Secrets Of The Serpent's Heart (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 6)

by Wikarski, N. S.

  Griffin silently complied.

  The Pythia pointed to a dot indicating the town of Lijiang. It appeared to be directly south of Lanzhou by about seven hundred miles. “I’m feeling a strong pull around this town. I’m pretty sure this is the way the Minoans went.”

  “I can’t imagine why.” Griffin’s tone was perplexed. “The region’s only distinguishing characteristic is that the Yangtze River makes a ninety degree turn and travels east near Lijiang.”

  The Pythia stifled a yawn. “I’m not up to digging any farther into the town’s lore tonight. Why don’t we tell Jun about my hunch in the morning? He might be able to give us a quick rundown and save us hours of online searching.”

  Griffin studied her face intently. “You’re utterly knackered, aren’t you?”

  “I guess so, if knackered means I feel like I’ve been crunched in a carpet roller.” She gave him a wan smile. “Being buried alive can sure take it out of a person.”

  His expression grew somber. “It was thoughtless of me to bother you with this nonsense right now. Sadly, not the first mistake I’ve made today.” He rose and hurriedly packed up his computer.

  Cassie followed him to the door. “Meet you in the dining room for breakfast?”

  “What?” Lost in thought, Griffin seemed not to have heard her.

  She repeated her question.

  “Oh, yes. Absolutely. Eight sharp.” He faltered, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Turning abruptly, he said, “Look. I’d like to apologize for my absurd conduct this afternoon.” He was blushing to the roots of his hair.

  Cassie stared at him through a fog of exhaustion. “What are you talking about?”

  He opened his mouth several times but no sound emerged.

  The irony of Griffin being at a loss for words struck Cassie as funny until she realized the reason for his embarrassment. “Oh, that,” she said in a small voice.

  The Scrivener’s eyes darted toward the floor. “I’m afraid I behaved quite stupidly.”

  “No, you didn’t,” she protested gently. “You behaved like somebody who was worried about his friend.”

  He searched her eyes. “You really think so?”

  She reached up to touch his cheek. “News flash. The world is full of selfish, stupid people who go through life trampling anybody who gets in their way. As of this afternoon, I literally know what being ground into the dirt feels like. So when somebody acts like they care if I live or die, I don’t find their concern stupid at all. I’m grateful.”

  For a brief instant, Griffin’s eyes gleamed with something Cassie couldn’t quite define. It was gone before she could decide what it meant.

  He smiled with relief. “I’m glad.” An awkward silence threatened to engulf them both until he rushed to add, “I really should let you get some rest.”

  As he turned to let himself out, she patted his shoulder. “I care about you too, you know. Don’t ever forget that.”

  He paused, without turning. “You’ll never know how much—” He broke off. “Well, good night.” He slipped out the door and was gone.

  Cassie collapsed on the bed fully clothed, asleep before her head hit the pillow.

  Chapter 20—Reason To Retrieve

  Daniel felt his peaceful dream dissolve when someone rudely jostled his elbow.

  “Daniel!” A voice whispered close to his ear.

  “Just a few more minutes,” he grumbled.

  “Wake up!” The voice was insistent.

  The Scion yawned and opened his eyes. Chris’s chiseled features came into focus. Daniel allowed himself a few seconds to furtively admire the view before raising his head. He wondered if his friend realized how handsome he was. Daniel frequently found himself so distracted by the librarian’s good looks that he could barely form a sentence. He’d recently read an article about something called the golden ratio—an exact mathematical proportion among facial features which the eye perceived as beauty. Chris’s face surely possessed that divine symmetry.

  Daniel’s musings came to an abrupt end when his arm slipped off a pile of books, causing them to tumble to the floor. It was then he made the embarrassing discovery that he’d nodded off while slumped over a stack of reference works in the Ancient History section of the Chicago Public Library.

  “You did it again.” The librarian’s tone was mildly reproachful. He bent down to retrieve the fallen volumes.

