Wind Raker - Book IV of The Order of the Air (5 page)

“Certainly. The good Reverend urged Collins to bring them here, which he did a few months later. It was my opinion, and that of others I consulted with at the university, that they were indeed Ming Dynasty and a singular find for Hawai’i. And this of course is where it gets murky.” Dr. Buck shrugged. “By the time I examined Collins’ pineapple grove, two years had passed since the find. During that time the soil had been repeatedly disturbed by cultivation. An immediate examination of the site revealed nothing — no fragments or further pieces, and no other artifacts or material that would allow dating. The cultivation had disturbed the surface irrevocably to a depth of twenty inches.”

“I see,” Jerry said.

“A proper and thorough excavation might yield more information, but the Bishop Museum, like every other museum in the world, doesn’t have the funds to investigate every interesting site. In the absence of anything more promising, Collins’ porcelain was an interesting oddity, and the site remained uninvestigated — until this year.”

“What changed?” Jerry asked. He understood the problem well enough, had seen it before in a dozen other contexts: every museum had a list of similar problems, projects that would never be funded because the money was always better spent on something else.

Dr. Buck’s expression was carefully neutral. “An anonymous donor made a substantial gift, much of it earmarked for funding a dig in Collins’ pineapple grove to determine the origin of the Ming porcelain. The donor also suggested that Dr. Radke be approached to take charge of the dig. Frankly, we felt that the likelihood of his being willing to take the job was remote, but as it happened, when we contacted him he was in Hankow, ready to leave China, and professed himself interested in the project.”

“I see,” Jerry said again. At least, he saw part of it. If Buck truly didn’t know the identity of the donor — or if he did know, and distrusted the scholarly faction represented — then there was every reason to want a neutral party to supervise the actual excavation. But it still didn’t explain why someone with Radke’s expertise would want to take it on. “And what sort of result is the donor looking for, do you know?”

“They want a full report on all our findings, and right of first refusal should the museum decide not to keep any artifacts unearthed in the course of the dig.”

None of which was unusual or in any way out of line, except for the fact of the dig itself. Jerry rubbed his chin, unable to think of a way to ask the questions he really wanted answered —
why does someone want to know if the Chinese discovered Hawaii?
— and Dr. Buck gave a small smile.

“In any case, Dr. Ballard, we should probably meet your team. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging a small luncheon for all of us here on site.”

“That sounds lovely,” Jerry said, and levered himself out of the low-slung chair.

‘On site’ proved to be a table on a shaded patio, where the museum wall and a good portion of the brick wall surrounding the patio were covered with flowering vines. A table had been set for six, and a pair of Chinese women were setting out pitchers of iced tea while what seemed to be the junior members of the expedition hovered expectantly by the table. Hanson was there, along with a younger man who Dr. Buck introduced as Jamie Tompkins, one of the graduate students assigned to the project. He was young and shy and sunburned, and Jerry was glad when the other graduate student made his appearance. Dr. Buck introduced him as Clancy Gray, from a plantation family on the Big Island, and before they could do much more than agree that the weather was excellent, the door opened again.

“I am so sorry, Dr. Buck,” a lightly accented voice said. “I am still getting used to driving here.”

“You’re just in time,” Dr. Buck answered. “Dr. Ballard, this is Dr. Radke.”

Jerry took the offered hand, smiling with careful ease. Wilhelm Friedrich Radke was unexpectedly good-looking, a bit below Jerry’s own height, and lightly-built, with pale blue eyes and untidy sun-bleached hair that wanted cutting. His handshake was firm and entirely masculine and Jerry checked that line of speculation sharply as far too dangerous. “A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Radke.”

“And you,” Radke answered. “I have read some of your work on Indian influences on Hellenistic sculpture, and I believe you have some good ideas there.”

“We come at the question from opposite ends of the Silk Road,” Jerry said, and saw the first flicker of real enthusiasm in Radke’s eyes.

“That’s a very apposite description.”

