Emerald Secret

by Susan Moore

  Nat caught sight of herself in the mirror opposite. Her red hair was unbrushed, slept on, wild. She’d got Fizz perched on her shoulder, and Jamuka’s coat looked like some medieval cloak.

  She blushed with embarrassment, feeling out of place, alien again. The woman fished out a warm croissant from the counter, placed it on a napkin and handed it to her.

  “It’s on the house. We were inundated with hungry tourists yesterday who were here just to see your boat.”

  Nat smiled and bowed her head. “Thank you.”

  The woman looked out of the window across the dock. “So what’s all the grey stuff on it? You trying to hide?”

  Nat followed her gaze. From where they were standing the Junko looked unreal, more of a ghost boat than a real one.

  “We want to fit in, be below the radar. It’s a security blanket.”

  The woman chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a green dragon on your shoulder, you look like a medieval princess and you live on an ancient ship. Fit in, you say?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  DARK DAY

  Nat finished her yoghurt and fruit and made her way along the corridor to Jamuka’s cabin. It wasn’t often that he slept in past dawn. She knocked lightly but when there was no answer she quietly turned the handle and peeped inside. He was lying on his bunk under his blankets, his head on the pillow facing away from her.

  “Jamuka,” she called softly. But he didn’t answer.

  She guessed he must have got in very late from Shiversand Towers. She closed the door. She’d have to call him during first break to find out what had happened.

  She headed up onto the deck to where Fizz was waiting, perched on her custom-built turquoise Slider board.

  “Are you ready to mount your steed?” he said, activating the power.

  The board’s taillights flashed electric blue, the tiger’s-head design on the top glowed bright orange. It lifted up off the deck, coming to a hover at knee height.

  “That’s not funny,” Nat said, hitching up her skirt to climb onboard.

  The whole Victorian thing was getting on her nerves. Why someone like Saskia would want to wear this style of clothes when she wasn’t even at school made her mind boggle.

  She reached over and touched the tip of the handlebars set into the board. They raised up and clicked into place.

  She stepped up and felt the magnets in her Slider boots connect and lock her feet to the board. She’d stuffed her school boots into the Boxbury carpet bag that was slung across her back. The Slider sensed her weight. The neon-yellow tracking lights lit up around the board’s edges and a dashboard popped up out of the handlebars.

  She crammed her top hat over her hair, which had frizzed up in the early morning fog. As per Boxbury’s instructions she pinched the brim. A chinstrap spooled out and wrapped under her chin.

  “Not a good look at all, very un-ding,” she grumbled, thinking of the cool Boxbury crest paint job that Wen and Henry had done to their helmets.

  “Tally ho!” said Fizz, flying up and wrapping his talons around the handlebars.

  “Zoula!” Nat pushed the handlebars forward. The Slider glided up into the air, over the railing and down on to the dock.

  She slowly weaved her way through a stream of commuters, down a cobbled alleyway and out into a Slider lane.

  “Navigation set for Soho Square, but the most direct route is jammed. Searching for alternative,” announced Fizz.

  The navigation system switched to a new route that estimated an extra ten minutes of travel time. She pushed the handlebars further forward. The Slider picked up speed and she whizzed past the ancient stone walls of the Tower of London. It felt good to be outside, moving along at a clip.

  Once past the Tower she had to turn into a main city Slider lane. The lane she was coming out of had been really quiet in comparison. She paused at the junction, watching Sliders whizzing by at top speed. Men and women in top hats and suits were flying by. A few kids around her age in school uniform were also travelling at speed. Robots of all shapes and sizes were sitting on handlebars. There were a few people in modern clothes among them all. They were on older Sliders, unable to keep up with the rest.

  It was so congested in Hong Kong that the Slider speed limit was set to cruise level or below. Here, though, it didn’t look like there were any restrictions. She took a deep breath.

  “Zoula,” she said to herself, and moved into the lane.

  “Out of the way!” shouted a man riding a grey Slider, buzzing close by and cutting in front of her.

  She moved over, but another and another rider zipped past at top speed.

