The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [157]
“Nothing at all?” Deirdre said, her hopes falling.
“Oh, I don't mean this part, of course.” He pointed at the photograph of the clay tablet. “The inscription at the top here is clearly written in Linear A.”
“Linear A?”
“It's one of the earliest writing systems we know of. It was developed by the Minoan civilization that arose on Crete about three thousand years ago, and it was used to write an early form of Greek. This is a nice example of it. However, it's this inscription that astounds me.” He pointed to the runelike symbols on the bottom half of the tablet. “I've never seen writing like this before. I did a full search of the linguistic databases, but there was no match. These symbols are of utterly unknown origin. There is nothing else like them.”
Deirdre touched the silver ring on her hand. What would Jacoby think if he knew those same symbols were engraved inside the ring, as well as on the old keystone in the photo she found—the keystone taken from the building that would one day house Surrender Dorothy?
“Can you read the lower inscription?”
Jacoby shook his head. “No, though I might be able to in time. Whoever made this tablet wrote the same inscription twice, in two different writing systems. I was able to translate the passage written in Linear A.” He fumbled with more papers. “Here we go. Mind you, this is only my preliminary translation. I'll need time to refine it. But in general, it reads, ‘Forget not the Sleeping Ones. In their blood lies the key.' ”
Deirdre gripped the edge of the desk to keep from staggering, hoping Jacoby—focused as he was on the papers—didn't notice her reaction. According to the report she had read, traces of blood had been found on the keystone. Blood with otherworldly origins. But what did it mean? And who were the Sleeping Ones?
Jacoby was still talking excitedly. “You don't have access to the original tablet, do you? It would help enormously to get chemical composition data to help place its geographic origin.” He flipped back to the photograph and brushed a finger over the lower inscription. “In a way, as different as it is, the two languages appear not entirely unrelated. I can't be certain, but my supposition is that you could actually derive Linear A from this lower language. That would be exciting news. We believed Linear A was the oldest writing system in the Aegean region, but it may be that another system preceded it.”
Deirdre took the folder and closed it, forcing her hands not to tremble. “Thanks, Paul. You've been a big help.”
He smiled and adjusted his glasses. “You're quite welcome, Deirdre. And I trust you'll be so kind as to inform me if you find any more examples of this new writing system. We'll need more samples if we're to decode it.”
“Of course,” she said, hardly hearing her own words.
Jacoby nodded and left the room. Deirdre stared at the folder in her hands. An idea buzzed like a bee in her brain, insistent, but too swift to catch hold of.
“So what was that all about?” said a smoky voice.
Deirdre turned around. Sasha stood in the doorway. She wore stirrup pants and a tweed jacket with elbow patches. All she needed were jodhpurs and a riding crop to complete the faux jockey look.
Deirdre sighed. “Sasha. You startled me.”
Sasha sauntered into the room. “It's unusual to see Paul Jacoby over here.” She ran long fingers through a bouquet of lilies Anders had brought in and bent down to smell them.
“I had asked a small favor of him,” Deirdre said, not sure how much she should say. It was just Sasha. Then again, Sasha seemed to know more about what was going on in the Seekers than Deirdre ever did.
Sasha looked up from the flowers. “Paul Jacoby is a specialist in linguistics, right? Only I thought you were researching historical violations of the Desiderata.”
“It's a little side project.”
Sasha gave her a sharp look. “I thought as much. You have a sneaky look about you.”
“I do not,” Deirdre said, crossing her arms, hunching her shoulders, and