by Celia Roman
Dani tucked her hand into the crook of Dr. Lindberg’s elbow. “Well, now that the competition’s out of the way, I can flirt with the handsomest man here.”
Dr. Lindberg laughed and patted her hand with gnarled fingers. “Tell that to my wife, please. She thinks I’ve become crotchety in my old age.”
As the unlikely pair strolled across the site, Maya fell into step beside Dr. Terhune. They walked for a few moments in silence, listening to the cadence of the conversation between Dani and Dr. Lindberg.
“I read your paper on female divinities in sedentary hunter-gather bands. Fascinating perspective.” James stuffed his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “Now that I’ve met you, though, I can’t believe somebody as young as you are could write something like that. The research alone must’ve taken years and you…”
Maya glanced at him. “I what?”
He cleared his throat, his gaze focused on the couple in front of them. “You barely look old enough to be out of college.”
“Just what every woman wants to hear.”
He smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled along faint laugh lines. Their arms brushed as they walked, shooting a spark of warmth down Maya’s arm.
“You take the IECS’ Journal, then?” she asked.
“Who doesn’t?” He hesitated, cleared his throat again. “I applied for a pass to the IECS Archives a few years back. They turned me down flat.”
Maya pursed her lips together. So he wanted access to the Archives, did he? And just when the People needed him to be there. “I’m sure Director Upton could be persuaded to grant you a pass if you’re still interested. I’d be happy to put in a good word for you.”
“Just like that, no strings attached, for a man you just met?”
“Oh, there are always strings, and we have just met, but your reputation precedes you. You’re part of the reason we’re here.”
“Do tell.” His mouth twitched into a crooked grin, flashing white, even teeth. “Is that my professional reputation or the reputation I gained in my misspent youth?”
She laughed. “We’re hoping to lure you to the IECS to work with a new collection we’ve acquired.”
“So, my professional reputation, then.”
“It’s a good one.”
Maya slowed to a stop. Ahead of them, Dani and Dr. Lindberg had reached the pit, and whatever was in it must’ve been something. Dani loped away from it, crossing the open ground quickly, and bounced to a stop in front of Maya and James, her green eyes sparkling. “Maetyrm, you have got to see this.” She spun and bounded back to the pit.
James eyed Dani’s receding figure. “Does she always bounce like that?”
Maya sighed. “I’m afraid so.”
They approached the pit at a quicker pace. The young woman Maya had spotted earlier was hunched over a sketchpad next to a single skeleton turned partially on its side. Over time, dirt had filled in the space between the bones, holding the remains in place, allowing the archaeological team to examine it in situ. Wisps of what could’ve been fabric clung to some of the bones. Aside from an armband encircling the humerus of the top-facing arm, the only other items resting near the body were the remains of a long, fire-hardened wooden spear with a rusted metal point, still partially submerged in the dirt.
Maya inhaled deeply, willing her racing heart to calm. “Female?”
Dani tilted her head in a slight nod.
“Quite exciting. Burials from that time period are very rare. Immolation.” Dr. Lindberg leaned against his cane, both hands pressing into its top. “Pyres were very popular in the fifth century. Good for the soul, but bad for archaeologists, eh?”
“Have you definitively dated the burial?” Maya asked.
“Still waiting for the lab to settle that.” James shifted into a wide-legged stance and crossed his arms over his chest. “Some of the artifacts appear to be centuries older than others. It’s made dating the burial itself a little tricky, but the team here believes she was buried at the same time as the massacre.”
A tendril of excitement wound through Maya. Dani caught her eye and inclined her head toward the skeleton, her eyebrows raised.
“Dr. Lindberg, would you mind if I took a closer look?” Maya asked.
“Certainly not.” A gentle smile lifted Dr. Lindberg’s expression. “We welcome your good opinion.”
The sketch artist gathered her material and climbed out of the pit, heading toward the main encampment. “Be back when you’re done.”
“Thanks.” Maya maneuvered herself carefully into the pit and examined the skeleton’s upper torso as she picked her way around the remains. “Strange that this one body was buried when the others were left laying where they fell.”
“She must have been quite significant,” Dr. Lindberg said. “Perhaps a courier or a diplomat of some sort.”
Maya paused in mid-step. “What makes you say that?”
“That’s the reason I’m here.” James waggled his eyebrows. “Late last week, the team found a small stash of documents sealed in a metal box that was buried with our mysterious female.”
Indigo had reported that cylinder seals had been found with the body, possibly worn as jewelry, but not documents. Maya filtered through her knowledge of Iron Age Scandinavia. “Documents, in northern Europe during the fifth century? Maybe Roman in origin?”
“Only one.” James’ smile exuded the same excitement clawing at Maya. “But it wasn’t produced in northern Europe, best I can tell. There were at least three languages written on a variety of media buried here. Some pictographs as well.” His smile stretched into the grin of an academic with a rare treasure on his hands. “One item was a small clay tablet written in Linear A.”
Maya blinked, clamping her jaws together against a disbelieving gape. “No.”
“Oh, yes.” He rocked forward onto the balls of his feet and back again. “So far, we’ve uncovered the clay tablet, animal skin, papyrus, half a dozen cylinder seals. Some of it just fragments, but still.”
She sucked in a breath. The smell of freshly turned dirt seeped through her, comforting in its familiarity. “A regular library, then.”
Dani cleared her throat. “Maetyrm, the armband.”
