You tried to kill me.
I thought you were a ghost. He took another step forward, wild eyes on Palmers dive light. Give me my knife back, he said, baring bloody teeth. I found that. Found it in your boot. In my boots.
The man screamed and lunged, a bloodthirsty cry, naked limbs all bone and sinew, a mad and desperate creature in the red throb of Palmers flickering, dying light. The two men crashed together. A clatter as metal fell to tile, a single coin spilling out of the gash in Palmers suit, a sound two scroungers knew well, the price of one life saved and another taken as bare flesh impaled itself on a dive knife and a belly opened like a purse, a cost far graver than coin spilling to the floor.
23 Missing Treasure
But confirming a legend may have heightened its allure without any promise of bounty in return. Damien had warned them that no one knew exactly where the city was, only that a couple of divers were said to have found it. Some brigand had flapped his inebriated gums in a crowded bar, claimed to have been there to witness the discovery, and now that same brigand was said to be dead. It had sounded to Vic like the sort of unsubstantiated nonsense that scavengers and conspiracy theorists were drawn to. And even as she and Marco pulled into the marina and began to voice doubts about the veracity of these Danvar claims, other sarfers were flying out in all directions at once. They could hear rumors being shouted from one deck to the other over the whistling winds, each diver seizing on the location that made the most sense to them. It was clear from the chaos around the marina that no one knew where Danvar was, but that wasnt going to stop anyone from being there when it was uncovered. It was madness. Vic was about to tell Marco this, when he voiced madness of his own.
So where should we start? he asked.
Vic moved to the foot of the mast and helped him flake the sail against the boom. What do you mean start? she asked. You dont believe this nonsense, do you? She lashed the sail to the boom and saw that Marco was
tying slip knots while she was using reefs. As if he planned on heading right back out and she was looking to stay.
Its probably a load of shit, but what if? Youd rather sit here and miss the find of the century?
No, Id rather sit here than chase my tail around the thousand dunes. If there was a find of the century, Id go. But we both know there isnt. She rolled her eyes as Marco undid one of her reef knots and looped in a slip. You do whatever. Ive been up and diving since four while youve been napping in your sarfer. Im gonna shake the sand out of these clothes, see whats in this other case, and then get some sleep.
Marco looked hurt.
If you find Danvar, she added, come and wake me.
Well, I need to run to my place and grab my tanks. But yeah, Ill catch you later. He leaned over the boom for a kiss, and Vic obliged.
Later, she said. She hopped down to the sand, her knee still a little sore, and slung her gear bag over her shoulder. She grabbed the two cases from the sarfers haul rack and extended the handles. Dragging them to her house on those small and useless wheels, she cursed the madness the old worlds allure made in men. The promise of buried treasure warped their minds. Vic liked to think she was more rational than that.
But of course, her mind was prone to dreams of sudden riches too. And she had her own guesses about the location of Danvar. She wasnt immune to the idea of seeing a city untouched by time and scavenge. Even with the craziness around her, the hysteria, the fun she might poke at Marco and these people off their rockers, she knew her own rocker was prone to tipping, too. It tipped right back, that feeling of vertigo as some momentous event loomed underfoot, until she was the one asking herself: What if its real? What if?
But only a fool runs around shouting A find! A find! when they havent seen it in their own visor. Right? She tried to convince herself. Because the greater fool sits in a bar alone, nursing a warm beer, while hauls of coin start coming into town and the stories that will one day be legend fill the pub. Its a fool either way, so its all about cost. Which fool would she more loathe to be?
She dragged her two bags across the sand. It was early morning, but so many people were out and about. Divers who wouldve normally asked where shed found the cases rushed right by in a hurry. Shopkeeps who wouldve begged her to come pop those latches on their counters were too busy haggling over the rising price of a fuel cell or the use of a generator or the purchase of a haul net. Vic slid through the throngs to her house. She set the cases down outside her shack and fumbled in her pocket for the key. Out of habit, she tapped her toes on the kickplate along the bottom of the door to knock the scrum from her boots loose. The gentle raps caused the door to swing open, hinges squealing. Vic pulled her hand out of her pocket. She was damn sure shed latched it when shed left.