Chris scowled in concentration. “The reference to an island tower has got to mean something along a coastline. The first likely spot would be the east coast of Sudan. Beyond that would be the Arabian Peninsula. Since it’s a peninsula, it has an awful lot of coastline.”
“I still don’t have a theory about what’s supposed to fill the jaws of the lion though,” the scion admitted.
The librarian seemed undeterred. “It doesn’t matter. One problem at a time. Maybe if we can figure out where the island tower is, the rest of the riddle will make sense.”
Daniel finished his ale. The warm glow in his stomach gave him a reassuring sense that, with Chris’s help, he would have no trouble solving the riddle and finding the next relic.
“So, are you ready to stop studying comparative religion and tackle this riddle now?”
“Right after lunch,” Daniel agreed. “But first, can I have another glass of ale?”
Chris gave him an apologetic grin and slid off his barstool. “Sorry, Danny Boy. I think you’ve had enough for one day. We both need to keep a clear head. There’s a treasure at stake.”
Chapter 7—Special Delivery
Annabeth smiled with secret satisfaction as she gazed down at the baby cradled in her arms. He was only a week old, but he was about to change her life. He slept so sweetly, so blissfully unaware of the difference he was going to make in his mother’s rank among the consecrated brides of the Blessed Nephilim. In fact, he had already made a difference. Ever since his birth, Annabeth had received a steady stream of visitors to pay homage to the new arrival. Even her husband Daniel had made an appearance to congratulate her and gaze admiringly on the child. He had torn himself away from his precious library because, for once, Annabeth had done something that captured his attention. It wasn’t every day that a son was born to the future diviner of the Blessed Nephilim.
She heard a sharp knock at the door to her quarters. A tall, elderly woman swept into the room.
“Hello, Annabeth.”
Annabeth attempted to rise from her rocking chair, but the woman gestured for her to stop.
“Don’t get up, child. I only came to see if you needed anything.”
“Why, n... n... no, Mother Rachel,” she stuttered. “Thank you for asking.”
This was a high honor indeed. The diviner’s principal wife had come to visit her. Annabeth hadn’t realized that Mother Rachel was even aware of her existence, yet here she was paying a social call just as if they were old friends. Father Abraham possessed over thirty spouses, but Mother Rachel had held the rank of his principal wife for more decades than anyone could remember. Among the consecrated brides of the Blessed Nephilim, she occupied a position second only to the diviner himself. She had ascended to that honor by giving birth to ten children—nine of them male.
One of the diviner’s other wives had also produced ten offspring, but half of them were girls, so they didn’t count as much. It was unlikely anyone would eclipse Mother Rachel’s record of baby boys. She was no longer Father Abraham’s favorite. She had lost that distinction in the early years of their union, but it was of no consequence. The diviner was growing old. The number of pregnancies among his wives declined each year. That made Mother Rachel’s rank in the community, and in the celestial kingdom to come, all the more secure.
The old woman leaned over Annabeth’s rocking chair and peered at the baby as if she were inspecting an undercooked pot roast. Taking glasses out of her apron pocket, she perched them on her nose and leaned in even closer. Annabeth noticed the deep grooves around the woman’s mouth and the wrinkles cutting furrows across her cheeks. She seemed ancient—much older than the diviner himself. Annabeth wondered how Mother Rachel must have felt when the aged diviner wed Hannah who was barely fourteen at the time. It was common knowledge that he doted on the girl. Would Mother Rachel have been jealous? Worried about losing her rank? Annabeth thought back to the brief time when Hannah had been married to her own husband Daniel. She remembered her feelings of jealousy and fear. Praise God, Hannah had succumbed to the temptation of the devil and run away. Both Mother Rachel and Annabeth had good cause to rejoice in her absence.
“Hmmm, looks healthy enough.” The old woman straightened up, folding her glasses and putting them back in her pocket. Then she turned from side to side, looking around the room as if she had lost something. “You also have a daughter, don’t you? Where is she?”
