Though that did send her imagination on its way… “What do you think is down there?” she asked. Unspoken, but certainly considered, was whether or not she might be bringing some of it home, if circumstances allowed (waste not, she thought with some amusement, want not.)
“Probably just a lot of rock altars and idols no one’s dusted in a while,” Mag said. “I don’t think the Historical Society would shell out this much money for one text or two. Whatever’s down there, it has to be big.” Once the words left her mouth, she remembered her own admonition to Ari and added, “Metaphorically speaking, of course. I hope.”
“Considering we’re looking for a burial chamber... it might be books, but yes, I think I’m more in Paget’s camp. Parchment might not even have weathered the elements this long. It’s likely not bare treasure, either.” There was a twinge of regret. Were Wolfe still the second-in-command for this Company, he’d likely have the full mission briefing and behind-the-scenes details, every last scrap and shred of speculative information Gillian had at her disposal.
But times had changed, and he was delivering his random guesses in front of the campfire like everyone else.
“For that matter, we should probably get our rest for tomorrow. Today was draining enough and I believe we’re going to need that sleep, when it comes to it.”
“If we manage to sleep at all,” Ari said with a woeful sigh. Camping had been invented by sadists, she firmly believed this fact. Still, she supposed climbing under a blanket would assist (and took a moment to regret having no one among this group who could be used as a body pillow without getting entirely the wrong idea). Polishing off the last of her soup, which was stone cold by now, she said, “I suppose the sooner we try, the sooner we succeed… and see which of us was right about the contents of the tomb.”
“I smell a wager in the making,” Mag said. “But perhaps this time, since I’ve already crossdressed once, Ari probably wouldn’t care one way or the other and Wolfe has a reputation to uphold with the Lions, we might as well retire to bed like the sensible adults we’re not.” The man snorted and the bard let out a quickly-smothered giggle.
They had a long day ahead of them, sure to be filled with ancient terrors far more blood-chilling than the sight of a six-foot geomancer in five-inch heels.