  Daniel sat up and massaged the back of his neck to relieve the stiffness. Still disoriented, he asked, “Is it lunch time already?”

  Chris chuckled mirthlessly. “Hardly. It’s only ten-thirty in the morning. Get up.”

  The Scion obediently rose, closing the volume on Minoan Crete which he’d been reading, and followed the librarian to the elevator. “Where are we going?”

  “Out for a walk.” Chris punched the button for the lobby when the doors opened.

  Daniel stepped into the elevator car after him. “But aren’t you on duty? Won’t your supervisor notice if you aren’t staffing the Reference Desk?”

  “So full of questions today, aren’t we?” Chris shook his head in mock disapproval. “One of the new staffers agreed to cover for me. I did her a favor last week when she ducked out for a long lunch with her boyfriend.”

  Still having difficulty processing the reason for their walk, Daniel balked. “But I don’t need any exercise.”

  The librarian snorted derisively as they exited the elevator and moved toward the revolving doors. “No, what you need is an intervention.”

  Once outside, Chris immediately headed east on Columbus Drive.

  Daniel trailed him silently. As the stiff lake breeze hit him full in the face, the last of his sleepiness vanished. Turning up his jacket collar, he asked, “Intervention? What are you talking about?”

  Chris paused at the next corner when the light turned red. “I’m talking about the fact that all you do these days is browse books and nap—mainly nap. What about your relic hunt? You’ve been back for almost five months without solving the next riddle. In fact, you haven’t even told me what the next riddle is.”

  Daniel avoided his friend’s eyes. “I’m having some difficulty getting motivated.”

  They crossed when the light turned green.

  Chris’s tone became gentler. “Look, I get it. I understand that your wife’s death was a huge shock. It was bound to send you into a tailspin but you have to pull out of it, buddy. You’re missing the big picture here.”

  “What big picture?”

  They ran across Michigan Avenue as the light turned yellow and entered Grant Park on the lakefront. It was too early in the season for Buckingham Fountain to be sending up jets of spray for the benefit of tourist photographers. In fact, there were no tourists at all. The two men had the plaza in front of the fountain all to themselves.

  Chris didn’t even pause. He veered south. “Let’s keep walking.”

  “What big picture?” Daniel persisted.

  The librarian gave an exasperated sigh. “Danny Boy, there’s a lot more at stake here than finding another jewel-encrusted tchotchke for your dad’s mantelpiece.”

  The comment brought Daniel up short. He’d never considered any other reason. “What do you mean?”

  “Think about what might happen if you keep dragging your feet on this artifact quest.”

  The Scion shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Chris tried a new approach. “I met your father once. He didn’t strike me as a patient man.”

  “He likes to see results,” Daniel agreed.

  “So when you don’t produce those results fast enough, what’s he likely to do?”

  The Scion stared blankly at Chris, still at a loss.

  “Don’t you get it? He’ll replace you with somebody who can give him what he wants.” Chris cast him a sidelong glance. “Since I know the backstory on all the major players in your world, I’m guessing your psycho bodyguard, Leroy Hunt, would be next in line for the job.”

  Daniel stop
ped dead in his tracks. “My father would never do that! Hunt is incapable of rational thought.”

  “So he’d have to send somebody with brains along.” Chris smiled sardonically. “Maybe somebody like your shifty brother Joshua?”

  The very sound of the name sent a chill down Daniel’s spine. “No!”

  “No?” Chris ambled forward. “Then who else? Your father trusts him, doesn’t he?”

  “But he’s never trusted him with this secret. He... he... wouldn’t!”

  By this time, the pair had walked all the way to the Beaux Arts Garden at Eighth Street.

  Chris abruptly took a seat on the low stone wall beside the dry fountain.

  Daniel, half in shock, sank down next to him.

  Chris studied the Scion through narrowed eyes. “I see by your chalky complexion that I’m finally getting through but make no mistake. This isn’t about sibling rivalry. Letting Joshua get the better of you isn’t your biggest problem.”

