Read Secrets Of The Serpent's Heart (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 6) Online
Authors: N. S. Wikarski
“Not at the moment, no.”
Turning to Jun, the Scrivener said, “Right then. Tomorrow we fly to Lanzhou.”
“Next time, remind me not to unpack my suitcase,” Cassie murmured to her colleague. “I have a feeling Lanzhou won’t be our final stop on this trip.”
Daniel’s mind wandered while the sound of his father’s voice droned on in the background. He was sitting in the Nephilim chapel enduring a memorial service for his departed wife Annabeth. There was no casket as would have been customary. His father’s explanation to the congregation was notably lacking in detail. According to the Diviner, Annabeth had passed away unexpectedly at the hospital where she was recovering from mental exhaustion. Circumstances prevented her body from being returned for burial. Daniel eyed the center aisle of the chapel where an open coffin should have been placed. He felt a transitory sense of regret that he would never get the chance to look at her one last time and bid her farewell. He laughed grimly to himself. The phrase almost sounded romantic—bidding farewell to a lost love. But he had loved her, he protested fiercely. An inner twinge of guilt told him otherwise. His conscience couldn’t be fooled. He relented. All right. Perhaps he hadn’t loved her but at the very least he never wished her any harm and certainly not a death as tragic as hers had been. Perhaps if he’d stayed behind. If he’d defied his father and refused to pursue the fourth relic he might have been able to prevent her collapse. Mere idle speculation, his conscience told him coldly.
He glanced surreptitiously around the chapel. The room could barely hold fifty people so the event had been limited to close family. Some of his brothers and their principal wives were in attendance. A few of his father’s own wives were there as well. Mother Rachel sat in the foremost pew, her eyes closed to prevent distraction as she drank in every word of the sermon.
The Scion turned his attention to the small girl seated next to him. He gave her hand a soft squeeze. She looked up at him solemnly. Her expression showed less of a sense of loss than of confusion. Sarah was his youngest daughter. She’d just turned five and, earlier that day, Daniel had been forced to tell her that her mother was dead. He explained that Annabeth had gone to heaven and that they would all meet again someday. His words had little effect. Notions of heaven and hell meant nothing to a child that young. Sarah only knew that her mother was gone. Of course, Annabeth had been missing from the child’s life for several months now. First, because of the birth and subsequent death of a baby brother and then because Annabeth had been taken away to a hospital. The diagnosis was nervous prostration. It was a dry, clinical description to cover his principal wife’s embarrassing sleepwalking episodes and dramatic hallucinations.
Sarah squirmed on the hard bench and yawned unselfconsciously. Daniel made no move to correct her behavior. It seemed natural, unlike the masks worn by the adult members of the congregation. They might have been so many stone pillars, listening through deaf ears to his father’s fevered exhortations. In a highly improper gesture by the standards of the Nephilim, Daniel put his arm around Sarah’s shoulders and let her nestle against him.
She closed her eyes and seemed to drop off to sleep. His other wives reported she was no longer crying in the middle of the night or waking them up calling for her mother. Daniel realized that while his other spouses tolerated her presence, they felt no urge to care for Sarah as her biological mother might have done. They had daughters of their own to consider. The Scion felt remorse that he wasn’t spending more time with the girl. Yes, he would make a point of doing that. He needed her to know that she hadn’t been entirely abandoned.
The Diviner fulminated for another ten minutes. It was nothing Daniel hadn’t heard before so he allowed his attention to drift to more immediate concerns. He knew he’d have to produce tangible results in the quest for the next artifact soon or face his father’s wrath. Ostensibly, he still spent his days at the library researching the subject. In actuality, he’d spent the past four months accumulating a storehouse of knowledge about the outer world. Chris called him an information sponge because he absorbed it all so quickly. If there was one bright spot in Daniel’s life, it was the hours he spent surrounded by books in the company of his beloved friend. He sighed inwardly at the realization that this pleasant interlude would soon come to an end.
The Scion knew he must apply himself to the next riddle but balked at the prospect. Somehow, he had formed a mental association between Annabeth’s death and the relic hunt. She might still be alive if he hadn’t left to blindly follow his father’s orders. Who knew if his next absence might not result in a worse catastrophe than a dead wife? He realized the notion was irrational but the two events had become fused in his psyche and, try as he might, he couldn’t separate them. The association had drained his enthusiasm for solving the next riddle.
