Every Whispered Word (36 page)

“Dinna tarry, lad. I'm of nae mind to be sufferin' that trip back to England alone!” The old Scotsman scrambled awkwardly out of the cave.

“You're next, Zareb.”

Zareb regarded him gravely. “The spirits have spoken.”

“Right, they're telling us to get the hell out of here—so move!”

Zareb stared at him, then solemnly bowed his head. “She is yours, now. Guard her well.”

His dark eyes glittering with tears, he turned back toward the crumbling passageway.

“For the love of God—”

Simon grabbed him by his shoulders and whipped him around. “Do you really think I'm going to leave here without you, Zareb?”

“You must,” Zareb insisted. “Tisha needs you.”

“I'm flattered you think so. She needs you, too.”

Zareb shook his head. “My time watching over her is finished. It is your turn now.”

“Is this some sort of crazy African belief of yours? Because Oliver would
never
think his job of watching over me was finished. He still watches over my mother, and she's married and has nine children, for God's sake! The way he sees it, his job only gets bigger each year!”

Zareb's eyes widened. “He does?”

“I'd love to chat with you more about this,” Simon drawled, ducking as a huge chunk of rock fell beside him, “but I'd really prefer to do it outside of this cave. Are you coming?”

Zareb stared in surprise at Simon's outstretched hand.

And then he laid his palm against it, absorbing its warmth as Simon's strong fingers closed around his aged, weathered ones.

“Of course.” He smiled. “Tisha is waiting.”

“Nothing like holding off until the last possible second,” muttered Simon as he helped Zareb squeeze through the narrow opening.

A heavy shower of rock and dirt cascading around him, he dove through the shrinking entrance, landing hard upon the ground.

Then he grabbed Camelia and rolled on top of her, shielding her with his body as the Tomb of Kings sighed and collapsed, burying its secret chamber once more.

I
don't have anything more for you to eat,” Camelia told Oscar as he nudged her arm.

She sat cross-legged upon the ground, her father's precious journal open upon her lap, solemnly contemplating the rock painting of the lion and the warriors.

“If you're still hungry, go and see Oliver. Maybe he will give you one of his last oatcakes before he and Simon leave.”

Oscar continued to pull at her arm. Sighing, Camelia lifted it. Oscar scooted in beside her and gazed up, his dark little eyes troubled.

“It's all right, Oscar.” She gently stroked his head, trying her best to sound reassuring. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“Zareb said I would find you here.”

She turned abruptly to find Simon standing behind her. He was dressed in his usual outfit of a loose-fitting linen shirt and rumpled trousers, both copiously wrinkled but clean. Rupert was looped carelessly around his neck, while Harriet was perched regally upon his shoulder.

“It seems Rupert and Harriet have taken a liking to my things,” Simon said, carefully removing the snake from his shoulders and setting him down upon the ground. “Harriet keeps hauling items out of my trunk and flinging them around my tent, while Rupert just keeps slithering into it and burying himself in my clothes. He gave me quite a start just as I was about to close the lid.”

Camelia watched as Rupert coiled himself beside Simon's boot, patiently flicking his tongue as he waited to see where Simon would go next. Harriet flapped her wings in protest when Simon tried to remove her from his shoulder. On some primitive level, they seemed to understand he was leaving.

Camelia bit her lip and turned her gaze back to the painting on the rock.

“What will you do now, Camelia?” Having given up on trying to detach Harriet from his shoulder, Simon seated himself on the ground, not quite touching Camelia, but close enough that she was achingly aware of him.

She continued to gently stroke Oscar's head. “I'm not sure.”

“You could try to excavate the Tomb of Kings once more. It would take time, but at least now you know exactly where it is.”

She shook her head. “I don't want to find it again.”

Simon regarded her in silence. Her sage green eyes were shadowed with sadness, and the violet crescents underneath told him she had barely slept since the collapse of the cave the previous night.

“What happened to Elliott last night was terrible,” he began gently, “but it was his choice, Camelia. He could have left the tomb with the rest of us. He chose to stay until it was too late.”

“I don't think he was consciously making a choice, Simon. There were other forces in that tomb—forces that you and I can't understand.”

