Furnaces of Forge (The Land's Tale) (9 page)

Once again, Hazlitt rummaged though his pack. He produced a silver flask with a nozzle on the end. To the nozzle he attached a long, thin, curved spout, like the beak of a flamingo.

‘Now, when I tell you,’ Hazlitt said to Cres, ‘I want you to use the sharp end of the crowbar to hit the rock. Hard as you can – one hard, sharp hit.’

‘OK,’ said Cres. ‘Where?’

‘You’ll see. We’ll take a piece near the edge, so you won’t have to reach over the fire. It will still be very, very hot that close, so be quick. The piece will fall away, into the ditch. Touch, as soon as it falls, grab it with the tongs. It’ll be heavy – so, Cres, drop the crowbar when the piece falls and get the other tongs and help Touch. Put it straight into the wagon and close the lid. Now, is everyone ready?’

Touch and Cres nodded. Cres hefted the crowbar and waited.

Hazlitt stood close to the burning stone. He pointed the end of the spout just above it, near the edge. With his other hand, he tipped the bottom of the flask. Water trickled from the spout down on to the great, flaming stone.

The instant the water touched the cinerite, the cave filled with steam. The burning rock hissed and crackled. Where the water hit it, the flames dipped and wavered. A small fissure appeared on the surface of the stone.

‘Now, Cres!’ Hazlitt commanded.

Cres swung the crowbar back and then forwards, willing all her strength into the blow. The point hit the stone where it had cracked. Cres lost her balance and staggered forward, plunging towards the flames. She felt a hand on her collar as she was wrenched away from the fire.

The stone screeched and split. A chunk the size of an apprentice’s head broke free and slid into the flaming ditch circling the stone.

≈

Far to the south, among the coffee trees of Muddlemarsh, a piercing alarm sounded in Crimson’s head. Pain shot through her, like a pitchfork driven into her heart. She clutched the branch in front of her, keeping herself on her feet. It lasted no more than a heartbeat, then it was gone. It was so brief that, later, Crimson wondered if she had imagined it.

≈

The fragment of fire stone was heavier than Touch had expected. The jaws of the tongs, opened as wide as they would go, clamped round the broken piece. He tried to lift it. He could feel the heat on his face; it seared the burned patches on his left hand. The chunk started to slide back into the ditchs when Cres clamped her tongs on it. They pulled it free and, straining, turned and hoisted it above the open wagon. Releasing the tongs, they watched the flaming chunk of cinerite drop safely into the metal container with a dull clunk.

‘Well done!’ said Hazlitt. He closed and fastened the lid of the wagon. ‘Hot work, eh?’

Cres breathed heavily, more from the excitement and tension than the effort. She managed a nod, then looked at her gloves. Both were singed and stained.

‘Don’t worry about the gloves, Cres,’ said Hazlitt, tugging them from Cres’s hands. ‘I have another pair at home.’

Touch blew on his burns. Before he knew it, Edith was next to him, putting the soothing cream on his wounds.

The apprentices looked at the wagon in wonder as the realisation of what had just happened dawned on them.

‘We’ve got it, Cres,’ said Touch. A huge smile spread across his face. ‘We’ve done it! We won’t be going back empty-handed after all!’

Cres grinned back and turned to Hazlitt. ‘That wasn’t ordinary water, was it?’ she asked.

‘Ordinary water?’ he said, as if rolling the idea around in his head. ‘That’s an interesting philosophical question, Cres. What is ordinary? What is extraordinary? It’s very ordinary to plant an acorn to grow an oak tree. But it’s extraordinary that a tiny acorn can become a giant oak. Don’t you think?’

‘Well, I guess I’ve never really thought about it,’ Cres admitted.

Hazlitt’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? Now that is extraordinary. The young generally seem to have thought about everything.’

Edith interrupted. ‘Now, you had best get back to Forge. The wagon won’t hold that for ever. Look,’ said Edith. She pointed to the head of the pick on the fiery rock. It had already begun to melt, seeping into the rock itself.

The apprentices thanked Edith and Hazlitt, several times, in fact.

‘Why don’t you come with us?’ asked Cres.