He snapped to attention when he realized his father had finally finished speaking. People were standing up and filing out of the chapel. He woke Sarah and set her on her feet. Taking her by the hand, he led her through the gauntlet of congregation members who waited to offer them both condolences. She behaved patiently enough during the ordeal until the crowd dispersed. His other wives came up last of all with their daughters to claim Sarah.
He bent down and told her, “I’ll come by to see you later this afternoon. Alright?”
She nodded without a murmur, looking back over her shoulder at him as she was led away by the rest of his small family.
He stood and straightened his coat, preparing to go back to the study room. As he turned, he realized a man blocked his path. It was his brother Joshua.
***
“Oh, it’s you,” Daniel observed without enthusiasm.
The spymaster barely noticed his brother’s less than warm greeting.
Joshua was too irritated by the inordinate fuss their father was making over Annabeth’s death to register offense at this minor slight. One dead wife was hardly worth considering when one had so many others. No doubt, Abraham had already selected a younger and prettier woman as Annabeth’s replacement—a reward which his brother scarcely deserved. Since Joshua was denied the pleasure of expressing any overt hostility toward the Scion, he settled for rubbing salt in the wound of Daniel’s grief.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he began, his voice heavy with sympathy.
“Thank you.” Daniel nodded curtly and started walking down the corridor.
Joshua joined him. “It was quite sudden, wasn’t it?” he asked in hopes of churning up painful memories which his brother was probably doing his best to suppress.
“I couldn’t say. I was out of the country at the time.”
“But surely father gave you some details,” Joshua persisted, seeking to find a weak spot.
Daniel sighed. “He said she took a turn for the worse while I was gone and suffered a nervous collapse.”
Joshua nodded gravely. “Yes, her behavior grew uncontrollable shortly after your departure. She needed to be sedated and confined to her room.”
Daniel wheeled on him fiercely. “How do you know this?”
At last, Joshua had struck a nerve. Suppressing a sense of triumph, the spymaster innocently raised his eyebrows. “It was hardly a secret. Everyone knew. Father tasked me with posting guards in front of her room. No one was allowed to see her but the doctors from the hospital. Several of them came and went for a week or so. She was rambling much of the time, out of her head. Soon after that, she was taken away.”
The spymaster watched Daniel’s face contort with regret at the pitiful picture of Annabeth in her last days. Joshua drove the knife home. “Poor lost creature. I’m sure your presence would have made all the difference to her. She might still be alive today.” He shook his head. “But you were thousands of miles away when she died all alone. How sad.”
Daniel turned his back though Joshua was sure he’d seen his brother’s eyes well up with tears.
The spymaster paused, choosing his next words carefully. “Did father tell you anything more about the circumstances of her passing?”
Daniel’s shoulders slumped in an attitude of defeat. He turned back around to face his brother’s relentless cross-examination. “He said she contracted a highly contagious disease while she was at the hospital. It was so dangerous that her body had to be cremated afterward.”
Joshua’s sharp intake of breath sounded like a hiss. He felt genuinely startled. The spymaster had heard nothing of this and it was his business to know everything that passed among the Nephilim.
Quickly recovering his composure, he offered a bland smile of condolence. “What a tragedy.”
Daniel was studying him intently.
Apparently Joshua had betrayed himself. His desire for information had become too apparent. “It must have been a deadly disease to require such drastic measures,” he observed, still hopeful that his brother might drop a few additional crumbs.
“Yes, well, everybody dies,” Daniel countered acidly, not offering any further details.
“That’s quite true,” Joshua agreed. “But not everybody dies in such a way. What a misfortune for you.”
Daniel barely heard him. They’d arrived at the reading room door and the Scion was on the point of entering. “I’ll leave you here,” he announced, obviously relieved to have arrived at his destination.
A mere two days after Cassie and Griffin had landed in Shenyang, they found themselves following Zhang Jun and Zhang Rou through another urban landscape a thousand miles to the west. This time they were trudging the streets of the equally modern city of Lanzhou, the capital of Gansu province in northwestern China.
Cassie’s first impression, formed as their plane was descending, was that this city of four million was virtually indistinguishable from the city of eight million that they’d just left. Admittedly, Lanzhou did have one distinctive geographical feature. The Yellow River ran right through the middle of town.
