Free Furnaces of Forge (The Land's Tale) by Alan Skinner

Cres were a bit startled by the sudden change of topic. Nonetheless, they told their story, leaving out, of course, the explosion at the factory and a good many other mishaps.
    Hazlitt studied them for a moment when they had finished. He looked at them gravely.
    ‘Very admirable. You are, both of you, courageous and resourceful young apprentices. It would be a shame if you had to go back empty-handed. Especially as you say you have the blessing of Achillia and – what was her name? – Beatrice.’
    ‘Hazlitt, dear, I have an idea. Why don’t we help these two in their brave expedition?’ said Edith.
    Touch and Cres felt a surge of hope and looked at Hazlitt, who returned their gaze without expression. He glanced over to the metal wagon. ‘Is that what you intended to use to carry it back to Forge?’ he asked.
    Touch and Cres nodded.
    ‘Do you mind if I look at it?’ he said.
    Without waiting for an answer, he went to the wagon and examined it. He undid the catch and opened the lid and peered inside. He rapped on the walls and floor of the wagon.
    ‘This just might do,’ he said. ‘Though you will need to go straight back. This will hold it, but not for long. I wouldn’t stop to sleep if I were you.’
    Touch and Cres just nodded. It seemed that they might return in triumph after all.
    ‘One question. How do you intend to use the power in the cinerite?’
    Hope of success pushed aside the reservations Touch had about Hazlitt and Edith. ‘Steam,’ he announced proudly. ‘We will make a furnace of hardened metal, thicker than the wagon. We’ll put the fire – I mean cinerite – into the furnace, then run water through it and use the steam to power the factories. Imagine! All the power we need, and the fuel lasts for ever!’
    ‘Clever,’ said Edith. ‘I’m no engineer and technical details are beyond me, but you seem to have figured it all out. Hazlitt, I think we should help them. How big a piece do you reckon they’ll need?’
    ‘I should say that a piece about . . . well, about the size of Touch’s head should do,’ said Hazlitt.
    ‘I’ll let you get to work, then, dear, and I’ll just stand over near the entrance away from the heat. I’m starting to glow a bit,’ said Edith, sounding as if she was about to faint.
    ‘Right,’ said Hazlitt. ‘Bring the wagon closer, Touch.’ He looked around and saw the crowbar on the floor. ‘Ah, that should work. Pity it’s not longer but we’ll make do. Get the crowbar, that’s a good lad, Touch,’ he said.
    ‘Excuse me, Hazlitt, but we tried that,’ said Cres.
    ‘I’m sure you did, Cres. I am absolutely sure you did. It’s the preparation that’s important, though. The preparation. Now, do you have any more gloves?’
    Touch and Cres shook their heads.
    ‘No matter, you can use mine.’ From one of the many pockets in his trousers, Hazlitt took a pair of soft brown leather gloves.
    ‘But these aren’t work gloves,’ exclaimed Cress. ‘They’re beautiful! They’ll be ruined!’
    ‘They’ll be fine. It’s just to provide a bit of protection from the heat when we lift the piece of cinerite,’ Hazlitt assured her.
    Hazlitt held out the gloves and Touch took them. He tried putting on the left glove and gasped in pain.
    ‘Here, Touch, let me do it. My hand isn’t burned,’ offered Cres.
    She put on the gloves. They were slightly too large, leaving space at the fingertips, but she marvelled at how they felt. She had never imagined gloves could be so soft and supple.
    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.