‘I think we shall go back to The Place,’ said Edith. ‘Now that we know what happened to Amelia, we should return and let the others know. You will convey our sincere apologies to everyone for the trouble she caused, won’t you?’

‘Of course,’ Cres assured them.

‘Now, you’d better pack and be on your way, my dears. We wouldn’t want the stone to melt the wagon and be let loose on the Land, would we?’ said Hazlitt.

Touch and Cres were soon ready, with the wagons hitched to their bikes. After another round of thanks to Edith and Hazlitt, they pedalled away from the cave. Touch didn’t even feel the pain of his burns. They were going back to Forge with their prize. They would be redeemed. They would be famous.

As soon as the young apprentices were out of sight, Hazlitt and Edith hurried through the dark tunnels until they came to a large cavern with three connected rooms. Quickly, but without haste, they packed provisions and spare clothes into two bags.

‘We’ll not make it to Mint tonight, Edith my dear,’

‘There’s that charming little lakeside spot we saw a few days ago, near the meadowland. We’ll stay there tonight and start early tomorrow,’ she replied.

‘Such a pity we can’t get the mounts through the tunnel,’ Hazlitt mused ruefully.

‘You don’t get enough exercise as it is, Hazlitt. The walk is good for you. And they’re quite safe where they are. Ready?’

‘When you are, my dear. Always when you are,’ Hazlitt replied.

‘Let’s away, then,’ said Edith.

They picked up their packs and walked back the way they had entered. As they left the cave, Edith gave a sharp, trilling whistle. The click of claws on stone followed them down the long tunnel.

Chapter 5

Cinerite

T
ouch and Cres rode all through the day and the night. They made it to Forge a couple of hours before sunrise. They were tired and hungry but elated. Touch thought it unfortunate that they had arrived back in Forge when everyone was still asleep. He had dreamed of making a grand, triumphant return to cheers and congratulations.

They went straight to their workshop. The cinerite would be fine where it was for a while longer. Once they had had some sleep and reported to Beatrice, they would work out how to store it safely. They unhitched the wagons, bid each other goodnight and went to their beds. They agreed to meet at Beatrice’s office at ten o’clock. They hoped she would see them.

The next morning, Cres entered the Town Offices ten minutes early. She climbed the spiralling stone staircase to the next level. The large wooden door to Achillia’s office was directly opposite the staircase. Cres ignored it and walked along the corridor to the left and stopped at the next door, where Touch was already waiting.

‘Morning,’ said Touch. He smiled and his face glowed. ‘Since we’re both here, we may as well knock.’

‘Do you think she knows we’re back?’ asked Cres.

‘This is Beatrice we’re talking about. Of course she knows we’re back.’ Touch grinned. ‘I’ll bet she knew even before she woke up and knew she knew.’

Touch knocked. From within came Beatrice’s beautiful but toneless voice. ‘Come in.’

They pushed open the door and entered. Beatrice was at her desk. She indicated the visitors’ chairs.

‘Touch, Cres. Good morning. Please sit.’

When they were seated, she said, ‘I saw your wagons. I didn’t look inside. Judging by the heat coming from the metal one, I assume you were successful.’

Touch leaned forward in his chair. ‘We brought it back, Beatrice. Enough cinerite to power all the factories of Forge,’ he said, with perhaps a little too much pride.

‘Cinerite?’ said Beatrice. ‘You’ve named it?’

‘Well, not us, actually. That’s what Hazlitt and Edith told us it was called,’ Cres explained. ‘We met them at the cave of blue fire. They’re Myrmidots, like us. Well, sort of.’

Beatrice looked at her hands. She was silent for a few moments before speaking softly to herself. ‘Myrmidots. Like us.’ She sat back in her chair. ‘Tell me all about your adventure,’ she said.

Touch and Cres did just that. For the next quarter of an hour, they recounted everything that had happened to them on their journey to the High Mountains. When they had finished, Beatrice stood and stared out the window at the town of Forge. After a couple of minutes, Touch and Cres began to feel uncomfortable. This wasn’t quite the reception they had expected.

At last Beatrice turned back to the young apprentices.

‘Now what?’ she asked.

