Restless Soul - Alex Archer [31]
The chill hadn’t left her. She retraced her steps around the chamber, looking past golden Buddhas and into niches that contained still more antiquities and crushed cigarettes and wrappers.
Luartaro followed her. “Annja—”
“What?” The word came out far sharper than she’d intended. “Sorry.”
“There is something I saw earlier and wanted to talk to you—”
“Saw what? Where? What did you—”
“Not in here. I didn’t see it in here. It was when you were climbing the wall in the cavern, when the river rushed in and I had to use my flashlight because the lantern was lost…. I saw you had a sword, an old one. And you used it to cut through the dirt and—”
So he had gotten a good look at her with the flashlight! It was dark, but he obviously had good eyesight.
She shook her head. “A sword? You were mistaken.” Though she considered the lie necessary, it grated on her nonetheless. “I used a piton to cut through the dirt. I didn’t have a sword.”
It was his turn to shake his head. “What I glimpsed was too long to be a simple piton. It was dark in the cavern, but I know what I saw. Where did you find a sword down here? And where is it now? I couldn’t see it well, but it looked old. You scold Zakkarat about taking things and yet—”
“There is no sword, Lu. A sword wouldn’t have fit in my pack, and there certainly isn’t one here.” She spread her hands out to her sides and turned in front of him. “See? No sword.”
Once more she touched Joan of Arc’s weapon with her mind. She hadn’t wanted Luartaro to learn about that part of her life.
“Do you see a sword?” Her tone was light and teasing, hopefully convincing. “A trick of the light and the rain, Lu. It’s like I told you. I used a piton to dig through the dirt.”
She walked to her pack and brought it near the coffins, not wanting Zakkarat to dump it out and stuff it with treasure.
“No sword,” she repeated. Annja unzipped the bag and opened it so he could see it contained only pitons, a small hammer and some other small tools.
He shrugged. “I guess you’re right. Sorry. It was really dark, after all. I suppose I could have been seeing things.”
“And I’d like to see a few more of these things before we have to leave,” she said, glad he had given in to her lie. And before I stop Zakkarat from hauling priceless pieces out of here, she thought. But she wasn’t going to squander the minutes to argue with the Thai man at that moment.
Annja turned away from Luartaro and went back to examining the coffins. My answer must be here, she thought. Why can’t I see it? Why can’t I hear—
Free me.
7
Annja did her best to shut out the sounds around her—the rain coming down and pelting against the pool in the center of the chamber, Zakkarat babbling away in Thai and Luartaro pacing and talking and taking photograph upon photograph.
Annja wanted to leave this place and make sure Zakkarat took nothing—at least nothing of significance or that could bring trouble upon him later. A few trinkets or some gold coins, she truly could not begrudge him that.
“But it’s not yet time to leave,” she said sternly. “Not just—”
Free me.
She stood in front of the middle coffin and stared at the contents. Her eyes drifted to a particular piece, one of the covered bowls she’d glanced at earlier. This time she felt drawn to it.
“That’s it.” Annja somehow felt a connection to the bowl, and in realizing it, the chilling sensation that had gripped her vanished and she almost felt a sense of peace.
She’d told the men not to touch anything—not that Zakkarat listened. Now she was going against her own advice, but she had to! The voice wouldn’t allow her to wait any longer.
She set the flashlight on the edge of the coffin, angled so it highlighted the bowl. But what is it?
On closer inspection she saw it wasn’t really a bowl. She moved some of the other things away from it. The container was a dull white, polished and covered with flowing symbols that might be letters,