  “Ai yah! They’re like ninja demons,” she exclaimed.

  Nat was soon fed up with being jostled and nearly run out of her lane. She pushed the handlebars further forward. The Slider started to shift up through its speed levels. Hers was the latest top-of-the-line X888 board. Ever since she’d had it she’d never ridden it at level seven or above, but here in the fast lanes of London she found herself at level nine, dodging in and out and around the traffic. With more power than most of the others in the lane, she was soon on the tail of the grey Slider that had cut her off.

  She accelerated up to max level ten. The Slider surged forward. She leaned to the right, whipped out and around the grey Slider.

  “Out of the way!” she shouted at the man, forcing him to move across.

  She zoomed ahead of him.

  “That was a petty and dangerous manoeuvre,” shouted Fizz, who was hunkered down over the handlebars with his snout stuck out and his wings firmly clasped to his sides.

  Nat didn’t care. It had made her feel a lot better.

  But when she pulled into Soho Square and spotted the Boxbury school crest on the road sign, all her euphoria evaporated. Day two was about to start.

  She was just turning down the ramp into the underground Slider park when a Boxbury security guard came running across the pavement waving his arms at her to stop.

  She pulled back on the handlebars, bringing her Slider to hover mode.

  “I’ll take your Slider from here, Miss Walker. Mr Limpet would like to see you in his study straight away.”

  What did Limpet want? She was now dreading day two more than she had a second ago. The guard held out his hand to help her get down but she ignored him and jumped off. She didn’t need anyone’s help.

  “OINK! Follow me, please,” said Limpet’s pig robot, arriving at her side.

  It started trotting off towards the main entrance.

  “Why does he want to see me?” she asked.

  The pig replied with only a brief “OINK!” before continuing on its way. The tide of pupils parted as the pig passed along the school corridor. Nat could hear them whispering about “the heiress” when they spotted her in tow.

  Mr Limpet was standing by the fireplace with his back to her when she entered his study. The pig closed the door behind her before oinking her presence to him.

  He turned. His face looked crumpled, ashen.

  “Natalie, please take a seat,” he said, waving towards a leather armchair.

  She walked across the rug and sat down.

  “I have some bad news, I’m afraid. Your boatkeeper, Miss Ah Ping, called as she has been unable to wake your guardian this morning. It seems that Mr Borjigin passed away in the night. I’m so very sorry.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  RETURN TO THE JUNKO

  By the time the school’s Grooverider had pulled up next to the Junko there was a sea of blue flashing lights at the bottom of the gangplank. Two police cars, an ambulance and a green cross doctor’s car were parked up, along with a growing crowd of onlookers.

  Nat wrenched opened the door.

  “Wait,” said Mr Limpet, trying to stop her, but she was already out, sprinting up the gangplank with Fizz flying at her side.

  A local news reporter shouted out to her for an interview. She was oblivious. She had to get to Jamuka’s cabin as fast as poss
ible and properly wake him up.

  She was halfway along the below-deck corridor when a policewoman stepped into her path.

  “Wait, ple—”

  But Nat dodged around her. A policeman was on guard outside Jamuka’s cabin door. She ducked underneath him.

  A woman wearing a white hazmat suit and rubber gloves was standing over Jamuka’s empty bunk holding a pair of tweezers in one hand and a test tube in another.

  “Where is he? What have you done with Jamuka!” she cried.

  A pair of hands grasped hold of her arms and pulled her back.

  “No!!!!!”

  She turned and took out the policeman with a high kick, knocking him across the cabin.

  “Ouf!” he cried, falling to the cabin floor.

  Nat ran towards the empty bunk.

  “Where is he?” she cried, choking up in panic.

  She felt a sharp jab in her arm.

  “Ouch!”

  Her knees buckled. She collapsed to the cabin floor and blacked out.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE GUARDIANS

  The pitter-patter of rain on the porthole woke Nat up. She opened her eyes. A fresh breeze was blowing in off the water.