Annabeth shrugged vaguely. “I don’t know. I think one of my sister-wives is looking after her. She was always underfoot, and now that the new baby is here, I can’t be chasing after her all the time. Someone else will have to keep her for a while.”
The old woman nodded, satisfied with the explanation. Then she took a cursory stroll around the small quarters, inspecting everything with a practiced eye as she went. The cheap pine dresser, the thin coverlet on the bed. Finally, she gave a soft “tsk, tsk.” Wheeling around, she fixed Annabeth with a decisive look. “This won’t do. Such a chamber isn’t suitable for the principal wife of the scion.”
Annabeth felt her heart thrill with pride. Respect at last. As the principal wife of the scion, she was owed certain privileges. All because her husband Daniel was the heir to his father’s title as diviner. When Father Abraham passed from this life, Daniel would assume leadership of the Blessed Nephilim and Annabeth would be standing right behind him. She stole a glance at the bundle of joy that had made her elevation possible.
Mother Rachel was still talking. Annabeth refocused her attention.
“I’ll select something more fitting for you and your son.” Mother Rachel drifted toward the door. Apparently, her visit was at an end. Over her shoulder, she remarked, “The diviner told me to extend his congratulations. He’s relieved that the scion’s issue is finally male.”
Her emphasis on the word “finally” made Annabeth flinch.
“Thank you,” the new mother said.
Mother Rachel nodded briskly and left. Her bearing was almost as imperious as her husband’s. She could afford to be haughty. Her status was secure.
Annabeth secretly hoped her own position might one day be that unassailable too. As it was, her rank was still precarious. Daniel’s two other wives had each produced one daughter. Annabeth only held ascendency over them by one child—this boy. She would need to become pregnant again soon. That was easier said than done since her husband was so unwilling to make conjugal visits to any of his wives. Well, she had managed to persuade him before. She could do it again.
She leaned her head back and gave a sigh of relief at the thought that the diviner was pleased with her. What a welcome change. Her mind drifted back to her previous face-to-face encounters with Father Abraham. Annabeth cringed inwardly at the memory of his withering disapproval. First, he had blamed her for Daniel’s lack of offspring. Then he went on to accuse her of being an instrument of the devil. He had frightened her so badly that she was sure she could hear demons whispering in her head. Sometimes, if she became very quiet, she could still hear echoes of their mockery ringing in her ears.
She opened her eyes and shook herself out of her reverie. All of that was over now. The birth of her son had made everything better. Annabeth regarded him pensively. The baby slept on undisturbed. She lifted his little fist with her index finger. Such a small creature to hold her future happiness in the palm of his tiny pink hand. He was her guarantee of salvation. The Lord could never shut her out of the celestial kingdom now. The devil could never have her soul no matter how he whispered in her ear and scratched at her thoughts. The principal wife of the scion was safe—at least for now.
Chapter 8—An Overview of India
Cassie raised her coffee cup to her lips and took a slow sip. She reveled in the relaxed start to this day knowing that while her team was already in India, Daniel had only just begun to work on cracking the next clue. His procrastination had given the Arkana a sizeable head start. Without the Nephilim breathing down their necks, the trio might find th
e next few weeks downright enjoyable. She gazed out at the spectacular view stretching beyond the open-air restaurant on the roof of the Cosmopolitan Hotel. The sight of the Arabian Sea dancing in the morning light had a rejuvenating effect.
She turned her head to watch as Griffin pulled out a chair and sat down next to her.
“How are you this morning?” he asked tentatively, apparently expecting her usual jet lag complaints. The flight from Chicago to Mumbai had been daunting. Twenty hours of air travel followed by a pre-dawn taxi ride to the hotel.
She smiled at him and gave a thumbs-up. “I’m OK.” She cast a doubtful glance down toward her coffee. “Of course, that could be because I’m hopped up on caffeine.”
The scrivener stifled a yawn. “Caffeine. What an excellent suggestion.”
