Emerald Secret

by Susan Moore

  “Too close, remove the weapon!” he announced.

  Ivy tittered with laughter and placed the sword on her lap.

  “Max Walker’s defence robot. I bet you do kung fu, don’t you?”

  That was it. Time to leave. Nat didn’t like this woman one bit. She jumped up.

  “It’s late. I must head home,” she said.

  Ivy cocked her head to one side.

  “Indulge me for just a few more minutes and I will tell you more about your father.”

  Her dad. Of course she wanted to know more.

  “Did your parents leave you anything like this?” said Ivy, her hand stroking the blade of the sword.

  “No.”

  “No mention of any sword in their will?”

  “No. Why?”

  What was Ivy getting at? There were no swords anywhere on the Junko. The only weapon she had was Fizz.

  “Did your mother leave you any papers about a sword and a crown?”

  “No. Why would she?”

  Ivy leaned over the sword, closer in to Nat.

  “Did you know your mother was an expert on ancient weaponry?”

  Nat had no idea what she was talking about.

  Saskia came sweeping in, dressed in another full-length hooped dress. The pattern was grey and white like a snow leopard. “Poxo said the sword’s arrived. We’ve brought the crown.”

  The poodle held the strings of a large velvet pouch between his teeth.

  “Excellent. Lower the blinds. Move to one side, Natalie, and observe.”

  Nat moved out of the way as fast as her heavy uniform would allow.

  The window blinds automatically began to lower. A spotlight over the throne switched on, bathing Ivy in its harsh beam, highlighting her wild hair and scary-looking face.

  “Ready, Mater?”

  Ivy nodded. Saskia took the pouch from Poxo and tugged open the strings. She pulled out a glittering gold crown studded with rubies. Ivy lifted the sword up, pointing its blade to the heavens. She closed her eyes.

  “Boÿuÿdika rigani jowant briga,” she chanted.

  Saskia repeated the phrase, lifting the crown up high and approaching her mother.

  Ivy’s nostrils flared. She chanted the phrase again. Nat tapped Fizz on his wing.

  “My massive processing power and knowledge base is struggling with a translation,” he said, pressing his snout into her ear.

  “A rough idea would be good,” she whispered.

  Ivy and Saskia were now chanting in duet.

  “I don’t do rough ideas, but I can say that the closest approximation is to the ancient proto-Celtic language, but based on the construction of the sentence I am not sure…”

  “Just say it,” said Nat, listening to them chanting it faster, their voices raised.

  “Boÿuÿdika rigani jowant briga roughly means: ‘victorious queen youth power’.”

  Saskia now held the crown directly above Ivy’s head. Both mother and daughter stopped chanting. Saskia lowered it slowly until it was set upon her mother’s head. She carefully removed her hands, bowed her head and took a step backwards. From inside a pocket in her dress she produced a pearl-framed mirror and held it up in front of Ivy’s face, but Ivy kept her eyes firmly closed.

  Tiger’s teeth, this was weird! They were like a pair of royal statues – the queen and the princess. There wasn’t a sound in the room.

  Nat didn’t dare whisper anything to Fizz in case she was heard. She replayed everything Ivy had said about her parents, especially her mum. If her mum had been an expert on ancient weaponry, then why didn’t Nat know that? And what was this sword and crown thing all about?

  After what seemed like longer than waiting for a snail to cross the road, Ivy’s eyelids lifted. She looked at herself in the mirror, and growled, “No!”

  Saskia averted her gaze to the floor. “It is not the one, Mater.”

  Ivy swept the mirror out of Saskia’s hands. It crashed to the floor, shattering into a thousand shards. She took a huge intake of breath and drew her other arm backwards.

  “Duck!” said Fizz, his snout flashing red.

  Nat threw herself to the floor as the sword flew out of Ivy’s hand and whizzed overhead like an arrow. It passed straight through the canvas oil painting of the castle with a loud ripping sound. The tip pinged off the flex-diamond screen behind, and clattered on to the wooden floor.

  “Arrrrrghhhhhhhhhh!” screamed Ivy, standing up from her throne and beating her armour chest plate with her fists.

