Secrets Of The Serpent's Heart (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 6) (14 page)

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.”

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.”

Abraham narrowed his eyes. “How much more will I need to take?”

“That is a very individual matter. Sometimes twice as much. Sometimes less. Of course, if you could do without it for a day or two, you won’t build up a tolerance as quickly.”

“Impossible!” The Diviner rejected the idea out of hand.
 
“I have never slept this well before in my entire life. As my responsibilities increase, so does my need for rest. I cannot direct an organization of this size without proper rest!”

“Yes, of course.” Brother Andrew retreated.

“And far more than rest, I need to maintain my connection to the Lord.”

“I don’t understand.” The herbalist peered at him quizzically.

Abraham allowed his gaze to drift off into space. “This medicine has granted me visions of the world beyond. It has given me the power to discern things to come, to discourse with angels. I am the Lord’s chosen prophet. With this medicine I can, at last, hear His voice perfectly. I know His will with absolute certainty. I can execute his plan for the Nephilim with no hesitation.” Abraham trailed off, noticing the frightened look on Brother Andrew’s face. “You’ll simply have to make more,” he concluded awkwardly.

The herbalist said nothing at first, apparently weighing how much he wished to offend his leader. “There may come a time when you’ve built up an extreme tolerance...” He hesitated. “There may come a time when the medicine won’t work as you expect it to.”

“What do you mean?” The Diviner felt a sense of panic rising. To have finally found a solution to his problem and then have it snatched away was worse than never experiencing these sublime visions at all.

“It occasionally happens that the pleasant dreams are replaced by others.”

Metcalf raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Other not so pleasant dreams. And not merely dreams. You may begin to see... things... Strange shapes, phantasms during your waking hours.”

“Nonsense!” The Diviner waved his hand as if he were swatting a fly. “Until that day comes, you will supply me with as much of this medicine as I require. Is that understood?”

Brother Andrew gulped and nodded. “If the nightmares should return, you may wish to break off using the medicine. I feel obligated to warn you that stopping is far harder than starting was.” He stood and walked to a shelf near the window. Selecting a small brown bottle, he handed it to the Diviner. “This should last for about a week. In the meantime, I’ll distill more.”

Metcalf took the bottle and rose to leave. “Double the quantity you prepared last time. I don’t wish to run out.”

Brother Andrew scurried around the desk and blocked his path. “Please, sir, remember what I said. Even a prophet of the Lord is not immune to the effects of too much medicine.”

Cassie walked along the shoreline looking into the depths of the clearest lake she’d ever seen in her life. According to rumor, the water was even safe to drink. Lugu Lake was classified as “alpine” despite the fact that it was a continent away from Switzerland. The designation was most likely due to the lake’s nine-thousand-foot altitude. Lugu’s daunting elevation didn’t trouble the Pythia though. Thanks to her stint in Tibet she’d learned how to cope with thin air. The same locale had taught her another useful skill—how to drink yak butter tea without gagging. The beverage was as popular around Lugu Lake as in the Himalayas.

The three Arkana agents had just finished checking into their hotel in Luoshui – one of the many villages that rimmed the lake. Despite Cassie’s misgivings about Rou, the girl had proven herself an able travel guide. She had taken charge of booking their accommodations and gotten them on the right airplane to Lijiang and the right bus to the lake. At the moment, she was in the hotel lobby haggling over their bill with the proprietor. It seemed that Rou’s self-consciousness disappeared whenever she was speaking her own language.

Cassie scanned the architectural style of the buildings surrounding the lake and let out a soft chuckle. Given the evergreens and mountains, the hostelries in the area looked like Rocky Mountain ski lodges complete with knotty pine paneling in the guest rooms. The pagoda roofs offered the only hint that this wasn’t Colorado. The parallel to the Wild West was further emphasized by the cowboy hats and blue jeans that Mosuo men wore.

In contrast, Mosuo women were more likely to be seen in traditional attire—long white cotton skirts covered with elaborately embroidered jackets and sashes. Their headdresses were even more intricate than their clothing, consisting of thick black turbans festooned with beadwork, flowers and ropes of pearls.

The Pythia glanced at a group of Europeans avidly snapping photos of the lake, the surrounding mountains and a costumed villager posing in the foreground. Tourist season was just beginning to gear up and tourism was booming for the Mosuo. The anthropological oddity of a “Kingdom Of Women” advertised in travel brochures was an irresistible draw to both Asians and Westerners alike. It had transformed the previously obscure location of Lugu Lake into a must-see attraction. The natives were happy to oblige since tourist money had given them a prosperous lifestyle beyond the reach of most rural Chinese.

The Mosuo didn’t seem to mind that some visitors came to the lake in search of lax moral conduct. Han Chinese sex workers, dressed in Mosuo costume, had been imported to fulfill male tourist fantasies in a small red light district. The local women, as a rule, were more selective in their romantic partners than outsiders anticipated.

