How often does the family chooch find himself sitting on top of a fortune? I stared at the map. It stared back at me. I knew, down to the marrow of my bones, it had shown me its secret.

In the same way I had folded the parchment, I fitted together the bits and pieces of what I had learned without realizing I was learning anything at all. They matched. The more I thought of it, the clearer the picture grew. Kuchik had offhandedly mentioned the inn had been built over ancient ruins. Shira herself had told me the legend, handed down from her mother: The Dark Fortress. How Tarik Beg had betrayed his own people, let them be slaughtered at his gates, and buried their wealth under the floor of his treasury.

Admittedly, yes, I dreamed of finding a treasure trove. I never seriously dreamed of what I would do with it. At another time—long ago, as it felt—another place, in other circumstances, I’d have figured that out fairly quickly. Dazzle Uncle Evariste and all Magenta. Spend it. Waste it. Likely get bilked out of it. Or, imitating Zameen, the well-digger in the old tale, acquire palaces, herds of camels and horses, and chests of jewels to impress his beloved Aziza.

Not in this case. For one thing, I hoped I knew better. For another, it wasn’t mine to dispose of.

Ordinarily, I would have sprung up and roused all the household to announce my astonishing discovery. Instead, for what remained of the night, I sat there quietly, wondering how to tell them. Wondering, even, if I should tell them at all. Would it be wiser to say nothing?

Sitting on a fortune? I was also sitting on a disaster.

At first light, the several travelers who had passed the night packed their gear and rode their camels from the inn. I called Shira and Kuchik, Baksheesh and Dashtani, to gather around.

I explained about the map, showed them how I had found its secret; before any of them could break into cries of amazement, I hurried on.

Assuming, I told them, the map was exact—as I believed it was—Tarik Beg’s royal treasury lay buried deep beneath the caravanserai. But precisely where? Below the main buildings of the inn? The stables? Under the flagstones of the courtyard? How big an area? How far did it reach? And here was the disaster:

To unearth the treasure, we would have to destroy the caravanserai.

Kuchik’s eyes got brighter the longer I went on. “Then, Chooch Mirza,” he piped up, “we must begin our digging right away.”

“That,” I said, “is for your sister to decide.”

“We share all of this,” Shira broke in. “The place is his as much as mine. Let him speak his thoughts.”

“With all these riches—” Kuchik was hopping up and down; I expected him to jump out of his skin at any moment. “We need no caravanserai. We shall be buying camel trains. Horses. Elephants! I can be starting on my journey—”

“Kuchik,” I said, “elephants, flying zebras, or anything else, it will be a long time before you journey anywhere. Your sister will have something to say about that.”

Dashtani, listening silently, had gone pale. She turned her eyes to Shira. “Child,” she murmured, “my whole life has been here. Would you tear it down?”

“You have been a second mother to Kuchik and me,” Shira said. “You have an equal voice in what we do.”

I didn’t hear anyone asking for Baksheesh’s opinion. He offered it anyway.

“What, no consideration for my feelings? My dream promised me a home. And a sweetheart. That’s worth more than a mountain of diamonds! And you mean to take it all away and break my heart? No, I won’t stand for it.”

“Baksheesh, I honor your tender feelings,” I told him. “It’s still for Shira to say.”

“Kharr-loh, do you truly wish me to speak my mind?” she answered. “Then so I shall. The home I came back to is not the home I left. There are too many memories of too much grief.

“Tear down every stick and stone,” she said. “It will ease my heart.”

“If that’s your wish,” I said, “the matter is settled.”

“No,” she said. “I speak only for myself. I give the others’ wishes the same weight as my own. But we are evenly divided. Kuchik and I on one hand. Dashtani and Baksheesh on the other.

“You are the one who sought a fortune. You are the one to decide.”

I said nothing at first. Inside my head, I could hear Salamon’s words when he learned I was seeking treasure. What a shame if you should find it, he had said to me. Your quest would be over. And then what? No, the journey is the treasure. I had not understood him at the time.

“The fortune belongs to the dead,” I told her. “Let them keep it.”

“As you choose, Kharr-loh,” she said.

Shira was gone; no sign of her upstairs or down. She must have left soon after we all had talked together. I went to the stables. At sight of me, my doting piebald whinnied and tossed her head. Shira’s horse wasn’t there. The stable boy could only tell me she had ridden from the caravanserai.

I saddled my piebald. We cantered across the courtyard and through the gate. I had never been there, but I had seen the spot before: in Cheshim’s painting.

Near the riverside, her white mare browsed amid a stand of willows. Shira knelt at the water’s edge. She was weaving a slender branch into a circlet.

I climbed off my horse and went to her. “I knew I’d find you.”

“You always do.” She held up the circlet. “When journeyers cross the river, they carry wreaths of willow. So they’ll remember where they came from.

“I’ve talked with Kuchik,” she added. “He’s happy to stay with Dashtani and Baksheesh. I wouldn’t have gone without telling you.”

“Gone where?” I asked.

“To the place I dreamed of long ago.” She stood and motioned toward the farther shore. “For the sake of the child I was. I love my home, I always will. But I love it as it used to be. I can’t stay here. I gave you a caged bird; / You set it free.”

“I gave you ripe figs; / You gave me voyages,”I said. “I can’t go back to Magenta. I’ve been away too long and come too far. Weave a circlet for me. I’m going with you.”

She smiled. “I thought you might.”

I asked what we were looking for.

“Whatever we find. Salamon and his donkey may reach it before us, but we’ll press on to the sea. Kharr-loh, I won’t leave you again.”

“You never did.” I held out my arms. She came to me. “I already dreamed this.”

“I know,” she said. “I was there.”