  “Zoula!” said Nat.

  She leapt to her feet, hitched up her skirt and sprinted out of the room as fast as her legs could carry her.

  Chapter Twelve

  JAMUKA

  Nat didn’t stop running until her boots landed on the deck of the Junko. Fizz was flying along just in front of her. He’d navigated the shortest road route back to St Katharine Docks and was now opening the boat’s main hatch so that she could run straight inside.

  She found Jamuka in the kitchen galley drinking Vietnamese weasel coffee and frowning at his FastPad. Gobi spotted Fizz and started chirping at him from her cage.

  “Ai yah! This has been the worst day ever,” she said, tossing her hat on to the galley counter.

  Nat kicked off her boots and pulled off her jacket and skirt. The pintucked white shirt reached her knees like a dress.

  Ah Ping had left a jug of cherry juice out. She poured some into a glass and gulped it down in one go. Jamuka still hadn’t looked up from his FastPad.

  “Hellloooo!” she said, tapping him on the shoulder.

  He jumped and looked up over his half-moon glasses.

  “Bao Bao! Sorry, I was watching Dragon Khan’s last race.”

  “Today was worse than being put in a box full of snakes. Please can we go back home?” she said.

  Jamuka took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “This is our home for the next two years. The first day at a new school is often the hardest.”

  “It’s not the school. I hate it, but it wasn’t as bad as tea with the baroness. Even though she knows – I mean, knew – Mum and Dad!”

  Jamuka frowned.

  “She was at Boxbury with Dad. She was a geek just like him, but she’s mad. She runs WarZworld and thinks she’s a QUEEN! I had to watch her weird crowning ceremony with some ancient sword.”

  Jamuka’s hand shot out. He squeezed her arm.

  “Wait! Slow down. You said a sword?”

  She stopped. His eyes were now fixed on hers.

  “Yes, some ancient sword. She said Mum knew all about ancient swords. Did she?”

  He didn’t reply straight away. Instead he turned to her little dragon.

  “Fizz, activate a full security sweep on board and close all access points including portholes.”

  “Aye aye, Captain,” he said, saluting with his wing before flying out of the kitchen.

  The two portholes whirred closed above the sink.

  “Zoinks, Jamuka, what are you doing?”

  Jamuka held his finger to his lips. He took her hand and headed for the door. Nat followed him, her heart thudding, as he lead her to the dojo. They sat down, cross-legged, in the centre of the mat.

  The door opened. Fizz tiptoed in, his talons making light rasping sounds as he crossed the jigsaw matting to where they were sitting. He climbed up Nat’s arm and perched on her shoulder, nuzzling his warm snout into the nape of her neck.

  “Perimeter is secured,” he announced.

  “Thank you,” said Jamuka. “Now, Bao Bao, you and Fizz need to tell me everything that happened from the moment you left Boxbury with Saskia.”

  Nat opened her mouth to speak but was stopped short by a loud snort from Fizz.

  “I have a confession to make.”

  “How very human of you, Fizz,” said Jamuka.

  Fizz’s eyes flashed purple. “I decided to film everything from the moment we left Boxbury using my Stealth-System X150.”

/>   Nat turned to look at him on her shoulder.

  “Your what?”

  He swooped down on to the mat, opened his wings and activated his screen.

  “My Stealth-System X150. I downloaded it from Spytastic three days ago on a trial basis. I thought I’d give it a go, and then convince you to purchase the full version, including the night-vision option.”

  Poxo’s poodle head appeared, filling the screen. In the background Saskia could be heard, asking her nosy questions.

  “I started using it to check out the poodle. It can’t do as much as me.”

  Nat felt a surge of love for her dragon. Zoinks, he was clever. She reached down and patted his head. He looked up at her, his snout and eyes blazing purple. At least they were in this together.

  The film cut off when they exited Shiversand Towers’ gates at top speed. Jamuka got to his feet and started to pace up and down the mat, his head bent low, hands clasped behind his back.

  “Your mother was an ancient-weaponry expert; that was how she met your father. She was lecturing at SOAS here in London. Your father attended her lecture. It was love at first sight.”

