Penkawr’s voice came in a reedy whisper from behind his shoulder. “It was here that I found the sword. There are other things around the room but I did not touch them.”
Carse had already glimpsed objects ranged around the walls of the great chamber, glittering vaguely through the gloom. He hooked the lamp to his belt and started to examine them.
Here was treasure, indeed! There were suits of mail of the finest workmanship, blazoned with patterns of unfamiliar jewels. There were strangely shaped helmets of unfamiliar glistening metals. A heavy thronelike chair of gold, subtly inlaid in dark metal, and had a big tawny gem burning in each armpost.
All these things, Carse knew, were incredibly ancient. They must come from the farthest part of Mars.
“Let us hurry!” Penkawr pleaded.
Carse relaxed and grinned at his own forgetfulness. The scholar in him had for the moment superseded the looter.
“We’ll take all we can carry of the smaller jeweled things,” he said. “This first haul alone will make us rich.”
“But you’ll be twice as rich as I,” Penkawr said sourly. “I could have got an Earthman in Barrakesh to sell these things for me for a half share only.”
Carse laughed. “You should have done so, Penkawr. When you ask for help from a noted specialist you have to pay high fees.”
His circuit of the chamber had brought him back to the altar. Now he saw that behind the altar lay a door. He went through it, Penkawr following reluctantly at his heels.