The Book of Fires by Jane Borodale

Author:Jane Borodale
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9780007305735
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Limited
Published: 2010-09-15T07:00:00+00:00

Early light floods into the workshop as Mr. Blacklock pins the shutters open the next morning. “I must go down to the timber yard,” he says.

“Why, sir?” I ask.

“Deal sawdust for fiery rains. Mr. Torré plans a volcanic eruption for the display at St. James’s,” he says. “And what Mr. Torré wants, he will have, whatever we may think about it. The sawdust must be deal, for the rosins feed the sparks in the fire.” I nod. I think of putting a pine log on the fire, how it spits and whines, the gummy bubble from the end of its cut limbs. It occurs to me that Mr. Blacklock may be planning something special for this occasion, a new style of firework, perhaps one that does a loop, or shoots out a brilliant star, the like of which has never been seen before in London.

“Shall I come with you, to carry the bags? ” I ask hopefully. Perhaps he might tell me as we walk along.

He scowls. “Indeed no, Joe Thomazin will do. The timber yard is crawling with rogues and foul-mouthed scoundrels; it is no place for a decent woman to hear talk. That extra powder is due from Mr. Soul this morning,” he adds.

When he is gone, I make sure my cap is on straight. I have scrubbed my fingers very clean. I work diligently for a while, but my mind begins to wander and then I cannot help but scan the room for clues, just an inkling of what Mr. Blacklock is about. His bench today is uncommonly tidy and tells me nothing. The tools are laid in a row, only a worn-down sash-brush out of place. There are five one-ounce cases waiting to be filled, a short discarded length of quick match, a pot of dried-up paste. There are no scraps of paper with mysterious plans sketched out, nor unusual apparatus. But then I look again more closely at his bench, and notice a faint, bright shadow on its surface, as if a large amount of reddish powder had been brushed hastily away. I don’t dare to touch, and when I sniff it cautiously, there is no particular smell I recognize.

Outside, the church clocks strike ten. I can hear the mild rasp of someone scrubbing nearby.

Turning my attention to the shelves, I climb upon a stool and lift down the dirty jars of chemicals one by one, carrying them into the light to examine them.

They are newly opened.

When I first arrived at Blacklock’s Pyrotechny, all these jars of substances were sat unused, untouched for years, covered in filthy cobwebs. And suddenly, perhaps this week, the seals are broken, corks taken out, some jars left carelessly unstoppered. Others lie empty, on their sides. Almost every single jar is opened now.

When did he do this? I look over at the apparatus on the far trestle. He has been using them in his experiments. He has been using all of them.

I find rose vitriol, and manganese. I find king’s yellow or orpiment.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.