‘Excuse me, Beatrice,’ said Cres politely. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It doesn’t help anyone just to have your cinerite here, sitting in that wagon. And I dare say it will find its way out of that quite soon. Now that you have it, how do you intend to use it to power the factories?’

Touch told her the same idea he had told Hazlitt.

‘All our factories are powered by a single, central furnace. We’ll reinforce the furnace and make a few alterations. It will only take a couple of days to do it. It’ll be brilliant, Beatrice!’ he concluded.

‘I trust it will be, Touch,’ said Beatrice.

Touch and Cres exchanged grins.

‘But,’ Beatrice continued, ‘you are still apprentices. Therefore, Achillia has appointed Copper to be in charge. You will report to him. I’ll tell him you’re back and he can meet you at the factory.’

Touch’s grin disappeared.

‘That’s all, I think. You may go to work,’ said Beatrice. She took up her pen and began writing.

Touch and Cres slid off their chairs. Obviously, the meeting was over. Touch felt a little out of sorts. He had expected more praise and even a word of congratulation from Achillia.

‘You should put something on those burns, too, Touch,’ Beatrice added, without looking up.

‘Yes, Beatrice,’ said Touch. Cres opened the door and they stepped out of the office. They were just about to close the door behind them when Beatrice called out again.

‘Hazlitt never told you what the liquid was that was he poured on the stone, did he?’

Cres put her head round the door and met Beatrice’s gaze. ‘No, he didn’t.’

Beatrice nodded as if she had expected the answer. She bent over her desk and continued writing. ‘Thank you, Cres.’

Touch didn’t speak a word when they left the Town Offices. The pair walked out into the bright sunshine and headed towards the factories. Cres knew he was feeling let down. To tell the truth, she herself felt a bit disappointed. It was all such an anticlimax. But Cres preferred life to be happy and she tried her best to raise Touch’s spirits.

‘It really is good news about working with Copper. Remember when we were at Tinker School? We hoped that when we became apprentices we’d get him as our master. And once we get the furnace right, everyone will know it was us and they’ll forget about the explosion and all the other things. And Beatrice was concerned about your hand and she almost never says anything caring like that. I think we’ve made an impression, Touch.’

Touch remained silent. Hands in the pockets of his overalls, he walked with his head down. Cres struggled to think of what to say next to cheer him up. Side by side they walked on, each deep in their own thoughts.

‘Good day to you, Touch. Lovely day, isn’t it, Cres?’

Startled, Touch and Cres looked up. Leonardo, head of the Engineers’ Council, nodded to them. Leonardo was among the oldest Myrmidots but he was still sprightly, and his tall, well-built frame gave the impression that he could match any apprentice in a good day’s work. He had deep-set eyes, topped by grey, bushy eyebrows, and a long, thin beard trailing from his chin.

Neither could remember an engineer, let alone Leonardo, greeting an apprentice during work hours. It took a moment for the pair to recover their wits.

‘Ah, yes it is, sir,’ replied Cres.

‘How are you, sir?’ asked Touch.

‘Grand, Touch, just grand. As you are, I expect,’ Leonardo said and he chuckled to himself and walked on.

Touch and Cres looked at one another. Touch scratched his head, puzzled.

‘Do you think that’s good?’ he asked Cres. ‘I mean, Leonardo speaking to us. It isn’t normal, is it?’

‘No, but it was very nice of him. I think it must be a good sign,’ said Cres.

They crossed the street. As they approached Bellow’s, Jakob, the waiter with the stern and forbidding face, was busy with his broom. Touch and Cres stepped off the footpath to walk around him. Jakob scowled and pointed the handle of the broom at them.

‘No need! No need!’ he cried. His scowl transformed itself into a broad, beaming smile. ‘Please, walk on the footpath! I can sweep it again!’ His body bent in a short bow and Touch and Cres heard him say to himself, ‘Such spirit!’

Bewildered, they continued on. As they made their way to their wagons, every Myrmidot they passed greeted them cheerily. Engineers who, a few days before, would just have shaken their heads and muttered under their breath, now waved and made pleasant remarks. Apprentices who had ignored them until now called out their names and wished them a good morning. It was all very unsettling.