Keith Decandido: Under the Crimson Sun

Nodding, Vas regarded the map again. “I can give you ten gold for this.”

The thri-kreen let out a burst of clicks, with some spitting thrown in for good measure. Vas wouldn’t need Cristophe to translate that . “Sebowkan the Elder’s treasure,” she finally said in Common, “is reputed to be six thousand gold. That’s real gold, not ceramic that claims to be gold. At the very least, I deserve twenty percent of that.”

Vas had been afraid she’d ask for the full six thousand, at first. Or even more, since six thousand in metal gold was actually worth more than the equivalent in ceramic coins. “Twelve hundred gold? For a piece of parchment that I don’t even know is real?”

“Oh, it is real,” Cristophe said in as excited a voice as Vas had ever heard him use. “Or, rather, at the very least, it’s from the time period in question. You see, during the Green Age, most of the parchments that were created in the region near the Ringing Mountains had an impurity. If you look closely, you can see it.”

Cristophe was pointing a bony finger at the upper portion of the map. Peering at it, Vas saw that there was an odd marking in it that didn’t match up with the rest of the map. Holding the map up toward the sunlight, he saw that it was in the parchment itself.

Handing the map back to Cristophe, he said, “So that dates it to the right period?”

“Absolutely. And that treasure was never found. If nothing else, this is a valuable piece of history.”

Vas snorted. “Of what use is history, old man? It’s the treasure that interests me.” Looking at the thri-kreen, he said, “I’ll give you five hundred for it.”

“Eleven hundred is a very fair price, given the reward.” Now Tricht’tha had folded her upper and middle pincers together in a defiant gesture.

Karalith was staring at the thri-kreen in something like amazement. “Are you brain-baked, Tricht’tha? You’ve never even seen five hundred gold in your life. Take it and have done with it.”

Tricht’tha seemed to bridle at that. “I think that at the very least I should get a thousand gold.”

Vas had been hoping she’d go for something closer to seven-fifty. Raising any more than that would widen eyes all across Belrik Hakran stables. But even if he paid the thousand, and then another couple of hundred for everything he’d need, he’d come out ahead once the six-thousand-gold treasure was located.

In truth, just being able to get away from the chaos-both the larger chaos of Raam and the at-home lunacy of Tova-for several months was probably worth paying upwards of fifteen hundred gold.

“All right,” he finally said, “a thousand. Let’s arrange to meet back here at sunrise tomorrow.”

Again, the thri-kreen bristled. “Why the delay?”

Vas laughed, but it was Karalith who responded. “Honestly, Tricht’tha, do you think that a fine gentleman such as Vizier Belrik would carry around that much coin with him?”

“With all respect to the fine wares of the Serthlara Emporium,” Vas said with a quick bow toward Karalith, “there isn’t anything here, generally, that is worth a thousand gold.”

“Generally.” Tricht’tha emphasized the word heavily. She also all but yanked the map out of Cristophe’s surprised hands. “I will, of course, hold onto this until we meet tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Vas turned to Karalith. “And I’ll also take thirty feet of the linen.”

“Excellent.” Karalith favored him with her brightest smile-though again, no teeth.

“Also,” Vas added, “an invitation to dine with me after I purchase the map tomorrow morning.”

Karalith lowered her gaze slightly. “I have obligations, Vizier Belrik. While I am flattered, I doubt that my parents would be overjoyed at my shirking my responsibility to the emporium to indulge myself with you.”

Somehow, Vas managed not to comment on how much indulgence he wanted. In truth, he was hoping that she would agree to come with him on his treasure hunt. She had said that it might be great fun, so maybe-just maybe-he could convince her to take a leave of absence from her family business to aid him in his hunt. He might even give her a small percentage of the treasure, which she could give to Serthlara. A finder’s fee.

But that was for tomorrow. For tonight, he needed to convince the accountants that he needed a thousand gold ceramic coins.

It would be difficult, and a massive risk.

That was secondary, though, to the fact that it would be an adventure-exactly what he’d been hoping for.

He’d just have to endure a great deal of Tova’s yelling tonight.

The jerky tasted like ashes in Fehrd Anspah’s mouth. Gamely, he chewed on it anyway. He had little choice. The salt and protein were necessary for when they started walking again. The midday sun was beating down on their white canvas tent. It would be at least another hour before the sun came away from its zenith and the Great Alluvial Sand Wastes would be passable again. Only a fool traveled the Alluvial at midday, and Fehrd and his friends never considered themselves to be fools.

Of course, plenty of other people had different opinions.

“Hurry up,” Gan Storvis said. “I want to get moving.” He was fidgeting, constantly adjusting the silk patch that covered the hole where his left eye used to be. Had the tent more space, Fehrd suspected that Gan would have been pacing, but there was barely room for the three of them to sit in the thing, especially with the layers of wrapped linen that protected them from the elements bulking them all up.

Fehrd blinked. “Are you out of your mind? We can’t go out there for at least-”

“It’s not that bad.”

Throwing up his hands, Fehrd said, “Fine, go ahead, burn to a crisp. I’m gonna stay here in the tent.”

Gan started gesticulating wildly with his jerky, to the point that Fehrd was sure that he’d throw it against the tent flap-which would be a waste of perfectly mediocre jerky, in Fehrd’s opinion. “We’ve already lost a day because of that sandstorm yesterday. At this rate, we’ll never make it to Raam in time to meet up with Feena and the others.”

With a sardonic smile, Fehrd said, “Well, if we had mounts , we might make better time.”

Pointing an accusatory finger, Gan said, “That was not my fault.”

“Really?” Fehrd chewed on the last of his jerky and then folded his arms over his barrel chest. “How is losing our crodlus in a card game not your fault, exactly?”

“I was cheated!”

Fehrd rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.” He looked over at the third member of their party. “Rol, you want to chime in on this?”

Rol Mandred looked up from his canteen and stared as if he’d never seen Fehrd or Gan before. “Hmm? I agree with both of you.”

“We don’t agree!” Gan cried.

Shrugging, Rol said, “Fine, then I don’t agree with either of you.”

Gan leaned forward. “Do you think we should head out now?”

“Are you out of your mind? It’s hot out there.”

Unable to help himself, Fehrd burst out laughing.

“Look,” Gan said, pointedly ignoring Fehrd’s outburst, “we’re only about two hours’ hike from the Great Road. I just want to get on that. The sand will be easier to walk through there, and we might come across some other travelers.”

Fehrd sighed. Gan’s points were well taken. They had been moving generally northward through the wastes, but not on any major thoroughfare. Today, though, was the day they would reach the Great Road. It would lead them to Dragon’s Bowl Road, which would take them northeast to Raam. The Great Road itself continued northward to Urik.