Nodding, Hiram took a quick swig of his ale. “Yep. Saved ‘em all, thank God. But...the cargo? Everything we’d ordered to replace the old stuff? Down to the floor of the ocean.”
“Devil’s forge, my friend. That’s going to cogger up just about everything. “
“Indeed it will.” He stared at his mug, frowning. “It looks as if we can manage some of the orders by using the supplies we still have.”
“Which ones?”
Hiram reached into his pocket and pulled out a notebook, thumbing through the pages with a frown. “Here. I have a list. We can do the holly garlands for every level if we’re careful, but they may be a bit thinner this year.”
“I remember. The Upperfolks wanted thicker wreaths and garlands last year, didn’t they?” Silas curled his lips in disgust.
“Well, they ain’t going to get ‘em this year.” Hiram went on. “We can do red berries for the holly, and some of the wreaths, if there’s enough left over from the existing garland supplies. We’re going to have to rely on another glass company for the lights and the glittery stuff if there’s time though, and pray there’s enough hooks left from last year to hang it all up.”
“How about the flags? Weren’t they ordering new silks for this year? I thought Billy Geary had readied the printer for the new designs.”
“He has. They’re trying to get some new silks locally. Dunno how well that’s going.”
Silence fell as both men considered the dimensions of the disaster.
“So from what you’re telling me,” said Silas slowly, “it looks like almost everything we usually do for Christmas is going to be cogged up.”
“That’s about the size of it.” He sighed. “We’ll have to rework the old machines, get them geared up if we can, and start churning out whatever we have supplies for. And it’ll be a twelve-hour shift thing too, you can count on it. Otherwise, you’re gonna hear the screams from the upper levels all the way down here.”
“We can do it,” murmured Silas, then revised himself. “I think we can do it.”
“One other thing,” said Hiram. “One brand new machine was ordered, since the old one fell apart last year. That one isn’t going to get here, and a new one? Six months or more.”
“Ugh. What was it? Can we repair the old one?”
“I dunno, my friend. You tell me,” He took a breath. “It was the Mistletoe machine.”
“Coggleblast,” swore Silas. “That’s a disaster indeed.”
*~~*~~*
Three levels above where Silas was venting his emotions, a Trammelbuggy was arriving at an almost deserted depot.
“Come on, Thim. This is our stop.”
Dorothea gathered her bag and waited for Thim to rev up its gears. Its eyes were wide as she took its claw and led it from the compartment out onto the platform.
No one else had disembarked, so they had the space to themselves.
Thim huddled close.
“I know,” she said. “It is awfully dark and quiet, isn’t it? But don’t worry.” She found a bench and settled herself. “We only have two more levels, Thim, and then we’ll be there. The Undercroft. Isn’t it exciting?”
Squee.
Dorothea grinned at the obvious lack of enthusiasm. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not. I’m going to find out what it’s like to live a normal life. Or even a hard life, come to think of it.” She thought for a moment or two. “I’ve been sheltered, spoiled, spoon-fed the prescribed information considered suitable for a young lady, which is basically nothing at all, except how to catch and care for a husband.” She glanced at Thim. “You’d think they were wild animals that had to be trapped.”
Squeeeee.
“Good point. I suppose in many ways they are.”
A rattle and rumble made her sit up, and a faint light showed at the end of the tunnel.
“Here we are, Thim. The last stage of our journey. This will take us all the way there.”
