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

by Wikarski, N. S.

  Rou cleared her throat, a sure sign that she intended to complete an entire sentence. “Letting the grandmothers decide things is good for everyone in the clan.”

  The other three nodded their agreement with the wisdom of that phrase.

  “So how did they manage to pull it off?” Cassie asked. “This Mosuo tribe must be surrounded on all sides by patriarchal Chinese.”

  “I imagine the same way the Basques did,” Griffin speculated.

  “You mean mountains,” the Pythia inferred.

  “Yes, the area which the Mosuo inhabit is relatively inaccessible. It offers no resources which overlord armies might covet.”

  “There is no overlord genetic footprint around Lugu Lake,” Jun said. “To this day, Mosuo DNA is distinct. The tribe is closely related to Tibetans with hardly any admixture from the ethnic majority Han DNA.”

  “It sure sounds like an interesting place to visit,” Cassie ventured. “In terms of a likely hiding spot for a bunch of goddess-worshipping Minoans, it seems ideal.” Eyeing Griffin, she asked, “So why don’t you think this is where we should be looking?”

  The Scrivener gave an exasperated sigh. “Because it’s nowhere near a major river.”

  “About one hundred and fifty miles from the Yangtze,” the trove-keeper corrected.

  “The riddle explicitly mentions a river pointing to the whereabouts of our next artifact,” Griffin insisted. “I’m sorry but I don’t see the connection.”

  “Tributaries,” Rou whispered.

  The Scrivener looked startled. He stared at the girl. “I beg your pardon?”

  Sensing that she was about to withdraw again, her grandfather intercepted the question. “All the Mosuo villages are built on the shores of Lugu Lake and the lake itself is fed by small rivers which are tributaries of the Yangtze.”

  “So you’re saying that if the Minoans followed the Yangtze to the big bend, they would have been able to branch off along another river that would lead them to Lugu Lake?” Cassie clarified.

  “Yes,” Rou confirmed simply.

  “Here is another fact which might be relevant to your search,” Jun added. “Lugu Lake nestles close to Gemu Goddess Mountain.”

  “A goddess mountain?” Cassie repeated slowly. “That’s practically a red flag for us! The Minoans love hiding stuff in mountains, especially if they’re sacred to some goddess or other.” She stared pointedly at Griffin, daring him to offer another objection.

  Apparently conceding the argument, the Scrivener threw his hands up. “What are we waiting for? Sichuan Province is a long way from here and we have travel arrangements to make.”

  “Now why didn’t I think of that?” Cassie asked wryly.

  Chapter 22—Power Beauty Tips

  “How does this one look?” Hannah emerged nervously to stand before Faye. The old woman had taken a seat in front of the fitting room doors and waited patiently as the girl tried on a dozen different prom dresses. They were shopping in a pricey boutique at the mall that catered to teenage girls whose parents had money. Considering that this was to be Hannah’s first formal dance, Faye was determined to spare no expense.

  “I think this one might be OK,” the girl suggested diffidently, searching Faye’s eyes for a confirmation.

  The old woman smiled. She rose and walked over. Spinning the teenager around so she faced the triple mirror next to the fitting room, Faye answered her question with a question. “What do you think?”

  Hannah gasped at the multiple images of herself reflecting the finery of a princess. The outfit was a pink skater dress. Its fitted bodice was spangled with rhinestones. The short skirt was made of ruffled chiffon and billowed around Hannah’s legs as she spun around to get a better look. When she stopped spinning, she studied herself with a critical eye. “I think I look pretty.” She uttered the statement with a note of shock in her voice.

  “And that surprises you?” Faye asked gently.

  The girl frowned. “It was a sin among the Nephilim to pay too much attention to appearance. We were told that vanity was the devil’s favorite method to ensnare the female. Everybody knew that women who admired themselves were bound to go to hell.”

  The old woman chuckled mirthlessly. “A very effective strategy if one wishes to induce self-doubt in the fair sex.”

