by John Eubank
His tiny goggles were pushed back on his little red cap. Gnomes apparently didn’t eat human food, and Will thought he’d seen him nibbling on a native berry stem and what looked like a small rock. Though he still seemed fairly weak, Gus climbed from his seat – a stack of books on a chair - onto the table and put a sympathetic hand on the little girl’s cheek.
“Difficult, it is,” he said softly, “when believing one thing but doing another must. Very difficult.”
Hot tears of shame and frustration ran down her cheeks. Unable to take any more, Angelica left the table and ran up the stairs.
After a moment of silence, Klazee said, “Give her some time. I’ll see to her later on.”
They went back to their desserts, but only Cobee asked for seconds. The event had reminded Will of the stress they were under. If the verltgaat didn’t open on Thursday - if Marteenus got into Beverkenhaas, or if there was no backup fuel system - they’d be stuck and at the mercy of their enemies.
“Please,” Will thought, “let my family have enough goot steem left to get through this. Let the world hole open on Thursday!”
Chapter 5
DE HEMEL SNOOR
“At last,” Marteenus whispered giddily to himself, “I’ve done it! I’m inside his house!”
He’d tried breaking in the night before, but the darkness had put him so badly on edge that he had to run back to the safety of his airship. It was late Wednesday morning, and the teenage girl he’d dubbed an Amazon had left with milk and eggs. In the bright light of day, he’d found enough courage to loosen the junk blocking the front entrance and crawl in.
With every step he anticipated finding the verltgaat machine and his way home. Still, each creak of the floorboards made him jump with fright. The smokestack had been smokeless for some time, he reminded himself. There was no Henry, and the Amazon had left.
Going straight to the basement, he’d found that the firebox under the boiler was stone cold and filled with ash. The automatic log-feeding racks were empty. Good, he thought. That was more evidence that Henry was gone.
But nothing of interest caught his eye. He only saw old tools, junk, and the boiler - no sign of verltgaat technology. Back upstairs, he saw a smashed table, claw marks in the wall, and other signs that a considerable melee had happened here recently. In the library, he gaped as he discovered the hole in the wall that Will had made.
“A secret room!” Marteenus said to himself. “This may be easier than I’d thought.”
With only the dim light of a brass lantern, he peered into the room on the other side of the hole and saw a pit. So, he thought, there were traps. Taking out a stick, he poked around in the darkness for tripwires.
“This is why a nighttime search was a bad idea,” he muttered nervously. “Can’t see their nasty tricks.”
After more cautious searching, certain details came together in his mind.
“Someone bashed out the wall,” he reasoned aloud. “Furniture destroyed. Slash marks. An obvious fight. The pit has already been triggered. I should be safe.”
Still, it took another minute to get the nerve to squeeze through the hole into the small room. As he studied the dusty pipes and table, he wondered what its purpose was. Because it had been shut, he didn’t notice the way to the sub-basement, but he could see the pit, which had had its trapdoor torn off. Then, as he neared the pit, a terrible sensation gnawed at him.
Fear, he realized. He hadn’t felt this kind of overwhelming dread in eleven years. Scurrying through the hole back into the library, he had to calm himself until the terror left his mind.
“Shadovecht?” he said, trembling. “How could this be?”
A sudden loud, sharp noise caused him to scream in an embarrassingly high pitch.
***
On Wednesday morning, the Steemjammer kids and Cobee headed off to the Steem Museum like earlier, save that Angelica, who’d remained moody since the night before, spoke very little. She hadn’t eaten much breakfast, even though Tante Klazee had made her favorite: pofferjees. Will couldn’t worry too much about her because he thought he saw someone spying on them at every turn.
“I have so much to tell you,” Will said quietly, “but I can’t with people following us.”
“I’ve seen them, too,” Cobee said. “I’m pretty sure they’re Donell’s people, protecting us.”
“We can’t take that chance,” Giselle said.
