"And who in skull`s teeth might you be?"

　　The man in the laboratory coat looked just like a mad professor. His shiny bald head was flanked by impressive tufts of cotton wool, bright blue eyes twinkled from a pair of wonky round glasses. His voice had a kindly northern twang, as warm and friendly as a plate of freshly buttered toast.

　　"Um . . . my name`s Elizabeth sir", said Elizabeth, feeling very puzzle-brained. "But why am I - "

　　"Excellent! I knew something had turned up. I don`t know why it made the rift in the wrong place, mind you. I can only imagine that . . . " A dawn of realisation spread across the professor`s face. "Oh drollops - it must have blown a spaggit! I`m awfully sorry. You weren`t too lost I hope?"

　　Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak but the only sound it would make was a long and wobbly Errrrr . . . `

　　The old man looked her up and down like he was keeping track of a yo-yo. "And I`m afraid there must have been a terrible mix-up. I didn`t know you would be so young".

　　Elizabeth blinkfrowned. "I`m nearly thirteen!"

　　"Oh dear". The professor flapped an arm in the direction of the fireplace, where toasty orange flames crackled about a pile of woodchip and coal. In front of it was a three-legged wooden stool. "Well I suppose you ought to sit down. You must be freezing you poor thing".

　　Elizabeth certainly was. Her feet were like two solid cubes that had been carved out of an iceberg.

　　She skated over to the seat, gazing in bewilderment around the inside of the cave. The slopey walls were as black as crows and the far side resembled a workshop. Nestled between the twisty pipes, the tools and the piles of boxes was a compendium of levers and enough dials to measure at least twenty per cent of the thoughts that were now bombarding her head.

　　Opposite the fireplace was a chunky oak table. Around it sat the Viking, the girl and the monk.

　　"The smoke from the fire comes out in an underground pothole over one-and-a-half miles away", the professor said, thrusting a steaming tin mug in Elizabeth`s direction, "so there`s no sign of us above ground. Would you like some tea?"

　　"Um . . . no thank you". Elizabeth wrinkled her nose up at the smell, which for some reason made her think of old socks.

　　"It`s one of my favourite homemade blends - I call it Whiffy Grumpfoot".

　　"Sorry, I don`t - "

　　Before Elizabeth could even begin to finish her sentence, the man in white plonked the mug down on a shelf and disappeared through a hatch into what, to judge by the torrential stream of rubbish to come flying out behind him, could only have been the greatest junk cupboard ever to have been invented.

　　"Now where did I put the . . . Ah no, that`s not it . . . Hmmm, then maybe . . . No, not there either . . . But I wonder if . . . Oh, slippers - I`ve been looking for those for ages . . . " he muttered as he went.

　　After much ado and kerfuffle the professor returned holding a woolly red blanket and a pair of brown furry boots. "Here we are", he said. "These are the smallest ones I could find, but I think they should fit you well enough for now".

　　The boots were several sizes too big, but were so comfortable that Elizabeth didn`t care. She wiggled her toes into the soft shaggy lining to start coaxing the life back into them. She wrapped the blanket around her as snugly as she could.

　　"Thank you", she said, starting to move from being frozen solid to merely arctic-cold.

　　"You`re more than very welcome!" The professor`s face was shining like a galaxy of stars. "But . . . what are you wearing?"If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

　　Elizabeth held up a skinny arm. "This? Oh, it`s nothing. Just a digital watch".

　　It was obvious that the old man hadn`t a clue what she was on about. So Elizabeth showed him. "It tells the time, and it`s got a calculator - look".

　　The LCD display blinked to 3:14 in the morning.

　　"Fascinating!" breathed the fluffy-haired nutcase.

　　"My dad gave it to me as a present for solving one of his maths puzzles", Elizabeth said, fighting off a yawn and wondering what all the fuss was about (anyone would think that he had never seen a digital watch before).

　　"Did he really? Maths eh? So that explains the equations!"

　　Elizabeth was starting to feel as if she was an alien from another world.

　　Which for all she knew she might well have been.

　　"I don`t mean to be rude or anything", she said.

　　"Oh good".

　　"But if it`s not too much trouble . . . "

　　"Yes?"

