Every Whispered Word (33 page)

Satisfied that he had done enough, Oscar climbed up onto the rock he had been pushing and thrust out his paw, demanding his reward.

“You didn't work for very long,” Simon observed.

Oscar regarded him innocently and stretched his paw out a little further.

“Well, I suppose you deserve something for at least trying.” Simon leaned against the rock, fished into his pocket, and retrieved an oatcake, which he broke in half. “Half for you,” he said, giving it to Oscar, “and half for Harriet, just because she's out past her bedtime.” He moved away from the rock to give Harriet her piece of the biscuit.

“The lion,” Camelia whispered.

Confused, Simon looked back at the rock.

There, faded but unmistakable, was the crude outline of a lion's head. It had been hidden beneath countless years of dirt, which had partially fallen away when Simon leaned against it.

Camelia ran over and swiftly brushed off the rest of the dirt with her hands. “Look, it's all here—the lion—exactly as it appears on the other stone!”

“The warriors probably covered the drawing with mud, and then planted those bushes in front of it to help hide it,” Zareb mused.

“We have to move this rock.” Camelia wrapped her arms around it and started to push. “Come on, grab hold!”

“Camelia, wait—you'll never move it that way.” Simon studied the heavy rock a moment, thinking. “We need something to lift it up, like a pry bar.”

“But we don't have anything like that here.”

“We can use some of these smaller rocks as tools instead,” Simon decided, looking around. “We'll dig out some of the dirt beneath the stone and make it less stable. Then between the three of us we should be able to shift it off balance and knock it over.”

Zareb nodded with approval. “Sometimes the simplest tools work best.”

The three of them fell to their knees and began swiftly digging at the soft, crumbly earth beneath the rock with their stones. After a while they had scooped out enough dirt to satisfy Simon.

“Okay, grab hold and keep the rock steady,” he instructed. “Now, when I say three, I want everyone to throw their weight against it, and keep pushing until it goes over. Ready?”

Zareb and Camelia nodded.

“All right then, here we go. One . . . two . . . three!”

The rock shifted slightly.

“Push!” commanded Simon. “Come on,
push!!
”

The rough surface of the stone ground painfully into Camelia's hands, and her body began to shiver against the crushing weight of the rock. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw.

Push,
she chanted silently, throwing every ounce of her weight and strength against the heavy stone.
Push, push, push . . .

The rock shifted a little more.

And then suddenly it slipped away from her, toppling over in a thunderous crash.

Camelia stared at the narrow opening cut into the base of the mountain that had been hidden behind the rock. A black stream of enormous spiders poured out in an agitated wave, racing across the ground like a small attacking army.

Oscar shrieked and scurried up onto Simon's shoulder.

“I don't suppose you'd be willing to hold off going inside until it's morning and we can bring some decent lanterns in with us?” asked Simon, wincing as Oscar pulled his hair.

Camelia shook her head. “I have to go in now, Simon. But I don't think there's any danger. The spirits wouldn't have shown me the way unless they wanted me to enter.”

“It isn't the spirits I'm afraid of. It's all the nasty little things in there that slither, crawl, creep, bite, and sting that are making me feel uneasy.”

“Fine. You wait here.” She picked up the lantern and disappeared through the opening.

Simon sighed. “I was afraid she might say that. All right, Oscar, are you coming?”

Oscar wrapped his paws tightly around Simon's neck and buried his face in his hair.

“I'll take that as a yes. What about you, Zareb? Feel like crawling into a tiny black hole full of spiders and God knows what else in the middle of the night?”

“I go where Tisha goes,” Zareb informed him solemnly. “That is my destiny.”

“Excellent. I'm thinking things will be much jollier in there with the three of us.”

Simon dropped to his knees and squeezed through the dark hole, following the faint glow of Camelia's lantern.

“Look at this!” Camelia said excitedly as she pointed to the drawings on the rock walls of the narrow passageway they had climbed into.

A faint rustling sound caused Simon to look up. “What are all those nasty-looking things hanging up there?” he asked warily.

“They're bats,” Camelia told him, distracted. “Look at these drawings, Simon—they show warriors carrying in bodies, while these men following them are bearing gifts and riches.”

Still keeping his gaze on the bats, Simon wrinkled his nose at the dank air. “Let's hope they thought to bring something more than a few slaughtered animals—this cave smells like rotted old skins and bones.”

“Even skins and bones will still be significant in terms of helping us understand the ancient people,” Camelia assured him.

“The warriors who used this passage must have been very thin,” complained Zareb, grunting as he forced his way in. “Harriet and Rupert are not used to such small places.”

He opened the leather bag he wore looped around his shoulder and withdrew Harriet, who flew up onto his shoulder in an agitated flurry of gray feathers. Rupert popped his head out, guardedly flicked his tongue at the cool darkness of the cave, then permitted Zareb to place him on the ground so he could stretch out and explore.

“Bloody hell!” swore Simon, nearly stumbling over a skeleton lying on the ground with a spear beside it. “Is he one of the kings?”

Camelia went over to take a closer look. “No, he is probably a guard. He would have been left behind to protect the tomb.”

“Couldn't have been much fun for him after they rolled that rock in front of the opening,” Simon mused. “If this is the tomb, then where are all the bodies and riches?”

“This is only a passageway. We must go further.” Holding her lantern out in front of her, Camelia began to make her way deeper into the cave.

“Stop flicking your tail around, Oscar—you're tickling my back,” complained Simon as he trudged behind her.

Oscar looked down and shrieked, then clambered up onto Simon's head, covering Simon's eyes with his paws.

“Come on, Oscar—quit fooling around!”

“Hold still,” commanded Zareb, swiftly brushing his hands over Simon's back.

