Engn II

XIII

XIIIThey had to detour around the trees that had crashed to the ground as they made their way down the valley. On more than one occasion they were forced to manhandle Whelm's cart through the mud. The line-of-sight was dark at each house and hamlet they came to, but they saw few collapsed buildings. Some communities had escaped the quake unscathed, and Diane's spirits rose. She and Finn chatted as they swayed their way southwards, although neither talked about what they would find in her village. Nor about where they would go afterwards.

People regarded Whelm with open hostility when they saw him. Each night when they stopped, Whelm took himself off to sleep in his moving engine, away from everyone else. More than once Finn tried to get him to stay but Whelm only shook his head and disappeared into the darkness for the night.

Finn and Diane, meanwhile, would sit near a communal fire or in someone's home and share what stories they'd heard. With the line-of-sight network not functioning people were desperate for news of friends and family. Finn and Diane accumulated more and more messages to pass on: questions about family members or reassurances someone had survived. When he manned the Switch House, Finn always felt like a spider at the centre of its web, but now all the messages were loose threads flapping around, connections broken. He and Diane gathered up as many as they could and tied them up as they went.

“Why do you never stay in the villages we come to?” he asked Whelm one day, as they skirted the woods. No trees had fallen there, and no collapsed buildings were in sight, making it possible to believe the earthquakes had never happened. Diane was in the lead, twenty or thirty yards ahead.

Whelm shrugged. “I learned long ago I wasn't welcome. People want to buy what I sell, but that doesn't mean they're glad to see me.”

“People have more important things to worry about than everything that happened back then.”

“Perhaps. I'm still not going to risk it. It's best I stay out of everyone's way, especially in places I visited when I was a master. People don't forget.”

“You came into our village when the first earthquake struck.”

Whelm didn't reply for a moment. He looked uncomfortable. “I wasn't sure if anyone would even have survived. And I didn't want to be on my own, I suppose. Out in the wilds it was pretty alarming when the quake started.”

For some reason Finn had the impression Whelm wasn't telling him everything. That he'd made the explanation up. Perhaps Whelm had simply learned to be wary of giving people the truth.

“Do you think you'll be able to get the memory reader working again? Once you get the parts in Engn?”

“Maybe,” said Whelm after a moment's thought. “It's pretty wrecked. Depends what I can scavenge. But I thought you were coming as well?”

“I don't know,” said Finn. “We'll see what we find at Diane's village.”

“And what will Diane do if you do go?”

“I don't know that, either.”

“Haven't you asked her? That's how it's supposed to work.”

“There hasn't been the right moment yet.”

“She doesn't think you should go, does she?”

Finn didn't reply. Whatever they found at Diane's village, he hoped to set off across the plain for Engn at some point, and he had no idea what Diane would do. Come with him? Wait for him? Or, perhaps, insist he choose between her and Engn.

They rode along in silence after that, Whelm occasionally flicking at the flies gathering around them.

“Those old images we saw in the orb,” said Finn, eventually. “Those Lords of the High Ice. Did you ever meet any of them?”

“Me? No. Never saw anyone like that. As far as I know they died out years ago. Centuries ago.”

“What do you know about them?”

“Not much. They told us some history when we became masters. They were great engineers; they basically built the original machinery at the heart of Engn. That place we saw.”

“I thought the masters built it. The twelve guilds.”

“Oh, they did, but it was the Lords of the High Ice who showed them how. Gave them the knowledge to construct on such a scale. Drew up the blueprints. So we were told.”

“How do you know they're not there anymore? In the far north?”

Whelm shook his head, something like the old, mocking Master Whelm reappearing for a moment. “I think we'd know if they were. I've never seen any messages from the mysterious frozen wastes.”

“Perhaps you weren't allowed to read them,” said Finn.

“Perhaps.”

“Did you ever see those power cables? Heading north from the Hub?”

“No, there's nothing like that.”

“Then perhaps they're underground now. Out of sight.”

Whelm sighed. “More secrets? You know, the simplest explanations are usually right, Finn. It's much more likely there is no one living in the far north anymore. That they died out years and years ago.”

Finn didn't reply. Maybe Whelm was right and maybe he wasn't. Just because you couldn't communicate with a place didn't mean it wasn't there. Just because he couldn't talk to Mrs. Megrim didn't mean she wasn't alive. Or at least, he couldn't say for sure whether she was alive or not. It was true people believed in many things that weren't actually there: ghosts and gods and giants. And sometimes they didn't believe in things that clearly were there. Like Nathaniel in the Directory, insisting the outside world wasn't real. The problem was knowing which was which. Telling the difference between reality and fantasy.

These thoughts looping around in his head, Finn rode on in silence once more, and Whelm seemed content to do the same.

Finn and Diane stayed that night in a small hamlet of ten or twelve houses. Once again, Whelm couldn't be persuaded to join them. He rumbled off to sleep in the woods, out of sight of the lane.