　　"Would you mind telling me . . . "

　　The professor stopped bobbing and looked at her with wide and curious eyes.

　　"Who are you and where am I and what is going on???"

　　The loopy old man shot to attention. "Oh I`m so sorry - how unforgivably silly of me. I`d forget my own legs if they weren`t bolted on properly".

　　Elizabeth risked a quick glance at his feet, just to be sure that they weren`t actually made of metal.

　　"The particular part of the world that you`re in - or rather below", the professor announced, " - is called Orrica. And this is the North Star. It`s part of a network of underground bunkers built by the Kings of Dor in the Old Times. They`re no longer in use, of course, and I`ve had to make one or two alterations to the place. But it`s pretty much the same as it was".

　　"It`s very nice", said Elizabeth, courteously, rubbing her icicle nose.

　　"And this . . . " added the professor, giving the girl with the snowy hair a shoulder-squeezing hug, "is my niece, Luella - one of the finest archers on our side of the Bony Mountains".

　　Luella glanced at him, irately. "One of?"

　　"Um - "

　　"I would have won the Keen Eye Cup three times in a row but for Elsie Buzzard`s mother. And next year, when I turn sixteen, I`ll beat the adults too!"

　　"Quite. Well, in that case then, it`s er . . . the finest archer".

　　"Not to mention the greatest sharpshooter, lock pick and thief".

　　"All of which are very admirable qualities", the professor agreed. "Second only to your modesty".

　　Luella tipped her top hat in a formal, business-like way. "Hello".

　　"Hello", said Elizabeth, with caution.

　　The fruitcake moved on, wafting a hand in the direction of the monk. "And this is Brother Izzario Rokash - a Third Sanguit of the Order of Haryll, and without any doubt the finest wielder of a Jito pole in all the land".

　　Izzario bowed his head gracefully. "At your service".

　　"Thank you", said Elizabeth, wondering what a third whatsit of a thingy was.

　　In the light from the gas lamps she could see the monk clearly for the first time, and had to force herself not to stare at his pointy ears, elaborate goatee and brush-like shock of blonde hair. The man`s smooth skin was the colour of olives and his eyes were deep maroon.

　　Sitting next to Luella, and directly opposite Izzario, was the Viking. He had a sore and grumpy look about him. In part Elizabeth put this down to the fact that he appeared to be losing at whatever game they were playing.

　　"And this", the professor continued, "is Aelgren Throll - the greatest, erm . . . Vol in the whole of the Free Lands".

　　"What`s a Vol`?" Elizabeth asked.

　　"The wild and savage people of the north", remarked Izzario, tossing a red and black card onto the pile at the centre of the table. "Barbarians, really".

　　Aelgren squinted disapprovingly. "Ach, now you wouldnae say that to a Vol`s face".

　　"Only because I wouldn`t be able to find it beneath that monstrosity that you lot have the nerve to call beards`".

　　Aelgren retorted: "A man`s beard is a sign of his strength. Which is probably why you cannae grow one!"

　　"A man`s true strength comes from within", said Izzario, enigmatically.

　　"Well if I remember rightly it was me who rescued you from the Caves of Callag-D`un".

　　"And as I recall it was my ingenuity with the Breath of Sarl that saved you from a certain death at the hands of those miniature Bogtrolls".

　　"I had everything under control".

　　"You were asleep".

　　"Aaaactually", said Elizabeth, sensing that now would be a really good time to intervene, "we`ve already met".

　　Aelgren looked in disappointment at his sole remaining card, chucked it on the pile and gave Elizabeth a wave.

　　"And my name", said the professor, with an elaborate bow, "is Doctor Barnaby Thimblewick". He beamed at Elizabeth as if he was greeting a very old friend. "And there`s something I want you to see".

　　He scooted back to the store cupboard and returned with a brass and black cube. Each side of the cube was as long as a ruler and covered in cogs and springs. A small round window on one of the sides shone with a watery light.

　　"What`s that?" she wondered, feeling soft-headed and dozy.

　　The grin on Barnaby`s face said this was just the kind of question he wished that people would ask more often.

　　"This", he announced, with a gleam in his eye, "is the reason why you`re here".