Free Mirrorscape by Mike Wilks

until you have it back.’
    As he reached the relative safety of the anteroomand his two waiting henchmen, Adolfus Spute rounded on Mumchance and kicked him viciously, bowling him over. ‘You were in charge of the box, you snivelling fraction of a man. How could you have let it out of your sight?’
    Mumchance picked himself up and blew a series of notes on his whistle.
    â€˜What? Of course I was going to keep some for myself. It’s me who should be Lord-High-Master, not that beslubbering, toad-featured scut in there.’
    Mumchance’s tiny eyes twinkled and he blew a triumphant note.
    â€˜You’re right, “ Lord Spute” does have a certain ring to it.’ The High-Bailiff bared his yellow teeth in a repulsive smile. Then his face darkened. ‘But now I’m right back at square one. I need to get my hands on it all over again.’ He looked down at Mumchance. ‘Now, where do you suppose it went?’
    The dwarf blew a positive blast.
    â€˜Yes, that’s what I thought too.’
    Mumchance piped a tuneless warble.
    â€˜Succinctly put, my murderous midget. There’s no chance of getting our hands on Smell while he’s under Blenk’s protection.’
    Mumchance’s whistle blew again.
    â€˜Great minds think alike, my little man. The Fegish boy might be induced to leave the mansion if I chose the right bait.’ He turned to his henchmen. ‘You two are looking a bit peaky, a trifle run-down. I think you could do with a holiday. In the country, maybe. I hear Feg is rather lovely at this time of year. And while you’re there, why don’t you look up some old acquaintances of ours in Kop – the Womper couple and that disgusting old priest, Theum. I’m sure they would love to see their darling little boy again. We’ll organise a family reunion.’

Ambrosius Blenk
    The sound of the great clock striking eight echoed through the mansion.
    This is it! The start of my new life as an apprentice . Mel smoothed his hair, straightened his smart new livery and peered around the studio door. Morning light flooded the large, whitewashed space from several skylights, highlighting the paint-stained floorboards. There were drawings pinned around the walls, along with several small canvases depicting details of the large unfinished paintings he could see propped on the massive easels at the far end of the room. Nine of the apprentices he had met the previous evening were busy, the elder ones painting at easels and the younger ones at workbenches, preparing materials. Even at that early hour the studio was a hive of activity. Hardly anyone spoke and the air of concentration was palpable.
    â€˜The master will be here soon,’ said Ludo. ‘I need to get on with my work. Take a look around until Groot gets here and tells you what to do.’
    Mel stood in the middle of the room, drinking in the intoxicating, alien smells. The other apprentices acknowledged him with nods of their heads. One even smiled at him.
    Emboldened, Mel approached and peered over his shoulder at a drawing of a unicorn. ‘Did you do that?’ he asked in a tone of awe.
    The boy stopped working. ‘I wish. No, it’s one of the master’s. Don’t touch it. It’s not fixed yet. My name’s Henk, by the way.’
    â€˜My friends call me Mel.’
    Mel watched full of admiration as Henk confidently drew a grid of small squares all over the unicorn like a net, dividing it up into many regular boxes. Next to him, on his workbench, he had a much bigger sheet of paper with a grid of the same number of correspondingly bigger squares drawn on it. Into these he carefully copied the contents of each of the smaller boxes, and soon had a larger version of the master’s original sketch.
    â€˜I wish I was that quick,’ said Mel.
    â€˜You will be soon. It’s just practice. Using squares like this is called graticulation,’ explained Henk.