Author's note: An updated edition of this book has been republished in three books UNDERCOVER - DARK FIRE DATA, CURIOUSERS and STEAM POWER.
It's Christmas and the school's time machine malfunctions, sending us to 1778 CE where we are press-gan...
For a fleeting instant, I was two dimensional again as I was sucked away from the electric bookcase into the middle of the room. Except . . . the room had gone in a brilliant flash of cold blue light.
For a nightmarish instant I saw a narrow deserted street lined with tiny, old fashioned houses and then the light snapped out and there was nothing but impenetrable blackness and the smell of damp, dead fish and ozone. I turned around and bumped into a stone wall. The electric bookcase had gone.
Slowly my eyes adjusted to the dark and began to focus. The street was lit by a dim lantern just above my head but it was so feeble it barely illuminated a square wooden board swinging in the wind. It creaked. I could just make out a painting of what looked like a stick of broccoli and the words Royal Oak.
'Where are we?' Licia said from somewhere nearby.
We were standing on a patch of wet cobblestones in front of an uneven, stone wall between a door and a little window filled with squares of glass. I was getting wet from a drizzle of rain and drops of water dripping off the roof. Licia looked totally bewildered, her mouth open in amazement. She looked so funny I laughed nervously.
'Well, we're not on the Titanic,' I said doubtfully.
'Yonnie and Treeka!' Licia sounded slightly hysterical. 'Denny's note. They must have misdirected Oppy!'
A door opened suddenly beside us and a man's head stuck out. 'Loytnin oy sed . . . an' loytnin t'was . . . Must 'a' bin,' he said to someone inside, 'It's still roynin.'
It didn't sound like English. He didn't notice us in the dark as he withdrew his head and closed the door.
A sudden gust of wind brought more rain and a shower of water from the roof. We pressed back against the wall under the overhang.
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'I don't know about you,' Licia said, 'but I'm getting wet. Let's get out of the rain.'
'I don't know,' I said nervously. 'Maybe we should wait.'
'What for? she asked and pushed the door open. We ducked into a tiny room lit only by several smoky candles. The walls were white washed stones, the floor bare wooden planks. The low ceiling beams were painted black and the room was filled with wooden tables, benches and stools except, in the corner, where there was a counter, covered with mugs and bottles, next to two wooden barrels on trestles. There was a strong odour of candle wax, old beer and stale tobacco smoke.
Two elderly men, sitting in comfortable chairs near the fireplace, stared as we entered. They wore heavy smocks over trousers that reached just below the knee. Another man had his back to us as he stood before a brightly blazing fireplace. He was dressed in a small, white wig and a wet, bottle green overcoat. He turned to look at us. The coat was unbuttoned and steaming as it dried. Underneath he wore knee britches, woolen stockings and shoes with brass buckles. A three-cornered, tricorn hat lay on the table beside a mug. It was some moments before I realized the men were staring at Licia's yellow parka. We must have appeared like people from another planet.
