* * *
In the meantime, two crew-Zacs passed by the dining room’s double doors, then turned the corner. The one snapped his fingers to the sound of the music as they passed room 2, room 4, room 6, and room 8.
“Room 0, this is it,” whispered Emit as he turned out the lamp next to the door, and peeked though the curtain. “It looks as though only one lamp’s burning.” He looked around to see if anyone was coming.
Two rooms down the door opened. A lady zac in a fancy dress came strolling toward them. She seemed a bit tipsy, with one hand on the safety rail to keep her balance, she passed by giving them a friendly hand gesture.
While crew-Zac Nelg smiled, picking at a large scab on his foot, crew-Zac Emit swallowed his impertinent attitude and also smiled. A moment later she disappeared around the corner into the approaching evening’s fogy mist.
“The detectives should be in there,” Emit whispered. “They wouldn’t leave the chest unguarded.” He glanced both ways then kneeled next to the door. “Keep an eye out while I take a look through the keyhole.”
Nelg, one of the new crew-Zacs, looked both ways. No one’s coming he thought, crouching to pick at hid scab.
Emit glanced back at him and spoke with an impatient tone, gently took Nelg by the arm, eased him alongside the safety rail, and whispered. “You skinny thirty five year old brainless clumsy stick—you're supposed to keep an eye out.” He slapped him. “Pay attention.”
Nelg covered his face, and then scratched his head where hair was beginning to grow. “You see anything in there?”
“It looks as though there’s two of them,” he grunted puzzled by the thought, “one lying in each bed.”
“Weren’t there four of them taking care of the chest?”
Emit nodded. “The other two might be in room 4, or enjoying themselves down stairs. We needn’t be concerned about them.”
Nelg rubbed his hands together with a greedy smile. “Did you see the chest?”
“No. You can be sure it’s in there though. The doctor said the pet-lock chest would be in this room.” Emit whispered with a frightful expression. “Stop scratching yourself and keep your ugly mug on the lookout.”
Nelg glanced the other way, then back at Emit. Used to the verbal torture, he almost seemed to enjoy the pain.
Two more passengers strolled by, from the second floor staircase, around the corner from room 10. Emit and Nelg stood next to the safety rail pretending they were on guard duty.
The two passengers walked by giving them a friendly look. The eldest passenger tipped his wide-brim-hat and said to his son. “It’s nice to see guards out, makes one feel safe.”
“With piracy on the rise, it does make one feel safer,” replied his son Bekim.
When the two passengers were out of sight, Emit took another look through the window. “Those two zacs are sleeping…? I’d kill’em if they work for me.”
“While on guard duty?” Nelg adjusted himself. “Don’t sound right.”
“Let’s get this over with. Where’s your pistol? And where’s Mekon? Damn, can’t he ever be on time?”
“Right here,” Nelg answered, taking his pistol out of his cloak pocket. “But what about the other two guards?”
“Forget about them. Put your pistol away.” Emit frowned, pulling out a set of master keys. He flipped through the ring of keys until he located the one to room 10, then inserted it into the keyhole.
Another zac walked toward them from around the corner. Surprising them, Emit stood with his back to the door. The key dangled from the keyhole. By this time Nelg was pointing his pistol at the zac.
“It’s me, Mekon,” whispered the zac. Alongside him stood a wealthy passenger. Mekon slung his hood back exposing his blond hair and light-blue eyes. “You’re lucky it was me you fool.”
They stood next to the safety rail away from the room. Emit frowned. “I told you—never mind. You carrying your dagger and some twine?”
The tall, slim, handsome Mekon patted his cloak pocket.
Emit gave him a pissed off look, while the wealthy passenger reassured them he’d remain on the look-out. Emit proceeded to insert the key. Unlocking the door, his weapon ready, he causally opened it to find Korts and Turnar sound asleep. Mekon lock the door behind them.
With a wicked smile, Emit completely closed the curtain, tapped Mekon and pointed at one of the beds. He gestured with his pistol, take him. He approached the other bed.
Turnar woke up to find Emit’s dagger pressed against his throat. Emit whispered, “Make a sound and I’ll have to put this here eight-inch blade to work.”
Turnar laid in silence, unsure if he was dreaming or not.
“Get up,” demanded Emit. “Get over here and wake your friend, and don’t try anything stupid.”
Turnar complied with his demand. “Korts... wake up, Korts!”
