“I must admit you threw me for a moment there. I wasn’t expecting a girl. I was told there was a talented boy on the farm called Francis Haywood, so I didn’t realize.”

“I’m afraid you must have been told incorrect information,” Prue stammered, crossing her fingers by her side.

“Well, Frances, I’m so glad you decided to join me. Clever new apprentices are hard to come by. But you do seem to have attracted rather a lot of attention already.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that.”

Craftsman Primrose smiled. “There is one thing I do need to confirm before we proceed. Do your parents know you’ve left?”

Her cheeks burned. “Yes.”

He tilted his head. “How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

Craftsman Primrose frowned. “By Medlock law you are old enough to enroll without permission, but perhaps if you send them a note the moment we reach Medlock, they’ll know you’re quite safe and we can take it from there. How does that sound?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

A loud clunk reverberated around them. Prue clutched the sides of her chair.

“Did you know that the Gigantrak can get you to all the great cities of the country in just one day?”

“Really?” Prue said.

“Have you ever been on the Gigantrak before?”

Prue shook her head. She looked up at the curved iron ceiling and felt like she’d shrunk and been placed in the belly of metal giant. There was another great clunk, then a shudder. The crystal lights clinked, the table vibrated, the seat juddered, and everything outside began moving. They travelled slowly at first and then, with an abrupt pull that glued Prue back in her seat, they were propelled forwards like a stone from a catapult. A yelp escaped from Prue’s mouth.

Craftsman Primrose laughed. “Don’t worry, it soon smooths out.”

After the initial rush, a calm settled inside and although the landscape was flashing past at an alarming rate, Prue felt as though she was suddenly enclosed within a serene bubble.

Craftsman Primrose leaned forward and held out his hand. “I believe proper introductions are in order. I’m Charles Primrose, craftsman by appointment of Master Hannah Woolstenbury of the Imperial Personifate Guild of Medlock.”

It sounded so grand. Prue shook his hand, suddenly hoping her hand wasn’t covered in grease from the mechanicart.

“And you, I already know, are Frances Haywood.”

Prue nodded and bit the inside of her lip to contain the truth.