The Cartograher's Treason

The eunuch was staring at the velvet satchel lying in the dirt forty yards away. Inside that satchel was the Eye of the Peacock. The map to Aurangzeb's vault might be useless now, but the emerald itself was worth a kingdom. It was the culmination of his life's work. It was his ultimate leverage. And it was sitting in the dust, within walking distance.

The psychological strain of the flooded vault, the terrifying climb, and the sheer, overwhelming scale of the carnage had completely fractured Zafar's profound intellect. He was no longer calculating survival; he was calculating possession.

"The stone," Zafar whimpered, a sound so soft it was almost lost to the wind. "It is mine."