn't like the thought of her setting off alone. He returned to picking up stones and lugging them away from the ruins, slowly exposing what remained of the workshop.

Every half hour, Flane blew a whistle and they all stopped where they were. Listening intently, they called into the ruins, hoping to hear a response. For long hours they heard nothing and, each time no one saying anything, they returned to work. Then, around midnight, they finally got a muffled reply, faint but clear.

The forge had saved him, its stone bulk holding off the roof timbers and falling walls, creating a space for him to lie in. It was fortunate the forge wasn't running to consume all the air. He emerged, grimy and bleeding, like a part of the rubble coming to life. His left leg had been trapped under a fallen spar, and, unable to walk, he had to be carried away from the ruined workshop. They bore him down the lane to the Moot Hall, Finn's mother clutching his hand as they moved him. He nodded his head as they went, telling them over and over he was okay, he was okay, no need to fuss.

The six of them set up house again in a corner of the hall: Finn, Diane, Shireen, Nathaniel, and Finn's mother, all sitting around his father. Badger lay on the floor nearby, watching them with one eye. Finn's mother wiped grime from his father's face and gave him water to sip. His father grimaced whenever he tried to move his leg, but he was otherwise unharmed. The Moot Hall filled as once more the inhabitants of the valley took shelter, took comfort in each other's presence. They'd been fortunate; apart from Connor's mother, Finn's father was the worst casualty. There was no sign of Whelm, but he'd been there at the rescue. He was probably sleeping in his cart somewhere.

As Finn smiled along with his family's murmured recollections and jokes, he wondered if he could really do what he was about to do. They did need him more than ever. Many more houses would need to be rebuilt. But he couldn't ignore the possibility the earthquakes were something to do with Engn. The idea niggled at him. Connor had left him instructions, made it clear there was more to do. Maybe the tremors were Finn's fault for not acting sooner.

He hated to leave, not just his immediate family, but all of them. Mrs. Megrim, Flane, everyone. He belonged among them. But he couldn't settle, not yet.

It was fully dark when a lull in the conversation gave Finn his chance to speak. “Diane and I have decided to go to her village.” Diane looked up in surprise at his decision to accompany her, but then she nodded in understanding. “The line-of-sight network is in pieces again and this was a much bigger quake. We must find out what is happening down there. If you can spare me.”

Finn's father studied him from his bed. “And are you going anywhere else afterwards?”

Finn didn't reply for a moment. The darkness seemed to deepen about him as they waited for him to reply. He spoke in a whisper against the background murmur of voices in the hall. “Afterwards … afterwards I'm going back to Engn. To see if it is being rebuilt. To see if these earthquakes are connected in some way.”

He glanced at Diane. She was staring at the floor and didn't look up. No one replied for a moment. Finn had the clear impression they'd all expected something like this. They had few secrets from each other.

“That master is leaving too, I heard,” said Shireen. “Going all the way back to Engn to pick up more broken machinery. You'll be travelling with him, will you?” Her expression was hard to make out in the gloom.

“We'll travel together to Diane's village,” said Finn. “After that we'll see. Whelm can do what he likes.”

“Once you watched me leaving the valley, riding off with a master,” said Shireen. “Now it will be the other way around.”

“It's hardly the same thing,” said Finn. “No one is making me go. Whelm isn't a master. He's just a man. He's no threat to anyone.”

Shireen didn't reply.

“While I'm away you could find that old glade in the woods and sit there and think of me,” said Finn. It was a poor attempt at humour.

“I might just do that,” said Shireen. “I might just have to do that.” Unexpectedly, she reached out to stroke his face, like she used to when they were children.

“Finn.” His father's grey beard wagged as he spoke. “We can't stop you going, I know, but we won't be able to come and rescue you this time. You understand that, don't you? Your mother can't travel much anymore. And I don't think I'm going to be running about any time soon with this leg.”

Finn squeezed his father's hand and took his mother's in his other. “No, I know. You both need to stay here and look after yourselves. And I don't want to leave you, not now especially, but I think this is something I have to do.”

“And we can't say anything to stop you?” his mother asked.

Finn shook his head.

“Then I can only sit uselessly and watch you leave. And tell you to look after yourself like I did last time, as if it will make any difference.”

“I came back then, didn't I?”

“You did,” she said. “Just about, you did.” She didn't sound at all reassured.

They sat together for another hour, exchanging words, sharing the silences. Finn didn't want the time together to end, but they were all exhausted. As they rose to sort out bedding, Nathaniel stepped over to talk to Finn alone. He looked troubled.

“You're sure about this, Finn?”

“I am.”

“You weren't completely right, you know.”

“About what?”

“About the Directory. About the delusions I was under when I lived in Engn.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I know I was wrong,” said Nathaniel. “It's embarrassing now to think back. Obviously, it was madness to deny the outside world exists. I mean, here we are. Still, there was sanity in it, too. A sort of sanity. Not in denying it, perhaps, but in choosing to ignore it. Or seeing only the small, nearby things. The things you can deal with. I know there is a great, wide world outside the valley but still, I don't want to go there. I can stay here and be content. Live my life here. I think … I think sometimes there's a lot to be said for having delusions. If they bring peace of mind.”

“Perhaps you're right,” said Finn. “And I'm glad you've found peace of mind here with us, Nathaniel. I really am. I envy you. But I need to do this for my own peace of mind. Does that make sense?”

Nathaniel sighed. “I suppose. Just make sure you do come back. Nothing will be the same with the two of you gone.”

Finn tried to smile reassurance back at Nathaniel, but his face, dried out from the dust of the digging perhaps, didn't want to form the expression properly. “I will. And look after Shireen, won't you? Look after all of them.”

