Steemjammer: Through the Verltgaat (16 page)

“That didn’t answer your questions?” Cobee said, trying to hide his disappointment.

“It answered some,” Will said, “but this is still really weird for us. I think it’s going to take a while for us to get used to this place.”

Cobee nodded, and they decided to go look for the large storage room. As they filed out a side door into a back hallway reserved for Steem Museum personnel only, Angelica couldn’t help feeling that the exhibit had answered very little.

“I’m still trying to figure out what this world is,” she said. “Is it like a giant snow globe?”

Cobee made an exaggerated shrug, as he had no idea what that was. “I guess B’verlt and Old Earth must be very different. If you start with that, the rest may begin to make sense.”

“‘Sense?’” a playfully chiding voice chirped. “Don’t listen to him. Nothing makes sense!”

They tensed. A frail boy approached, topped by a large ball of thick, kinky red hair that hid his face. He pushed back a handful of it to reveal a wide grin and blue eyes made absurdly large by his enormous glasses. About Will’s age, his badge, like Cobee’s, read “APPRENTICE.”

“Oh, hi Sully,” Cobee said, relaxing.

With another push, Sully got his hair-flop to stay out of his face, and he carefully wiped his glasses clean with a felt cloth before extending a hand to Will and the girls.

“Sully Spinoza,” he said.

“This is Will,” Cobee said as they shook, “and his sisters.”

He coughed loudly to drown out Angelica’s attempt to state that Giselle was her first cousin.

“They’re our new boarders,” he added, stepping in front of her.

“Gaaf,” Sully said.
Cool
. “First time to the Museum?”

“Yeah,” Will said. “It’s really big.”

Sully grinned. “No kidding. Stick with Cobee, or you’ll get lost. And when I say lost, I really mean it. We find skeletons of people who starved to death, they were so lost.”

“On his first day,” Cobee laughed, “Sully got so turned around that he had to spend the night here. The next morning Donell organized search parties, and we found him around lunchtime, up in a condenser room.”

“Where there was clean water.” Sully’s tone of voice made it sound so sensible. “At least I wasn’t thirsty.”

“You were hungry enough to eat a groat klonk.”

“It was that or my boots, and I think the shoe leather would have done less harm to my teeth.”

“Groat klonk?” Will wanted to ask, but couldn’t get the question out in time, as Sully kept talking.

“Well, I’ve got to get this part to Mildred,” he said, tapping a bronze gear in his hand, “or we’ll be up to our armpits in digested hay. See you at Steemball?”

“Sure,” Cobee said. “See you there.”

Pressing his falling hair-flop back up, Sully gave a little wave and wandered off down the corridor.

“You can trust him,” Cobee whispered once he was gone, “or any Spinoza, for that matter. His grandfather worked at Beverkenfort and was killed by Shadovecht.”

His tone darkened, and Will realized that there’d been no mentioning of Cobee’s parents. He wondered if they were killed by Shadovecht, too, but it seemed too sensitive a subject to bring up.

“If so many people have been harmed by Rasmussens,” Giselle asked, “why don’t people rise up against them? Are they really that powerful?”

Cobee shrugged but seemed to admit a reluctant yes.

“What’s a Steemball?” Angelica said, steering the conversation to something more pleasant. She was getting tired of all this Rasmussen stuff.

“Oh,” Cobee said, his face brightening, “we’re all crazy about it. In fact, there’s a big tournament next week to see who gets to represent the city. There’s so much to show you, but first we should find that room.”

He led them through a maze of largely unmarked and poorly lit hallways. Soon, they lost all sense of direction, except for Will, who knew the way back to the main door but had no idea where they were going.

“And who would this be, Ren-stink?” a voice challenged.

Coming from a darkened side corridor, it caught the Steemjammer kids by surprise. Something about the snide English accent seemed familiar, and when a face emerged from the shadows, Will had to stifle a gasp. It was the boy they’d seen in the junk room,
Bram
.