Maya knelt in the dirt beside the skeleton, carefully balancing herself above it. The armband glittered dully in the late afternoon sunlight, and a small chill went up Maya’s spine. It was crafted of hammered copper, greening with age and exposure to the elements and the dirt it had been buried in. In the dimming light, she could just make out a symbol stamped into it, a single eye staring at her from across at least fifteen centuries. It was a symbol she knew well and it raised her hopes higher than she’d ever allowed them to soar.
She stood and brushed her hands off against the loose cotton of her cargo pants. Dani’s grin held smug satisfaction, an emotion Maya could hardly deny the younger Daughter. It was welling up in her own chest, even as she tried to tamp it down. Hope could do funny things to a Daughter, and here was hope in its highest form, a possible clue to the lost prophecy contained in one of the most ancient symbols of the People, a symbol associated specifically with that prophecy.
Maya glanced from Dr. Lindberg’s weathered face to James’ smiling one. “Take me to the artifacts,” she said, and crawled out of the pit.
Three hours later, Maya stood in front of the bathroom’s mirror towel-drying her hair. As soon as they’d arrived back from the dig, still burning with excitement, she and Dani had retreated to their separate rooms to clean up. Jet lag would kick in soon, but for now, adrenaline kept them going.
Moisture fogged the mirror. Maya swiped a hand towel over it and cleared a space big enough to work, preparing for the night ahead. She smoothed an anti-frizz product through her hair. The tightly coiled curls relaxed slightly then sprang into shape. As a young woman, she’d wished for any kind of hair other than the slightly coarse, kinky brown headful she’d inherited from her mother. Long silky hair like Indigo’s or wavy curls
like Dani’s. Anything. Nostalgia plucked at her. Young girls always wanted to be different, no matter the era.
Maya leaned forward and applied eyeliner to her almond shaped eyes, then brushed mascara over the thick, black lashes. She’d inherited those features from her mother, along with the high, arching eyebrows, the wide, full lips, and pixie face. The aristocratic nose came from her father and seemed out of place covered by her café au lait skin. A sharp pang hit her, regret mingling with sorrow. She’d had them for such a short time. What she wouldn’t give to have known them better.
She paused, gazing at herself in the mirror. Her mind rarely drifted to her parents. They were both long dead and, except for the night of their brutal murders, she remembered very little about them. Sometimes a smell reminded her of her mother’s embrace or she’d hear her father’s voice in the timbre of another man’s. Their kindness, their love; those were the things she’d clung to during the long, lonely years of her childhood.
She shook the memories away and checked her watch, set to local time as soon as they landed. After a quick mental calculation of the time difference between Sweden and the IECS, she called Director Upton. The director’s receptionist answered on the second ring, then patched Maya through.
“Maya.” The voice was smooth, cultured, and well-modulated. Rebecca Upton appeared to be in her early fifties, but she was much, much older, and had the political and business savvy to prove it. Maya closed her eyes and imagined the director as she usually was in the middle of the afternoon on a workday, wearing a tailored power suit, bold but tasteful, with spike-heeled shoes in a matching color, and just the right touch of accessories. Her ash blonde hair would be twisted into a chignon, not a strand out of place, and her delicate features would be artfully enhanced with barely-there makeup.
To the world, Rebecca Upton was a successful business woman who ran the Institute for Early Cultural Studies with the precision and strategy of a battlefield general. Few knew that she was in reality a centuries-old warrior and had once literally been the equivalent of a battlefield general. Few among the Daughters were as canny, or as powerful.
“Director Upton.” Maya wandered to the lone window and flicked the curtains closed as she briefly outlined the status of their trip and relayed the information they’d gathered on the dig: The condition of the other skeletons, unmoved after the massacre; the discovery of jewelry and other artifacts, also left by the marauders; and the threat of looting that had pushed Lund University, one of the dig’s sponsors, to take protective measures.
“What about the burial Indigo reported?” Director Upton asked.
“More than promising, Director. The skeleton was female. She was buried with a spear and a small cache of writing.”
The creak of a chair drifted over the line. “Fragments?”
“Primarily, some in remarkable condition. Dr. Terhune believes at least three separate written languages are represented, but there could be more.”
“I’d like to see those myself, if it can be arranged.”
“I’ll discuss that with Dr. Lindberg tonight.”
“Do that.” The chair creaked again. “And Dr. Terhune?”
Maya paused, considered. “I can think of no one better suited to deal with these artifacts.”
“You’ll make the arrangements?”
“Tonight, if possible.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you in a few days, then.”
“One more thing, Director.” Maya inhaled a deep, steadying breath. “The skeleton was wearing the symbol of Marnan.”
“The eye.” The director breathed the word out, her voice soft and reverent. “I never thought we’d find it again.”
“None of us did.”
“Finally, we have hope.” Rebecca laughed, the wondrous, brilliant laugh of someone discovering light after years of living in darkness. “After all this time.”
“Yes, Director, I believe we do.”
“There’s no question then that this is a Daughter.” Another sigh, a slight creak. “Make the arrangements, Maya. I’ll contact the Council of Seven immediately. They’ll want a full report on your return.”
They ended the call not long after. Maya checked her watch again, wished briefly that Dierdre wasn’t in school right then, and promised herself a call to her youngest daughter after supper. Business before pleasure, she reminded herself, and left her room in search of Dani.
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