The dust on this desk was much the same as it was everywhere in the room except for the dark red, almost black, splotches that were flecked over the different buttons and keyholes.

Keyholes? Hurk puzzled. It's not a door, why would it need a keyhole.

Unless, Hurk began... And then stopped.

Dav was still humming and harring over the desk opposite, completely oblivious to what Hurk was doing.

A tingle started to creep into his head again. One of Hurk's eyes started to water and he felt his arse tense and relax, like he was on the dunny, only nothing was coming out.

Except an idea.

Hurk remembered the key in his pocket and slowly removed it, sacredly and with great reverence. When people put keyholes on doors, it was so they could be locked and people locked up things they wanted to keep safe, like the big metal chest they used at the bank. Maybe, if the key would fit, he could open up the desk and inside would be something that the two skeletons had wanted to keep safe.

Hurk turned the key. Numbers started to move on the little green display. While he couldn't read every word there was in the world, Hurk could figure numbers just fine. Numbers were good for a lot more than words; they told him how much things were without any confusing. Numbers let him win at cards too, generally when they were big. These numbers were small and getting smaller. Smaller numbers meant less money, in the shop or at the tables in Treetown. Hurk turned the key back.

Good work, he congratulated himself. No one wants to buy a bomb that's run out of numbers.

Dav was still poking around by the skeleton.

"Who is it?"

"No one we know Hurk, of that I am sure. Nothing worth taking anyhow." Dav kicked the former person, as if to prove the point that the value of the body was less than that of the kick. The bones crumbled to dust.

"Definitely no one we know. Unless you know anyone this old Hurk?"

Hurk sniggered. "Colonel Hyram might know this guy, they say he's almost a hundred years old."

"Colonel Hyram can go sit on a wasp's nest, he's been telling people he's a hundred since I was a kid. By my numbers, he should be well over a hundred by now. That old kook probably ain't more than fifty. Just tells people that so they listen to him."

While Hurk could read numbers, he wasn't that good at maths, so he took Dav's word for it. Hurk knew, of course, that Dav had no idea how old he was himself, or how old Hurk was for that matter.

"Well, he's old enough to be boss of the swamp, so he must be pretty old. He's rich too."

"Exactly. Hyram will buy this bomb. Probably use it to get rid of the raiders coming out of Whisper Mountain."

Hurk liked that idea. He was sick of having to stand guard all night in case one of those raiders came up and slit their throats or worse. Or at least, slit Hurk's throat. Dav didn't have a throat just a head and a chest. Maybe he'd be OK. Probably why he made Hurk stand guard while he slept.