The houses of the hamlet clung to the bank of the river, each standing upon thick wooden stilts, so their ground floors were roughly at eye-level. Such buildings were common enough down the Silverburn, allowing people to live and work on the river while protecting them from floods. The design also, Finn now saw, made the houses earthquake-proof. The wooden stays would sway rather than snap when the tremors struck. None of the houses had been damaged and life was going on as normal. Still, the inhabitants were eager for word of the outside world. They gladly offered Finn and Diane food and shelter in return for news.

“Have you heard anything from downriver?” Diane asked as they sat with a group of villagers on a wooden platform built over the water. A crackling, smoky fire set upon a ring of stones kept the midges away.

“Only one boat has passed upstream since the second quake,” an old man said. “They'd seen some damage along the banks, but nothing terrible. A roof down here, trees across the lane there. So far as we know, your village has escaped unscathed.”

The words raised Diane's spirits even more. That night she slept well, finally waking long after it was light. Knowing how exhausted she was, Finn didn't wake her. He spent the time realigning the lenses flashing messages up and down the valley. There was no traffic from the south, but word came through from home. All was well, his father was recovering. The news filled Finn with hope, too. It was a bright, sunny morning. Everything was going as well as he could have hoped for. Perhaps after a few days at Diane's village, she could be persuaded to join him on the crossing to Engn before they made their way back home.

Whelm wasn't waiting for them on the lane when they returned to it. “Perhaps he's gone on without us,” said Diane. “Got sick of waiting and left.” She didn't sound displeased at the idea. But there was no sign of wheels in the dust of the lane, other than those of the night before. Whelm had wheeled his cart into the woods but hadn't come out again.

“Perhaps he's slept in, too,” said Finn. It seemed unlikely. Whelm was usually the first up.

In a small clearing, out of sight of the lane, they found him. He was bound to a tree, bruised and bleeding, head slumped forwards. The cart stood some way off, Whelm's horse tethered to it, patiently waiting. The grass all around Whelm was trampled as if by many feet. The ex-master wasn't moving. But when Finn and Diane rushed up to him, he lifted his cut and swollen face to look at them.

“What's happened?” Diane asked. “Who did this?”

Whelm's voice was rough and slurred. “Travelers on the road. A r****e from the wreckage.”

“But why?”

“You know why. It happens.”

Finn worked at the ropes lashing Whelm to the tree. “They left you here to die?”

“I think they planned to come back tonight for another go. And to take all my stuff.”

Finn caught Whelm's eye as he worked. The ex-master looked away, ashamed.

“I'm sorry,” said Finn. “We should have stayed with you.”

“It's not your fault.”

“Actually, it is. In a way.”

Whelm looked puzzled. “Why do you say that?”

Finn unravelled the blood-stained ropes. “You haven't worked it out?”

“Worked what out?”

Diane cast a worried look at Finn. But Whelm would have to know the truth sooner or later.

“That we destroyed Engn,” said Finn. “Diane and Connor and me. Isn't it obvious? We're to blame for you not being a master anymore. I don't regret it, not at all, but still I'm sorry for what's happened to you.”

Whelm stood on shaky legs. “Don't be ridiculous, Finn. Of course you didn't. It blew up by itself. The machine went wrong. Everyone knows that.”

“No. It was us. Truly. You saw the images on the spindle. That was the control room. Between us, we set off the explosions from there. That was why I was in the Directory.”

Whelm looked from Finn to Diane. His expression was hard to read through his broken features. “Is this true?”

Diane looked like she was going to deny it. Then she relented. “It is.”

Whelm staggered towards his horse and cart. Finn reached out to lend him a hand but Whelm swept his hand away. “Just get away from me, Finn.”

“Whelm, come on. I told you what I planned when you took me there. We had to do it.”

“No!” Whelm's face was livid when he turned to face them. “No, you didn't have to. Do you have any idea what you did? You ruined everything. I was only a low master, but at least I was somebody. People did what I told them. Now they punch me and kick me. And they laugh as they're doing it. Look at me! Now the whole world's falling apart. And you're to blame. You know, Finn, I felt bad about what I did to you. I felt guilty. But you've already got your revenge, haven't you? You've paid me back a thousand times over. I should never have come to find you.”

“Whelm, I…”

“Just go away, Finn. I don't want to hear it. You can find your own way to Engn. Thanks for releasing me, but now it's time to say goodbye.”

“You're injured,” said Diane. “You're in no state to travel. And it's safer in a group.”

But Whelm was already tightening the harnesses on his horse, grabbing his belongings where his attackers had scattered them. Rage was clear in every motion. “I managed perfectly well before,” he said over his shoulder.

He climbed onto the moving engine and, with an angry lash of his reins, urged his brown horse forwards. The cart lurched around in a wide circle to head out of the woods. Whelm wiped the blood from his face with an oily rag. He didn't look at Finn or Diane.

“Whelm!” Finn shouted.

“Let him go,” said Diane. “He was never going to stay with us once he found out.”

The ex-master didn't stop as he trundled away. The squealing of his wheels faded as he headed down the valley to find a path of his own across the plain. It was several hours before it occurred to Finn that he had taken the remains of the spindle reader with him.