The Story of Cirrus Flux by Matthew Skelton Read Free Book Online Page A

foot to the other. “It feels like there’s a spider dancing in my hair.”
    Mr. Leechcraft’s smile widened into a grin. “Splendid!” he said. “This boy will do nicely, Mr. Chalfont. I have made my choice.”
    Cirrus felt a knife twist in his stomach. He had seen many boys come and go during his time at the hospital, but he had never expected Bottle Top to be among them. He had always imagined they would be apprenticed together. What would become of their plans?
    He watched helplessly now as Mr. Chalfont beamed into the startled boy’s face.
    “Well then, Abraham. It appears you have a new calling,” said the Governor. “A fresh start in life. You must do everything Mr. Leechcraft asks of you, do you understand? You must serve him well.”
    Bottle Top glanced uneasily at Cirrus and then nodded his head, too dumbfounded to speak.
    “A child who can keep his counsel,” said Mr. Leechcraft. “Even better.”
    He played the puppeteer for a moment longer and then whisked the rod away and tapped it once on the ground to break the spell. Bottle Top’s hair fell back into place, though even messier than before.
    Mr. Chalfont dismissed the other boys, who gloomily dispersed to their lessons, and then led Mr. Leechcraft, with Bottle Top in tow, to the adjoining study to prepare the necessary paperwork.
    Cirrus stumbled to a hard wooden bench outside the Weeping Room and sat down, feeling numb and dizzy. Bottle Top was his only friend, the one always leading him on larks and adventures. How was he going to cope without him?
    “Looks like it’s just you and me, Flux,” said Jonas, strolling past. “The oldest ones left.”
    Cirrus kept his head down, trying to ignore the sick feeling spreading inside him.
    Shortly afterward, Bottle Top rushed up to him. “Mr. Leechcraft says he’s going to buy me a brand-new set of teeth,” he said, his face shining with excitement. “And some fancier clothes, too!”
    Cirrus tried to imitate a smile, but his heart wasn’t in it. He wondered how Bottle Top could sound so eager to get away. What would happen to their friendship? He was about to say something when he became aware of the dark-wigged gentleman advancing toward them.
    “Come along, you,” spat Bottle Top’s new master. “We have important work to do. You’re going to make my reputation.”
    He led the boy down the steps to the front of the hospital. Cirrus followed, a safe distance behind, watching as the man’s grip on the boy’s shoulder grew tighter the nearer they came to the outside world. And then, before Cirrus could say goodbye, he saw his friend disappear into a plain black carriage and drive off toward the city.
    Cirrus turned and ran back to the kitchen, alone.
    “A quack, if you ask me,” said Mrs. Kickshaw once he had told her everything that had happened. “I’ve heard of his kind before. No better than a charlatan, a rogue! Pshaw!” She spat into the fire. “The Governor ought to know better than apprenticing young boys to scoundrels!”
    She caught the worried look crumpling Cirrus’s brow and pulled him into an embrace—so tight Cirrus could smell the overpowering stench of her yeasty brown apron. “Now, don’t ye worry about Abraham,” she said, rocking him back and forth. “He’ll find his own way in the world, I promise.”
    “And what about me?” he asked weakly.
    She looked down at him and smiled. “There now,” she said, mopping away the tears that had sneaked into his eyes. “Your day will come, too, Cirrus. Your day will come. Someone will come looking for ye, too.”

T he boat drifts up to the stairs off Strand Lane and two men disembark. One is dressed in a dark blue naval uniform, which fits him snugly round the chest; the other is clad in a heavier fearnought jacket. Above them rises the massive edifice of the Guild of Empirical Science: a crown of architecture on the shore of the Thames, its hundred or more windows lit up against the night by a galaxy of