Atlantis Endgame (16 page)

So far, she had found out exactly nothing.

The storm had come on fast. As the seer sat in silent meditation, the women finished their meal and set about cleaning up the few remains.

Now some of them took off their robes and washed them in the waterfall from the rain, then stepped into the water. Judging from their reaction, it was cool but not miserable. They gasped, but with delight.

Linnea, itchy, gritty, gave in to impulse. She couldn't bring herself to disrobe completely. Old conditioning was too strong for that. But she could get herself and her robe soaked, and at least wash away most of the sweaty grime.

The women, unconcerned, chattered around her. Linnea turned her face up into the water, which had run long enough to be free of silt. As the refreshing coolness pounded down onto her, she gasped, and then as the aggravating itchy heat dissipated, replaced by a sense of cool cleanliness, her mind ranged freely, and she thought about the day.

It was no longer fair to even think "theater," she had decided. These women were not pulling a scam, however other oracles and cults had worked in other times and places. They sincerely believed in what they were doing; there was no reason to behave the way they did otherwise. They were also obviously not stupid people. In their paradigm, what they believed made sense.

How to speak to them so that she would not disturb their worldview but convince them to listen, perhaps to evacuate?

For a brief time she considered faking her own "seeing," but she thought of the perceptive gaze of that old woman sitting so motionlessly in the stifling inner room, and shook her head. She might not be hearing her "spirits" now, but she'd know a phony when she saw one.

Linnea realized her fingers and toes were slowly growing numb and she stepped out of the waterfall, which was now tapering off in intensity. The storm was passing.

When Linnea was dry again, several of the girls, who had been whispering off to one side, approached her. Some looked timid, others frankly curious.

"Please, tell us about faraway Kemt?" one asked.

"What must the girls do there to become priestesses?" asked a second.

A third, blushing and giggling, said, "Are they permitted to talk to young men?"

The first two gasped and shushed her.

Ela stepped up then, before Linnea could scrape her memory for some likely details of Ancient Egypt. She looked from Linnea to the girls and said, in a kind but firm voice, "Is this the way we treat a guest?"

The girls looked abashed.

"You must permit our visitor to speak of her home and customs in her own time."

The girls murmured, one in disappointment, the rest in apology.

"The people will be gone," said one of the older priestesses, coming to join the group. "We will have some sunlight left in which to dry your things. Take them outside."

The girls vanished toward the plateau, and Linnea walked around the tree-throne, touching the ancient, gnarled wood lightly with her fingers.

A little while later, the girls came trooping back in, chattering, some fussing with their hair, others smoothing sun-dried robes.

The light was fading, Linnea realized. She had tried to form up facts in a logical manner, but the truth was she was here on instinct.

Well, she had wool-gathered too long, unproductive as it had been. The sun was fast vanishing, and she did not want to find herself in total darkness on that narrow path down the mountain, especially after such a rain. She could slip and fall and no one would know.

"Come." Ela was there, smiling. "It is time for the evening meal, and our thanksgiving."

The girls had gathered and began another of their chants as fava breads were passed around, and dried fish that had been cooked in olives, and cheese and dates. Others lit the little oil lamps, which cast a weak but cozy golden glow.

All the women chanted, their voices, old and young, musical and unmusical, blending pleasingly. When they were done the seer began to eat, which was the signal for the others to begin their meal. The younger girls all withdrew to a far corner, whispering in the manner of young adolescent girls the world over. Occasional giggles escaped, skipping back in light echoes.

After she ate, Linnea found a comfortable place in which to sit and observe.

Across the cave two women set up a loom, and Linnea watched the rhythmic motions of their hands. It was oddly soothing; though the light was poor, a faint gold that rendered the scene almost dreamlike, the women were obviously so accustomed to their work that their fingers knew what to do while their eyes gazed, distant, at the little lamps, or the two conversed in soft voices.

Three of the younger girls picked up big fans plaited out of some fibrous plant and waved them, forcing the hot, stuffy air to circulate. Presently a touch of cool breeze, smelling of water, caressed Linnea's damp face.

Her eyelids drifted down, and since no one seemed to object, she stretched out on one of the cloth pads and slept.

——————————

ROSS AND ASHE found a cave just before the hail struck with such force it cracked little rocks from the cliffside and sent them tumbling down the mountain into an unseen gully below. Lightning struck all over the mountaintop as the storm roared and thundered.

Finally there was the hiss of rain, and both stepped out to cool themselves off and to drink. The rain was so heavy Ross only had to stand there with his eyes shut and his mouth open, and swallow and swallow.

The storm departed as swiftly as it had come, leaving the pathway up dangerously slippery. Here and there mudslides had peeled away at the path. With a sickening lurch Ross felt his foot start to slide, and leaped back just in time; a portion of the pathway crumbled, sloughing down a sheer cliff face.

Neither man spoke. They stuck closer to the mountain and kept toiling upward, until the light had faded in the west and it was too dangerous to continue.

They found some shelter under a rock overhang, squatted down in the mud, and tried their best to sleep.

Ross was in a vile mood when he woke. He itched all over, and the sight of steam rising gently off the mud outside their overhang promised a day even hotter than the one before.

They toiled up a little farther and presently decided they'd better put on their breathing masks.

They did, feeling much better immediately. They set out at a more energetic pace or at least began to set out.

Ross froze when he saw the tall figure standing near a familiar outcropping of rock, a patient stance, as if the being had long been waiting and watching.

"You seek me?" it said, in English.