Chapter
15

close encounters

“I asked you a question, Ren-stink,” the white forelocked youth pressed nastily. “What’s the matter? Afraid of the dark, or are you too stupid to answer?”

A little taller than Will, Bram eyed them critically. Even in the poor light they could tell his clothing wasn’t homespun. It looked expensive and tailor-made, especially the exotic black leather coat. A “YOUTH VOLUNTEER” button was pinned upside down on his lapel, and something about his haughty bearing made Will think of male models he’d seen on glossy magazine covers on Old Earth.

Like before, it was the streak of bone-white hair at the top of his forehead that really stood out. Will remembered his mother jumping with fright upon seeing a man with a forelock in Bellevue. Settling down, she’d whispered to young Will that he should never trust a person with such hair, but she’d never told him why.

Reeling from the insult, Cobee growled: “That’s Ren-
sink
. Cobee Rensink.”

“Yes, of course,” Bram droned, his aloof tone dripping with sarcasm. “At least now I can remember it: a sink where one
rin
-ses away the
stink
.”

He smirked, trying to provoke Cobee.

“This is Brat,” Cobee sneered, keeping his cool. “Brat Rasmussen.”

Will, Angelica and Giselle froze with concern, trying to process what this meant. A
Rasmussen
, here in the Steem Museum? The haughty youth forced a laugh.

“‘Brat?’” he mocked. “That’s priceless. Really. Bet you stayed up all night to think of that.” He faced the others and grinned disarmingly. “Bram Rasmussen, at your service.”

He said this last part to Giselle, smiling at her a little too warmly, hoping it would irritate Cobee. The Steemjammer kids were quite startled, having come upon a Rasmussen so suddenly.

“Giselle Steemjammer,” she blurted automatically.

“What?” Bram gasped, caught off guard.

“Aha!”

Eyes flaring open, the young Rasmussen took an instinctive step back. Will felt paralyzed.

“What do you mean by that?” Bram asked her.

Giselle was horrified by what she’d said, but she recovered quickly, laughing nervously. She realized that if the Steem Museum was somehow controlled by her family, it made no sense for one of the enemy to be here.

“Well, if you’re a Rasmussen,” she said, “then I must be a Steemjammer,”

“I’m really Bram Rasmussen,” he insisted.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be absurd.”

Lurking in a shadow about ten feet behind Bram, but watching them closely, stood a tall and muscular man with a totally bald, shaved head, black sideburns and beady eyes. He wore a dark gray leather coat with some odd bulges that Will assumed were weapons. He seemed to be Bram’s bodyguard and looked dangerous.

“The forelock,” Bram said, stepping closer and pointing to the streak of white above his forehead. “Only Rasmussens have these.”

“You’re not joking?” Giselle said, moving back a little. “Oh, I feel silly then.”

“She’s Giselle Stevens,” Cobee intervened, “when she isn’t joking around.”

Bram nodded his head in a slight bow. “Nice to meet you, Giselle
Stevens
.”

He pronounced “Stevens” a little too carefully. Did he believe her, Will wondered? Furthermore, how had Cobee been able to mislead him like that?

“I’m Will,” he said, offering a hand and then, to his horror, adding: “Steemjammer.” A nervous laugh escaped him, and Bram twisted his face in confusion.

“Hey!” Cobee piped, kicking his shin. “That’s not funny!”

Out of Bram’s view, Angelica pressed her hands firmly over her mouth.

“Quite right,” Will said truthfully, shaking Bram’s hand. The boy’s grip felt firm but cold. He wondered why he wasn’t able to say he was a Stevens. All he could add was: “I guess it wasn’t funny at all.”

“He goes by Will Stevens,” Cobee said, somehow keeping his voice calm, “when he isn’t trying to get himself killed. This is his other his sister, Angelica.”