“I believe that’s part of what you were working on in Hankow?” Dr. Buck said. “Please, gentlemen, have a seat.”

“It was a part of what my last dig was investigating,” Radke said, as they took their places and the waitresses began to offer tea. “Though it was not in Hankow. The dig itself was near Lop Nur, in Chinese Turkestan.” He gave Jerry a slight smile. “You have perhaps heard of the red-haired mummies that have been found in this region?”

Jerry dredged his memory. “Von Le Coq’s work?” What he also remembered too late about the German archeologist was that he’d removed hundreds of pounds of carvings and frescos along with the mummies, and he wasn’t surprised that Radke made a face.

“A very old-fashioned man, and one who did not make friends among the Chinese authorities. But, yes, he and Sven Hedin — and Aurel Stein on the British side — found what they called mummies, although it is my suspicion that they were not intentionally preserved, merely desiccated by the climate. They all have red or blond or red-brown hair, and their features look European, so of course people are curious as to where they came from, how they ended up in the Chinese desert.”

“Didn’t Hedin have an expedition planned this year?” Dr. Buck asked, not entirely idly, and Radke nodded.

“Yes. He was surveying a number of sites along the Silk Road.”

“Was that part of your expedition, Dr. Radke?” Hanson asked.

“No,” Radke answered. “Sadly. The group I was with had made a bargain with the local authorities to investigate a stupa and surrounding buildings north and east of Dr. Hedin’s planned track.”

“And did you find any more of these red-haired mummies?” Jerry asked.

Radke looked momentarily pleased. “We did — two men and a young girl, as well as a trove of writings in the abandoned stupa and its outbuildings. Unfortunately, they were not in as good condition as von Le Coq’s mummies, so I believe we must leave the question of European origins unanswered. It’s my belief that the red color of the hair has more to do with the soil in which they were buried, and despite my colleagues’ best efforts, I do not think they have proved that that faces are actually Aryan in form.”

“Is there a local explanation? A descendant population?” Jerry reached for his iced tea.

“The inhabitants were recognized as ethnically different from the Han Chinese as far back as records go.” Radke shrugged. “The population died out after the Lop Nur Lake moved, sometime in the first two centuries AD. There are stories that one group, the Yuezhi, who may be Tocharians, sold horses and jade to the Emperors of China, and that their queen led them out of China after a famine and into Bactria.”

Jerry lifted an eyebrow at that. “That does bring them into my end of the Silk Road. Is there a date?”

Radke shrugged again. “Sometime between the fifth and second centuries BC. But I know what you’re thinking. Alexander, yes?”

Jerry allowed himself a smile. “Bactria in that time? Yes, of course.”

“There is a medieval story, very late, that Alexander’s bride was a queen of the Yuezhi, and that the Mandate of Heaven struck him down because he dared to challenge the true Emperor.” Radke smiled back. “But, as I said, it’s too late to be worth anything.”

The waitresses returned, bringing plates of creamed chicken on toast points, garnished with Waldof salad, and the conversation became more general. Jerry nibbled at his chicken — quite tasty, but disappointingly ordinary, the sort of thing he could have had at the Sunbonnet Tea Shop in Colorado Springs — and let the graduate students ask their questions. Hanson clearly specialized in Chinese culture, while Gray and Tompkins were Polynesian specialists. Tompkins had actually been born in the islands, and under Gray’s prodding admitted to a Hawaiian grandmother. Jerry glanced at Radke at that, but saw only polite interest in his expression.

“Do you perhaps speak Hawaiian, then, Mr. Tompkins?”

“No, sir.” Tompkins’s face was even redder beneath his sunburn. “A few words here and there, but not enough to be useful.”

“That’s too bad,” Radke said. “Knowing the local language can make a difference.”

“Everyone on the islands pretty much speaks English,” Gray said. “Even the old people can understand you.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” Radke said. “But sometimes the nuances are easier to hear in the original.”