  “It’s a huge problem.” Daniel’s voice rose in pitch. “He’s a terrible person. There’s no telling what he would do if he gained our father’s trust. He could hurt so many people.”

  The librarian nodded solemnly. “I agree. A guy like that could do a lot of damage. Even more than you realize.” He paused to let the words sink in.

  The Scion frowned. “I don’t understand. As terrible as that would be, Joshua could only harm members of our congregation. He has no control over anything else.”

  “Not even if he was put in charge of the artifact retrieval?” Chris’s tone held a note of calculated innocence. What do you think he’d do if he crossed paths with those three thieves you’ve told me so much about?”

  The Scion’s eyes flew open in wild alarm. “He’d kill them. Even if he didn’t murder them himself, he wouldn’t hesitate to give the order.”

  “If you keep pulling a Rip Van Winkle, those three deaths will all be on you,” the librarian concluded ominously.

  Daniel slumped forward and sank his head into his hands. “Oh my God! It would be a disaster. For everyone.”

  Chris gave a thin smile of satisfaction. “So the big picture comes into focus at last.” He reached over and rubbed Daniel’s shoulder. “Of course, none of that needs to happen if you’d get off your ass and do something about it.”

  The Scion sat up abruptly. He turned sideways to face Chris. “You’re absolutely right. I have to begin right now!”

  “That’s more like it.” The librarian nodded approvingly. “I’ll go so far as to spout a cliché and say ‘no time like the present’. I don’t suppose you remember the riddle off the top of your head...”

  Daniel paused to consider. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do recall the words. Funny how often I’ve turned that puzzle over in my mind. Here it is: ‘The kindred stir upon the high sharp peak where the river flows red to the serpent’s heart. Under the lawgiver’s glare, its coils tremble in the mirror at the lion’s feet.’”

  Chris wrinkled his forehead. “Wow, that’s a heaping bowl of alphabet soup.”

  “I did manage to figure out a few things,” Daniel reassured him. “I know the first line refers to the doves from the previous riddle and I’m fairly certain the location in question is the eastern Himalayas. That region is the source of Asia’s major rivers.”

  The librarian appeared lost in thought.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Eastern Himalayas,” Chris murmured. “Rivers with headwaters in the eastern Himalayas.” He treated Daniel to one of his dazzling smiles. “I think I’ve got a shortcut to solving the first line.”

  “So quickly?”

  The librarian shrugged. “If you’d bothered to share that riddle with me earlier, we could have cracked the whole clue by now.”

  “Sorry.” Daniel ducked his head.

  Chris ruffled his hair. “Cheer up, Danny Boy. That artifact’s as good as found. It just so happens that the Reference Department received an interesting gift about a month ago. Around 1900, there was an explorer who came from a rich family on the North Shore. A hundred years ago, if you had a lot of money and a lot of time to kill, I guess you became an explorer. Anyway, he spent decades traveling through the Himalayas and kept detailed accounts of the places he visited. His family recently donated his journals to the library. They haven’t been catalogued yet but I can slip a few volumes out of storage when nobody is looking. Between the two of us, we ought to be able to find that river you’re looking for.”

  Daniel stood up. “How wonderful. When can we start?”

  Chris stood as well. “This afternoon.”

  “Why not now?” the Scion insisted eagerly.

  The librarian looked pointedly at his watch and then at Daniel. “Because now it really is lunch time.”

  Chapter 21—What’s Around The Bend

  At eight o’clock the next morning, Cassie entered the hotel dining room where her three colleagues were already seated. She took a chair beside Rou.

  The girl eyed her with concern. “Better now?”

  “Way better.” The Pythia gave a bright smile. “Rested and ready for action.”

  The others relaxed visibly at her words. Her display the previous day must have worried them more than she’d realized.

  Cassie was on the point of summoning a waitress when Griffin hastened to pour her a cup of strong black coffee.

  “I took the liberty of ordering a pot for the two of us to share. The rest of the clientele seems to favor tea for some odd reason.”

  “Ah, java.” She raised the cup gratefully to her lips. “What would I do without you?”