Korts, who was already awakened by the noise, opened his eyes to find his friend standing over him trembling. Turnar covered his mouth. Korts realizing the situation remained quiet.
“Lay there and don’t make a move, or your friend gets it in the back,” demanded Emit, taking a neatly rolled up ball of twine from his inner cloak pocket. “Nelg, don’t take your pistol off these two.”
“What is it you want?” Turnar cried.
Emit whispered in an impetuous tone. “You know what we want. Where is it—where’s the chest?”
Korts, the calmer of them set up in bed. “We don’t know what you’re talking about. Just what do you think you’re doing waking me up?”
“Take our luggage,” Turnar cried, “if that’s what you want.”
“We only have shoulder bags, and cabacs,” added Korts.
“Don’t play games with us. We know the chest with the peg-lock system is here.” Mekon exclaimed, tying Korts’ arms behind his back. With a jerk he tightened the twine, pulling his arms down to his legs, wrapping his ankles.
“You two search the place. Look for any hidden passages. It’s got to be in here—make haste.” Emit forcefully wrapped the twine around Turnar’s wrist. “It can’t be far. Try the closet.”
Both Turnar and Korts were lying on the same bed. Emit stood over them with his pistol in one hand, pointed at their heads. In his other hand, a dagger tapped against his metal studded belt buckle, over and over again. The annoying sound echoed through Korts and Turnar’s heads like a bomb ready to explode.
Mekon tossed a few shoulder bags around. “It’s not in this closet.” He said searching for a hidden passage. “It’s not in this room!”
“Not in this fancy bathroom either,” Nelg reported.
“If it’s not in here—where is it then?” Emit demanded, pressing his dagger against Turnar’s upper leg almost breaking the skin.
Korts pleaded with them. “We told you, we don’t know what you’re talking about. Honest, we’re passengers. Please, take anything you want. All we ask is that you don’t harm us.”
Emit yanked at Korts’ shirtsleeve. “Keep your voice down lizard scum. Don’t tell me your lies!" He continued tapping his dagger. “You’re no wealthy Zac. These are the garments of a working class Zac,” he said cutting into his shirt. “The chest, or your lives.”
Emit, losing his patience, took a scarf from his own pocket and stuffed it into Turnar’s mouth. Turnar’s eyes widened. His heart pounded. He glanced at his friend lying next to him, a doomed look in his eyes. In a revengeful manner Emit cut a shorter piece of twine, placed it over his mouth, and tied it behind his head.
“This will help you remember,” Emit pressed one hand over Turnar’s mouth, then with his other hand he plunged his dagger into Turnar’s leg.
Turnar shouted out a painful, but silent scream.
Mekon pressed his dagger against Korts throat and intensely whispered, “We know that you know it whereabouts. If it’s not here, then were is it?”
Korts muttered, “No. Don’t tell them.”
Nelg stood with h
is pistol in his hand, smiling as though he enjoyed watching others in pain.
The sweat ran down Turnar’s pale purple face.
“If you know what’s good for you,” Mekon gripped Korts’ jaw, “you’ll tell us where the chest is hidden.”
Korts glared into Mekon’s eyes. He could almost feel an ocean of greed flowing from them.
Mekon, the more rational one, kneeled beside Korts, looked him straight in the eyes, and whispered. “When Emit gets this way it’s difficult to say what he might do. For your own well being, tell us what you have done with it. You’ll tell us. That’s if you wish to live without out any more pain.”
Korts stared at Mekon with confidence. “We’ll never tell you anything you don’t already know. Our shift’s almost over. Four zacs will come busting through that door—if Turnar and I aren’t there to answer it.”
“Tough, Zac,” Emit groaned. “Let’s kill’em. We can find the chest when the rest of our… crew show up.”
“Aren’t we supposed to have the chest ready to go by the time the others get here?” Nelg asked. Dumbfounded, with a great need to pick at his scab he lost his balance and fell. The table went crashing to the floor.
Sweat dripped from Emit’s face. “You—what are you doing, trying to get us hung?” He took Nelg by the shirt collar and ripped it loose with rage.
“It was an accident,” Nelg pleaded, picking up his pistol. “You know I don’t see to well in the dark.”
“You’re going to think accident,” Emit grumbled. “Stand here until I tell you to move.”
Nelg being strong for his skinny built, didn’t posses much in the thinking department, stood as he was told.
