The Treasure in the Monkey's Fist

By Rik Hunik

It was a wonderful dream for a thief. There was gold everywhere, stacks of bars, piles of different-sized coins, and heaps of gold plates and goblets. There were rings, pendants, tiaras and crowns, all liberally encrusted with glittering gems. Diamonds and sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and every other color of precious stone, filled caskets, chests and bursting sacks. It was all there for the taking.

Zayn fell to his knees and plunged both hands deep into a chest of unset jewels. He lifted out two bulging fistfuls of wealth, then let all the stones trickle back, clicking like gravel as they fell into the chest or bounced onto the floor.

This was not a dream. Zayn raised his empty hands up to the heavens beyond the rock ceiling overhead and cursed the day he had first heard of the Treasure In The Monkey's Fist, a month ago, in the market square of the small city of Gazni.

The summer sun overhead baked the sand underfoot. Zayn sat in an alley with his back to the wall in a shrinking triangle of shade. His stomach rumbled, reminding him yet again that he had still not eaten today. If he got any thinner he could consider becoming a beggar, but something in him rebelled at the thought of sinking so low.

A pair of richly dressed men ambled past the mouth of the alley. One of them said, "I am going to get the Treasure In The Monkey's Fist." Zayn perked up at the mention of treasure.

"Thamar," said the other, "I think you are putting far too much stock in the drunken ramblings of that madman."

Zayn jumped up to follow them. He wasn't particularly good at picking pockets or
nipping purses, but he could follow a mark through a crowd without being spotted.

Thamar, the taller man, the one with the pointed, black beard, continued talking as he and his companion crossed the square. "Madman he may have been, but I am certain that his story is true. In the library I discovered several historical references to the Treasure In The Monkey's Fist. In some older texts, in a private collection, it was called the Monkey's Paw."

His chubby companion said, "That proves nothing at all."

"Perhaps not, but I have pinpointed the location, and it is only a few weeks travel from here." They stopped to let a donkey-drawn cart and a few camels go by.

Zayn picked up a melon from a nearby stall and pretended to examine it intently while he listened.

"What makes you think the treasure will still be there?"

"The drunken madman, as you refer to him, swore he saw the treasure with his own eyes less than a decade ago, and it was every bit as fabulous as legend says."

"If there is still treasure, there must be a good reason it's still there. Surely you must remember how the madman could not stop laughing when we asked him why he wasn't rich, and he said he took as much as he could carry and partied it all away. Then he asked us to buy him a drink."

"Are you going to buy that, punk?" The stall-keeper was glaring suspiciously at Zayn.

"No," Zayn said. He poked his thumb through the rind on the hidden side as he replaced it. "It's too ripe. I'll get a better one across the square." He turned away and caught up to Thamar and his friend.

Thamar was saying. "I already have a caravan at the north gate, outfitted and ready to go. Even if there is no treasure I will still make a profit on the trip."

Zayn shadowed them for a while longer, but they talked no more of treasure, so he let them go their own way. A few hours later he was outside the north gate. A couple of inquires directed him to Thamar's caravan. He told the foreman that Thamar had sent him here to be given a job. He was hired on as cook's helper and general errand boy.

It was Zayn's first job. He hated being told what to do, and he had to keep reminding himself of the treasure, but after several days he got used to regular meals and a warm place to sleep. The work became easier after he got used to it. He figured out what people wanted and how to do it all more efficiently. Soon he was earning respect and tips. Perhaps there was something to be said for honest work.

Zayn made himself useful wherever he could and he kept his ears wide open, but he heard no mention of any treasure.

When the caravan came to a town, the local merchants came out to deal, but in the evening Thamar always went into town alone. Zayn followed him and discovered he was trying to discreetly obtain information regarding the Monkey's Fist. From the glum expression on his face, Zayn gathered Thamar was not hearing what he wanted to hear. Zayn's own investigations came to nothing, as well.

Three weeks from Gazni they halted at yet another town. In the evening, as usual, Thamar headed into town. Zayn had work to do, so an hour passed before he could slip away.

He headed for the largest tavern. When he was almost there, someone bumped him. His hand snapped to his moneybag and fastened on a scrawny arm. He pulled hard, and the boy attached to the arm stumbled off balance. Zayn twisted the arm behind the boy's back and pushed his face against the wall of a nearby shop.

The lad squirmed violently, kicking and scratching, but Zayn could not be touched. He said, "You shouldn't try to steal from a thief, but I'm not going to turn you in, so just relax and you won't get hurt. I want to ask you a few questions."

The lad settled down, so Zayn released him and backed up a few paces. The kid turned around, his eyes darting left and right, plotting avenues of escape. "So ask."

Zayn came right out with it. "What do you know about the Monkey's Fist?"

The kid laughed. "It's a mountain several miles north of the next town. People there can tell you how to get to it. There's supposed to be a big treasure there. If you go to the Monkey's Fist Tavern,they will be happy to tell you all about it." He spun suddenly and dashed away to the left.

Zayn let him go and returned to the caravan. Thamar's big secret wasn't so secret now that they were nearing the actual place. What kind of treasure would there be if it was no secret?