Will guessed she was so stunned to come face-to-face with a Rasmussen that she couldn’t think clearly, or she would have tried correcting him. It was technically true that people called them Stevens, but it was also very misleading. He forced his mind to stay calm and focused on the limited truth of the statement. The bodyguard, he had no doubt, could kill them all if ordered to do so.

“A family of comedians,” Bram said icily, eying their badges and then grinning whimsically. “Youth volunteers, eh? I suppose that sawed-off, haggis-breathed runt has sent you out on some momentous task, perhaps shoveling coal or scrubbing a filthy pipe valve.”

“Lay off,” Cobee snarled. “Donell’s a great man.”

“You mean
half
-man, don’t you?”

Bram cackled. Cobee balled up his fist and stepped forward, but the large man came up out of the shadows and fixed him with a chilling gaze.

“Let’s have none o’ that,” he said firmly with a thick English accent.

Cobee had no choice but to back down, while Bram, who seemed to drink up each moment, turned to Giselle. “Cobee’s angry because he can’t remember his left foot from his right in a Steemsuit. I’ve flattened him four times in a row in the arena.”

“By cheating!” Cobee growled.

“It’s called
skill
, Ren-stink. Not that you’d recognize it.” He made as if to leave, shifting his gaze to Giselle. “It’s been a pleasure.”

His eyes lingered on her a little too long, which made them all uncomfortable.

“You, too,” he added, glancing at Will and Angelica.

Will almost chose to ignore him but decided it was best to be civil. He nodded farewell at the dark-haired youth with the white forelock.

“I have to go tighten a belt drive,” Bram quipped, “or risk having that braying dwarf blow a gasket.”

He went off down a dark hallway, followed by his hulking bodyguard, who cast a wary eye at them before vanishing around a corner. When they were gone, Angelica heaved a sigh of relief.

“I really hate him,” Cobee muttered and turned to Giselle and Will. “Why’d you say that?”

“I don’t know,” Giselle confessed bluntly, frustrated. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Don’t feel bad, because I blew it, too,” Will said. He turned to his second cousin appreciatively. “I don’t know how you saved us, Cobee, but I think you fooled him.”

“But you’re not fooling me!” a chillingly stern voice growled behind them.

***

“Do you have any idea who that young man was?” a severe female voice said from the shadows in the hallway.

Will, Angelica, Giselle and Cobee spun with fright. A tall woman in a leather skirt and white blouse stepped into the light. With sky-blue eyes made enormous by thick-lensed, steel-framed glasses, wavy light-brown hair that stuck out in random directions, and a slightly bulbous (but still pretty) nose, they immediately saw a family resemblance.

“Tante Stefana?” Will guessed.

“So it’s true!” their aunt gasped, lowering her voice. “You’re Henry and Deet’s children?”

They nodded.

“What on B’verlt are you doing here?” she wanted to scream but forced her voice down to a near-whisper. “Why are you using your real names?”

“We didn’t, Tante Stefana,” Cobee said innocently. “I told everyone they’re the Stevens kids.”

“No, they said ‘Steemjammer’ just now, and you’re using your real first names! Didn’t anyone stop to think that Will, Angelica and Giselle
Stevens
would look awfully suspicious? Hm?”

Sheepish looks spread from face to face. Though their pictures weren’t on the Rasmussen wanted posters, their names were. Of course, they should have thought of that.

“We have to hope,” Stefana Steemjammer said in a calculating voice, “that Bram will forget what he heard. Fortunately we can trust Mr. Ogilvy. When he realized what your names meant, he came straight to me.”

“Is he a Steemjammer?” Will asked.

“No, but Clan Ogilvy is firmly on our side and has suffered greatly from Rasmussen mischief. Your mother’s related to them.”

“Is everyone here related?” Angelica asked.

“Possibly. Family connections are very important.”

She glanced around to be sure no one else was nearby.

“I want answers,” she demanded. “Who sent you here? Hendrelmus?”

