“You’re one of the three Caretakers,” Charles said to Bert. “So why did you need John? Why couldn’t you simply have left London once you had it?”
“Being the Caretaker Principia requires a lifetime of study,” said Bert. “I myself have some skill and knowledge, but honestly, I simply don’t have the training—which is why Professor Sigurdsson retired, so that he could begin to train his eventual replacement. You, John.”
“What about the third Caretaker?” said Charles. “You said there were always three.”
Aven cursed and spit. “Useless as a buck centaur in a dairy, that one. If he had taken his responsibilities more seriously, then you”—she pointed at her father—“wouldn’t be in danger, and your mentor”—pointing at John —“wouldn’t be dead, and you”—again jabbing a finger at John—“would still be doing whatever it is you do.”
“Now, Aven,” Bert chided, “Jamie has his own life to lead, and we can’t begrudge him that. Not everyone is made for this sort of adventure.”
“That’s what makes me angry,” she said. “Jamie was. He was suited to this, father. And he gave up a lifetime in the Archipelago for playacting in Kensington Gardens.”
“Is it me,” Jack confided to Charles, “or do I sense a hint of spurned romance in her anger?”
Jack wasn’t quiet enough; Aven overheard him and shot him a venomous look before flinging her father’s arm off her shoulders and storming into the cabin.
An instant later they heard her curse loudly, followed by a flurry of shouting and banging. Before anyone could move, she reemerged from the cabin, breathing hard and red faced from exertion.
“Some men weren’t made for adventure,” Aven snorted, “and some boys don’t know when they’ve had too much.”
Under her arm, face purpling from the headlock in which she had him, was Bug.
They had a stowaway. Having an extra person on board did not present any particular problems, although Aven did suggest throwing him overboard, just to save the debate. Bert suspected that the errand to fetch fresh water had been a ruse to allow the boy to sneak on board, and said so. Charles shook his head. “Frenchmen.” “To what end?” said John. “If the knight thought Bug should go with us, why not simply ask?” “I beg your pardon,” said Aven. “I don’t recall giving you any authority to say what does or doesn’t happen aboard my ship.” “Well, he’s here now,” said Charles. “What do we do with him?” “Just what we need,” grumbled Jack. “A child to look after.” Bug’s eyes narrowed. “I’m no younger than you.” “Young enough, potboy,” Jack shot back. “That’s enough,” said John. “I’ll take him on as my, uh…” “Squire?” offered Charles. “Whatever,” said Aven. “Just keep him out of the way.” She leaned down as one of the fauns whispered something in her ear. “No,” she said, straightening up and looking at Bug. “You can’t feed him to the mermaids. Yet.” Bug looked at John. “She’s joking, surely?” “Probably,” said John. “But keep close to me anyway.” A shout from the crew brought them all to the port side of the ship, as the water began to roil with activity. Something large was rising from under the sea. “A whale?” asked Jack. “Too big,” said Charles. “Just watch,” Bert said, smiling, as the shape, now obvious as some kind of construct, rose from the water. Jack and Charles stood speechless in the embrace of the growing shadow. Rising alongside the Indigo Dragon was the magnificent, gleaming, golden hull of a ship that was unlike anything they had ever seen. It had no masts or sails and seemed enclosed, like the submarines they’d heard of from the American Civil War. There were huge fortified portholes along the sides, and various openings below the waterline that both drew in and expelled water. And fore, on the hull, was the upper body and head of a dragon. A metallic gangplank slid seamlessly from an opening in the hull and attached itself to the railing of the Indigo Dragon. Above, a panel slid silently open and an impressive figure filled the open doorway. “Dear God in Heaven,” John said as he tried to take in the remarkable sight before them. “Is that what I think it is?” “It is indeed,” said Bert. “Boys, I would like to introduce you to the captain of the greatest ship to sail on the oceans of any world—the Nautilus.” A swarthy, bearded man with glistening, dark skin stepped off the gangplank and put his hands together, inclining his head in the Hindu fashion. He smiled, and while not unfriendly, it was undoubtedly the smile of a predator. “Captain Nemo, at your service.” Everyone was introduced, including Bug, who got a long, curious look from Nemo. “We’re going to the council at Paralon,” said Bert. “As am I,” Nemo replied. “There are restless forces growing in the lands to the north and the south, which must be quelled if we’re to unite against the Winter King. “A caution, though—you’re going to catch the currents off the Shadowed Lands if you keep heading in this direction, and you’ll miss Paralon altogether. I thought your captain was better trained than that.” Aven blushed and scowled at John and her father in turn. “How far off are we?” “Five degrees to the south should correct your course.” Aven withdrew to change the course of the ship, and Nemo’s eye caught sight of the Geographica under John’s arm. “Would that parcel hold the Geographica?” he asked. “The Imaginarium Geographica, yes,” said John. For the first time, Nemo spoke with a slight hesitation in his voice. “May I—may I touch it, Master John?” “Certainly.” John again unwrapped the Geographica and proffered it to Nemo, who accepted it as if he were holding a fragile parchment that would crumble if he breathed on it the wrong way. 