“I will.”

The following morning, Finn, Diane, and Whelm prepared to set off down the valley. Their horses huffed out plumes of steam in the early morning air. Most of the village had come to see them off, although there was no sign of Mrs. Megrim. It took the best part of an hour to get ready and say their goodbyes. His father was up and about, hobbling around to help pack everything up, refusing all offers of assistance. Shireen held onto Badger. Few words were spoken; everything had already been said.

Finally, they were ready. Finn squeezed his parents tight one more time. His mother gave him a bag of honey sweets for the journey. It was clear from her eyes she'd been crying. Finn climbed onto his horse and Diane onto hers. All too soon, they were away. Whelm's horse towed the metal cart, trundling and squeaking along behind them. In the cart were all his worldly belongings, along with the lifeless remains of the spindle reader. Badger tried to follow them and whined when she could not. As they swayed forwards, Finn looked back repeatedly, waving until a curve of the lane took his family from him once again.

They plodded along in complete silence. Diane had always tried to ignore Whelm, and now her worry for her own family consumed her. Whelm, for his part, remained silent as well, keeping his thoughts to himself. Finn tried to talk to the two of them, make plans and arrangements for the days to come, but they only nodded and said nothing. He soon gave up. An early morning mist threaded through the valley. Finn's thoughts strayed to another day when he'd left the valley on horseback. The taste of honey sweets filled his mouth, although he hadn't eaten any of them yet.

As he knew she would be, Mrs. Megrim waited for them at her cottage gate. She leaned on her stick as they approached.

“Sneaking off without saying a goodbye, eh, lad?”

“I wouldn't dream of it, Mrs. Megrim.”

They stopped. Finn dismounted while Diane waited astride her own horse, eager to be making progress. Whelm, wisely, stayed out of Mrs. Megrim's way, pretending to tighten straps and check the axles on his cart.

“Hardly worth saying goodbye, anyway, is it?” said Mrs. Megrim. “You'll be back in a week or two.”

The look in her eye made it very clear she knew he wouldn't be. She, like everyone else, had worked it out. Perhaps she was the one who'd told everyone.

“I'll be back as soon as I can,” said Finn.

Mrs. Megrim hmphed. “Think you're so clever, don't you, boy? Going off to save the world again.”

“Diane's family is all that matters. Making sure they're safe.”

“Of course, but what then? You'll be heading off with your new friend, will you? Him skulking behind his horse for fear I'll knock his head off with this stick.” She spoke these last words deliberately loud so Whelm would hear.

“He's not my friend,” said Finn. “I know what he is. What he was. He's been helping us, nothing more. We're traveling together for a time.”

She spoke in hushed tones once more. “Traveling all the way to the Engine you mean.” She was painfully thin now, the contours of her skull visible beneath her drawn skin. There was no point lying to her. She always knew everything.

“I have to,” said Finn. “The timing messages. Everything Connor's mother said. The earthquakes. I have to be sure.”

“Connor's mother was crazy; you can't believe anything she said. It's sad she's gone, but it doesn't change the truth.”

“So, you think I'm wrong to go? I thought you at least would understand.”

“I understand you're going to get yourself killed. It was a miracle you survived last time.”

Finn shrugged. “If I stay here, I could get killed. Any of us could at any moment. The last week has shown us that.”

“You're a lot more likely to get killed if you go back there, aren't you?”

“So, the timing messages, you're not worried about them? You don't want to know where they're coming from? Who's sending them? You don't want to know who Connor's mother has been communicating with all this time?”

Mrs. Megrim snorted. “If she's been talking to anyone. I've checked with all the people I could reach about these red line-of-sight messages. You know Henri?”

“She's one of the Switch House operators, downriver.”

“Lives at the foot of the valley, not too far from Diane's, where the two lines arrive across the plain. Half the messages come north up this way; the other half are switched south to the villages down there. I've known her for donkey's years, although we've never met. But if people think I know everything, they should speak to her; she sees the world clearly, always knows what's going on, understands people's problems before they do. And she's never heard of these red messages, either. Connor's mother had probably been imagining voices in the static for years.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But I have to go and find out what Connor wanted me to do.”

Mrs. Megrim studied him for a moment, then sighed. “There's no stopping you, I can see. But of course, you've never listened to me, have you, boy? Just you make sure you know who your friends are.” She glanced over at Whelm again. “And who they aren't, you hear me?”

She reached out and clutched him. Her hand was all bones and sinews. Finn felt the scrap of paper she concealed. The scrap she passed to him. “This might help you with the wreckers,” she whispered. Then, out loud, “Just make sure you come home safe, understood? Once the network's running again, I'll be telling you every day. Wherever you are in the world.”

“I'll look forwards to reading your messages,” said Finn, not glancing at the piece of paper. What was it? Another encryption key? Clearly, she didn't want Whelm to know anything about it. He would study it when it was safe to do so.

“And Finn, if you should happen to end up near those mines you mentioned. Where Tom was, I mean. I don't suppose there'll be any flowers growing there or anything as useless as that. But perhaps you could stop and say something. Or just think about him for a moment. It won't change anything, but it would help. It would be good to know he'd been remembered.”

Finn nodded. “I will. If I can, I will. I promise.”

“Good. Thank you, boy.”

“Now we'd really better go,” said Finn. “The sooner we leave the sooner we can get to Diane's.”

“Off you go then.”

Mrs. Megrim turned and tottered her way back to her gatepost.

Finn hauled himself back onto his horse. He didn't ride much; it already felt like he had a nice collection of bruises forming. Still, it was better than being inside a moving engine. He glanced at Diane, who smiled a weak smile. Soon, Mrs. Megrim was a stationary sliver of black in the distance behind them.