3. Locked Box Mystery

3. Locked Box Mystery

Hakan surged into action the moment the waves closed over Captain's head. He might not have long. The man would surface as soon as he remembered he didn't have anything to catch fish with. Unless he possessed some otherworldly fish-whispering skills that made a net or a hook and line as redundant as a compass.

Fastening the mainsail's sheet and wedging the tiller to keep them on course, he took a very rapid inventory of everything visible on deck. It was a shame he didn't know exactly what he was looking for. Captain was a strange man ... but that was the case for at least half the population. If he was acting strangely because he was engaged in illicit behaviour, that should be easy for Hakan to uncover, like calling to like, as it were.

Free Breezeswas a chebec, which meant there were several possible hidey-holes that on Hakan's Coldhearted had been perfect for concealing contraband. A quick glance showed they were unexploited on this boat, no false panels or secret compartments added for nefarious reasons. Captain wasn't a pirate, and it showed. The man was so trusting all his possessions were just sitting around, positively inviting someone to pry through them.

Hakan pushed away the knowledge that a man shouldn't need to hide his own belongings on board his own boat, and ducked beneath the canvas shelter where his crewmate's personal goods were kept. If Captain hadn't hidden away his precious things when he let a pirate on board, then he was a trusting fool, and Hakan wasn't the sort of man to let such an opportunity pass him by.

A quick rifle through the hammock found only a couple of blankets, with a change of clothes wrapped in oilskin inside a rough box. The barrels for water and food were exactly what they appeared.

Which only left the ornate chest that had caught Hakan's attention when he'd first come on board. Ears pricked in case of Captain's return, he crouched and ran a hand over its edge. He wasn't sure of the wood: not quite dark enough for ebony, and with a wide grain he'd never seen before.

Not that he was an expert in either trees or wood-working. His pulse picked up more because he was an expert in pretty, expensive things. This was a valuable piece, that much was obvious from the well-treated sheen, the varnished smoothness that met his fingers, and the intricate carving around the edges. He bent closer to examine the decoration, wishing Coldhearted's quartermaster, Fadi, were there to confer with about both provenance and value. Urgency tugged at him, but he couldn't help himself. The box cried out to be admired. He was trying to put a price on the item, he told himself. Just in case.

In case of what, he couldn't have said. He was fighting a nagging sense of unease at prying through Captain's goods. He hadn't dealt well with the man from the start. He owed Captain nothing, but they were crewmates, albeit temporarily. That brought with it a code of behaviour. He wouldn't repay the man by stealing from him, even if he was repaying it by making free with his belongings.

He muttered a curse under his breath, hoping his recent proximity to the law-abiding sultan hadn't made him an honourable man. That would make life awkward as he resumed his previous career.

Honour amongst thieves, he told himself. His crewmates were closer than family. He could extend that courtesy to Captain for a short time without undertaking a complete personality change.

Fingertips ran over carvings of cresting waves running around the lid of the box. Where he'd expect to find a keyhole, the piece again defied expectations. Instead of a keyhole, three tiny holes were bored into the wood, patterned in a triangle. Not keyholes, yet something was keeping the box sealed.

Hakan glanced around, although he didn't truly expect a key to jump into his lap. Captain might be a trusting fool, but he wasn't completely stupid. The keys were doubtless kept on his person. His thoughts drifted once more. He'd seen Captain's bare chest several times, now. Granted, he'd been distracted by what a fine sight it was, but there'd been no sign of keys on a chain or thong around his neck, which Hakan would have thought most likely. Keeping them in a pocket seemed chancy in the extreme, especially if you were in the habit of jumping into the sea.

He gave the lid an experimental wrench, but it held firm. He lifted an edge to test the weight, then the whole thing. It was bulky, but fit in his arms. It was light for its size, and when he tipped it, the contents made no sound. Hakan's thoughts whirled, speculating on what it might contain. Not jewels, nor coins, since they would have rattled when the box was moved.

Thoroughly intrigued now, Hakan glanced around to ensure Captain wasn't looming into view. Then, he swiped a finger across the tiny holes. A knife would be too big for the task; too likely to damage the chest; he didn't plan to announce that he'd made free with the other man's goods.

He untangled a piece of silver wire from his beard – most of his decorations also had a practical use. Hakan pried into the first keyhole, palm against the box to feel for betraying clicks or thuds, while he encouraged the lock to give up its secrets. When he heard a tiny click and felt it beneath his fingers, he extracted the wire and started on the second hole. Minutes later, the final lock gave up its resistance. Smiling, Hakan squared the box before him. He held his breath in anticipation and cautiously raised the lid.

~

Ramorran dived beneath the waves with a sense of relief, aware that he was retreating from his own boat because of a troublesome pirate.