“Don't tell me you're starting to believe all Zareb's talk about dark winds and curses. That isn't a very scientific approach for an experienced archaeologist like you.”

“Some things defy the tenets of science,” Camelia reflected. “Zareb has always said there are things we cannot know, because we are not meant to know them—at least not until the time is right. Last night the Tomb of Kings revealed itself to me. In doing so, Elliott was revealed to me also. The two things were intrinsically linked. I don't think the spirits would have let Elliott leave that cave even if he tried to. That's why they buried it.”

“The spirits didn't bury the cave, Camelia,” objected Simon, “Elliott did. He fired his pistol and the cave collapsed, either because he created a fault in the ceiling or because the resonance from the blast caused tremors in the structure. For every action there is a reaction—and in this particular case, the physical reaction was the collapse of the cave.”

“I broke Elliott's finger, which caused him to fire his pistol in the first place,” Camelia pointed out. “If everything is just action and reaction, then I am responsible for the destruction of the tomb.”

“If you hadn't broken Elliott's finger when you did, Zareb, Oliver, and I would have done everything in our power to knock him down, which would also have caused his pistol to fire. I think even Stanley and Bert would have ultimately helped us. All morning Stanley has been trailing after me, asking if there is anything he can do to repay me for helping to get him out when he was stuck. And Bert offered to help Oliver with his trunks—although I think he just meant he would get Stanley to carry them. So you mustn't torment yourself with the thought that you are responsible for the collapse of the tomb and Elliott's death, Camelia. I'm glad Zareb showed you that little trick with the finger—although I must admit,” he finished, smiling, “I didn't think so when you tried it out on me.”

“Elliott never would have attempted to harm us if we hadn't found the cave with all those diamonds in it—and we never would have found the cave if I hadn't heard that voice whispering to me at the river.”

Simon frowned. “What voice?”

“It doesn't matter.” Camelia closed her father's journal and set it aside, trying to make sense of her ragged emotions. “All I'm trying to say is, maybe there are some things that are better left undisturbed, Simon. To excavate this site would mean countless years of tearing up the ground—and for what? To remove the artifacts from their rightful home so they can be hauled across the ocean and placed in a museum in England? Where they would be put into glass cases and exposed to thousands of gawking people who couldn't begin to appreciate their importance?”

“This doesn't sound like you, Camelia. You have always believed in the value of sharing information about the past with the rest of the world.”

“The bodies and artifacts in that cave weren't placed there with the intention of their being removed and exposed to the world. It's a burial chamber, Simon. Those artifacts belong to Africa, and to the African people descended from the chiefs buried within, and even to the spirits who are guarding them. It would be wrong for me to remove them.”

“What about your father's dream?”

“My father dreamed of finding the Tomb of Kings. We did that.”

“If you don't provide the archaeological world with proof, they'll never believe you. It will just be a story that will be dismissed as either grossly exaggerated or pure fiction.”

“I know. And it pains me to think my father's work will never be celebrated, when he struggled his entire life to earn the respect of his peers. But I know if he were here, he would agree with me. My father loved archaeology, Simon, but he loved Africa more. Ultimately, he would want to do what was best for Africa, not what was best for his legacy.”

She had changed, Simon realized, moved and humbled by the quiet acceptance and maturity emanating from her. The quest that had consumed her every thought and breath from the time he had first seen her sprawled in a sopping wet tangle of petticoats on his laboratory floor had just been taken from her. And although sadness shadowed her gaze, he sensed she was at peace with her decision.

“You could always mine the land for diamonds,” he suggested. “Away from the site of the tomb, of course.”

She shook her head. “I won't ravage the land in search of a few useless white pebbles. Diamonds are of no interest to me—they have no redeeming value.”

“Actually, being one of the hardest substances on earth, I believe they do have some redeeming value, at least from a scientific point of view,” countered Simon. “They could eventually prove to be of considerable importance in the fields of science and technology. Even if I can't convince you of that, there is something else you should consider. Elliott took the diamonds your father found to the De Beers Company, who have remained discreet about it because they hoped to buy the land from you. It is only a matter of time before rumors about the diamonds of Pumulani spread. When they do, how will you stop others from coming here and digging up the land?”

