Chapter 2

Graham

 

The cottage door swung open. A man stood in the doorway. Wisps of gray hair sprouted around and between a pair of goggles perched on his head. He wiped his hands on the belly of his cloth apron and squinted.

“I’ve been expecting you, Graham Webb.”

The boy’s cheeks flushed until they shone bright as his hair. He worked hard to keep his hands separated so he wouldn’t be caught twiddling his thumbs.

“M-Master?”

“Machin,” the old man answered, smiling. “Do you still have the gift I sent you?”

“Yes, sir.” Graham pulled a metal apparatus, a mechanical torch, from his pocket and held it in front of him. “I’ve been meanin’ to thank you for this—for years, but the first time I stopped by, the cottage was closed. I nearly gave up, and prob’ly would have, had I not spoken with Serah.”

Machin’s crinkly grin stretched wider. “Perseverance will serve you well here. As will the torch.” He fanned an arm and waited for Graham to enter the cottage before he pulled the door shut behind them.

Graham had little time to absorb his surroundings before a woman with blonde hair and bright blue eyes poked her head in the room.

“Since it’s too late for breakfast, I’m preparing an early mid-meal. How many places will we be needing?”

“Three,” answered Machin. “Thank you, Gelsey.”

The woman named Gelsey nodded. Her head disappeared back inside the adjoining room. Graham’s eyes widened at the clang of pots and pans and the scratch of benches being moved about.

His stomach growled. Every part of him had been so immersed with having finally met Machin that his nose hadn’t registered the streams of berry pie scent wafting through the air.

Or the lanterns.

Glass globes, most filled with a rich, white light, covered ceilings and walls. A table sat beneath the largest cluster of lanterns, holding empty globes and metal frames. Tools and cloth rags were scattered about.

Graham’s breath hitched. The butterflies in his stomach had slowed to a halt at the mention of mid-meal, but the lanterns reminded him why he was here. Not for food, but for work. And then maybe later, food.

But the position had not been guaranteed. He wasn’t Machin’s apprentice, and the hope that he might be was nearly suffocated by a sudden wash of nervousness.

He pulled his eyes away from the dazzle of light.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Master Machin, but aren’t you goin’ to interview me first? The way you did with Serah?”

Machin rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “No further interview is necessary. Serah provided a remarkable recommendation on your behalf. And…” he added, pointing to the torch, “I had already suspected you’d be a good fit for the position.”

“So there won’t be a test?” Graham whispered.

“There won’t be a test.”

Graham’s lips opened slightly as he considered this.

Machin had sent him the torch before he’d offered Serah her apprenticeship. Serah later read to him what appeared on the tag that had been attached to the torch: This torch will light the way from your end of the forest to mine. I wish you the best, Machin.

He’d been disappointed when he’d learned Serah had accepted the position, and then again when Serah admitted she’d forgotten to put in a good word for him. Serah must have set things right, the way she promised, he thought, because there he was now, standing in the warmth and glow of Machin’s cottage. With the greatest opportunity of his life before him.

The master lamp maker had said there would be no test.

Graham released a long breath. The morning’s fidgeting and worrying about what tests he’d need to pass to become Machin’s apprentice melted away.

 

Graham followed Gelsey through a hatch in the floor of the room where Machin had spent most of the day. The room that held the furnace.

They descended a ladder, which ended inside a tunnel that led to a series of underground rooms. As the light from the furnace above faded, Graham found it difficult to see where he was placing his feet.

He pressed the switch of his mechanical torch, which generated a scratching sound. The torch clicked three times before a blue flame shone at one end. Sulfurous smoke seeped into the air.

Graham pinched his nostrils shut with his fingers.

“Stinks, doesn’t it?” said Gelsey. “Here, take this clamp. Machin had me make one of these for you.”

She offered him a wooden contraption, similar to the one she wore, and helped him fit it to his nose. The clamp’s jaws were made of wood, and adjusted with tiny screws.

“Thank you.” Graham eyed the metal tubes that ran along the walls. “Serah told me ’bout those, and how Machin made them to warm the rooms.”

“That’s right. Hot air from the furnace travels through the pipes. Your room is fitted with them as well.”

“My own room, inside a cottage,” said Graham quietly.

He pressed his hands to his stomach, not used to it twisting with something other than hunger. “I ’pologize if I’ve said it too often already, but thank you for the change of clothing.”

His tan breeches appeared gray under the blue light; they were stiffer than the collage of patches he was used to wearing, but the tunic was soft and warm.

He yawned. After mid-meal, a proper washing in a tub instead of a stream, and a belly that was once again full—this time with a supper of bread, cheese, and barley tea—the excitement of being Machin’s apprentice was not enough to keep him awake much longer.

Gelsey frowned beneath furrowed brows. “It’s the least I could do. I’ve left a set of nightclothes on the table next to your bed. If it gets too hot and stuffy for you, open your door a crack. I know you’re used to sleeping in the open air, and we wouldn’t think any less of you if we found you outside beneath a tree in the morning.”

“That’s kind of you,” said Graham, rubbing an eye. “I suppose I haven’t often slept in a proper room since Father died.”

“Machin suspected as much.”

She stopped at a doorway. “This is the apprentice’s room. Machin and I have rooms down that way,” she said, pointing deeper inside the tunnel. “Let us know if you need anything at all.

Graham smiled. “I will. Thank you, Gelsey.”

“Now go on in and get rested. Machin will be keeping you plenty busy tomorrow.”