  She was on her bunk, under a duvet. She shifted her head on the pillow. Her neck was stiff. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed through her body.

  “You’re awake,” said Fizz from his perch at the end of the bed. “I’ll go and get the doctor.”

  “No, not yet,” she rasped, her throat parched. “Water, please.”

  He flew over to the small shelf under the porthole and picked up a glass in his talons. He came in to land on her pillow, careful not to spill its contents. She lifted her head and he put it to her lips.

  She drank slowly. She felt sick.

  The image of Jamuka’s empty bunk flashed into her mind. She collapsed back on to the pillow. He was gone, just like her parents.

  “Jamuka,” she whispered.

  Fizz put the glass back on the shelf and came to lie next to her on the pillow. His eyes were glowing purple. He put his warm snout into the nape of her neck.

  “I am deeply sorry and sad he is gone.”

  “What did Ivy do to him?”

  “I checked the Junko’s security camera feeds. He came back at 1.08am, made a cup of jasmine tea in the kitchen and—”

  “Show me now.”

  Fizz spread his wings. She watched the screen. Jamuka walked across the deck. It was dark, and hard to see his face, but when it switched to the kitchen galley camera she could see him clearly. He looked paler than normal, with dark smudges under his eyes. He made his tea quickly, picked up his FastPad and headed out of the door. The camera switched to the corridor. He strode along it at his normal calm pace and disappeared into his cabin. The feed cut. Fizz folded in his wings.

  Now he was dead.

  “He is being prepared for transport to Mongolia.”

  She pushed herself up off the pillow. “He’s gone, from here, from the Junko?”

  Her voice was tight.

  “Affirmative. He is gone. He will be buried in the Clan cave in Mongolia.”

  She swung her legs off the bed.

  “I want to go and see him before he goes.”

  “We must stay until the doctor checks on you.”

  She stumbled dizzily over to her wardrobe, grabbed her Slider trousers and an old Smart T-shirt, and pulled them on.

  “Wen called, Henry called, but I told them you were asleep. They are both very upset, and want you to call them.”

  “Later,” she said. If she spoke to them now, it would undo her.

  She turned to find the female doctor, the one who had stabbed her with the needle, standing in the doorway.

  “I don’t need any help from you,” said Nat, grabbing on to the edge of her desk to stop the room from spinning.

  The doctor strode across and took her by the arm, leading her back to the bunk. Nat tried to pull her arm away but she’d lost her strength. She flopped down.

  “I’m sorry I had to sedate you but you did take out a policeman. He’s sustained a cracked rib.”

  She cringed, remembering her chop.

  “Zoinks, I am sorry. Will he be OK?”

  A faint smile passed the doctor’s lips. “He will be. He’s not going to press charges. Now then, you must rest.”

  She took a vial of liquid out of her jacket pocket, popped off the top and handed it to her.

  “Drink this. It’ll help with the nausea.”

  Nat did as she was told. It tasted bitter.

  “I want to go and see Jamuka.”

  The doctor checked her watch. “He is already being transported. Mr Limpet wanted me to alert him when you had woken up.”

  “Limpet? Why does he want to know?”

  The doctor headed back towards the door.

  “I’ll let him explain,” she said.

  “Explain what exactly, Fizz?” said Nat.

  Fizz pulled the duvet over Nat with his talons and sat down on her pillow again.

  “Full version of the last nine hours, or concise, factual, short, abridged one?”

  “Short one will do, because I’m guessing I’m not going to like it anyway.”

  Fizz put his snout up and was about to start when Ah Ping came in through the door carrying a tray. Her head was bent and she was crying softly, her tears dripping into the bowl of steaming noodles. She placed the tray on the bunk next to Nat, putting her hand on Nat’s arm, and looked up at her. Ah Ping’s eyes were ringed with red.

  “I so sorry about Jamuka. He very good man,” she sniffed.

  Before Nat could reply, Ah Ping turned and fled the cabin. Fizz repositioned himself on the tray.

  “Your favourite – Singapore noodles,” he said, sticking his snout over the edge of the bowl.