  Hannah whirled around to stare at her. “Why would somebody want to do that?”

  “My dear, in the age-old battle between the sexes, women’s trump card has always been physical attractiveness. In cultures where men make the rules, the irksome fact remains that the wealthiest and strongest man can easily be mastered by a pretty woman. I suspect the Nephilim brotherhood knows and deeply resents its vulnerability to female charms.”

  Hannah continued to stare at her uncomprehendingly.

  Faye elaborated. “For women, beauty is power.”

  “So a woman who knows she’s beautiful...” Hannah trailed off.

  “If she were unscrupulous enough, she could use it to her advantage and wreak havoc among the brotherhood. Possibly even destroy it.”

  “Do you suppose that’s why we all wore grey dresses? And why our hair was bound around our heads?” Hannah asked the questions as if realizing the implication for the first time.

  “Most assuredly,” Faye agreed, returning to the cushioned seat before the mirrors.

  The girl followed her and sat down, an anxious look still on her face. “So you think this dress looks alright? That I look alright in it?”

  Face reached over and patted her hand. “Hannah, I’ve lived a very long time and over the course of my life I’ve learned a few things that have helped carry me through. The most useful lesson of all is never to place one’s self-esteem in the hands of other people.”

  The girl still looked puzzled.

  “How do YOU think you look?” Faye asked.

  Glancing briefly at her reflection in the mirror, the girl replied hesitantly. “I think I actually look...” She faltered. “Beautiful.”

  Faye squeezed her arm encouragingly. “That’s my girl. In the long run, your opinion of yourself is the only one that counts.”

  “There I said it,” the teenager continued, gaining confidence. “I look beautiful. I am beautiful.”

  “I imagine that felt rather liberating,” Faye observed.

  Hannah’s face appeared flushed, exhilarated. “A little scary actually,” she admitted. “I never allowed myself to believe that before, much less say it out loud.”

  “No doubt, that’s only one of many new concepts you’ve learned since you left the compound.”

  The girl gazed down at the floor pensively. “Living among the Nephilim seems like a bad dream to me now. The things they believe. The way they treat each other. Now that I can look at it from the outside, their ways are topsy-turvy. They stood the world on its head and tried to make everybody believe things were right-side-up.”

  “So you’re happy in this Fallen World, as the brotherhood calls it?”

  “Happy?” Hannah repeated the word with incredulity in her voice. “There’s no comparison. I never want to go back there. I’d die before I’d do that.”

  “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Faye said dryly.

  The girl scarcely heard her. She remained lost in her own past. “Even when I was at the compound in Missouri and my parents were there and my brothers and sisters, I don’t think any of us were really happy. My parents always worried about whether they were doing the right things to please God. And then, when I was taken away from my family and brought to Illinois, everybody around me wasn’t simply worried. They were all scared.” She paused to consider. “Except Father Abraham. He never seemed to be afraid. I guess because he was too busy scaring everybody else.”

  “Oh, I think he was terrified too,” Faye remarked quietly.

  “You do?” Hannah turned to peer at the old woman.

  Faye nodded. “Men who bluster and posture are trying to keep their own fears at bay and to keep ev
eryone else from suspecting the truth. That they’re the most frightened of all.”

  “But what could he have to be afraid of?” Hannah protested. “He made all the rules. He was in charge of everything.”

  The Memory Guardian paused to consider the question. “If he really believed the tenets of the Nephilim then he was accountable for everyone else. And if everything wasn’t going well, who do you think God would blame? Mr. Metcalf must have lived in constant dread of divine retribution.”

  “Oh, my.” Hannah’s hand flew to her mouth as recognition dawned.

  Faye continued. “I can’t imagine a worse burden than holding oneself accountable for hundreds, if not thousands, of other souls. I find being accountable for my own is quite enough to manage.”

  “No wonder he was so crabby all the time,” Hannah said.