What was it about the wretched man that sliced through his self-control like a steel-edged rudder through a wave? Hakan was a pirate and a slaver, and clearly saw him as nothing more than an asset to be exploited. It was only to be expected the man would be irritating. Ramorran shouldn't allow himself to be irritated. It was like complaining that water was wet.

He wanted to shake his annoying passenger. The smug grin and the expectation that he could do exactly as he wished, even though it wasn't his boat! He wanted to plant his fist in Thief's stupid face. Except he'd somehow been manipulated into agreeing to take the man to Crescent Island. A moment of weakness, he told himself. He snapped up a couple of fish to slake his most urgent hunger, pushing away the uncomfortable awareness of what an idiot he'd been.

His physical hunger being appeased had the unfortunate effect of bringing his other hungers into sharper relief. Hakan was a pirate; of course he was bold and brash and had a grin like the sun. Ramorran knew better than to pay any heed to that. Pirates were beautiful on the outside, but inside they were rotten. That lesson had been hard-learned, he wasn't going to forget it now just because Hakan grinned at him.

A thief and a slaver, and no one to be trusted.

And Ramorran didn't trust him. Thief – he should always call him by the name Thief, not Hakan, he reminded himself – was a scoundrel. But he was only behaving the way pirates behaved. Ramorran was the one who had to ensure he didn't fall for the man's lies and manipulations. It would be shameful to fall so easily, especially when he knew exactly what pirates were like.

His weakness last time was because he'd been inexperienced, trapped by an accomplished trickster. He had no such excuse now. He'd learned his lesson and he'd live by it. Hakan was a pirate, they had a temporary truce only, and Ramorran needed to keep his wits about him or he'd lose everything.

Ramorran twisted through the waves, biting back a sigh. The water was cool, the sun when he broke the surface would be warm, but hotter still was the warmth of Hakan's cocky grin. Ugh, why did these stupid thoughts continue to intrude? He wanted to believe the image was real, and that was just foolish. A pirate was a pirate, was a pirate.

He mustn't let Hakan squirm his way into his good graces. He'd kept himself to himself since he'd escaped, while he'd been tracking his quarry. Perhaps it was small wonder he hungered to feel not so alone. But that meant it was more important than ever to keep his walls up. If he was barely holding it together now, how much worse would it be if he let Hakan do as he clearly wished and trample all over his feelings, too? He wouldn't let himself be taken for a fool a second time.

He chased a fish half-heartedly, more to delay a return than because he was still hungry. He couldn't stay away much longer. Hakan would grow suspicious if he spent too long in the water, or was too adept at keeping pace with a boat in motion. Hakan might be a thief, and a pirate, and a scoundrel, but he definitely wasn't stupid. Ramorran shouldn't give him reason to grow suspicious.

Crescent Island, he reminded himself. Their destination was only hours away now. He just needed to make it there, then he'd be free of his troubling crewmate. He didn't want a cocky, irritating pirate for a friend, much less anything more. He might be starved of affection, but he wasn't so desperate he'd lower himself to fall under Hakan's spell.

Aware of time passing, Ramorran broke the surface at the stern of the boat. His heartrate kicked up when he found no broad figure sitting beside the tiller. Hakan was missing.

Senses pricked for assailants, he boosted up and clambered silently onto the deck. Relief washed through him in a dizzying wave when he saw Thief at the far end of the boat, kneeling on the boards under the awning. A glance aside showed the tiller was lashed in place to keep them on course. The boat hadn't been stormed by pirates and Thief taken prisoner.

Relief was eclipsed by anger when Ramorran realised Hakan was kneeling in front of his chest, prying at the wood. Thief by name and thief by nature! Three rapid strides brought him to the man's back. His precious chest was open, the pirate gawping inside as though he'd every right to pry into his secrets. Fury overtook Ramorran and he lashed out on instinct.

~

Hakan stared at the interior of the chest, trying to make sense of what he found. The inside was empty, dark wood gleaming dully where Hakan's shadow didn't darken it. He reached inside, fingertips touching each surface to check his eyes weren't deceiving him. He blew out a breath when he confirmed that there was nothing to be found. Why lock an empty chest? Why not, Hakan reasoned. It was Captain's chest; he could do as he liked with it.

The sense of something out of place persisted. Hakan fought a sense of anti-climax. He'd been sure some great mystery was contained inside the box. To have gone to so much trouble to get to the bottom of it, only to draw a blank, was frustrating in the extreme. Hakan hated to be thwarted.

He sat back on his heels, already conjuring ideas of how else he might find out Captain's secrets when a creak of the boards behind him made him turn. He had just enough time to register Captain's furious expression, fist raised in anger, when a blow smashed into him and darkness descended.