Free Sargasso Skies by Allan Jones Page A

Hammerland!” She laughed.
    â€œNext stop, the Crown of Wood!” added Trundle.
    â€œAll the same,” said Jack, “I hope we get to perform the opera before we have to leave. It’ll be such a shame otherwise!”
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    â€œSo, that’s Hammerland,” said Trundle. “Odd-looking place, isn’t it?”
    It had taken two days for the steam moles’ steam tug to bring them to the great lump of black and scarred and pock-holed rock that hung below them in the late afternoon sky. And Trundle was right—it did look very odd, indeed. Hundreds of iron pipes and chimneys jutted out of the island, spouting gray and white and black and brown smoke. Here and there, dull steel doors could be seen, set into the black rock, covered in rivets, and from small thick portholes, yellowish lights shone out weakly.
    â€œThere are no buildings on the surface at all,” puzzled Esmeralda. “Not a one!”
    â€œAnd I assume those steel rails by the holes are there to take people inside . . . to where the steam moles must live,” said Jack. He shivered. “No. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.”
    â€œWhere do we start looking for the crown?” wondered Trundle, as downcast by the look of Hammerland as were his companions.
    â€œIt’s a big place,” mused Jack. “Big and dark and dirty and extremely inhospitable.”
    â€œWe’ll work it out,” said Esmeralda. “The Fates wouldn’t have brought us here if they didn’t have something in mind.”
    It had been quite a journey, and it had started in a rather alarming way, as the steam tug had buffeted its way slowly through the endless swirl of winds above the Sargasso Skies. The opera house had sustained some superficial damage, but there had been plenty of time to put things right—and also to fix all the damage done by the invading lizards. The Hernswick Flotilla had joined in, their escape attempt postponed for the time being. With the opera house constantly in view of the clanking steam tug, there was simply no opportunity for them to slip away unnoticed.
    Jack had quite enjoyed himself, though. There had been plenty of time for a full dress rehearsal. It had gone quite badly, and Trundle had been horrified by the mayhem and confusion on stage— but then Jack had explained that the worse a dress rehearsal went, the better the actual performance would be.
    Trundle had done his best to feel reassured.
    As the three friends watched from their vantage point at a window above the main entrance of the opera house, a steam-driven iron windship emerged from a deep hole in the ugly black rock and began its puffing and rumbling way toward them.
    â€œLet’s go see what’s what,” suggested Esmeralda as the windship moored alongside the main entrance and a party of steam moles trudged down the gangplank.
    They found the steam moles on stage, speaking with the count.
    â€œUnder no circumstances will any of your company be given visas to enter Hammerland,” one of the steam moles was saying. “Visitors are not welcome!”
    â€œThat’s bad,” whispered Jack from their hiding place in the wings.
    â€œSo how the opera will we perform?” asked the Count.
    â€œThe audience will be brought to you,” said the steam mole. “Don’t worry, your opera house will be packed to the rafters. We steam moles enjoy a good opera, and this will be a sold-out performance.”
    â€œThen, most excellent it is!” beamed the Count. “All for the performance is in readiness!”
    Trundle, Esmeralda, and Jack got into a worried huddle.
    â€œHow are we ever going to find the Crown of Wood if they won’t even let us set foot in Hammerland?” asked Trundle.
    â€œDon’t fret about it, Trun,” said Esmeralda. “The Fates will show us the way when the time comes.”
    â€œI rather hope the Fates will leave