  Faye chuckled and stood up. “Enough gloom and doom. Why don’t you change and we’ll take your lovely new dress up to the counter and pay for it.”

  Hannah scurried to the fitting room door and returned five minutes later with the dress over her arm.

  As the two walked toward the cashier, Faye said, “Now we’ll have to find you some shoes to match.”

  “Glass slippers?” Hannah suggested with a grin on her face.

  Playing along, Faye replied, “My dear child, they’re very uncomfortable to dance in. Besides...” she added slyly. “I’m fairly certain your Prince Charming doesn’t need a glass slipper to find you. He already knows where you live.”

  Chapter 23—Lame Excuses

  Shortly after convincing Griffin to fly to Lijiang and search the vicinity of Lugu Lake, the Arkana group sprang into action. Although the actual flight time to their destination was only four hours, they were informed it could take a full day to get there. They would have to board a two hour flight to Guangzhou that entailed an overnight layover. Since only four flights per week left from Anyang, they would have to hurry to catch a plane that very afternoon. They rushed off to pack and agreed to reconvene in the hotel lobby at noon.

  Griffin and Cassie were the first to arrive. They went to the registration desk to complete their check-out. About five minutes later, Rou came downstairs and did the same. The three of them, trailing their luggage behind, took a seat on one of the lobby’s couches to await the trove-keeper.

  The Scrivener checked his watch. “I do hope nothing’s amiss.”

  All three of them kept their eyes trained on the elevators but Jun never appeared. Just as they were all growing restive, one of the desk clerks called them over. The trove-keeper had phoned downstairs to request them to come to his room. They crowded back into the elevator, luggage and all. A few minutes later, they were tapping at his door.

  A muffled voice inside said, “It’s open.”

  Griffin entered cautiously followed by the others. They were greeted by the sight of the old man lying in bed with his left leg propped up on a pillow, an elastic bandage wrapped around his foot.

  “Grandfather!” Rou rushed to his side.

  “Good grief, what’s happened to you?” the Scrivener cried.

  The old man chuckled ruefully. “A clumsy accident. I was hurrying to pack and had taken off my shoes. Before I could change to another pair, I accidentally struck the bottom of the dresser with my foot. When you get old, your bones become as thin as egg shells and just as easy to crack. I’ve had enough such injuries over the course of a lifetime to know that I fractured a metatarsal.” He winced, obviously in pain, as he shifted his weight.

  “Have you seen a doctor?” Cassie asked.

  Jun shrugged. “There’s little they can do for a hairline fracture. The doctor’s standard advice would be to apply ice to bring down the swelling, wrap the foot, keep pressure off the limb, and wait for it to heal. All these things I’ve already done.”

  “You certainly can’t go with us in this condition,” the Pythia objected. “You need to stay off your feet and rest.”

  “I quite agree,” Jun said. “I’ll have to remain here for a few days until I can walk with a crutch. Then I’ll fly back to Liaoning. My granddaughter will take over as your guide.”

  His proposal was met by a shocked silence.

  “But she’s just a kid.” Cassie wanted to bite her tongue the second she uttered that phrase, remembering the number of times Erik had used those same insulting words about her when she first became Pythia. “Uh... I mean... if she’s never been there before it would be...” she trailed off.

  Jun gave an airy wave. “Rou has been to Lugu Lake many times. Her parents were the first Arkana scouts sent there to assess its suitability as a trove site. She knows the region quite well.”

  “I’m sure she would be an asset to us,” Griffin parried tactfully. “However you must realize that if the artifact is hidden there our assignment could become quite dangerous. We wouldn’t wish to put a member of your family in harm’s way.”

  The old man maintained his composure in the face of this additional objection. “I spoke to the Chatelaine just before I called you all in here. She assures me that your adversary Daniel is still immersed in research at the library. She will inform you when he’s ready to depart. Maddie will also alert the operatives you used in Tibet. They will fly out to meet you and arrange to transport the artifact out of the country if you find it.”

