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“Why?” Nemo said. “Because of what happened today?”

Auda shook her head. “For years, Robur has secretly diverted much of the Sultan’s treasury to Rurapente, yet he still has nothing to show for it. My father, on the other hand, knows the power of sweet words, compliments, and promises . . . and he uses them daily on the Sultan’s weak will. Caliph Barbicane gives the Sultan little gifts to show his loyalty, while Robur does not.” She stroked his dark hair. “It is a game of politics, my beloved -- and Robur does not play it well.”

Nemo looked at her, distracted by her beauty. Young Jules chuckled in a corner, playing with a small twig studded with dry leaves. He waved it about like a flag.

“Much as I despise him, Robur does have the truer vision,” Nemo told her. “He sees the future, while Barbicane does not. The Ottoman Empire will fall if the Turks persist in old ways and ignore how the world will change once the Suez Canal is completed.”

Auda leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss, then played her musical instrument again. “Husband, this matter has nothing to do with who is correct and who is wrong . . . only which of the caliphs can persuade the great Sultan.”

When she had begun to sing once more, Nemo closed his eyes and listened to her voice, but she hadn’t been able to lull him out of his misery. . . .

Now, months later, Robur’s voice boomed out with the grim threat of a cannon strike. “You have failed me. All of you.” He looked from one captive engineer to another, his gaze like a stiletto dragged across their throats. “But I shall be merciful -- and only one of you will pay the ultimate price. This time.”

He made a brisk gesture with a ringed hand. Nemo could see that the whole spectacle had been rehearsed beforehand. The muscular guards marched forward and grabbed fidgety Conseil, the meteorologist. “No, no, no!” The small man from Marseilles flailed and cried out, but they pinned his arms. His sunburned face turned beet red, and his eyes looked as if they might spring from their sockets. The guards dragged Conseil to the end of the docks.

“Caliph Robur, you must not do this!” Nemo stepped forward, but guards shoved him back.

The Turkish leader gave him a withering glare. “You do not command me, Engineer. You are my slave.”

Nemo did not blink. “I am the one building your sub-marine boat -- and if you want it finished, you cannot deprive me of my men.”

Robur fixed Nemo with a stony gaze. “Nevertheless, you will learn to work without this man.”

Conseil’s arms and legs had turned to jelly. Desperation turned Nemo’s voice deeper, gave it a ragged edge. “You must not do this!”

At the caliph’s quick nod, the guards shoved Conseil down onto his knees. His face was now pasty white, and his arms fluttered. He tried feebly to get away, but the strong men held him down.

“I said stop, or I swear to you that we will all sabotage our work and you will never have your sub-marine boat!” Defiant and angry, Nemo pushed against the crossed scimitars of the guards. He struck out with his fists, trying to make his way to the doomed man, but one of them hammered the hilt of his weapon against Nemo’s forehead, making him crumple to the ground.

“Then you will all die, in the most horrible manner I can imagine. I suggest that you do not challenge my ingenuity in concocting tortures.” Robur looked at him as a man might inspect a bug. “I do as I wish, Engineer -- just as you must also do as I wish. All of you.”

Nemo struggled to his knees, wiping a scarlet splash of blood from his eyes, and snarled in desperation, “No! If you insist on doing this, then you are a fool.” The threat in his voice made the guards glare at him. Nemo had dealt with thugs and pirates and warlords before, and he hated them all. “Robur, you have my word that if you spare him, we --”

Caliph Robur gave a barely perceptible flick of his right hand.

The curved scimitar struck downward, and Conseil had time for only a brief squawking cry that was abruptly cut short as his head rolled