Jun told them that Lanzhou had been an important trading center since ancient times. It was the largest urban area in the upper reaches of the Yellow River and had originally been one of the few towns with a bridge that allowed people to cross the river itself. During the first century BCE, it had been a major stop on the northern Silk Road which transported goods from China as far west as Rome and back again.
A Silk Road caravan was nowhere in evidence as the four made their way through the downtown section of Lanzhou which now consisted of block after block of retail space and high-rises. Although the city was still a mercantile hub, the fabrics on display in storefront windows weren’t embroidered silk goods. Designer clothes and consumer electronics had taken their place.
Because the shopping district didn’t allow motorized traffic, the center of the streets were used as pedestrian walkways. The Arkana group ambled down the broad promenade at a leisurely pace, passing quartets of people seated at card tables playing mahjong.
After strolling for several blocks, Cassie asked, “Where are we going exactly?”
“To the office of the Majiayao trove-keeper,” Jun replied. “She’s off at a dig site for the rest of the week but said we could use the place while we’re in town. It isn’t much farther. Another block or two.”
Cassie’s attention was drawn to a gathering in the middle of the promenade just ahead of them. Two dozen middle-aged and elderly women appeared to be staging some kind of demonstration.
Wh`en she paused to watch, her companions did the same.
Somebody switched on a boom box which blared out a peppy instrumental march. Once the music started, all the women picked up identical green volley balls and began going through a series of choreographed aerobic moves.
“What are they doing?” Cassie murmured in surprise.
“They’re square dancing,” Jun said.
The Pythia squinted at him in disbelief. “Square dancing? But nobody’s calling the steps.”
“I don’t believe he means an American-style square dance,” Griffin remarked.
Jun chuckled when he realized Cassie’s confusion. “It’s called square dancing because they find a square and dance in it. This is a new fad in China these days. Every city has troupes of dancing grannies. They show up at all hours, from sunrise to sunset and go into their various routines.”
Cassie was having trouble grasping the concept. “But why?”
Jun shrugged. “Exercise, companionship, patriotism. Not everyone thinks it’s a good thing though. Some people who live near the favorite squares of these grannies complain about the loud music early in the morning or late at night.”
Rou whispered in her grandfather’s ear and he laughed out loud. She nudged him to repeat her comment for the visitors.
“Rou wanted to remind me about the turf wars.”
“I beg your pardon?” Griffin’s eyebrows shot up.
“You mean to say these grannies slug it out over the best places to dance in?” Cassie asked.
Rou giggled and nodded.
Cassie turned to contemplate the energetic elderly ladies circling their green volley balls in synchronized arcs over their heads. “So this is the hottest trend in China?” She rubbed her eyes in disbelief. “Now I really have seen everything.”
Jun was already walking ahead. The rest followed him in silence until the echoes of the marching music had receded in the distance. He entered the lobby of a high-rise and made for the elevator where he pressed the button for the 20
th
floor. The little party was conveyed upwards in a matter of seconds.
When they exited, Jun went directly to a door in the middle of the corridor and unlocked it. “I know my way around, you see, because this used to be my office. My first assignment for the Arkana was to oversee the Majiayao trove.”
“I suppose all the artifacts are stored somewhere else,” Cassie speculated, secretly hoping to get a glimpse of the actual hiding place.
“Oh yes,” Jun agreed. “Deep in the mountains and away from prying eyes.”
He opened the door and switched on the lights. The office windows looked out over the business district.
Cassie peeped through the blinds and caught a glimpse of green volley balls a few blocks away below her. “They’re still at it,” she murmured with amusement.
Jun made no comment. He was reading a note that had been left on the desk. Smiling briefly, he turned to Cassie. “It would seem you’ll get a glimpse of at least one artifact while you’re here. The Majiayao trove-keeper left me a message. Her people turned up an object which they can’t identify. Since she knew the Pythia would be coming to Lanzhou, she was hoping you might validate it for her.”
Jun unlocked one of the desk drawers and removed a bundle wrapped in white cloth.
The other three drew up chairs around the desk. Jun sat down in the trove-keeper’s seat and placed the package before them. He carefully uncovered the object which was about a foot long.
“It’s a horse’s head,” Cassie said matter-of-factly. She peered at it closely but couldn’t see anything particularly unique—a rough wooden carving of the head and neck of a horse.
“I would guess that the mystery lies not in the shape of the object but in its function,” Jun explained. He picked up the artifact and turned it on end to examine the base of the carving. “It looks to me as if this object sat on top of a pole of some sort.”
