The Last Artisan

Jato smiled for it was true. He had been paid handsomely from the king's own coffers for designing the royal burial chamber and treasury. It had come, however, at a tremendous cost. His workers had been sacrificed on its golden altar to insure their silence after Queen Nefra's death a few years before. The populace had never known where she lay in eternal rest, for the king feared desecration of her grave. Theirs had not been a popular reign, but it was to be the last for the once mighty empire. Jato had been the only one besides the king entrusted with the tomb's location and he had kept the secret well.

Everywhere was the glint of gold. So often Jato had seen and touched, but never in the presence of his king. It was he alone who maintained the tomb and the sacred torch fires that symbolized life's renewal. He had also stolen a few precious gems from the jewel-encrusted shrine of the queen and the two ladies in waiting buried with her. But that had been a pittance compared to the wealth and generosity of a grateful king. He was sure that much more would be bestowed upon him now with the enemy so close at hand.

"Come this way," said the king, leading Jato deeper into the antechamber where the golden casket that was to hold his own remains lay waiting. Jato beheld the mask of solid gold that was to cover his master's royal face after death. On its crown hundreds of rubies and emeralds, the size of eggs, dazzled the eye.