CHAPTER 14

ROSS HAD JUST enough presence of mind not to answer.

A long pause ensued, during which no one moved, or spoke, and then the being said in Ancient Greek, "You seek me?"

Ross turned to Gordon in question: do we take this guy prisoner or not? And Gordon looked back, brows raised.

The alien's hands were empty. The other one of its kind was nowhere in sight.

"Let's talk," Ross said, indicating slightly higher ground. Neutral ground, away from caves full of mysterious tech.

In answer the being walked round smoke-withered shrubs, rocks crunching underfoot. Ross, feeling uneasy, followed that long robe with its dusty hem, and Gordon fell in behind him.

For a short time the alien looked out over the vista. Smoke and haze diffused the horizon, but Ross, scanning fast, made out smoke plumes issuing from the mountain maybe a mile or two to the north and a twin plume lazily rising from the pre-Kameni Island out in the great lagoon. The island was just barely a silhouette in the yellow-tinged murk.

"Who are you?" Ross demanded.

Gordon half-raised a hand, and Ross clamped his mouth shut, folding his arms across his chest.
Shut up,
he thought.

They've already half-guessed what time we really come from. Don't hand them any more clues.

The alien's speech was tenor and softly sibilant, almost whistling; though the face and body were vaguely humanoid, its palate sounded like it was constructed differently.

"Call uss Kayu."

Gordon replied, "Why are you here?"

"We are here to halt our old enemiess, if we can. We are now two only. Time," the Kayu added, as a hot, stinging breeze ruffled through its silky hair, "iss dessperate and short."

——————————

HIDDEN BY BANKS of fog, the ship bounced through greenish waves. Eveleen leaned against the side, feeling the wind on her face. She listened, with her eyes closed, to the rapid conversation in Modern Greek between Kosta and Stavros coming from belowdecks.

She was glad to be passive for a time. She and Kosta had been forced to spend the night on a little patch of shore, no food, no water, dressed in their wetsuits. Cold had not been the problem, but heat and thirst; they'd resorted to swimming just to get rid of body heat, but of course they couldn't drink the water that surrounded them.

But just after dawn they'd seen the ship emerge from drifting smoke-tinged fog, and by the time they'd swum out, fastened the sled to the underside of the hull, and climbed aboard, Stavros had hot food and coffee waiting.

Finally she heard Kosta's step, and she looked up. He swiped his curly hair back, squinting against the furious glare of the sun, and then he sneezed violently.

"Smoke is worse," he said as Stavros appeared behind him.

Unanswerable. Eveleen just nodded.

"Stav was blown out through the opening to sea during the storm, as we thought. He used the motor to come back in to retrieve us, and stayed close to the cliffs below the main island in order to stay unseen. Very close, or he would not have found it."

Stavros's lips thinned in a smile of triumph, and Eveleen felt her own heart give a jolt.

"So Stavros located a signal?"

"Yes. A strong one, too. It should be almost right underneath the city, along the cliff faces below it."

"We're on our way to investigate now, or ought we to return?"

Kosta turned to Stavros, who rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. He'd obviously been up all night, keeping the bow of the ship pointed into the storm so that it wouldn't broach to and sink.

"Let us see now," Stavros said, his accent heavier, his voice raspy. "It is close. The marker might shift if another storm comes."

Kosta grinned. "Get your gear back on," Kosta said, rubbing his hands. "By the time we're ready, Stavro will get us there."

Eveleen set down her empty mug and reached for her mask.

——————————

LINNEA WOKE TO the sweet sounds of the girls singing.

Another day. It was time for the long purification ritual. All around her, women rose, shook themselves out, and busied themselves with the little tasks, both sacred and homely, that measured out their lives.

I will stay for one more session,
Linnea thought.
And then I'll return to Akrotiri and tell them I failed.

She was thirsty; her stomach growled; her head ached. There seemed to be smoke in the air.

She shut her eyes and turned her attention to the rise and fall of the chanting voices.

——————————

ON THE OTHER side of the great mountain, the Kayu said to Ross and Gordon, "It iss long sstory. I musst breathe. We go?"

Gordon looked Ross's way, leaving the decision to him. Ross remembered the underground cave. It could be that the two Fur Faces had prepared some kind of trap, but why?

No, to get data they were willing to take risks. The particular risk required now was just different than expected.

Ross looked around at the barren rock, the sky full of smoky haze, and just then another tremor rumbled deep underground, sending birds skyward and cascades of small stones clattering down the hillside. Dust rose, hanging suspended in the air.

Ross squinted against the sunlight, watching two swallows fly down into a haze-hidden valley, forked tails streaming after.

"Let's go," he murmured.

Gordon nodded.

The Kayu led the way.

——————————

EVELEEN DROPPED BELOW the surface of the water. It was a relief to get her eyes out of the stinging, smoke-laden air. She looked around, expecting the underwater world to snap into focus, blue and clear. But it, too, was turbid, the lighting a faintly sinister brownish green.

Eveleen looked around past waving fronds and tight schools of tiny fishes running with what seemed to her frantic haste. The fish turned about, flicked, and darted downward at an oblique angle.

She looked up and saw not the sky but a brownish layer. She realized that she'd gotten used to the haze, but it was gradually getting worse.

Kosta tapped her on the shoulder, caught her attention. She turned his way, nodded, and held on as he triggered the sled.

Stavros had been quite firm about the location. He had repeated that the signal was very strong, the device might even be stuck right on the surface of the rock.