“Perhaps it was the head of a scepter,” Griffin suggested. “Or a staff?”
“If so, its design is quite different than any we’ve seen before,” the trove-keeper replied. “Such ornaments as you’ve mentioned are usually emblems of high rank and are made of more precious materials like gold or jade. They would be ornately carved and set with gems. This horse’s head is crude by comparison.”
“I see your point,” the Scrivener conceded.
“Perhaps the Pythia would be kind enough to give us her impressions?” Jun slid the carving across the desk toward Cassie.
She took the precaution of sitting back in her chair and planting both feet firmly on the floor in case the object had any disorienting surprises in store for her. Then she took the horse’s head and held it between her palms.
The sun was blindingly bright. She gazed off a hundred miles in every direction but all she could see was a sea of dried yellow grass waving in a strong wind. She was seated on horseback. Or rather ‘he’ since she was inhabiting the consciousness of a man. Judging by his apparel, he was a warrior. He wore a helmet on his head and a long knife was strapped to his leather belt. The wind blew his blond beard across his chest. He shielded his eyes and scanned the horizon for a few moments, considering whether it was time for a change of direction. He cast a glance behind him. There were several dozen people in his caravan. Some seated in horse-drawn carts. Some on horseback. All waiting for his decision.
“Bring me the south-pointing chariot,” he commanded.
One of his followers rode forward, leading another horse which had been harnessed to a small two-wheeled cart. Resting on its platform was a collection of interlocking gears connecting to a pole surmounted by a carved horse’s head.
The leader studied the motion of the cart as it drew up beside him. The horse’s nose persisted in pointing off to his right. That meant they were still riding east. He squinted ahead in the glare of the overhead sun. The sea of grass was so vast and flat that it might as well have been an ocean. There were no mountains in sight. Not yet anyway.
“This way,” he called to his followers. He flicked his horse’s reins and advanced in the same direction they had been heading for weeks. Sooner or later, the dying grasslands would give way to mountains that gushed rivers. Then they would follow where the horse’s head wanted to lead them.
Cassie blinked rapidly. The office seemed incredibly dim in comparison to her sunlit vision.
“What did you see?” Griffin’s tone was worried.
She gave him a reassuring smile. “Nothing terrible, if that’s what you’re asking.” Glancing down at the artifact, she laughed in wonder. “It’s a compass.”
“Aha, I knew it!” Jun clapped his hands in delight.
“I don’t see any needle.” Griffin picked up the carving and examined it closely.
“The horse’s nose is the pointer, or needle, if you want to call it that,” Cassie explained. “But from what I could see, it didn’t work by magnets. It was driven by gears and it always pointed south.” She told them the details of her vision.
Jun’s eyes were sparkling with excitement by the time she finished. “And you’re sure this leader in your vision was Caucasian?”
“Well, I didn’t have a mirror,” Cassie demurred. “But the guy had a blond beard, he was dressed like an overlord barbarian, and his followers were a bunch of white people riding through steppe country. If it swims like a duck and it quacks like a duck...” She shrugged.
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.” Jun traded a knowing glance with Rou.
Cassie scowled. “Wait a minute. The guy who owned this horse’s head must have been somewhere a thousand miles away in the grasslands. Probably Kazakhstan. How did this artifact get to China?”
“It was found at a dig site only ten miles from here,” Jun said. “The Majiayao culture inhabited the area around Lanzhou between 3100 and 2700 BCE. They were the earliest culture in China to show evidence of bronze weaponry.”
“Weaponry?” Cassie asked. “I thought all the Neolithic tribes around here were peaceful agriculturalists.”
“Oh, yes. They were.”
“Then the weaponry must have been brought here by outsiders,” Griffin speculated.
“Most certainly. Cassie’s vision has offered us a missing link regarding the overlord migration to China.”
“So you’re saying this dude with the yellow beard and weird compass used it to find his way to Lanzhou?”
“That’s right,” Jun agreed, smiling broadly. “I believe this little carved horse’s head pointed you directly to the Yellow Emperor.”
“The Yellow Emperor!” Griffin exclaimed. “But that’s impossible. He was Asian.”
Cassie held up her hand. “It looks like I need some backstory here. I know you mentioned him as one of the three mythical sovereigns but who exactly is the Yellow Emperor?”
Rou leaned over and whispered in her grandfather’s ear.