Jerry nodded in agreement, and Dr. Buck said, “Well, we have plenty of Hawaiian speakers on staff and among the volunteers, should you need them.”

“That may yet come in handy,” Radke said. “Thank you.”

“I have to admit to some curiosity,” Dr. Buck went on. “Please understand me, we’re delighted to have a scholar of your eminence working on our dig, but — after nearly a year in China, I would have thought you’d be eager to get home.”

“I had some invitations to speak in the United States in the autumn,” Radke said. “And to come home the long way, with a visit to a tropical paradise — I think anyone would have leaped at the chance.”

Did I imagine it, Jerry thought, or was there just the slightest hesitation before he came up with that answer?

“Still, your wife must miss you,” Dr. Buck said.

“I’m not married.” Radke gave a white-toothed smile. “Footloose and fancy free.”

And also far too qualified for this job, Jerry thought. He could see the same speculation in Dr. Buck’s eyes, and wasn’t surprised when the director continued to probe.

“When your name was mentioned, I really didn’t expect you would be available. Our donor was most encouraging, but nonetheless it was a delightful surprise when you accepted. Or had you told our donor that you were trying to — go home the long way, as you put it?”

Radke set down his fork, and spread his hands. “Dr. Buck, I’m afraid I don’t know anything about this donor either. I did say to a number of people that I was afraid I would have to decline the lecture opportunities, and was disappointed — I imagine that got back to whoever it is who funded this dig.”

“You couldn’t even hazard a guess?”

“I’m afraid not.” Radke’s smile was definitely a little tight. “The donors that I am familiar with are all in Germany, and I can’t imagine any of them funding a dig here.”

“And yet they were most insistent that we hire you,” Buck said.

“Perhaps it is just my pretty face,” Radke said, with a wider smile, and Buck laughed and turned the conversation.

Jerry blinked. He was very nice-looking, but that was not the response you’d expect from a normal man, and he’d admitted he was unmarried… Jerry repressed the thought sternly, only to see Radke glance his way, the barest hint of mischief in his eyes.

The rest of the lunch was spent in a general discussion of the upcoming dig. Collins had agreed to let them work on the land, and was willing to loan them unskilled labor if they needed it, and in general Jerry thought they had far more equipment and expertise and backing than a crackpot dig like this should reasonably attract. Of course, if Radke had been part of one of the German expeditions searching for Aryan influences — there seemed to be more of them every year — but, no, that didn’t explain why he might want to find Chinese influences in Hawaii. And certainly from his tart comments Radke seemed suitably skeptical about the more outlandish theories proposed by some of his countrymen.

They finished their desserts; ice cream in tall glasses drizzled with bright green crème de menthe, and milled about on the patio while the waitresses cleared the table. Buck was giving instructions to the graduate students, and Jerry found himself next to Radke and out of earshot of the other men.

“I was at the Neues Museum myself last year,” he said, and Radke gave him what Jerry could only take as a speculative glance.

“Oh, yes? I hope you had some chance to explore Berlin as well.”

“I did, and enjoyed it very much. It’s a fascinating city.” Jerry took a breath. “There was a club not too far from the Museum — Leo’s, it was called. A very interesting place.”

Radke’s eyebrows twitched. As well they might, Jerry thought. Leo’s catered to queers, with a drag show that was for the regulars rather than the tourists and a decent jazz band. He didn’t dance himself, not anymore, but he’d enjoyed watching the handsome young men in their elegant suits turning in each other’s arms, bought a drink or two for the pretty boys in dresses.

“I have been there,” Radke admitted, after a moment.

“Congenial,” Jerry suggested.

“Just so.” Radke gave him a sidelong glance. “I have not found anyplace similar here, but of course I’ve only been here a few days. But if there were someone to explore with…“

“It could be an interesting adventure,” Jerry said, and Dr. Buck gave him a curious look.

“We were discussing tourist activities,” Radke said, with a smile that wasn’t quite a smirk, and Jerry coughed to hide his own amusement.