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A short, kindly-faced woman bustled in from the green tent passage with
a big copper tray. Ellea trailed her, carrying a tray of biscuits.
“I heard
the carriage, Hellin dear,” the woman said. “You all must be parched.
Come have a drink at once. Are these the boys?”
The boys
turned to be introduced to Mama Darvin. She was clearly Shandorian too,
with the look of the northern clans, only rounder. She had warm brown
skin, merry almond eyes, and a long black braid that wrapped around her
head twice. She insisted everyone sit down amid cushions and drink
sweet water with ginger before exploring any further.
Ellea solemnly
deposited a biscuit in everyone’s hands and then sat as well, both hands
full, to nibble first one biscuit and then the other in turn, working
her way in concentric circles to the center of each.
Djaren ate his
biscuit normally, so Jon did too.
“Anna
won’t leave off with that contraption,” Ma Darvin was saying. “She’d be
here to greet you but just before the midday the men moved the last
debris from the north passage. There are some carvings she’s bound and
determined to record before they go on.”
“Anna
does the sketching,” Djaren explained. “Whenever we find anything, she
draws it. She’s very clever at it too.”
“And she
should be content with that, but no!” Mama Darvin threw her hands
skyward. “Now she must drag out all the equipment and photograph it
too.”
“You have
a camera?” Jon was impressed.
“I
figured out how to work it first,” Djaren said, “but Anna laid claim to
it. And she does take better pictures. Here’s one she took of
us.” Djaren brought down a framed photograph from an overloaded armoire
dripping antiquities with labels. Jon examined the picture with
interest. There were the Blackfeathers just like in the newest kind of
papers, black and white and in their best clothes. Hellin was smiling
and had a fine frock. The children stood, Ellea looking a little sullen
in a starched dress with ribbons, Djaren very stiff and upright and
wearing a tie. Behind them stood a tall dark figure who must be Doctor
Blackfeather. There was something a little odd about his eyes. Jon
frowned and closed his own eyes a moment, trying to fix in his mind what
the man looked like. He opened his eyes and studied Doctor
Blackfeather’s face again, but couldn’t seem to hold the image in his
head. The man looked striking somehow, but also just as one would
expect Djaren and Ellea’s father to look. Black hair, long like
Djaren’s, a serious face like Ellea’s, and odd eyes. In another moment
Jon had forgotten what the man looked like again, and had to study the
picture all over. Tam, waiting impatiently for a turn, finally took it
from his hands.
Next
Djaren showed them their room, half green tent, half faded blue, with a
cot on either side piled high with blankets and quilts. “Don’t let the
heat fool you,” Mama Darvin said, plumping down pillows and setting
thick blankets on the beds. “It can get harsh and cold here at night.”
There was
a writing desk, oil lamps, plenty of pens and ink and some good paper in
neat stacks. Best of all, there was a bookshelf just for Jon. He
carefully unpacked his own books from home onto it and felt at once more
comfortable.
“And now
that you’re settled,” Djaren said, “you must come and see the dig! If
there are new carvings we have to see them. Right away!”
Back by the line of
shoes, they found Professor Sheridan already waiting. “There’s so much
I have still to see here.” He smiled. “You’ve uncovered so much in the
last months. I’ve quite missed the excitement. Let’s go see the new
discoveries.”
“I’ll wait here for
Corin,” Hellin said. “I expect he’ll be arriving shortly. You go on.”
The children were
back in their shoes in a matter of moments and then out into the
blinding sun, Djaren carrying a jar of ginger water for Anna at Mama
Darvin’s insistence.
Djaren
navigated the maze of tents with ease, pointing out landmarks of
interest as they went. “There’s the well, and the bath tents, and
that’s where the foreman Harl Darvin lives, with Mama Darvin and Anna.
And here is the dig! Careful down the steps.”
The dig
opened out before them, a vast honeycomb of excavated rooms and
passages, emerging roofless from the earth. It was a little like
standing on a plateau and looking down into a network of canyons.
Yellow sand and grey crumbling soil gave way to pale limestone and
chipping red plaster. The Gardner boys duly admired the ruins.
“That
must have taken a bit of work to clear,” Tam said, looking at the
wheelbarrows and stacks of shovels.
“Look at
the drainage channels.” Jon pointed. “How clever. Bronze weapons, but
they were rather advanced in other ways, weren’t they?”
Djaren
detailed the layout of the city under excavation, and related the order
of finds, of buildings, and what was in them as he guided them down into
the dig itself. They descended a rope ladder and a set of wooden stairs
and walked though a maze of ancient houses until they came to a thin
corridor, still partially blocked with dirt. In the middle were a large
sun umbrella and a curious hooded apparatus on a tripod, under which
someone in skirts was humming.
“Anna!
The Professor is here, and we’ve brought the guests too,” Djaren
announced.
The
apparatus and occupant jumped, with a muffled word that Jon didn’t know,
but which raised the Professor’s eyebrows.
The
tousled head of a pretty girl appeared from under the hood. “You
startled me. I was taking the last exposure, but you’ve made me jostle
it. I shall have to try again. No interrupting!” She dived back under
the hood again while adjusting the apparatus. After an uncomfortable
minute or two, there was a bright little explosion from a dish extending
from the contraption, and the girl emerged again, looking pleased.
“Done. Now introduce me at once.”
“This is
Anna Darvin,” Djaren obeyed, “our artist and photographer.”
Anna bore
only a passing resemblance to her mother. She was about Tam’s age, but
shorter, with fine northern features and a shape more like Lady
Blackfeather’s than like Mama Darvin’s. She had dark curly hair, tanned
brown skin and startlingly blue eyes. She wore a simple and dusty blue
dress with a leather apron full of pockets, paint and pencils.
Jon
introduced himself, unsure of whether to shake her hand or bow. He
settled on a polite nod. Tam dropped his hat when Anna turned to him.
He picked it up, turned it round in his hands and nearly dropped it
again. “Tam,” he said, with a reddening face.
Anna
smiled at him. “I’m pleased to meet you, Tam Gardner.”
Tam
mumbled something unintelligible, and the Professor suggested they clear
the way to the carving.
Anna and
Djaren disassembled the apparatus and packed it away quickly, in spite
of Tam’s oddly clumsy efforts to assist. Anna folded down the sun
umbrella and used it to wave at the revealed carvings with a flourish.
“Isn’t it fine? I have a good sketch of the winged fellows.”
Jon
peeked around the older children’s backs to see the fascinating
carvings. He was excited to find several different scripts and
languages, and carved figures. On either side of a block of script were
two figures, winged men with beards.
“Guardians,” Djaren said. “That’s a good sign, do you see? They are
only found guarding royal chambers, tombs, or treasures. There’s more
to be found nearby, with them here. That is, if robbers haven’t already
looted what they are guarding.”
“I find
the multiple scripts most encouraging,” the Professor said, sounding
breathless. “And this one, this is Sharnish. No one has ever been able
to translate it. It’s a dead language. No one speaks it or remembers
it.”
“Until
now.” Djaren’s eyes shone. “See, there is script in four languages.
Translate one and we can begin to understand all the Sharnish
inscriptions in these ruins. With study--”
“--we
could be the first to find out the secrets this place has been trying to
show us,” Anna finished, looking triumphant. “Or at least you two
linguists can, and then tell us in plain trade common.”
Jon
pushed his way carefully to the front and examined the whole panel of
carvings. He knew something suddenly, looking at it, something that had
nothing to do with the languages. The edges of the panel were all
obscured with chips of stone and dirt, but he knew what they would
reveal. “This is a door,” he said. |