A waiter appeared at that moment to fill his cup.
“Now that’s a change,” Cassie observed. “I’m usually the one with the time zone problem.” She shielded her eyes and glanced up at the sky. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the climate. Maybe it’s the view, but I feel downright peppy.”
“Peppy, huh?” Erik joined them. He slid into the remaining chair at the table. “Then that makes one of you.”
“What’s the matter, road warrior? A little sleepy this morning?” The pythia’s voice held a note of mockery.
The paladin refused to take off his sunglasses. “Why’s it so bright out here?” he complained.
“Being a vampire must be hell,” Cassie observed dryly.
“I blame the kid with colic who boarded the plane in Newark,” Erik explained. “I didn’t get any shut-eye at all last night.”
“Even I heard the wailing, and I was seated a dozen rows behind you,” Griffin admitted. “It’s fascinating that a creature weighing no more than twelve pounds should possess such powerful lungs.”
“And for that many hours.” Erik groaned.
The trio hadn’t been seated together on the crowded flight. Because of an error in their ticketing, Cassie received a first-class seat while the two men were relegated to coach.
Once the waiter arrived to pour Erik’s coffee, he downed the entire cup in two gulps.
“Careful, that’s hot,” Cassie cautioned.
“A burned tongue might wake me up,” the paladin retorted.
“I think I figured out the cure for jet lag,” the pythia said brightly. “Well, mine anyway. The trick is to always sit in first class. My seat reclined flat like a bed, and I was in a suite which is a mini-cabin all by itself. Then the stewardess gave me something called an amenity bag, and it had pajamas and slippers and an eye mask. With all that pampering, even I could sleep. It was great!”
Erik slid his sunglasses down his nose long enough to fix her with a scornful stare. “And you think Maddie’s gonna foot the bill for your upgrade every time we take a long-haul flight?”
“She might if I explain how much jet lag throws me off my game.” Cassie appealed to the scrivener. “Tell him, Griffin. Remember what you said about pythias and their delicate nervous systems?”
“Oh, don’t drag me into this,” he demurred, vigorously stirring cream into his coffee.
At that moment, the waiter invited them to help themselves to the breakfast buffet. They wandered over to a long cloth-covered table bedecked with a vast array of breakfast foods. Aside from fresh fruit and various meats, the biggest surprises were bagels, cream cheese, and lox.
“Frankly, I expected curry,” Cassie mumbled to Griffin.
“This hotel caters to an international clientele,” he remarked. “The food served here is meant to suit a Western palate.”
The trio advanced to a separate table where a chef was creating made-to-order omelets. They each chose one. A half hour later, after a few more trips to the buffet and several more cups of coffee, Cassie’s teammates seemed almost lively. Or at least Griffin did.
Moving her plate to the side, the pythia transferred her attention back to the view of the ocean. “So where are we exactly?” she asked. “It was dark, and all I remember is a long, long cab ride from the airport.”
“We’re in South Mumbai now—the Back Bay area,” Griffin replied. “That stretch of road curving along the water is Marine Drive. At night, the view from this vantage point is called ‘The Queen’s Necklace’ because the lights resemble a strand of pearls.”
“It’s a pretty impressive view during the day too,” Cassie observed appreciatively. “Marine Drive kind of reminds me of Lake Shore Drive back in Chicago.”
“Yes, I can see the similarity,” the scrivener admitted.
Erik rose abruptly from the table. “I’m going back to my room for some more shut-eye. Come and get me when you two decide on a plan for the day.”
“See you later, Captain Cranky Pants,” Cassie called after him.
The paladin pretended he didn’t hear her.
Griffin watched the retreating figure of his teammate then turned to Cassie with a troubled expression. “Is everything alright between you two?”
She was taken aback by the question. “Everything’s fine. What made you ask that?”
“I couldn’t help but notice you checked into separate hotel rooms.”
“Oh, that.” Cassie laughed. “It isn’t common knowledge around the Arkana that Erik and I are involved. You only know about it because that was unavoidable.”