“Pumulani is mine. I will not permit anyone to dig upon it.”

“Which is admirable—you might succeed in protecting it for as long as you are able to keep men here to constantly guard it. But where will you find the money to pay those men? And what will happen to this place after you die?”

“I will make arrangements for it,” Camelia insisted.

“Even if you succeed in protecting the land for the next hundred years, eventually someone is going to come along and try to mine it,” argued Simon. “The question is, how careful will they be with the earth, how well will they treat the workers, and to what use will they put the profits they make here?”

“I don't know. I can only control how I treat the land and the people who work for me. I cannot control what others will do.”

“Which is exactly why you should consider mining the land yourself. Think about it, Camelia,” he urged. “First of all, you could mine the land as carefully as you pleased, making sure you kept well away from the site of the tomb, and preserving any artifacts you might find as you sifted through the earth. Secondly, you could ensure the native workers were well treated and fairly paid, while providing them with much-needed work. And thirdly, you could use some of your profits for the good of the African people.”

It was a sound argument, Camelia reflected. She had always despised the mining companies, because they destroyed the land and abused their native workers, all for the sake of making a fortune for the investors. But if she were mining her own land, things would be different. She could ensure the land was excavated carefully, preserving any artifacts they might find along the way. She would treat her workers with integrity and respect. And any profits she made could be used to help the surrounding tribes when food was scarce, and to prepare them for the new world that was swiftly and inevitably descending upon them. A school could be built. Perhaps even a small hospital could be erected, for when the powers of burning herbs and shamans were not enough. Searching for diamonds at Pumulani was not necessarily a betrayal of all she believed in, she realized. Not if it meant bettering the lives of even just a few African people.

Even so, she found herself strangely reluctant to take on this new venture.

“I don't know.” Her voice was hollow as she tentatively added, “I'm not sure I'm going to stay here.”

Simon regarded her in confusion. “You don't have to live here at the site, if you don't want to. As long as you hire capable workers whom you trust, and a good overseer, I'm sure you can run things from your home in Cape Town.”

“I was thinking of going a bit further away than that, actually.”

Simon arched his brow. “Where were you thinking of going?”

She inhaled a long, steadying breath. “To London.”

His eyes widened in amazement. “Why?”

Because I cannot bear to stay here without you,
she thought, feeling vulnerable and afraid of the feelings coursing within her.
Because nothing I ever do or see or feel or touch will ever be the same if you are not with me. Because if you leave and I remain here, I will live the rest of my life feeling that my heart has been torn in two.

“I just want to go there.” She had hoped he would be pleased by the thought of her going to London with him. Instead he looked completely dumbfounded. “Is that so strange?”

He shrugged. “For most women, probably not. For you, who despise London and love Africa with all your heart, yes.”

“I could learn to like London.”

“That's doubtful. But even if it were true, why on earth would you want to, when everything important to you is here?”

“Because everything important to me isn't here. Something extremely important to me is in London.”

“What?”

She turned her gaze to him. Summoning up every fragment of her courage, she solemnly whispered, “You.”

He regarded her in astonishment.

And then, to Camelia's profound irritation, he began to laugh, causing Harriet to abandon his shaking shoulder in flurry of disgruntled gray feathers.

“I'm not going to London, Camelia,” he finally managed.

She regarded him blankly. “You're not?”

“Well, I suppose if you are, then I'll have to, but I'd suggest we go only for a short visit. I know my family is most anxious to meet you, especially after the stories they've no doubt heard about you from Doreen, Eunice, and Jack. But you have to promise me we can take Rupert with us—my little brother Byron will never forgive me if we don't. He's been trying to convince Genevieve that a snake would be a marvelous pet.”

“But I'm only going to London because you are,” Camelia objected. “Badrani told me you were packing. He said he and Senwe were taking you and Oliver to Kimberley to catch the train to Cape Town this afternoon.”

“Aye, an' if ye both keep sittin' here blatherin' away, the day will be gone an' I'll have missed the train,” Oliver added sternly as he approached.

“It would be better for you to leave tomorrow,” Zareb insisted, walking slowly beside him. “I have not yet prepared
mopane
worms for you.”