“Is there a ladder?”
“Not down here.”
He spun around and saw one leaning on the second floor of one of the houses, propped against the roof. Ben walked over and stood at the doorway of the empty house, pausing to listen for any traces of occupation. There was nothing, so he went inside.
Flicking on the flashlight he’d pocketed, he could see it was definitely empty. Dust and a few broken pieces of furniture were all that was left. He made his way up the stairs, a few bits of straw and mud falling as he climbed.
Maybe it was being raised in earthquake-prone California, but Ben shuddered at the thought of living there. The whole place felt like it was about to crumble. He found his way to the walkway that ran around the outside of the second story and found the ladder, carefully lowering it into Tenzin’s waiting hands in the courtyard below.
“You go get the crates,” he whispered. “I’ll start sorting.”
She nodded and took off into the night, the dark flap of her black tunic sounding more like a night bird than a person. She kept to the shadows, hopping along the roofs of the houses until she was out of sight.
Ben climbed back down to the courtyard, relieved that the ladder seemed to hold his weight, then he lowered the thing into the cistern and took a deep breath.
“Please no rats,” he whispered. “Or snakes.”
Holy shit.
He’d watched movies. Seen some pretty amazing museum exhibits. But nothing really compared to holding a really large bar of pure gold in your hand.
Holy shit.
It was heavier than he’d expected. Really heavy. The small bars were nothing like the bullion he’d seen pictures of at Fort Knox. No, these were closer to the size of a deck of cards, with just a little more length. There was a symbol he couldn’t read pressed into them and pieces had been sliced or chopped off here and there, so they were far from uniform.
Still, that much gold in one place… And this was only one of her caches.
The gold bars were stored in small wooden boxes that had been crumbled by the inevitable passing of years. Silks, old tapestries, and carpets were piled on top of the boxes, but most of those were molded or moth-eaten. He removed them carefully, placing them in one corner of the small room half the size of his walk-in closet at home. There were a few pieces Tenzin might want to save. Other than that, there were two boxes of remarkably intact porcelain packed in moldy straw, one box that looked like it contained idols of different kinds, and another small box he’d saved for last.
“Oh yeah,” he whispered, guessing the small chest was where Tenzin had placed the jewelry she’d mentioned. It was locked, so he took out the set of picks he always carried with him and eased the old latch open, touching the rusted joints with the oil he’d brought. “Come on…”
A click. A crack. And there it was. The lid swung up.
“Hello, beautiful.”
There was a jumble of gold chains and loose stones in the bottom of the box. He saw a ruby almost the size of his thumb. A twisted diadem of some kind. A gold and garnet crown. Earrings, most of them pressed and engraved gold. Chains and bracelets of every thickness and length were tangled in the bottom of the box.
And then there was the necklace.
It was a thick crescent of pure gold that would fit around a woman’s neck with a delicate series of chains hanging in back. Tiny twisting depictions of animals with hunters following them in chariots. Flowers and mythical figures he thought were probably griffins. He tried to date it, but he couldn’t. He’d have to look it up. It wasn’t Egyptian or Greek.
He was going to have to do a lot more reading if he was going to treasure hunt with Tenzin.
“Scythian,” came a whisper over his shoulder.
Ben spun to see Tenzin hovering over him with a grin. “You’re going to have to work on that. Anyone could have snuck in and knocked you over the head while you were mooning over that necklace. Don’t get gold-dumb.”
“Sorry.” He held the necklace up. “This one. This is the piece I want.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Just like that? You should ask me what the provenance is. Where I found it. Or stole it.”
“I don’t really care,” he admitted. “I want it.”
“As I said, it’s Scythian. Third or fourth century. Closer to fourth, I think. I found it in Russia.”
“Is it mine?”
She looked around the room. “As soon as we get these packed and out of here, yes. I’m assuming you want to keep it with the the rest of the treasure for now.”
Tenzin held out her hand and waited.
With effort, Ben held out the necklace, which was already warm from his hands.
“Don’t be greedy,” she whispered. “It’s been around for sixteen hundred years. It’s not going to disappear.”
He handed it over.
“You have very good taste, by the way,” Tenzin said. “This is one of the best pieces in this cache. If I were trading, I’d ask for at least two of these gold bars in exchange.”
“Why? It’s not half as heavy as one of the bars.”
“But the craftsmanship.” She trailed her fingers over a line of flowers that decorated the top loop of the crescent. “Keep this one. It’s a good piece. An auspicious start to your own collection. I took it in trade from a man I respected a great deal. I’ll tell you the story someday.” She put it back in the box, examining the open lock with a smile. “But not now. Let’s get to work. You climb up and I’ll hand you the pieces.”