  “But you said they met at a party.”

  “That was because they wanted to protect you, until the time was right.”

  Nat frowned. “From what? Until what?”

  Jamuka stopped pacing and stood looking out across the dock.

  “From this kind of thing. I must go to Shiversand Towers now and sort this out.”

  “Sort what out?”

  He turned round to face Nat.

  “The sword Ivy’s searching for. She wants it for the wrong reason. It’ll never do what she wants. I need to tell her that. I need her to leave you alone.”

  He was striding towards the door.

  “I’ll come with you,” Nat said, following him into the corridor.

  He stopped at the main hatch and turned to her.

  “This is something I must do alone, Bao Bao. I’ll be back later. Fizz, keep the Junko secured.”

  He put his arms around Nat and gave her a hug.

  “There is much I must teach you. But not yet.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  FAIRYTAIL

  “Wen is calling,” announced Fizz, tapping her on the shoulder with his talon.

  Nat opened her eyes. She must have fallen asleep on her bunk. Her cabin was bathed in a yellow glow from the dockside light that was shining in through the window.

  “Take it,” she said, yawning.

  Fizz hopped around on her pillow and spread his wings. Wen appeared on the screen along with Nat’s cousin Henry. Both of them were in Weiwood school uniform, sitting at the marble-topped kitchen counter at Wen’s house on The Peak. Behind them, through the panoramic window, she could see clear blue sky, sunshine and the tips of the sea of skyscrapers that were clustered down below in the Central District. She wished she were with them.

  Henry’s freckled face leaned into the camera.

  “Are you still in bed?” he asked.

  Wen shoved him out of the way.

  “Ai yah! Of course she is. I told you about the time difference in London. It’s the middle of the night. We are waking her up.”

  Henry tapped his squirrel robot’s nose. NutNut flicked his tail, held up a Union Jack, opened his mouth and began to sing the national anthem.

  Wen reached over, grabbed NutNut and twisted his ear. The squirrel shut his mouth and the music came to a stop.

  “Hey, I taught NutNut that specially for Nat!”

  Nat smiled. She hadn’t spoken with Henry for a few days because he’d had to go on a trip to Shanghai with Uncle Fergal and Prissy. They’d been to collect Aunt Vera from her clinic, and no robots had been allowed.

  “Thanks, Henry.”

  “I agree, it is nice,” said Wen, ruffling Henry’s red hair. “But … hang on.”

  She picked up a can of “Concreter Hairspray”, aimed it at the front quiff she’d created with his fringe and blasted it with spray.

  Henry pushed her away and started coughing from the fug.

  “That’s ding,” said Wen, admiring her own work. “I’ll make you fashionable yet, Henry Walker.”

  She looked back into camera.

  “Now, on to the serious business of the hour. We’ve watched the Fizz film, and who is that crazy queen and her daughter? Is this some kind of dramedy show you’ve shot?”

  “No, it’s not, it’s real.”

  Wen and Henry looked at each other, looked back at Nat and both leaned into camera searching Nat’s face for a hint of a smile.

  “It’s not a joke?” said Henry.

  “No. No joke. It’s real.”

  Silence.

  “That queen, the sword, crown, girl dressed like Mary Poppins, it’s all really real?” said Wen.

  “Yes. It seems there’s something to do with my parents and a sword and it’s all hush-hush secret. Jamuka’s gone over to the crazy queen’s house to talk to her about it.”

  Wen whistled. Henry frowned.

  “I wish we were with you,” he said.

  “Me too,” said Nat. “Or, I wish I’d never had to come here and I was still in Hong Kong with you. Zoinks! Jamuka says he’s loads to teach me but not yet. And I don’t even know what’s planned for me then. In the meantime I’ve got to go to a school where no one speaks to me because the headmaster has told them all I’m some special heiress—”

  “Ahem,” interrupted Fizz in a posh English accent. “Not quite no one. We have both formed acquaintances, myself with Vesperetta and you with Zixin.”

  “Ding accent, Fizz! I must download that for Fu. Do they make it for Super Fresh and Furry robots?” said Wen.

