XIII.

The sun was setting in the west by the time they pitched camp, and Hunnah's feet were sore. Keeping up with the human's longer stride was taxing work. It had been a taxing journey, come to that. Eighty miles to the borders of Zhanna Monastery's wardlands, where a second Imperial highway still formed the main trading route over the mountains, then a two-day stop at the settlement of Quains to buy tents, climbing kits, rope, anything Jothanial's dusty memories suggested they might need. Finally they had hiked into the Zarhast range. There had been an uncomfortable encounter with a wild boar, and then a tedious session with the local Beshtel chieftain for permission to cross his territory. Apart from that the journey had been entirely without incident. Hunnah was still wondering how she got here.

The taller peaks were actually still ahead of them. Jothanial had led them to one of the sources of the river Utha, the canyon of the same name. His route baffled Hunnah, but he refused to explain. Eight days of his antics had done nothing to allay her suspicions. If Jothanial knew about the treasure why hadn't he helped himself to it years ago? What he did know? Couldn't he plunder it? Status in Crowns Barren was given to a man with warriors. The wealth and power contained in the hoard would have bought many fighters, yet Kauld hadn't touched it.

A cache of Zenni items… the thought made her run hot, then cold. She didn't care about the treasure, but the artefacts… who knew what there might be? The Emperors had showered their favourite legions with magical gifts, gold and gems. An army's pay chest could strengthen the Order beyond challenge; the thought crept reluctantly through her head. She shook it off. A monk was supposed to intervene in the world only to enforce the Law and to protect the Order. To change the ways of their neighbours had to spring from a genuine request for learning. You couldn't force wisdom on someone. The boy was a case in point.

She couldn't follow Jothanial and inform the Order of his reappearance. She was well away from Two Pines and anyone who could run a message. She'd made her choice back at the campsite. Follow and watch. Perhaps it might be better if the hoard never came to light.

Sedge the blacksmith stopped beating the plough in front of him into shape and frowned. Tendrils of mist wafted underneath the thick wooden doors of the smithy. He glanced around his workshop, looking for what had disturbed his concentration. The smithy stood empty. All was as it should be. He scratched his head, irritated with himself. The weather was bad enough without his mind playing tricks on him.

The fog had come down suddenly this morning, far thicker then the usual morning mist in the valley. He'd had to shut the doors and leave the lamps on, as if it were night. A cold gust of wind brushed his skin as he picked up his hammer again. He glanced up. The damn door had swung open slightly. Mist curled around its edge with creeping green tendrils. He knew he should have looked at that old latch!

Sedge swore, angry now at having his work disturbed twice. He marched over to it in a fit of temper and slammed it shut. The door didn't shut. Jammed by something, it bounced back at him, and he leapt away as it juddered past him. He looked down to see what was blocking his door, and saw an arm. It lay limply on the floor, splattered with red and grey gore.

His hand fell away from the door, and it eased open. It was little Davis Sesh, the boy who passed him his tools, the back of his head split open by a sword. Sedge looked up from the body. Two bearded faces stared impassively back at him. He turned to run, racing for the hammer he'd set down only ten heart beats ago. The sword plunged cleanly through his back after two paces. He looked down and saw the point of it emerge obscenely from his chest. Giddily, part of him appreciated the quality of the workmanship. Then it was jerked roughly out of him, and he flopped wetly to the floor. He felt his blood pooling slowly under him. It was warm and sticky, but it didn't seem to matter much.

He was too sleepy…..
….
…
.

XIV.

"Don't use the rope," the gem said "You'll need it later."

Coin and Hunnah stood at the edge of the canyon and looked down at the small pebble beach a steep drop away. The tribute river ran narrow and deep here, squeezed between the two walls of rock. Coin glanced at Hunnah. She looked very small and frail to him suddenly.

"Will you be able to climb this?" he asked doubtfully.

She gave him a cool look back.

"I live here, remember?" she said.

Without further reply, she kicked off her sandals and hung them around her neck. She rubbed a little earth into her palms, took a deep breath, and started briskly down the rock face. Coin nodded at the air where she'd stood a breath ago.

"Okay," he murmured.

He knelt and cautiously studied the rocky lip. He was used to climbing the slimy stonework in Mitras; the descent didn't look too difficult. The rumble of the river disturbed him though. He flexed his hands nervously inside his gloves and began the climb.

It was heavy work with the pack, and the way down was treacherous. The rock crumbled under his grip and flaked off under his questing boots. Pebbles and loose soil rained down on his head, forcing him to blink often to clear his vision. He sought out the cracks in the face, places where the rock had been split by the roots of plants. Clinging to the cliffside, he ground his boots into the stone, testing his weight each time. Painfully, limb-by-limb, he edged down the canyon.

At last, he looked through his boots and dropped the last few feet to the beach below. Limbs tremulous and sweaty from the strain, he lay back on solid ground and closed his eyes blissfully. Soon though, his wind came back to him, and he sat up with a sigh. Hunnah was watching him worriedly, he saw.

"Are you all right?" she asked carefully "You took a long time getting down the cliff. I thought you might be in trouble once or twice."

Coin looked at her startled. "I'm fine," he said, "Just not used to climbing cliffs."

Hunnah nodded and began to remove her pack. Coin did the same, wondering why he felt so surprised. It stole over him slowly; it was the first time someone had been worried about him since Daeron died. It was a strange sensation, to almost have a connection with someone again. He was surprised at how much he missed it.

"Wake up boy! She's waiting for you, and I need your eyes to watch her and see our next step," the stone grated in his mind.

He got up obediently, but for the first time he felt more resentment towards the gem then the halfling. He was careful not to show it.

Hunnah was waiting for him down by the edge of the water, munching on an apple. She tossed another one gently to him, and he caught it one-handed and brought it to his mouth. It was hard and sour, but the juice felt wonderful on his dry throat. They stood there, eating their apples in silence, watching the water flow past the next point of their journey.

Ages ago, when the tributary river first cut through the rocks here, it had worn its passage through the chalky ground of the mountainside easily. But in this part of the canyon the water had met an obstacle, a spine of harder rock chance had put in its path. It forked around the obstacle instead, and continued its rush to the Utha. Gradually, the spine had been worn shorter and shorter, and thinner and thinner. Now only a tall pillar remained, rising out of the river like a great grass-topped tower.

"How can we get up that thing?" asked Hunnah, throwing her apple core into the river "It's too deep to wade, and this current will sweep us past in an eye blink. We've the packs to carry as well. There are no handholds to cling to. What do you want us to do, fly?"

"Look at the water," Jothanial told her "That stretch by the cleft rock there, where it catches the light. Tell me what you see."

Coin was the first to spot it.

"The water is sluggish there," he muttered "It doesn't flow past as easily as it should. Something blocks its path… it's shallower there!"

"When we were hiding up here, this was our escape route," Jothanial said "We floated stones down the river and piled them at the base of this pillar, under the water. Swim over to there, and you'll find the water only waist high. It was supposed to be a launching platform for our men to escape down the river if the hiding-place was ever discovered. There was a rope ladder at the top to climb down," he paused dreamily "Of course that will be long gone now, like all the rest."

Hunnah gave the stone a curious look, but it said nothing more. Coin didn't care about the old wizard's reminiscing. He was looking up at the sheer pinnacle of rock trying to ignore the gurgling in his stomach.

"You want us to climb that?" he asked "With no ropes, still soaking from the river?"

Whether you could hear a leer from a voice inside your mind or not, the gem delighted in its next words.

"I swore I'd show the way to Kang's Treasure. This is the safest way in that I know. Of course there could be others. Would you like to look?"

Coin swore he could hear Jothanial cackling to himself. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, rather like having echoes bouncing around in your skull.

"Fir's hairy balls! What on earth is up there that we need?"

"A tunnel," the stone informed him "Or rather, a drop. Kang parted the rock with his will here. He burrowed down underneath the river and up, up…" Jothanial trailed off.

"Into the old Imperial mines?" quizzed Hunnah, rummaging in her pack, "They've been searched plenty of times before. Nothing was ever found."

"No," snapped the gem "The Zenni never mined these slopes. Their mines were further up. In any case we never used them. Too many of the mining slaves went over to the Beshtel, and they knew the tunnels far better then us. We found a chain of caves underneath the mountain. An underground stream fed into the river here. We diverted its path down a new channel. Then we blocked off the old entrance with earth and stones. It made a perfect hiding place," he told them proudly.

Coin raised his eyebrows, impressed despite himself by what he was hearing. The monk simply carried on pulling things out of her pack, indifferent as usual to the stone's stories. Perhaps, he thought, she doesn't understand what she is hearing. People with no magic of their own often didn't realise how draining it was to use. You had to concentrate constantly, willing the power into the right focus, remembering every gesture and chant correctly. And every spell cast cost you in power and vitality, making the next one that much harder… He pushed the thoughts of Daeron's death out of his mind. Did he always have to keep coming back to that?

"Kang must have been a powerful priest," he said, "If he could make all this so quickly before the Beshtel scryers found him."

He thought he saw a small smile cross the lips of the halfling, by now munching on a generous slice of cheese. They'd stopped for lunch it seemed.

"It was all done almost without magic!" Jothanial said, "Zenni legionaries were paramount engineers. I doubt either of you could conceive of the sheer skill and organisation involved. Kang barely had to mutter a pray the whole time, except to deflect the scrying spells the Beshtel shamans tried. They weren't," he added disdainfully, "Very good ones."

The monk and the priest glanced at each other, but wisely said nothing. The monk rolled her eyes. Hunnah, Coin realised now, did know the dead wizard better then he did. It wasn't a very comfortable thought.

Jothanial seemed to sense they were tiring of the sound of his voice for he continued peevishly "Anyway, you climb up through the caves. Follow the stream after the first cave. What you're looking for is a pool, in the final cave, right at the top of the mountain. You'll find what you're after there."

"The treasure of Kang," breathed Coin. His fervour reinvigorated his tired body; it tingled with excitement in every limb. Hunnah, passing him another apple, was struck by the covetous expression on a face usually so impassive. Coin bit into the apple absently. He didn't thank her.

"Perhaps," she said smartly "We would be better actually to find this treasure of yours instead of just talking about it."

She stood up as she spoke, brushing crumbs off her robe. Coin looked up at her absently, his mind still on visions of heaped gold coins.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Where we are going," she corrected him, "Is the top of that pinnacle. Hurry up and finish your fruit. You can swim me across first, and then come back for the packs. It'll warm you up for the climb."

"What?" said Coin stupidly.

"I was brought up in the mountains, not on the coast," she said calmly "Swimming is not something I ever learnt."

Coin groaned.