“Right,” Will said. “Also, it’s hard to talk on the cable car because people come up and sit near us.”
Cobee stopped, putting his hand in a pocket. The others paused and looked back at him.
“Well,” Cobee mused cryptically, “I have enough money.”
“For what?” Giselle asked.
“The Hemel Snoor.”
“The what?” Will said.
“The Heaven Cable?” Giselle attempted to translate.
“The Sky Line,” Cobee corrected.
Giselle made a face as she realized what he meant. “Wait, that crazy thing up in the air? You actually want us to ride that?”
“Why not? We’d be able to say anything we want. It’s perfectly safe.”
“Safe?” Angelica said worriedly. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on,” Cobee said, heading off in another direction. “It’ll be fun!”
***
Back on Old Earth, Will had seen pictures of chairlifts going up mountains at ski resorts, but he’d never imagined he’d ever ride one. They followed Cobee, who enthusiastically led them to a station house fashioned like a steep-roofed Swiss chalet. High above them, a network of metal towers held a pair of cables with dangling seats. They shot by in either direction at a high rate of speed, taking riders to various places in the city. Before the Steemjammer kids could complain, Cobee’d already handed over oddly shaped copper coins, buying them all tickets.
“It only looks scary from down here,” he said. “We’ll get to the Museum way faster. Come on.”
Getting in a short line, they soon found themselves ushered forward by a muscular man in lederhosen who had a brushy blue moustache. They hesitated.
“Vershneelen,” he urged. Hurry. “You’re holding up the others.”
Before Will could suggest that the people behind them could go ahead, Cobee led them to a bench-like seat that dangled from a steel cable. Things were happening so fast that they sat down in spite of their misgivings. The man attached a red plaque over their heads and snapped a bar across their laps. Then, a burly woman in an alpine dress tugged a lever. The kids were pushed into the chair-back as they shot forward and went up a steep climb into bright sunlight.
“What if we fall out?” Angelica said, gripping the lap bar so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
“Don’t,” Cobee advised.
Giselle tried not to look down as they soared higher and higher. “I thought you said this was safe.”
“It is.”
“Why aren’t there safety nets?”
“If you don’t fall out, why would you need them? Look, it’s been almost a year since anyone gestoorven.”
“Died?” Will translated, trying not to sound alarmed.
Cobee looked them over and only now realized how scared they were. “Let me guess, they don’t have stuff like this on Old Earth.”
“Sort of,” Giselle said, “but we could never ride them.”
“I see,” Cobee said. “Anyway, the last people to die were a couple of trouble-makers. The Oottenbroek brothers.”
She squinted incredulously. “Oottenbroek? Their last name means ‘out of his pants?’”
“That is their name, ya. Or was.”
“Doesn’t Frog’s last name mean ‘naked born?’” said Angelica, who’d become less moody. “And I think Alfonz’s name, Zeldemthoos, means ‘seldom home.’”
“Clyve dueled a man named Zeepvat,” Will added, “which means ‘soap barrel,’ if I’m not mistaken.”
“Well, ya,” Cobee said, “some of o
ur names are a little strange. They say back on Old Earth, the empire went around Holland demanding everyone’s names for a list. Some people didn’t like it, and because the empire’s clerks didn’t speak Dutch, they gave ridiculous names. Little did they know it would become law, and the names would stick.”
“Even here?” Giselle said.
“Well, by this point silly names had become a source of pride. Or tradition. We hardly notice them.”
“You were talking about those pants-less brothers who died,” Will said.
“Ya, the Oottenbroeks. There isn’t much to say, except that they got what was coming to them.”
Giselle arched an eyebrow. “You almost sound happy about it.”
“Not happy. They wanted to know what it felt like to fly. So they hid harnesses under their coats, and when they got up on the Hemel Snoor, they tied themselves onto the seat with pieces of rope and dangled underneath. It must have been a lot of fun, zooming around New Amsterdam like birds, until the wall.”