  “Were you addressing that last comment to your beverage or to me?” the Scrivener inquired playfully.

  “A little bit of both, I guess,” the Pythia retorted slyly as she took another sip.

  A few minutes later, a waitress arrived with what had become the group’s standard breakfast order—baozi and congee. This consisted of steamed dumplings stuffed with sweet bean paste accompanied by bowls of rice porridge. Cassie had developed a fondness for both dishes during their stay.

  After allowing them all a few moments to start their meal, Cassie broached the topic uppermost in her mind. “Has Griffin told you about my latest theory?”

  “I thought I might let you do the honors.” The Scrivener passed her the coffee pot.

  “OK then. Here it is.” The Pythia addressed her comments to the Zhangs as she refilled her cup. “Last night when I was scanning a map of China, I got a really strong hunch that the Minoans took a route along the Yangtze River and ended up around a place called Lijiang. Any reason why they might have gone there?”

  At her words, Jun stopped chewing. He appeared thunderstruck. “Yes, of course. That makes perfect sense.”

  “It does?” Griffin sounded doubtful. “I couldn’t find anything remarkable about the place.”

  “It’s at the great bend of the river,” Jun said. “The Yangtze travels for nine hundred miles in a southerly direction from its headwaters in the Himalayas and then turns abruptly east near Lijiang.”

  Griffin regarded the trove-keeper blankly, apparently still not convinced of the location’s significance.

  Jun gave a slight smile. “Lijiang is very close to the land of the Mosuo. No doubt, you’ve heard of them.”

  “Of course I’ve heard of them,” the Scrivener replied. “Maddie has been trying to set up a trove near Lugu Lake for several years now.”

  Cassie tentatively raised her hand. “Anybody want to fill me in about these Mosuo characters?”

  Rou piped up. “Last matriarchy in China.”

  “Really?” The Pythia turned to her with avid interest.

  The girl withdrew immediately under Cassie’s intense scrutiny and focused on picking apart her steamed dumpling.

  Jun took up the explanation. “The Mosuo are a tribe living in a cluster of villages high in the mountains around Lugu Lake. They have managed to resist the influence of Han China and maintained
their matriarchal customs to this very day. The eldest female is the supreme authority in the family. As you might expect, lineage is traced through the mothers. Their language has no word for ‘father’ or ‘husband’. Men are responsible for the children of their sisters rather than their own biological sons and daughters since offspring never leave their maternal home. They don’t marry in the sense that we understand marriage.”

  “No marriage?” Cassie’s eyebrows shot up. “How do they pair off?”

  “They have walking marriage,” Rou said.

  “Is that like walking pneumonia?” Cassie asked archly, trying to coax a smile.

  The girl rewarded her with a soft giggle. “No. Not a disease.”

  The trove-keeper continued. “When a young woman reaches a certain age, she’s given her own bedroom where she can spend the night with a young man she likes. In the morning, the male partner returns to his own mother’s house which is why the custom is called ‘walking marriage’. Nobody frowns on this arrangement. Any children that result from such unions belong to the young woman’s family.”

  “From what little I know of Mosuo customs,” Griffin interjected, “these romantic alliances can last for years, sometimes even decades. At the very least, serial monogamy rather than rampant promiscuity seems to be the norm.”

  Jun nodded. “One might think that such an arrangement results in chaos but the Mosuo family structure is remarkably stable—far more so than the patriarchal nuclear family. Without divorce, there is no property division when a relationship ends. As for the children, their lives are not disrupted if their mother changes partners since Mosuo households contain large numbers of aunts and uncles. Children always have multiple adults looking after them. No one is ever an orphan. Aside from stability within the family, the culture as a whole is quite durable because there is no violence. The matriarchs manage to resolve conflicts without resorting to fistfights. There is no vicious competition for resources because nobody hordes wealth. All the members of each family receive a fair share. In local politics, the role of mayor is played by a man but nobody pays him much attention. Everyone knows the real power is in the hands of the grandmothers.”