There were two well-stuffed sleeping pallets close together on the floor in the bedroom. One was neatly made, the other was less orderly. Judging from the tidy workbench, the neatly made bed was likely the husband's, and the other Althea's. Since she was dead on the floor way in the other room, he didn't feel quite so uneasy about sleeping on a nice soft pallet.

The husband wasn't going to be coming home in the dark, so Oba wasn't worried about waking to a madman at his throat. Still, he thought it best if he wedged a chair against the door lever before he retired for the night. With the house all secured, he yawned, ready for bed. On his way by, Oba gave Althea the cold shoulder.

Oba fell right off to sleep, but it was a fitful slumber. Dreams haunted him. It was hot in the swamp house. Since it was winter everywhere else, he hadn't gotten accustomed to such sudden sultry heat. Outside, bugs kept up a steady buzzing while night animals hooted and called. Oba tossed and turned, trying to get away from the sorceress's haunting gaze and knowing smile. They seemed to follow him no matter which way he turned, watching him, not letting him sleep soundly.

He woke for good just after it had begun to get light out.

He was in Althea's bed.

In a rush to untangle himself from the covers and escape her bed, he rolled over onto his hands and knees. His weight abruptly pushed his hand through the stuffed bedding. In wild alarm, Oba threw back the bedding and overturned the pallet to see what vile trick she had planted for him. She had known he was coming to see her. She was up to something.

Under where her pallet had been resting, he saw that a floorboard was loose. That was all it was-a floorboard that had pivoted. Oba frowned in suspicion. A close inspection revealed that the plank had pins in the middle so it would seesaw.

With one careful finger, he pushed the sunken end farther down. The other end of the board rose up. A compartment under the board contained a wooden box. He lifted out the box and tried to open it, but it was locked, somehow. There was no hole for a key, and no readily apparent lid, so there was probably some trick to opening it. It was heavy. When he shook it, it made only a muffled sound from inside. It might have simply been a weighted weapon the crippled woman kept under her bed in case she was attacked in the night by a snake or something.

With the box in his meaty hand, Oba shuffled to the workbench. He sat on the stool and leaned close. As he selected a chisel and mallet, he noticed that the sorceress was still on the floor in the other room, watching.

"What's in the box?" he called to her.

Of course she didn't answer. She had no intention of being cooperative. If she had been cooperative, she would have answered all his questions, instead of dropping dead after performing her stone-to-ash trick. It gave him shivers just remembering it. Something about the entire encounter had been more than he wanted to contemplate.

Oba used the chisel to pry on the box. He tested every joint, but it wouldn't open. He hammered on it with the mallet, but he only succeeded in breaking the mallet's handle. He sighed, deciding that it was probably just a weighted weapon Althea kept for defense.

He rose from the bench to go gather his supplies and check that he had everything. He'd had enough of the odd goings-on and the puzzling things she'd left. He needed to be on his way.

Oba paused, then, and turned back at some inner urging. If the heavy box was a weapon, she would have kept it easily at hand. Something about this box was important, or it wouldn't be hidden under a floorboard. Something inside told him so.

Resolving to get into the box, he sat again at the bench and selected a narrower chisel and another mallet. He worked the sharp blade between a lengthwise joint, near the edge. Sweat dripping off the end of his nose, he grunted with the effort of whacking at the end of the chisel handle, trying to open the joint to see if it was just lead weight inside.

All of a sudden, wood split with a loud snap and the box broke open. Gold and silver coins spilled out like guts from a carp. Oba stood staring at the glut of gold heaped on the bench. The box hadn't rattled only because it had been packed full. There was a fortune-a real fortune.

Well, wasn't that just something.

There had to be twenty times as much gold as the little weasel, Clovis, had stolen from him. Oba had thought that poverty had been inflicted upon him by the cowardly little thief, and it turned out he was richer than ever-richer even than his wildest dreams. He truly was invincible. He had suffered through adversity and misfortune that would have defeated a lesser man, and fate had justly rewarded him for all his struggles. He knew that this could be nothing other than divine direction.

Oba smiled across the room at the woman who lay there watching his triumph.

In the drawers of the bench, he found tools kept in pouches. There were three nice leather pouches containing finely crafted beading planes. The leather pouches were probably used to keep the sharp edges on the blades from being dinged and dulled. A cloth pouch held a set of dividers. Another pouch held rosin, while still others held various odd tools. The husband was exceptionally orderly. Life with his swamp-wife had probably driven him mad.

Oba wiped sweat from his eyes and then scooped all the coins together in the center of the bench. He divided them up into equal piles, carefully counting each pile out so he would know exactly how much money he had earned.

Finished counting, he filled the leather and cloth pouches, putting one in each pocket. For safety's sake, he tied each pouch with two thongs going in different directions to different belt loops. He tied a smaller purse around each leg, letting them rest inside the tops of his boots. He opened his trousers and secured several of the heaviest purses inside, where no one could get to them. He reminded himself that he would have to be cautious of passionate ladies with friendly hands, lest they come up with more than he wished to give them.

Oba had learned his lesson. From now on, he wouldn't keep his fortune all together. A man as wealthy as he had to protect his holdings. The world was full of thieves.