Will cringed. “The wall?”
“Ya,” Cobee said. “There’s a place where the distance between the Hemel Snoor and a high brick wall is not so great. Anyway, Max and Maurice Oottenbroek found out what it feels like to be a fly when the swatter comes down.”
“That’s horrible!” Angelica said.
“Of course it is,” Cobee agreed, “but it was their fault - and their fault alone. Don’t dangle from a rope, and you’ll be fine.”
They’d been steadily climbing toward a high, thin metal tower, where the main transit lines ran. Other chairs whooshed by at very high speed. An operator with droopy eyes sat in a tiny pod-like booth on the tower, looking bored. He jerked a lever, and they were launched with a sudden burst of speed onto the main cable.
“Just like Donell’s train,” Angelica groaned, “only we’re a hundred feet in the air!”
“Think about skirlberries,” Giselle told her. “You said just imagining their taste helped you.”
She did, and she managed not to get sick. They flew along over the canals, houses, churches and workshops. Gradually their fear lessened, and they relaxed enough to enjoy the wonderful view of New Amsterdam. They could see a great river over at the city’s edge, but then they noticed dark, brooding clouds bunching overhead. Big fat drops of water started coming down, making them wish they’d brought raincoats.
“Oh great,” Will grumbled. “Lightning!”
“Huh?” said Cobee.
“Lightning. You know? Zap and you’re cooked!”
“Zap?”
Will made a face. Was everyone here crazy?
“Oh,” he said, remembering something. “Electricity really doesn’t work here?”
“I’ve heard them talk about this thing,” Cobee said. “It ‘zaps,’ you say?”
“On Old Earth, yeah. It comes down from the clouds with enough energy to kill. But it also makes nice lights in houses.”
“Zonderlink!” Weird!
“You really don’t have electricity here?”
Cobee shrugged.
“There has to be,” Giselle said. “Our nerve cells use it to think and tell our bodies what to do.”
“Yeah, there must be some,” Will agreed, “but not like on Old Earth. Electricity’s pretty weird there. When the air’s dry, they can rub wool, and the static makes their hair stick up. But it doesn’t work on Giselle or me.”
Cobee started to make a joke about Angelica getting too much static but stopped, because at the moment her hair wasn’t sticking up. It shot straight back from the strong wind of their motion.
“What’s that?” she said, pointing ahead.
They approached a junction where the lines branched.
“A switcher,” Cobee answered. “Red Line to the left. Purple line goes right.”
A bored looking lady sitting in a pod saw the red placard above their heads. She threw a lever, and they were shifted to the left. Cobee explained they were now heading to the Steem Museum on the Red Line. Soon the rain drops, which had only been falling sparsely, stopped, and they found they hadn’t even gotten damp.
Will realized he actually liked zooming along above the city. The roar of wind in his face was exhilarating. Other riders going the opposite way, however, seemed disinterested, though many wore goggles to shield their eyes. Some calmly read books, using thin metal clamps to hold the pages down in the rushing air, while others knitted. One bearded man whittled a stick with a pocketknife. Will didn’t think he could ever get that used to the Hemel Snoor.
Glancing down, he saw a zoo. He recognized giraffes, polar bears, and Koonen-Krugen penguins in an ice-ringed pond. He nudged Angie-bee, who smiled as she saw them. A tinge of home-sickness throbbed in his chest. Thinking about Toory and Clemmie back in their igloo in Beverkenhaas, he hoped that the over-imaginative man next door had gotten his sister’s note and was feeding them.
A large gray animal in a big pen caught his eye. It reminded him of a tall, long-legged, elephant-sized rhino that had sharp horns not only on its nose but also coming out its head, shoulders and hips. Instead of being rounded, the horns were hexagonal in their cross-sections. The beast had to be native to Beverkenverlt, he decided. It had an odd lump of skin on its back, which made him think of the leather couch in his living room. It must have been made from the hide of one of these creatures.