Mekon knew Emit well. If something didn’t happen in his favor soon, someone might end up dead. He kneeled beside Korts again and placed his hand on his shoulder, patting it. He looked at Korts with a friendly expression. “What’s your name?”
“Korts, my name is Korts... his name’s Turnar. You’re going to kill us aren’t you?"
Mekon answered with a pleasant but deceiving smile. “No one’s going to kill anyone. All we want is the chest. Now please tell us were it is being kept.” Mekon paused. “It’s in room 4 isn’t it?”
“The truth is we picked it up,” Korts swallowed his pried, heart pounding, he glanced at Turnar’s leg wound. “But instead of taking it to Adrolf we decided to leave it in Omakohak. The Adrolf authority possesses it now. We only pretended to make it appear as though we were still protecting it.” He raised his voice. “In order to throw idiots such as yourself off guard.”
Mekon pressed his hand over Korts’ mouth, shoved him back, and peered into his eyes. “Not bad, but it’ll not do. We saw the chest brought on board in Chamquinil.” Mekon glanced at Nelg and Emit. “There was no wooden chest with a peg-lock system taken off the ship in Omakohak. You're lying.”
Waves of evil radiated the room with darkness. “Gag him,” Emit demanded as he stood over Turnar running his dagger over his entire body.
Mekon grabbed the bed sheet, ripped off two strips, and started to gag Korts. Korts let out a loud cry. But it only lasted a second. Mekon plunged one piece into his mouth, and quickly tied the other piece around his head over his mouth.
Emit walked around to the other side of the bed. “Mekon, keep your blade on this one.” Emit took hold of a pillow, placed it over Korts’ face, and continued to stab him until Mekon grabbed the knife from his hand.
Turnar struggled desperately to free himself.
“Now, I have long, lost my patience. Tell me—where’s the chest?” demanded Emit, wiping sweat off his face onto his shirtsleeve. His bloody dagger pressed against Turnar’s throat. He jerked the twin down passed his chin and yanked the scarf from his mouth.
“Emit, we’ve been here too long. The band will soon be finishing, and those other two could show up at any time. Let’s take our losses and get out of here. It’s most likely in room 4. We should wait until the others get here. We’ll have more help then,” Mekon strongly suggested.
“I told them I’d have the chest ready when they arrived. Doc will be with them.” Emit wiped his dagger off on the bed sheet. With a wicked expression he glared at Turnar, grabbed the blood stained pillow lying on Korts’ face, and tossed it across the room. “You piece of lizard scum, look at your friend now. Not so pretty anymore.” He grumbled. “Where are those two other guards hiding the chest—in room 4?”
Turnar could only stare at them. In silence he trembled. Careful not to look at the gloom reminder lying dead next to him, he kept loyal to his king, Lumarkahawn.
Nelg, the youngest of them said with delight. "Killing him isn’t going to help us find the chest. Let’s keep him hidden so we can torture him later.”
“Nelg’s right, killing him isn’t going to solve anything.” Mekon stood next to the window as if listening for on-comers. “We could use him in trade for the chest.”
Emit took a pillow from the other bed and approached him. “I agree, killing him isn’t going to help us, but he’s not worth trading for the chest. Keeping him alive can only make matters worse for us.”
Before Turnar had a chance to cry out Emit smashed the pillow over his face. He struggled to free himself, but it was no use. While Mekon turned his head, Nelg seemed to enjoy the unnecessary act.
“No witnesses.” Emit chuckled softly as he wiped his dagger on the bed sheet and tucked it into his sheath strapped to the lower part of his leg. He steadied his blue middle-aged body against the bed, then took off his bloodstained shirt. “Since these sea-Zacs don’t have the chest, Washburrn and his apprentice Kyhawn must have stowed it in Room 4.” Sweat ran off his cheeks and down onto his neck, wetting his long red hair. “Kyhawn. I don’t like the sound of that name,” he mumbled. His bloodshot dark orange eyes were possessed by his visions of becoming the next high priest.
He slipped on his dark blue uniform cloak, then violently rolled his shirt into a ball. “Everything depends on us regaining the canister, along with the ancient jewels in that damn chest! We find it and we rule the entire region, our way. It will be as it was three hundred years ago when only a handful of us owned everything.” A burst of eerie whispering laughter slipped between his lips.
Mekon changed his expression from a disgusted look to one of greed and power. “We have no choice then, but to break into room 4… first reasonable chance we get.” He peeked out the window, then glanced over his shoulder, “Keep hold of those keys Emit. We’re going to need them.”
“The keys will be retuned as soon as we leave here. We don’t want anyone to notice them missing.”
There was a thump. Nelg lay on the floor next to the lamp and chair he’d knocked over. And once again Emit grabbed him by the shirt collar. “You … you’re worthless … look what you’ve done now, and all because you can’t keep from scratching your pathetic sores on your pathetic body.” He slapped him to the ground, and then turned to Mekon. “What’s it look like out there?”
Mekon’s wealthy passenger friend was speaking to someone. The friend looked at Mekon gesturing to him the coast was clear, then escorted a lady around the corner, and they quickly made their exit. But not without Nelg striking a flint stick. He dropped it next to the oil lamp he had split, then followed close behind them.
Moments later they stood just around the corner from Room 10 underneath the second floor walkway near the number two mast. Emit took out his timepiece. “Don’t like it much.” He hesitated. “We’ll wait until our ship arrives before we do anything else.”
Mekon agreed. “Wise decision.”
“Don’t you and Nelg have guard duty at midnight?” Emit asked as he balled up his shirt.
“You know we do,” Mekon answered, feeling somewhat calm now that he knew they were going to wait for their ship. “At least the rain has started to let up some.”
Emit nodded, collecting his thoughts. “I need to return these keys.” He hurried off, feeling no remorse for the Zacs they had just murd
ered. As he passed by Room 4, he leaned over the railing and tossed the shirt overboard. He turned noticing the lights were still on in room 4. “That blasted chest is in there. Doc was wrong about it being in room 10. Kyhawn is most likely in there as well, along with that other detective,” he muttered to himself. But when he reached the steps to the bridge, he hesitated. Thinking it was easy to take the keys, but how would he get them back without being caught.
Unknown to Emit, Captain Joenf had already discovered the keys to be missing and suspected him. The captain peered out the window of the bridge. “There he is,” he muttered as he stepped out onto the narrow walkway that wrapped around the bridge. “Emit, I want a word with you.”
Emit pulled his hood over his head, threw the keys overboard, and made a quick run for the double doors that led down into the dining room.
The bridge door slammed behind Captain Joenf as he reentered. He glanced at everyone, then looked at one of his younger, but well trusted member of the crew, Tobben. “Crew-zac Tobben, you know what crew-Zac Emit looks like?”
“Wasn’t that him you were yelling at, sir?” Tobben responded. He stood straight as befit a trusted crew-Zac, his well-shaved green face and groomed hair looking neat, along with his floppy ears and bushy eyebrows gave him a look of innocence.
The captain stared out the bridge door. “That was him. He took off through the double doors.” He turned to his crew. “I believe he’s taken the extra set of master keys. I want you down there at once. Bring him to me. But don’t let the passengers know what’s going on.”
“Yes sir.” Tobben bowed.
“I know what he looks like, sir,” Tobben’s good friend Shanel volunteered.
“Go with him,” Captain Joenf ordered. He turned to an older member of the crew, Dewgoss. He looked sober enough he thought. “Dewgoss and I will manage.” For Dewgoss was one how liked his drink, perhaps too much. Despite this weakness he was a kind hard working member of the crew.
When Tobben swung the bridge door open on the starport side, Shanel covered her head with the hood of her dark blue uniform cloak.
As Dewgoss stepped aside, the captain gripped the wheel and raised his cap, exposing his reseeding hair line. He shook his head, disgusted with himself. As his long wavy silver hair rested on his cloak, he gazed though the windshield in thought. Those fools. I knew I shouldn’t have hired so many new crew-Zacs in such a hurry. But with all these wealthy passengers on vacation, I couldn’t stop the cruise. And Professor La’mamm and Lumpskin paid me plenty of tiallup for those two rooms.
He reached for his tobacco pipe; scratched his wiry beard; keeping the promise he made to his wife that he’d quit smoking, he held his empty pipe in his mouth unlit. Could that be why Emit stole the master keys? We were so secretive about bringing that chest aboard. He could be a thief … but of course he probably doesn’t know we have the chest aboard. A small-time thief, that’s what he is. A small time thief wanting to break into the passenger rooms while they were out. We’ll get him. He took a deep breath and placed his pipe back into his inside cloak pocket. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea bringing along fifteen of King Lumarkahawn’s soldiers disguised as my crew.
The Dagger-Key and The Lost Treasures of Kebadon Page 4