  “I’ll send you the—”

  “Stop!” said Nat. “This is serious. That’s why I sent you the film. My life is big, major, massive pants.”

  “At least you haven’t got my mum,” said Henry. “Even though she’s been in the clinic, or sanatorium as she calls it, for months, she’s not really come back any nicer. I think she’s even more grumpy. She stays in all the time, won’t go out anywhere and says it’s because we’re poor.”

  An image of Aunt Vera screaming across the courtroom at her flashed through Nat’s mind.

  “True. But my parents are running my life from the grave. Why can’t I just be left alone?”

  Wen shrugged. “I don’t know, Nat. Make Jamuka tell you the truth. It sounds as if he’ll need to if people like the crazy queen are after you. Who are Vesperetta and Zixin?”

  “Vesperetta is a robot snake. She belongs to this boy, Zixin, who sits next to me in class. He’s got a weird, forked tongue.”

  “Ding! Send me a picture, please.”

  A loud ringing echoed across Wen’s kitchen. Henry groaned.

  “School. Do we have to go?” he moaned.

  Wen jumped down off her stool.

  “Yes we do, right now, otherwise I’ll get detention again.”

  She picked her Slider helmet up and put it on.

  “Like the new paint job?” said Wen, modelling it for the camera.

  Nat laughed. Her friend had printed out the blue and gold Boxbury school crest with the pig’s head and stuck it on the front. Henry was wearing his helmet now. He’d got the same paint job.

  “We wanted to make sure you didn’t feel alone,” he said.

  She gave them a thumbs-up.

  “I hope Jamuka sorts it all out. Remember to get him to tell you the truth. You deserve to know. ZOULA! Over and out,” said Wen, cutting the call.

  Nat yawned and moved down her bunk to rest her head on her pillow.

  “I’m as tired as a million-year-old dog. Wake me up at seven, please, Fizz.”

  “Affirmative, my lady.”

  But she was awake again by five. Fizz was in power-down sleep mode so she decided to leave him and have a moment to herself.

  She walked on to the deck to find it shrouded in a layer of fog. She could hear the mournful squawk of s
eagulls flying overhead, and the low roar of early morning traffic crossing Tower Bridge.

  The large brass clock on the main dock warehouse chimed. She looked at the upper deck expecting to see Jamuka sitting cross-legged, deep in his morning meditation, but it was deserted. He must still be asleep. She shivered in her thin, tiger-print pyjamas. If London was this cold now she dreaded to think what winter was going to be like. No wonder her parents had moved to Hong Kong.

  She reached back inside the hatch, unhooked Jamuka’s grey Mongolian coat off a peg and pulled it on. The soft fur lining warmed her skin.

  A smell of freshly baked bread wafted over the water, making her stomach growl. Breakfast. She checked the pockets of the coat and her fingers curled around a handful of English coins. Perfect, no need to wake Fizz to come with her to pay. She could go on her own, no questions, no chatting.

  She started to walk across the deck towards the gangway but as her feet met with the damp, fogslicked planks she realised she’d forgotten to put on her boots. She turned to head back to the cabin, when she caught sight of the top of the launch dinghy. Perfect, no shoes required. She crossed to the rail, climbed over and jumped aboard.

  The cables whirred into action, lowering the dinghy. It hit the murky water with a splash. She took hold of the tiller and twisted. The motor purred into action, propelling her forward.

  “Wait for me!”

  She looked up and sighed. Fizz, his emerald-green wings fully spread, was flying towards her at top speed. He swooped down, coming in to land on her shoulder.

  “Where are we going?”

  Nat slowed the motor.

  “Here.”

  Fizz put his snout up into the air and inhaled.

  “Yeast, flour, salt, sugar baked at one hundred and eighty degrees centigrade.”

  “Don’t ruin it for me.”

  She picked up the mooring rope, tied it to a metal ladder set into the wall and climbed up to the quay. The cobbles were cold and slippery. She dashed across them to the bakery, the long coat dragging behind her. The bell on the bakery door tinkled as she ran inside. The woman behind the counter looked up and smiled.

  “Morning! You look like you’ve come out of a fairytale.”