In answer Hawthorne grabbed a large sledgehammer from Shakespeare’s tools and strode over to where a boulder of cavorite was protruding from the scrubby lawn. Grasping the handle with both hands, he swung the hammer in a high arc and smashed it down on the stone. It impacted with a loud thunderclap of metal on rock, and the hammer shattered as if it were porcelain. The stone looked as if it had never been touched.
“Been suggested, been tried,” he said, slightly breathless from the effort. “Cavorite is harder to mine than adamantium, harder to mine than unobtainium. It takes almost infinite geologic patience. More than exists in a man’s lifetime. So it is, in point of fact, a far easier prospect to recover cavorite that has already been used in some capacity.
“If it had not been that the Watchmaker already had shaped cavorite, in quantity,” Hawthorne went on, “then Will could not have lived long enough to mine it himself.”
John frowned. “That’s not the best of news,” he said. “What you’re saying is that the pieces we have can be reassembled into new configurations, but nothing new can be shaped. Not entirely new, anyway.”
“Yes,” said Verne. “The gate really is the best option we have, John. Perhaps the only one.”
“We’ll resort to last options when I’m convinced there’s nothing else to try, and that the risk is worth it,” John said flatly. “Until then, I expect every man at Tamerlane to abide by my decision.”
♦ ♦ ♦
When night fell on the Nameless Isles, Fred and Laura Glue met up at the place where they hid that thing that one time, and, making certain they weren’t being followed, she then led him someplace else.
There were very few areas in Tamerlane House that were not well lit at all times—but children have a way of finding all the hidden corners. “It’s very simple,” Laura Glue explained to Fred as he followed her through the hallways to the secret room. “All you have to do is imagine that the longbeards—the grown-ups—have hidden some presents that they bought you, then imagine where they’d hide them, and just go there.”
She pointed down the dark corridor at the northeast corner of Tamerlane House. “That’s how I found this place.”
“By imagining someone bought you a gift and hid it?”
“Not imagining,” she said, pointing at her aviator goggles. “These were supposed to be a surprise gift from Mr. Twain.”
The badger was about to respond, but the Valkyrie shushed him. A light was approaching the corner from the other end of the corridor. They both held their breath until Quixote and Uncas rounded the corner.
“And that’s how I found this place,” Uncas was saying, gesturing with one of his prized possessions—a copper spyglass. “It was s’pposed t’ be a present from Scowler Irving.”
“Well met,” Quixote said as Laura Glue opened up an almost invisible door into a small room. The walls were covered with drapes, and there was no furniture. Fred and Uncas set their lamps down in opposite corners, so that the shadows would cancel each other out.
“Can’t be too sure,” Fred said. “At least we know no one can find us here.”
As one, all four of them jumped as someone rapped “Shave and a Haircut” on the door.
Laura opened it and was crestfallen to see Jack enter the room.
“Hello, Laura my Glue,” Jack said gently. “You be up to something, neh?”
“Neh,” she said, answering him in the slang she’d learned among the Lost Boys, so long ago. “How did you know?”
“It wasn’t me,” Jack said. “Somehow Poe knew you were planning something, and he asked me to check in on you. Oh, don’t worry,” he rushed to reassure them. “He didn’t tell anyone else.” Jack looked around at the four of them. “Is this your whole band of conspirators, then?”
“Not quite,” another voice said from the corridor. “For good or ill, I must be included amongst their number.”
Jack moved aside so Shakespeare could enter the room. “They needed someone to program the gate, and I’m afraid at present, I’m the best qualified, like it or not. Also,” he added, “I’m as anxious to help our lost friends as anyone. It was in part because of following my counsel that they’ve become lost.”
“That wasn’t your fault, Will,” said Jack. “If not for you, we’d have no chance at all to restore the Archipelago.”
“Are you going to go with us, Scowler Jack?” asked Fred. “It’d be a mighty comfort to have you with us.”