Lugu Lake had other attractions to offer besides the lurid prospect of nightly orgies. Nature buffs were drawn to its picturesque beauty and the best way to see that beauty was via pig-trough boat. The shallow-bottomed, square-ended skiffs were so named because they looked like feeding containers for swine. At the moment, several oarsmen sat at anchor waiting to row tourists across the water to get a closer view of the islands dotting the lake and the mountain beyond.

Griffin walked up beside Cassie, interrupting her reverie. “Amazing view, isn’t it?”

She turned. “Where’s Rou?”

The Scrivener laughed. “She’s still involved in a heated dispute with the innkeeper over the rate we’re being charged. I didn’t catch what she was saying but I suspect she’ll prevail in the end.”

“I think we underestimated her.” Cassie’s tone was rueful.

“She’s certainly proven her worth in getting us to this rather out-of-the-way speck on the map.” Griffin looked behind him. “Ah, here she is now. Is everything sorted out?”

Rou scurried up to them, looking flushed and mildly irritated. “The bill was wrong.”

“Thanks for straightening things out for us.” The Pythia gave an encouraging smile.

Rou bobbed her head in acknowledgment. Ill at ease with the direct compliment, she immediately changed the subject. Pointing straight across the lake from where they were standing, she announced, “Gemu Goddess Mountain.”

“I can see why somebody would have picked that mountain as the home of a goddess,” Cassie observed. “The shape is really unusual.”

Rising on the opposite side of the lake was a long flat-topped mountain. It’s upper half, devoid of trees, appeared golden brown in the afternoon light.

“It almost looks like an animal crouching,” the Pythia observed. “A tiger or maybe a lion stalking its prey.”

“It was once called ‘Lion Mountain’,” the girl informed them.

Griffin, who had been casually gazing at the scenery, swung abruptly to face Rou. “What did you say?”

She took a frightened step backward.

“Griffin!” Cassie warned. “Ease off.”

Recovering, the Scrivener apologized. “I’m terribly sorry, Rou. I didn’t mean to alarm you. You said that the peak across the lake was once known as ‘Lion Mountain’?”

The girl nodded warily. “In ancient times.”

“Good grief! I’m a complete idiot.” Griffin sloped off to a bench next to the water. Puzzled, his two companions followed him and sat down.

“You want to explain why?” Cassie prompted.

He sighed and raked his hands through his hair. “The riddle. It all makes sense now.”

“Riddle?” Rou ventured uncertainly.

Cassie took up the explanation. “Each of the artifacts we’re trying to find is inscribed with a riddle to help us locate the next one. The current clue stumped us both. It says: ‘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’.”

The girl seemed no less baffled by the attempt at clarification. “Lion’s feet?”

“Yes, Rou, lion!” Griffin announced triumphantly. “As in Lion Mountain. I feel confident that I can decipher the clue completely now.”
 
The Scrivener’s eyes had taken on a feverish glow which Cassie interpreted as a good sign. It usually meant he was on the verge of making an important discovery.

“So spill already!” the Pythia commanded.

He grinned happily. “The confusion arose because we both thought the lion’s feet of the riddle referred to Regulus in the constellation of Leo. Though Regulus does factor into the time of year for our search, quite a different lion points to the location of the artifact. We are being instructed to look near the foot of Lion Mountain. And what do we find there? A lake. All lakes are reflective surfaces, or mirrors, if you will. So the mirror in which the serpent’s coils tremble is the lake itself. It reflects a shimmering image of the constellation Serpens in the night sky which makes the great snake appear to tremble.”

“Oh.” Rou sat forward, gazing with newfound interest at the body of water before her.

“If the Minoans are running true to form, then I’ll bet they hid the artifact in a cave on the mountain.” Cassie groaned. “That’s a lot of real estate to cover.”

“I believe I can cut our search by three-quarters,” Griffin countered.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “You’re being oddly precise with that estimate.”

“I’m quite convinced that the specific constellations named in the riddle can tell us which side of the mountain to search. Both Leo and Serpens are prominent in the southern sky during the summer months.”

“I’ll take a wild guess and say we search the south side of the mountain,” Cassie ventured.

“And I would heartily concur.” Griffin scowled as he contemplated the mountain. “Which way are we facing now?”

“North,” Rou piped up helpfully. “We are viewing the south side of the mountain.”

“Excellent.” Griffin rubbed his hands together with glee.

“Gemu Goddess Cave is facing us,” the girl added.

Both Griffin’s and Cassie’s smiles faded.

The Pythia said, “Just to be clear. You mean the tourist cave that’s listed in the brochure? The one with a cable car that drops dozens of people right at the entrance. That cave?”

“That cave.” Rou seemed mystified by their reaction. “Good, right?”

“Not good,” the Pythia retorted. “So not good!” She turned to her colleague. “Griffin, it’ll be a repeat of Kailash all over again. Honestly, I don’t think I can take another night of flashlights and frostbite and being kidnapped.”

Rou looked from one to the other in helpless distress.

“Cassie, do calm down. We don’t know with certainty that the Minoans hid anything in that particular cave. Let’s investigate first, shall we?”