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length of his hand, and was as wide as his hand with all the fingers fully spread. The box was covered with the images of birds and animals, flowers and vines, all etched into the silver. Each animal had turquoise stones for the eyes. Inlaid stones made up the petals of the flowers: red jasper, purple fluorite, lapis lazuli, while the lid of the box was adorned with the largest turquoise Gustav had ever seen. Veins of silver wove through it like cobweb. The box itself was a creation of beauty and wonder. The lid was hinged, held in place by a silver latch that could be opened with the flick of a finger. The latch was well-worn.Apparently the bahk had opened his treasure box many times to admire his possession.
    Gustav started to reach out his hand to touch the box. Of a sudden, he hesitated.
    â€œThis box is the final guardian,” he realized.
    The magic of the box was powerful. He could feel it vibrate. The box would kill any common thief who might have escaped the tomb’s other guardians.
    A thief such as himself. A thief such as he had been.
    Gustav had renounced that life years ago. He had lived every day since in remorse for his past sins. He had done what he could to atone for them. But what if none of that counted?
    The magic of the box was deadly. The magic would not hesitate to kill anyone it considered to be unworthy of claiming the blessed artifact.
    His hand trembled above the silver box and, suddenly, he smiled.
    â€œSo, Gustav,” he said, having from long years of traveling alone come into the habit of talking to himself, “you have spent forty years of your life searching for this and now you fear to touch it. How Adela would laugh, if she were here to see this. I must remember to tell her. If I survive…”
    His hand closed over the silver box.
    A tingle like chill water coursed through his body. That was all. Nothing more.
    Slowly, respectfully, he lifted the bahk’s huge head and carefully removed the ornate silver chain to which the box was attached from around the bahk’s enormous neck. Holding the box, he studied the latch, taking care not to break it. His fingers shook so that he was forced to make several tries, then at last the latch gave way. He opened the box and looked inside, stared in awe and in rapture, deep and profound.
    The Sovereign Stone was a triangular jewel with four sides, forming a wedge. Smooth, hard, cold as ice to the touch, without flaw, the crystal caught the light and fractured it, split it into a rainbow of color that dazzled the eye. According to the records left behind by King Tamaros of blessed memory, each piece of the stonelooked exactly like the others and when all four pieces came together, they formed a pyramid.
    Falling to his knees, Gustav prayed fervently to the gods.
    â€œThank you for granting me this. I will be faithful to my vow. My life, my soul be forfeit if I fail.” His voice was choked with emotion. Tears stood in his eyes.
    He spent long moments savoring the euphoria of his triumph, enraptured by the fulfillment of his life’s quest. He could not take his eyes from the Sovereign Stone. Never had he seen anything so remarkable, so radiant, so wondrous. Truly, he could believe that it was a gift of the gods. He imagined the face of King Tamaros smiling down on him, granting him his blessing.
    At length, Gustav sighed deeply and, with a final prayer, he replaced the Sovereign Stone back inside its silver box and closed the lid. He thrust the box inside the breastplate of his armor. He found he could not leave, however. He was drawn once more to look upon the bahk, the strange and unlikely guardian of the Sovereign Stone.
    How had the bahk come by the stone? That was a mystery of the gods, a mystery never likely to be solved. The Sovereign Stone had been kept secret and safe all these years. Perhaps it was Gustav’s imagination, but he thought the corpse of the bahk looked bereft, forlorn without its box. The spirit