  “I’m not hungry. I want to hear what happened.”

  “In a nutshell, Limpet phoned your lawyer at SPIN HQ to report what had happened to Jamuka. The lawyer said that there had been an addendum made to your parents’ will about guardianship if anything happened to Jamuka. As you know, before the Aunt Vera/Uncle Fergal custody battle it was they who were to become your guardians in the event of Jamuka’s death. Straight after that Jamuka had it changed in the Hong Kong court to the Borjigin Clan.”

  Nat exhaled with relief. “Good.”

  “But when Uncle Fergal and Aunt Vera heard the news they immediately filed a claim for guardianship stating that they are the only real family that you have left in the world. They filed it in a court here in London three hours ago. A judge has now ruled that you become a ward of court until the case has been properly reviewed.”

  Nat was struggling to keep up. She was feeling drowsy again. Maybe the doctor had given her another sedative.

  “What’s a ward of court?” she said, trying not to slur her words.

  “The custody of the child, aka the ward, is handled by the court. But day-to-day care and control of the child is given to an individual. No important step can be taken in the child’s life without the court’s consent. The court has put Limpet in charge of you until the guardianship is decided upon.”

  There was an “Oink!” outside the door, followed by a knock.

  Chapter Seventeen

  BOARDING

  Fizz flew across the cabin and opened the door. The pig came trotting across the rug, followed by Mr Limpet.

  They stopped at the edge of Nat’s bed. The pig lifted itself up on its back trotters and deposited a small package of toffee fudge next to her that it had been carrying in its mouth.

  “Sorry for your loss,” it grunted.

  Nat wasn’t sure why, but that small gesture made the back of her throat tighten and tears well up and come spilling over, streaming down her cheeks.

  Mr Limpet coughed, pulled the silk handkerchief from his top pocket and handed it to her.

  “I know this is a very difficult time but I must speak with you, Natalie,” he said.

  �
��I have told her about your temporary guardianship while she is a ward of court.”

  Mr Limpet looked at Fizz. Through her tears Nat could see him nodding gratefully.

  “Good, good. I am very sorry about Mr Borjigin, and now there’s this mess of who will be your guardian,” he said. “I am here to help you in any way that I can. I hear that your aunt, uncle and cousins are preparing to fly over. The Borjigin representatives have said they first want to put Jamuka to rest in the rightful Clan way, and then they will be sending over their representative. What I need to know from you is who you want to be your guardians.”

  “Jamuka’s Clan,” she said, sniffing.

  “Right you are. Secondly, I think we should put in place a block on your aunt and uncle having any access to you whatsoever until the ruling. Does that sound like a good idea?”

  “Yes, and please include Prissy. I’d like to see Henry though; can he not be blocked?”

  Limpet was making notes on an old-fashioned paper notepad that he’d brought in with him.

  “I’ll see if that can be arranged. Now then, I also have a school to run. Our only course of action moving forward is that you come to board at Boxbury until the ruling. Ah Ping will stay on this boat and caretake it. We will, of course, arrange for you to visit it during weekend exeats.”

  “What?” said Nat, trying to sit up. “You’re saying I have to BOARD at Boxbury?”

  Her world was turning upside down, inside out, and going from bad to worse. Jamuka dead, Aunt Vera and Uncle Fergal coming to London to fight for her fortune, and now boarding at Boxbury.

  She fought back the tears. “Just make sure Saskia Shiversand keeps away from me, and I never want to see her mother again.”

  “Understood. I will make the arrangements. We will stay here tonight, then I will arrange for Mrs Stalick, the Boxbury matron, to come here and help you get organised.”

  Her eyelids dropped. Mr Limpet was still talking about arrangements but she no longer heard him. She was only aware of her own breathing – the in and out of air, the oxygen keeping her body alive. Jamuka had taken his last breath. He wasn’t alive any longer. She’d never be able to spar with him in kung fu again, see the pride on his face when Dragon Khan won a race, or moan about the smell of his Vietnamese weasel coffee, and a million other things, ever, ever again.