The Hemel Snoor sped them quickly on. Way off to the side, he saw the cable car moving slowly up a street. The chairlift route was going way out of the way, but it was so fast it didn’t matter. He could see the Steem Museum in the distance. They’d be there in a few minutes.
“Look,” Cobee pointed excitedly. “They’re practicing for the tournament.”
Below them, a dented, metal-armored steemtrap on treads putted across a grassy field, with black exhaust pouring out its smokestack. From the side came another steemtrap on solid rubber wheels. With puffs of white vapor, they maneuvered, each trying to get to a point where it could pound on the other without being counter-attacked. Their front-mounted crushers - fist-like, steam-powered rams - looked quite intimidating.
Will wondered what it would be like playing a game of Steemball inside one of those heavy, tank-like contraptions. He reflected how back on Old Earth people went crazy over games where players put little balls in holes or hoops – or tagged other players with them. Here, the main sport involved teams of battle-ready war-wagons fighting over a one-ton sphere of bronze. Now that was a game he could get into.
“That isn’t where the tournament will be, is it?” Giselle said.
“No,” Cobee said. “That’s just a practice area. The main Steemball field’s across the street from the Steem Museum.” He glanced down. “Seems they’re having mechanical problems.”
A white flag popped out of the top of the first steemtrap, and crew members got out of each to open service hatches and try to figure out what was wrong with the vehicle. Nearby, the kids saw another larger steemtrap that looked more heavily armored and had a powerful crane.
“That’s for picking up the ball?” Will said.
“Ya,” Cobee said. “That’s a carrier or ball-carrier. It’s got to lift and haul one ton of bronze back to its starting area to score.”
They flew along on the Hemel Snoor so fast that the practice field went out of view.
“They’re in trouble,” Cobee sighed, “if they’re having problems like that so close to the tournament.”
“Verdoor,” Will said, remembering something. “I was going to fill you in on what happened to me.”
“We’re not there yet,” Giselle said. “Go on.”
Before the events at Texel, he simply would have told them everything, but now he found himself weighing in his mind which parts to reveal or not. Clearly, something had changed within him, but he put off his worries and forced himself to start talking. He began with what he remembered after his legs stopped working in the dark warehouse, when Bram and his bodyguard, Lockwood, found him.
Before l
ong, a loud clanking sound signaled they’d been transferred off the main line, and they felt themselves being shoved forward against the lap-bar as their chair decelerated to a cable that lead down to a station house near the Steem Museum. Will had only gotten to the point where he’d woken up under interrogation.
“You can’t leave us hanging like this,” Giselle said.
“I won’t,” Will said. “We’re getting off.”
“Don’t joke. How could you have possibly survived?”
“Obviously, I did.”
She made a face.
“All right, I’ll try.”
Before he could explain much, they entered the station, which for some reason had a horse racing theme. A man in a lilac colored jockey uniform brought their chair to a stop, lifted up the lap-bar, and motioned that they should hurry. Even with all the noise, Will couldn’t risk telling them more.
He really wanted to get to the Steem Museum and find out what Donell and Tante Stefana had in store for him, but the others wanted to find a place where he could finish the story. He got them to go with him by promising he’d do so by the end of the day. They crossed the street and entered the Steem Museum’s noisy, high-ceilinged lobby.
Chapter 6
THE FAMILY TRADITION
“About time ye got here,” Donell said, coming over and leading them quickly toward his office.
When they got in a hallway where it was safe to talk, he asked Will what he’d told the others about his ordeal in Texel. He seemed very worried about this.
“Not as much as I’d like,” Will said. “I’ve explained parts, but there really hasn’t been time.”
“Well, goot.” Donell faced the others. “Listen, ye don’t need tah know everything right now.” He put his hand on Will’s shoulder. “This young man has a job tah do, and only he can do it, alone.”