Simon pulled Oscar's paws from his face in time to see a waterfall of giant black beetles dropping from his back and scuttling away from his feet.

“Why couldn't I have had a nice, ordinary woman come into my lab?” he wondered wryly, struggling to avoid crushing the ugly insects as they crawled over his boots. “Someone whose idea of a pleasant outing was a carriage ride on a sunny afternoon through the park?”

“That was not your destiny,” Zareb told him.

“You believe it's my destiny to be creeping through this dark, foul-smelling cave with a panicky monkey gripping my head and nasty little creatures I can barely see creeping all around me?”

“You did not have to enter. That was your choice.”

“I didn't want to miss all this fun,” Simon muttered, brushing aside a sticky veil of spiderweb.

“Simon! Zareb!
Come quick!
”

Simon raced down the passageway, trying to ignore the bats swooping over his head and the bugs squishing beneath his boots.

He turned a corner and found Camelia standing in the midst of a large chamber, lit only by the soft wash of gold from her lantern.

“Sweet Jesus,” he murmured, awed.

Eight skeletons lay in a circle around the room, wrapped in disintegrating capes of leopard, zebra, and lion skins. The arms of each skeleton were heavily adorned with cuffs of ivory and gold, and ropes of beads made of bored stones and bits of shell were draped over the remains of their chests. Magnificent shields, spears, daggers and masks were carefully arranged around each body. The walls of the chamber had been intricately painted with numerous scenes depicting tribal life, including warriors in battle, women preparing food and caring for children, and animals racing across the African plains.

Simon shifted his gaze to the earthenware jars carefully placed at the head of each deceased king. “What is in those jars?”

“They are probably just bits of quartz and other rocks that the tribes thought were pretty,” Camelia speculated, glancing at the mounds of rough pebbles. “Look at these paintings, Simon—they are extraordinary!”

Simon picked up one of the milky stones and examined it against the glow of the lantern Camelia had set upon the floor. Curious, he took the pebble and dragged it against one of the lantern's panes.

A deep scratch marred the smoky glass.

Simon stared at the scratch in disbelief. “This is a diamond.”

Zareb arched an incredulous brow. “Are you sure?”

“Not quite.” Looking around, Simon found a plain rock fragment on the ground. He took it and rubbed it hard against the stone, trying to scratch it. Slowly, he raised his head. “Now I'm sure.”

Camelia turned away from the paintings. “How can you possibly be sure?” she demanded, skeptical.

“Because a diamond can scratch any other mineral, but it cannot be scratched by any other,” Simon explained. “And given the similarity of the other stones in those pots, I'm almost willing to bet they are all filled with rough diamonds.” Guarded excitement filtered through him as looked at Camelia. “Do you know what that means, Camelia?”

“It means I'm finally goin' to be well breeched,” drawled Bert, stepping into the chamber holding a pistol.

Simon instantly moved in front of Camelia, shielding her with his body.

“Hello, Bert,” he said pleasantly, closing his fingers around the diamond in his palm. “You're rather a long way from London, aren't you?”

“Leave yer hands where I can see 'em, nice and steady,” Bert ordered. “Me an' Stanley here ain't afraid to shoot all of ye, make no mistake.”

Zareb frowned. “Who is Stanley?”

Bert cautiously glanced back over his shoulder, then scowled. “Stanley! Get yer great big arse in here, ye puddin'-headed oaf—can't ye see we're doin' a job?”

“Sorry, Bert.” Stanley lumbered in from the passageway, holding a half-eaten potato in one hand, sheepishly rubbing his head with the other. “This cave here is awful small, Bert—I keep crackin' my napper on the ceiling.”

“I told ye not to stand up, ye great clod pole,” Bert snapped.

“But I've got to stand up, Bert—otherwise how am I supposed to walk?”

“For cryin' out loud—ye just walk hunched over, like that monkey over there on the inventor's shoulder—can't ye do that?”

“Sure, Bert,” Stanley said, trying to be agreeable. “I'll try.”

“Good.” He frowned. “Now then, where was I?”

“I believe you were just reflecting on how all these diamonds were going to make you well breeched,” Simon reminded him, still gripping the diamond. He was fairly certain if he whipped it into Bert's head, he could knock the beefy little prigger down.

Unfortunately, that would still leave him Stanley to contend with.

“Right,” Bert said, nodding. “I'm thinkin' there's enough here for us to get a nice little place—”

“In Cheapside, right, Bert?” interrupted Stanley eagerly.

“Cheapside ain't good enough for us no more, Stanley,” Bert scoffed. “What with all these diamonds, we'll be rich enough to live wherever we wants—even St. James Square, if we like.”

“I want to live in Cheapside,” Stanley insisted. “There's a nice pie shop there.”

“We won't be goin' to no greasy pie shops, Stanley—it'll be stewed lamb an' boiled beef an' chicken with cream sauce three times a day!”

Stanley hunched his shoulders, disappointed. “I like pie.”

Bert rolled his eyes. “Fine, then, ye can have pie, too. Now take yer rope an' tie up those three over there,” he orderd, indicating Camelia, Simon, and Zareb. “I don't want 'em givin' us any trouble while we takes these diamonds out o' here.”

Stanley moved toward Camelia. “Sorry, yer ladyship,” he apologized. “I'll try not to make yer bindings too tight.”

“That's very considerate of you, Stanley.” Camelia smiled sweetly at him as she slowly reached for the dagger she kept sheathed in her boot.
I'll take that into consideration when I stab you.

Stanley stopped suddenly, troubled. “An' then after we take the diamonds out o' here, we untie 'em, right, Bert?”

“Of course we don't untie 'em, ye great hulkin' pigeon! