They searched the hold for nearly an hour, finding several more lanterns and the oil the sivak told them about. They filled all the ones they carried, but decided to light only one at a time—to preserve the oil as best they could.
There was nothing else of value on the cog, and Ragh gave Dhamon an I-told-you-so look. There were plenty of bones, and barrels that contained foodstuff so petrified they looked like odd-colored rocks. There must have been two hundred skeletons in the deep-bellied ship, Dhamon guessed by eyeballing the skulls, and all of them in pieces next to ankle chains affixed to beams and columns.
“A slave ship for certain,” Dhamon said with a grim shake of his head. “I didn’t know pirates trafficked in human cargo.”
“At least their slavers died with them,” Ragh said.
Dhamon and the others were quick to explore the ship’s other two decks, finding a dozen more skeletons. There were only a few trinkets worth taking, a gold chain here, a jeweled brooch, a few buttons and belt buckles. Perhaps the cog’s wealth had been the slaves, and the captain didn’t have time to sell them before the Cataclysm struck. Or perhaps someone had already found their way down here, decades ago, and looted everything.
The only sounds were the ones they themselves made, moving crates and chests, clinking metal objects against each other, wood snapping here and there beneath their weight, their muted conversations. When they stopped and stood still, the eeriness of the place settled in. Quiet as a tomb, Dhamon thought. Indeed it was one, one vast tomb. It felt surprisingly dry, though the air had a strong staleness to it. Until they got used to breathing the underground air, they all returned to stand beneath the hole and gulp in the warmer fresh air that slowly spilled in. Maldred selected the next craft to explore, this one a three-masted sohar with a hint of once-sleek lines, despite the broken timbers that were jutting away from it. The ship was nearly ninety feet long, and the sides had been painted green, but only chips of the color remained, giving the hull the appearance of dried fish scales. There was a gaping hole near the bow, where something had struck her.
“Bring the light, Riki,” Maldred called. “I can hardly see anything.” He made sure everyone was following before he slipped inside the rent in the hold.
It took more than a day to thoroughly search the first few ships, and Dhamon guessed the sun was rising again, judging by the light filtering in from the hole above. They had been moderately successful in his search of the sohar and of one caravel, finding a small but heavy chest filled with gold coins—not the steel pieces that had been used as currency in most of Ansalon for at least the past two dozen decades. These were thin and round, with holes in the center. On one side were raised stalks of wheat, on the other was writing none of them could decipher.
“Very old,” Maldred simply pronounced. “Valuable for their age if not for their metal.”
Too, there was a cask filled with rare spices that had somehow weathered the passage of time. The big thief claimed this—he intended to hire a cook who would use it to expertly prepare his meals. Varek and Rikali found a small hammered silver box filled with tiny emeralds, and Dhamon suspected the half-elf had found more and had filled her pockets with other things. Varek gathered quite a few old maps that had been rendered on cloth, certain that a collector would pay good coin for the antiquities.
Ragh dutifully followed them everywhere, lifting things that were pointed to or thrust upon him and gathering all of the recovered goods in a pile. They didn’t intend to take everything up to the surface, just the choicest items, and the most valuable. Maldred said he could seal the entrance and they could always come back for more.
There were delicate ceramic rose vases that had been protected in a thickly padded crate, some of them practically as thin as parchment. The half-elf had pronounced them “sellable.” There were miniature game pieces carved of jade, depicting dragons and knights, a sextant inlaid with pearls, ivory belt buckles, vials of perfume, a few captain’s logs that Maldred favored, a pair of bejeweled tankards, daggers with jade handles, and more.
By now two dozen lanterns illuminated the growing treasure, lit from flasks and small barrels of oil they’d found on another cog. From the looks of it they wouldn’t have to worry about not having enough light to search by. The problem would be how to haul their find. It was midway through the fourth day when Dhamon disappeared into the sohar’s hold on the pretense of looking for a crate. Maldred followed to find his friend curled up in the dark, teeth bared and hand pressed against his thigh.
Maldred said nothing, standing watch until the episode passed. “The map led us to Riki and to this treasure. It will lead us to the healer,” he reassured his friend. Dhamon’s hair was plastered against the sides of his head from sweat, and his fingers fumbled as he tried to count the growing number of smaller scales on his leg. “You said she was expensive, Mal.”
“The emeralds should please her.”
“Maybe.”
The big thief extended a hand to help Dhamon up. “There’s still a good bit of cavern to search and a ship we’ve not explored.”
“Aye, perhaps we’ll find something grand yet.”
When they emerged from the ship they saw Varek and Rikali curled up on a bed of the blankets. The sivak was sleeping soundly nearby. They hadn’t ever seen him sleep much, but they’d been working him hard these past few days.
“Surprised he’s still with us,” Maldred mused. He yawned and looked for an inviting stretch of dirt to lay on.
“He probably has nothing better to do,” Dhamon said. “Get some sleep, Mal. You need it.”
“And you? I don’t think you’ve slept in two days.”
“I’m not tired. See that small cargo ship? The one we haven’t touched?” Dhamon pointed to the back of the cavern. “I’ll rest when I’m done there. There’s a tunnel back there, too. Perhaps it leads to something.” Maybe to something more than we’ve found, Dhamon added to himself. Maldred looked as if he intended to argue with Dhamon, but he thought better of it and settled down on his back. He was sound asleep before Dhamon was halfway to the ship. Dhamon wasn’t tired, despite not sleeping much in the past few days. He actually felt invigorated, though he told himself this was nervous energy over their find. He made his way toward the back of the cavern, then climbed onto the cargo ship’s deck. Letters on the bow were so faded he had to concentrate to read them. ABR__’S T_MP_ST, was all he was able to make out. He quickly headed toward an open hatch and found his way down to the crew’s quarters. The galley was filled with skeletons and a petrified banquet scattered across the table and the floor—made eerie by the soft lantern light that played across the scene. It was as if the men had gathered for one last meal and hadn’t been able to finish before all hell broke loose—and the gods taking revenge on the Kingpriest. Plates and goblets were strewn everywhere, benches were overturned, but there was a great silver platter still in the middle of the table. Some of the skeletons had rings and neck-chains amidst their bones, and Dhamon passed over these, perhaps not wanting to disturb any spirits who clung to the dead. Probably Riki would snap up the trinkets tomorrow anyway. He moved toward a cargo hold only half-full, and this with crated bolts of silk that were too riddled with insect holes to be of any value. At one time, they would have fetched a high price in practically any port town in Ansalon. Now they shredded like cobwebs when he touched them. He spent longer than he intended in the crew quarters, searching through rotted sea chests that contained clothes, jugs, personal mementos, and a few musical instruments. He left all of these behind and found his way to the captain’s cabin.