“No,” Will said, starting to explain but hesitating.

“Well?”

“Tante Stefana, until today, we didn’t even know you existed. Is it true you married a Rasmussen?”

She glanced away with a pained expression. “So, it’s going to be like that? What do you know?”

“Almost nothing,” Giselle said. “They didn’t even tell us about Beverkenverlt.”

“I see. So you feel an explanation’s in order?”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Will said.

She studied him, framing her thoughts and relaxing a bit. “I suppose you should hear it from me, so at least you’ll know the truth. Twelve years ago I married Ton Rasmussen. I was only 19, and he was 21. Neither family, as you may well guess, approved. During the assault on Beverkenfort, I was in New London, and things got really bad.

“Even if I’d been able to reach a verltgaat and escape, I wouldn’t have. A Steemjammer discovered this verlt, and I determined at least one would stay. Ton was pressured by his cousin, Zander, to hand me over, but he refused and lost great standing in his family for it. He urged me to hide. Instead, I came here.

“This museum was founded by our ancestors, and the charter says a Steemjammer must be Head Curator. Seeing as how the Rasmussens had just killed the previous one, my father, the position needed filling.”

“That’s you?” Giselle asked. “You’re Head Curator?”

“Yes. Ton and I decided our marriage should end. I took back my maiden name, Steemjammer, and I’ve been here ever since.”

“They haven’t come for you?”

“Oh, they’ve tried, but we’re not completely helpless. New Amsterdam has yet to turn against the Steemjammer name, though other parts of Beverkenverlt have.”

“Like the English?” Angelica asked. “I noticed Bram has an accent.”

“As do you, leef, and a very strange one. But no, the English aren’t on their side, though a few have been bullied into helping them. The Rasmussens are Dutch or possibly Danish in origin, but they located their main base, the Shadoverks, in Britannia. They tend to pick up English accents from living there.

“If you’re with Cobee, I assume you’ve met your Tante Klazee. Does she know you’re here?”

“She sent us to you,” Will said, starting to feel better. “She said it was all right, that you were still a Steemjammer, no matter what.”

Lightning seemed to flash in Stefana’s eyes. “How generous of her!” She calmed herself. “Of course it’s all right for you to come to me. I married Ton when I was young. That doesn’t mean I became a Rasmussen or believe what they stand for, which I don’t. But I also question some of the things we believe.

“This is neither the time nor place to discuss that. You’re in serious danger. Why are you here?”

“We’re looking for our parents,” Will said, briefly explaining their disappearances and Marteenus’ letter.

Her eyebrows arched like drawn bows. “You opened a verltgaat? But you’re just kinter!”

“We’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” Angelica said. “Do you know where our father is?”

“No.”

The little girl looked crestfallen, prompting Stefana to soften her voice.

“I saw him briefly last week,” she said.

“Did he stay here or go back?”

“I think he went back.”

“Could the ….” Anxious, she was unable to finish.

“The what, leef? Please, relax.”

Angelica’s voice dropped to a bare whisper. “Could those bad people have caught him?”

“The Rasmussens? I highly doubt it. If they captured your father, I can’t imagine them keeping it quiet. He’s very resourceful, and wherever he is, I’m quite sure he’s safe.

“Now, how did you open a world hole? Henry told me you knew nothing of such things.”

Angelica nodded at Will. “He figured it out.”

“With no training?” Stefana narrowed her eyes, reassessing Will. “You’ve got your father’s steem, young man, I’ll give you that.”

He got the sense that she was a highly intelligent and serious woman who didn’t give compliments easily. Her words thrilled him, but, remembering their situation, he tried not to let it show. She took a moment to gather her thoughts.

“You must return to Old Earth,” she said, “the sooner the better. If our enemy gets hold of you, the consequences would be unthinkable.”

A wave of irritation struck Will. Everyone here seemed scared and unwilling to explain things clearly, and he didn’t feel like taking it anymore.