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‘Rhys and Linzi found it while doing inventory,’ Ester says. ‘I think I know what’s inside, but there’s only one way to be sure.’
In other words, she needs the magic Nemo hands.
I study the lock. I trust Ester’s instincts, but still … I’m hesitant about opening a door someone took the trouble to hide. If Nemo had any skeletons in his closet (literal or otherwise), this seems like the kind of closet he’d keep them in.
‘Nautilus,’ I say in Bundeli, ‘would it be okay if I opened this door?’
All by itself, the lock spins. Bolts click and release. I guess that’s a yes.
I pull the door open. Inside …
Oh.
Normally, I’m not a material girl.Stuffdoesn’t impress me.
But for a moment I forget how to breathe. I relive one of my earliest memories, when Dev, who must’ve been pretty much a baby himself, blew in my nostrils, his stronger lungs overwhelming my own, leaving me gasping in shock.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
‘Nemo’s treasury,’ Ester says, remarkably calm. ‘I thought so.’
Now I understand the old sayingall that glitters is not gold. Because in Nemo’s treasury room a lot of the glitter comes from silver, diamonds, rubies, pearls and crazy fancy jewellery. The shelves are lined with wooden chests, each overflowing with carefully sorted loot. Nemo was apparently obsessed with order. He has all the diamonds grouped together, all the rubies, all the pearls sorted by colour and size. Against the far wall is a pallet of gold bricks. There’s even a shelf with half a dozen crowns, each of which looks like it might have been ripped from the head of some nineteenth-century monarch. All in all, the room reminds me of a bizarre supply store.
Excuse me, sir, where can I find sapphires?
Yes, those would be on aisle three, just past the silver-ingot display.
‘Wow,’ I say, which seems insufficient.
Ester looks around in awe. ‘This room was organized by a genius.’
Top sniffs around the treasure, wagging his tail half-heartedly as if to say,Well, I guess it’s all right, but it ain’t doggy treats.
Ester picks up a shoebox-size chest of white pearls. ‘Nemo gave Harding and Pencroft a box like this. It was enough to build the academy.’
‘There must be twenty boxes like that in here,’ I say.
Ester scans the room, probably running estimates. ‘Nemo gathered some of it from the merchant vessels he plundered, some from older shipwrecks he discovered. In20,000 Leagues, he boasted that he could pay off the national debt of France andit wouldn’t make a dent in his fortune. This room may be justoneof his stashes. Harding family legends say Nemo had supply bases hidden all over the world.’
I wonder if this is what Land Institute wanted, too, along with the technology: money. Such a common thing to want, but with this much wealth they could probably build three moreAronnaxes and topple several world governments. Given the potential payoff, risking their brand-new sub and their senior class starts to sound like a solid gamble.
Thinking about it in those terms makes me want to take a shower.
My eyes fix on a strange-looking instrument propped in the corner. It’s about the size of a guitar, but with a keyboard instead of strings, alt-tech gears and levers where the fret board should be, even a dial that looks like a colour wheel, maybe for special visual effects?
‘What in the –?’ I pick it up gingerly. ‘Captain Nemo invented the keytar?’
Ester laughs. It’s a rare, adorable sound, like a piglet being tickled. She doesn’t often find my jokes amusing (which keeps me humble), but absurdities get her every time. ‘He took his music seriously.’
‘I guess so.’ I study the intricate controls. I remember the way theNautilusreacted the first time I played the organ on the bridge. This keytar was important enough to hold in the treasury, so it must have a purpose beyond entertainment. I decide to come back later and figure it out. For now, though, I can’t shake the image of Captain Nemo dancing through the corridors of theNautiluswith his keytar, jamming to ‘Little Red Corvette’.
Did that song come out during the Victorian era? Close enough.
I look at Ester, still cradling the box of pearls like it’s a litter of kittens.
The sight gives me a warm sense of satisfaction. ‘At least something good came out of our troubles,’ I tell her. ‘You don’t need your trustees any more. You can rebuild Harding-Pencroft all on your own.’
Ester stiffens. ‘No, I wasn’t …’ She hastily offers me the box of pearls. ‘It’s not my treasure. I would never … I would only do that if you decided –’
