The Wonderground

11 - The Emporium

It was breath-taking.

A bustling town of meandering streets was spread out before them, captured in a vast space beneath a gravity-defying, hemi-spherical dome of steel and glass. Cascading from a four-pointed star-shaped hole at the apex of the sprawling mosaic of coloured panes above them, was an immense column of ice-white water that crashed into the top of a magnificent clock structure that dominated the landscape and was perched centrally within the Emporium space. Endless trails of metal pipework were exposed on its frame, and they glinted in the sunlight, bending awkwardly around its central tower. Below the clock, the water was regurgitated in a surging wave that tumbled over, and powered, an enormous wooden water wheel which churned in time with the clock's second hand. Water vapour rose from the base of the construction casting a rainbow stripe across the scene.

The clock structure sat in a large rectangular sapphire-blue pool surrounded by wrought iron railings and gas lamps in the middle of a sweeping circular plaza that was revolving in pace with the water wheel. The plaza was filled with people stepping out in their finery. Top hats and parasols bobbed up and down before disappearing into vast gardens that spread outwards in all directions to cover the floor of the Emporium space. The plaza was cluttered with vendors displaying their wares on brightly coloured rugs spread across the pavements. Traders hollered at customers as they passed, offering cut-price deals for 'Fresh Caladrius Eggs', 'Honey Water' and 'Mischief Furs'.

Fanning out from the central plaza, was a spider's web of narrow streets and alleyways that were heaped on top of each other and wound their way up steep sided cliffs. Shops and stalls clung precariously to the rocks, their upper floors bowing and nodding over the tiny walkways. Flowering wisteria snaked its way over the slate rooftops and curled around countless impossibly tall chimney pots that stretched like withered fingers towards the ceiling of the dome and released steam and smoke in blues and greens, purples and yellows.

From their elevated position on the balcony at the station edge, a gravel path snaked down to their left. It appeared to be the only exit. As they descended from beneath the wyvern's head, they were confronted by five paths, each paved in different coloured stone, spreading like fingers from the station exit. They chose an indigo crazy-paved track with daisies poking through the cracks that led them through a low archway out onto a long street with steep stone steps that dropped sharply towards the plaza.

On both sides of the steps were row after row of colourful shop fronts. Their fragile bulging windows burst with produce that spilled out onto the curb sides by the doorways. An incredible, sweet smell hit them as they passed the buttercup yellow frontage of Humblebums Bakery, whose yawning windows were piled high with cakes and confectionery, breads and pastries. Magenta smoke hiccupped from its chimney stack in short doughnut-shaped bursts. Jack's stomach gave a yearning growl as he read the delicately scribbled notes by each of the baked goods:

Bacon Strawberry cheesecake

Peacock pecan pie – gluten and beak free

Peppercorn popcorn pudding

Daffodil bread – made with self-raising flower

Cabbage choc chip cookies

Squirrel rolls – red or grey

"Maybe not," he muttered to himself, suppressing a retch.

Next was 'Badgerheart's Butchers'. It was a low-slung building with hand painted ivory lettering scrawled on the windows describing 'Pickled Tongues' and 'Home Rendered Lard'. There was an offer to 'Have your rump tenderised inside', which sounded painful! A chalkboard in the shape of a long-tailed bird was propped up against the window advertising: