The Dagger-Key and The Lost Treasures of Kebadon Read online

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  Afterward Washburrn and Kyhawn went to Washburrn’s private sleeping space that some of the crew had constructed at his request. Though it wasn’t much, Washburrn was grateful. He valued the privacy and enjoyed the cool night air. The branch roof covered with sticks and large leaves was secured to the side of the large sleeping cabin. Washburrn leaned against one of the two tree trunks that supported the roof, facing the rainbow-shaped beach where most of them had spent their first night near the Sealander. About a mile of trees and other plant life stood between his sleeping space and the water.

  They didn’t know two others were behind the sleeping cabin listening to them.

  As they got settled in, Kyhawn held his lead stick and parchment pad. “The chest—how did you find it?”

  “I didn’t know you were going to take notes. You’re one curious and dedicated young Zac.”

  “You don’t mind, do you? I was going to draw a map for safekeeping.”

  Washburrn scratched his whiskers. “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.” He thought for a moment. “Well, to start from the beginning, it was your cabac, you can say, that saved the chest from drifting away from the ship. Who knows where it might have drifted to if I hadn’t found it when I did.”

  “My cabac … what do you mean?”

  “After I fell overboard, I swam to shore clinging to the chest. Your cabac was tangled in the netting draped over the side between that busted mast and the ship.” Washburrn lit a lantern. “Somehow your cabac got tangled around the chest’s handle. Call it a miracle, or just plain luck.”

  Kyhawn was amazed. “You mean you came to shore on the chest carrying my cabac?”

  “You can put it that way. The chest floats quite well.” He let out a slight chuckle, “Even if you didn’t manage to close it properly. Then I came upon those other two Zacs and quickly explained we needed to hide the chest. That’s when we decided to bury it on the mountainside. Well, you know the rest.” He shook his head. “The Sealander must have been sinking fast before the rocks caught hold of her for so many to have died.”

  Kyhawn nodded as he sat with his back against a tree trunk. “I guess it’s a good thing the chest does float, or you might not be here.”

  “Shhh … lower your voice. You never know who might be listening. Didn’t they teach you anything in trade school about life on the ocean?”

  “No, or at least not about surviving a shipwreck, or taking care of a chest, or surviving on a lost island in the middle of the ocean.”

  “Well, that doesn’t surprise me.” Washburrn laughed.

  “Tell me, where’s the chest now?” Kyhawn whispered eager to draw his map.

  Washburrn thought for a moment as he sat on his make-do bed of large leaves with a few blankets. He gestured for Kyhawn to take a seat on a worn two-foot-high stone wall that stuck out from the sleeping cabin. He raised an eyebrow and drew closer. “Well, we carried the chest onto this rocky sand beach on the far west side of the island.”

  “I see,” Kyhawn said as Washburrn relayed all the details.

  “To get to it, you need to go through the graveyard.” Washburrn pointed at the rough map. “Much quicker that way if you’re coming from the camp.”

  “I got it. That’s what these squares represent.” Kyhawn tapped his lead stick on a square.

  Working together, they finally completed the map. Washburrn yawned. “I thought I had retired from this detective business. For two years, everything was easy, but now this.” He turned out the lantern and fluffed his pillow. “Take good care of it,” he said as he pulled the blankets up to his neck and closed his eyes.

  Kyhawn got up, tucking his parchment pad down his trousers. “Washburrn, did you really mean it when you said you didn’t believe in the Gods, or Goducess, maker of all creation?”

  Washburrn opened his eyes and looked up at him. “Kyhawn, I like you, but let’s keep religion out of our friendship, please.” He fluffed his pillow again. “Good night.”

  Kyhawn tied off his coat to conceal his parchment pad and went around the corner to the sleeping cabin. He stopped at the door, for a brief moment listening to two Zacs on guard duty playing their musical instruments. One of them played a paletoal, which was similar to a wooden guitar except it had eight strings, a longer neck, and though the front and back of the body was flat, it had an oval shape with two holes on the front side instead on one. The other Zac with him played an instrument much like a violin. While they played soft melodies, he felt the warmth of their music as he looked into the flames coming from the fire-pits. It lightened his otherwise darkening mood. He bowed his head at them, then went inside the huge cabin where Zacs lay on bedding spread over the entire dirt floor. To his right, the fireplace burned. He tossed a few logs on the fire, then took his place in the far end corner.

  As he stared at the thick ceiling beams supporting the roof and slowly drifted off to sleep, he thought: I wonder what my mother’s going to think, us not arriving home when I said we would. And I wonder if Earron and Coita had a chance to see Emaya about my dreams? He rolled over onto his belly and slapped his pillow, somewhat angry at himself. But what difference does it make? A lot of good her dream knowledge is going to do me now.