  Griffin and Cassie exchanged resigned looks. The Pythia shrugged.

  “It seems you’ve thought of everything,” the Scrivener concluded.

  Rou, who had remained silent during this interchange, spoke for the first time. “No, no, no!” She shook her head violently. Then she launched into a rapid stream of verbiage in Mandarin proving just how fluent Rou could be in a crisis. The torrent of chatter continued for a full two minutes without a break.

  Jun regarded his granddaughter placidly as the pitch of her voice rose to a shrill squeak and her hands gesticulated wildly. He was apparently waiting for her to take a breath.

  When Rou’s verbal storm had spent itself, the trove-keeper reached out and took the girl’s hand. “My child,” he murmured, “I know you.”

  This comment brought her up short. She blinked in surprise.

  He continued. “I have watched you grow from a tiny baby into a young woman. All that time I could see your clever and resourceful nature, even if you failed to notice it yourself.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Little sparrow, how will you ever know you can fly if you never trust your own wings?”

  Jun turned his attention to the others. “Rou will be able to help you find your artifact. I’m only sorry I won’t be there to see her do so.”

  The girl gave her grandfather a stricken look but remained silent.

  The trove-keeper shifted the pillow behind his back. “Might we have a few moments alone to say goodbye? Rou will meet you in the lobby. I wish you every success on the next stage of your journey.”

  Cassie and Griffin awkwardly made their farewells and let themselves out.

  As they traveled down the hotel hallway toward the elevator, the Pythia grumbled, “This retrieval just got interesting.”

  “Quite,” Griffin concurred ominously.

  Chapter 24—High Way To Heaven

  The Diviner tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for a response to his rap. The door remained closed. He pounded more insistently. “Brother Andrew!” His voice echoed down the silent corridor.

  A few minutes later, the herbalist opened his chamber door. “Oh, I’m sorry Father. I was at the back of the Infirmary. I didn’t hear you.”

  “Never mind.” Abraham swept in and surveyed the waiting room—three or four empty chairs in the front alcove, then a short corridor which led back to a consulting room and the herbalist’s store of supplies.

  The Diviner held up an empty bottle and gave Brother Andrew an accusatory stare. “You aren’t making this preparation properly anymore.”

  “Father?” the herbalist asked weakly.

  “As you can see, the bottle is empty. You gave me
a full supply less than a week ago.”

  Brother Andrew’s eyes darted nervously toward the door. “Please come through to the back room and we’ll discuss the matter.”

  Metcalf followed him and was led to a large open area at the rear of his chambers fitted with shelves and bookcases built into the walls. The shelves held bottles and jars, the bookcases various medical reference texts.

  “Please sit down.” The herbalist indicated a chair in front of his desk.

  The Diviner sat and placed the empty bottle on the desk in wordless reproach.

  Brother Andrew scrutinized the label and instructions. Then he looked up. “This quantity should have lasted you for several more days.”

  “I suppose it might have done if you’d made it correctly,” Metcalf sniffed.

  “I—”

  “You obviously didn’t concoct as strong a mixture as the first bottle. I had to take twice the dosage you prescribed in order to sleep as deeply—to dream as sweetly.”

  “Twice!” The herbalist registered shock at his own exclamation. He tried in a softer voice. “Father, I warned you that this medicine is very powerful.”

  “Not nearly as powerful as it was at first. You must have diluted it.”

  Brother Andrew’s face took on an expression of owlish concern. “The second bottle was filled from the same batch as the first. In fact, I shelved it the same day I delivered the first bottle to you.”

  This information gave Abraham pause. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms defensively. “Well, something is clearly amiss here.”

  The herbalist sighed and tried again. “This medicine has certain properties which you need to be aware of. Over time the body will build up a tolerance to it. If you continue to take it every night, then you will need to increase the dosage to achieve the same effect.”