Before I start this week’s installment of Banager’s Lights, I’d like to say a little something.
I’m sick and tired of blogging.
Sorry folks, but I’ve had enough. That’s not to say I’m stopping. I have no plans of quitting. I just would like to vent for a couple seconds…I JUST WANNA BE DONE WITH IT!!!
Ahem…well, now that that’s over with…I present to you chapter three of Banager’s Lights…
The Questions are Killing Me!
As Azen and the Sherasi locked eyes for a couple seconds, boots clanged down the ladder into their little prison. It was the woman who had been with the man at the beginning. Her eyebrows seemed to be stitched on too low, and she stared at them all with too much suspicion.
She broke the silence. “Well, that’s taken care of.”
“Good,” said the Sherasi happily.
“Why is he awake?” she asked, nodding at Azen.
“He’s over the tranquilizer.”
She blinked and headed back up the ladder.
“That was close, eh?” the Sherasi said happily, his eyebrows jumping.
“And Rarawsh,” the woman called down the ladder, “Make sure he doesn’t try anything. Westians, you know…” She finished her ascent to the upper deck.
So his name was Rarawsh. It sounded like an awkward name to pronounce, but Sherasi was an awkward language anyhow. The name was no exception, and no surprise.
Rarawsh sat down again, picked up his knife, and began to fiddle with the apple again. Over the rest of the day, Azen became very used to Rarawsh’s jittery, but confident whittle with the ivory-handled dagger, and his endless supply of both apples, and disappointingly uninformative chatter.
~ ~ ~
“You can’t take me yet!” shouted Mr. Komenk in the dead of night, bolting upright. He fell to the ground again, and glared around the cabin, squinty-eyed.
Both Rarawsh and Azen were recovering from the deathly start that Mr. Komenk had given them when the newly-awoken prisoner started drilling them. “Are they taking me to Ote-Nigau…Have they found out…?! Who are you?” He addressed Rarawsh, who smiled, amused, and announced his name. “What kind of a name is that? Are we in Sheras? You…Azen…” He grabbed Azen’s sleeve and pulled him close. “Did you see what happened?”
“Tranquilizers, sir,” Azen said respectfully, hoping that Mr. Komenk would not go ballistic when he received this information. “We’re in the machine.”
“The machine…The Andoran machine?”
“Yes, sir,” said Azen.
Mr. Komenk pulled back and eyed his two companions. “Oh. Well then, I suppose we’re not in the danger I thought we were in.”
“We’re on our way to Andora,” Rarawsh informed Mr. Komenk. “You might be in danger after all. But no need to worry about it…if we can unload our load successfully, you’ll return to a fairly normal life.”
There was not much comfort in those words. Perhaps “Fairly” threw the sentence off.
“Well, the questions are killing me,” said Azen. “Can you please tell us everything about this operation?”
“Okay,” Rarawsh settled back and flashed white teeth at his prisoners. “First of all, you’re aboard the—”
“I read the Ansi on the side of the machine,” said Mr. Komenk. “I know what we’re on.”
“The Komenk Flander.”
“What?” Azen drew his eyebrows together. “But Komenk is your name!”
“Yes,” said Mr. Komenk. “And to my knowledge, it’s mine and mine alone, with one frightening exception.”
“What exception?” asked Azen, cut off by Rarawsh’s high-pitched chuckle.
The Sherasi raised an eyebrow at Mr. Komenk and grinned. “That would be Avther Komenk?”
Mr. Komenk snorted, and launched at Rarawsh. Once again, the knife clattered to the floor, as Azen tried to stay away from the confused fight that broke out.