The Princelings of the East Page 8

  Chapter 5: Strawberry Juice

  In which George discovers the world of Wozna and the real power of Strawberry Juice

  George followed Raisin into the room where ‘Uncle Mariusz’ relaxed on a Japanese-influenced day bed. Souvenirs from all parts of the globe were artfully displayed: Javanese shadow puppets adorned one wall, corn dollies from George’s own land were pinned over an empty fireplace. In one corner, there were some tribesmen’s shields and spears, propped artfully together to make a pleasing sculpture-like ensemble, and sheer fabric with an Indian design shimmering through them draped the windows.

  In a cabinet running along the centre of the longest wall was a series of bottles and cylindrical metal containers the like of which George had not seen before. They all bore, in different scripts and combinations, the words Wozna and Cola, and occasionally Diet.

  “Come in and take a seat,” said Mariusz, waving at some cushions on the floor, with what looked like a very valuable Turkish carpet underneath them. “You’ll need some refreshment?”

  “Oh, well that’s very kind of you,” said George, somewhat bemused at this welcome. “Please may I have a strawberry juice?” he added, politely.

  “Urr, well, we don’t drink strawberry juice round here, I’ll show you why later.” Mariusz said. “How about a Wozna?”

  “A Wotta? Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m not familiar with it,” he added hurriedly, remembering he was in a strange land with a stranger and needed to keep his wits about him a bit better. “Yes, I’d be pleased to try it. Is it a local speciality?”

  Mariusz waved behind him and there was a scurrying noise; someone waiting to take the order had now left.

  “Yeah, you could call it that,” he said, getting up and moving towards the cabinet on the long wall. “It’s the drink my granddaddy invented. We owe all of our success, the castle,” waving around him, “all this, to Wozna.”

  Pointing out each of the bottles and containers, which he called cans, in the cabinet, he proceeded to give George the complete history of Wozna Cola. Founded by Zoltan Wozniak, his granddaddy (possibly with a couple of ‘greats’ thrown in), it became a staple in the great drought of ’55 when all the fruit failed. The flavourings he invented managed to combine with the local spring water to give the locals a palatable and sustaining drink. Concerns over the increasing size of the average Hattanite led to the development of Diet Wozna, and trade had expanded over the last ten years thanks to Mariusz’s efforts in finding new markets, thereby consolidating the family’s position at the very top of Hattan society. George wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but that was what this large impressive person said.

  Their drinks had arrived somewhere around the development of a new processing mechanism in the 2010s, and George had been momentarily distracted from the narrative as he sipped the cool, dark, flavoursome brew, slightly sweet and slightly tangy, with a hint of a fizz to it. Frankly, he’d rather have strawberry juice, he thought, nicer and it sounds less processed. Raspberry juice at a pinch. Or even water, although he kept his face looking interested, and he smiled and thanked his host when asked how he found it. “Oh, very refreshing, thank you!” And as he was thirsty, he continued to sip it.

  Mariusz finished his narrative and George thanked him for the background. Something was worrying him about it.

  “So you see, George,” said Mariusz after a pause in which he took a long draught of his drink, “you’ve arrived at a most convenient moment for us, you couldn’t have timed it better.”

  “Er, well, no, I mean, yes, I see,” said George, not seeing at all. He looked into his drink, a little puzzled, and decided to wait for further information.

  “We heard tell of your reputation as an engineer of uncommon skill, so we thought you might take a look see.”

  “Um, well.”

  George was torn between two questions. And the more he thought about them, the more he thought it better not to ask either: how did he know he was an engineer, or, take a ‘look see’ at what, which might show he hadn’t been listening properly.

  “OK, then. I’ll be pleased to take a look.” And he only thought, “at what?”

  He finished his drink and Mariusz stood up and beckoned him over to the door that he had come in through.

  “We’ll go down to the lab and I’ll introduce you to my scientific guru.”

  George followed him out into the afternoon sunshine across the courtyard where he’d arrived, and under another arch, leading down a number of flights of steps, where it got cooler as they went down. The slight humming noise that George thought he could hear when he arrived got louder. Eventually they stopped at a large door with a notice saying ‘Authorized Personnel Only’. Mariusz opened the door and they went in.

  They were standing in a huge room with a vaulted ceiling, and some high windows letting shafts of light onto the amazing construction in the middle of the floor. It had straight pipes and bottles and vats and steps and curly pipes and towers, and there were little wisps of steam escaping from even more pipes in various places. There was a rhythmic thudding noise and a few other occasional clunks, tinkles and gurgles as whatever it was did whatever it was doing. And a pleasant, low hum.

  George stood and looked at it for a bit. It was certainly complicated, and he was willing to gamble that it was more complicated than it should be. It didn’t look designed, it looked stuck together. But at present, he didn’t know what it was supposed to do, let alone how it was supposed to do it.

  “What do you think?” asked Mariusz.

  “It’s very impressive,” replied George. “Who built it?”

  “Oh, Saku built this one - he’s probably round the back somewhere. Saku!” he called and a very hairy person with a wild look about his face popped his head round one of the towers from a gantry half way up it and waved.

  “This is George, Saku. He’s come to take a look at the machine.” Mariusz turned to George. “I’ll leave you with him, I’m sure you two will speak the same language - engineering and all. When you’re ready, come back to my rooms,” and with that he turned and left George with a strange machine, a mad scientist, and not the faintest idea what was going on.