The scrivener colored as they both remembered their embarrassing encounter in the hotel hallway in Rabat.
“I haven’t told anybody else.”
“Didn’t Maddie question your hotel bill from Tahiti? I’m assuming the two of you shared a room while you were vacationing there.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“We shared a room some of the time, but the accommodations were separate. As far as hotel arrangements go, I like having a place to myself where I can crash if I want to.”
Griffin glanced down at the tablecloth, unwilling to meet her gaze. “I realize this is an impertinent question, but do you see any future in your relationship with Erik?”
“Hey, look at me,” Cassie coaxed, leaning forward to catch his eye. “It’s not impertinent. You’re my teammate and my friend. You have a right to know what’s going on. The truth is I can’t be sure. Right now, we’re just friends with benefits.” She propped her chin on her hand and sighed. “Though I could see myself falling for him if I had any encouragement.”
“And does he feel the same way about you?” Griffin asked in a guarded tone.
The pythia shrugged helplessly. “See, that’s just the thing. Who knows? Erik’s very cagey that way. He doesn’t like to show his cards—emotionally speaking.”
Griffin reached across the table and grasped her hand. “This is well beyond presumptuous of me, but I don’t want... I mean it would be terrible if...” He sighed with exasperation at his own incoherence. “I don’t want you to be hurt, that’s all.”
She squeezed his hand reassuringly before releasing it. “I’m all grown up now, Griffin. Whatever happens, I can handle it.”
He colored slightly. “Yes, of course. I shouldn’t have meddled. None of my business really.”
Cassie tactfully changed the subject. Her gaze traveled from the promenade along Marine Drive to the buildings on the opposite side of the road. “One high-rise after another. This sure isn’t the image of India I had in my head.”
Griffin perked up instantly, relieved at the distraction of a new topic. “Mumbai is quite modern. A bustling metropolis of twenty million people. The largest city in India and fourth largest in the world. It is also the wealthiest city with the best standard of living, not just in India but in much of Asia. The city represents how India would like to be perceived as a nation.” He hesitated.
The waiter swooped in to clear away the breakfast plates.
Sensing there was more to the story, Cassie asked, “What aren’t you saying?”
“A million people live in Dharavi—a shant
y town slum— only a few miles away from the wealthiest residences in Mumbai. The contrast is mind-boggling. India is a nation built of opposites—prosperous urban centers at one end of the spectrum and rural hamlets at the other. Seventy percent of the population lives in small villages and much of that population is mired in poverty and ignorance.”
“Why such a difference?”
Griffin paused to ponder the question. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “I think it’s difficult for Westerners to understand the national consciousness in India because it differs so much from our own.”
Cassie finished her coffee and stared at the empty cup. Before she could ask for a refill, the ever-vigilant waiter glided back with the coffee pot. She gave him a grateful smile and returned to the topic. “Explain, please.”
“Try to think of the United States as fifty independent principalities competing with one another for resources. Then try to imagine that these fifty principalities speak different languages and follow different religious beliefs. You might get some idea of the incongruence within what is now considered a single country.”
“So, everybody in India more or less went off and did their own thing?”
“Yes, and that uniqueness translates to local traditions that diverge from one region to another. At a village level, people stubbornly cling to a way of life they have held not merely for centuries but for millennia.”
“Yikes, talk about people being dragged kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century.”
Griffin sighed, contemplating the ocean view. “The wealthy modern cities of India are somewhat embarrassed by rural backwardness. It’s like the offputting uncle one wishes to hide in a closet when company comes to visit.”
Cassie chuckled. “In the information age, it must be hard keeping Uncle Sanjay under wraps.”
“I also think modern India fears that such behavior causes the rest of the world to view the entire country as regressive and superstitious.”
The pythia pondered his comment. “Americans would worry about national image too if the international press covered nothing but stories about Appalachian hill folk.”
Arkana Archaeology Mystery Box Set 2 Page 5