Prologue

 

A boy glared at a sign. He squeezed his eyes, willing the marks painted on the plank to make sense. But they were no more than lines and squiggles to his untrained eyes.

He balled his left hand into a fist. A lazy wind scratched through tufts of rust-tinged hair that dangled in waves past his neck.

“Thought I’d reco’nize some of the letterin’ from last time.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he scanned the grounds. Everyone who’d gathered in this spot earlier in the day was gone. Children his age up through men and women who’d started families of their own had wandered home, with their heads held low. Most could read no better than he could, which wasn’t well at all.

At the bottom of the sign, in strokes painted taller and wider, was a grouping of letters set apart from the rest.

“That part must be important,” he muttered. “Wonder if that’s the name of the master who’s looking for the new ’prentice.”

He studied the lines and curves, memorizing them. A sign like this hadn’t appeared on this side of Havenbrim in many years. He was so small the last time, his father had held him up to see it. His father hadn’t been able to read it, either. But everyone knew what it meant.

The lamp maker at the other side of Havenbrim, beyond the forest, was ready to take in another apprentice.

The boy pressed his lips together and focused. This time he didn’t want to forget. He focused on the word at the bottom and burned it into his memory:

Machin.

 

“Graham, how could you?” A girl wiped water from her skirts and fished a stone out of the basket of water she’d been carrying.

“I meant no harm! Was only tryin’ to catch your attention.” Still, he grinned widely, the sun shining through rust-colored hair and reflecting off his brown eyes.

“You have my attention, now what do you want?”

“Have you seen it yet, Serah?”

“Seen what?”

“The sign. In the middle of the village, nailed to the elder tree.”

Her red cheeks faded to the color of tallow. “How did I miss it?”

“You must’a been working awful hard not to notice.”

Serah’s face pinched together tightly. She gathered her skirts and strode off.

“Wait!” Graham struggled to catch up.

Though the girl was smaller than he was, his gangly legs had sprouted without thickening, making it difficult to compete with her focused pace.

He found her staring at the sign on the tree. Then he laughed at how she squinted her tiny, round eyes. “If you’d keep them open, you’d see better,” he said.

She shot him a dark look. “Do you want me to read it to you or not?”

“If you please.” He grinned.

Serah clasped her hands behind her back. After sighing through an exaggerated stretch, she placed a finger on the first word and raised her voice to a level of importance.

“The writing says: Position now open. Apply in person at the cottage across the forest.” Her finger slid along the sign as she moved on to each word. “One apprentice will be chosen to assist the master with his work. I wish you the best—”

When her finger rested on the larger markings below, Graham caught his breath.

“Machin.”

He smiled.

“Just because he posted the sign, doesn’t mean there will be an acceptable reply,” Serah said. “I haven’t heard anyone actually say they were Machin’s apprentice. I only know everyone wants the position.”

“Wonder if he truly exists?”

Serah smoothed back damp chestnut locks that had escaped from her plaits. “Of course he does, and I intend to prove it.”

Graham felt a heaviness in his stomach that sucked the joy out of him. “Are you plannin’ to apply?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“N-no reason,” he said, taking a step backward. The heaviness crawled upward into his chest. “You’re the best candidate—someone who can read and write.”

Serah’s chest puffed out at the compliment. Her lips stretched into a grin.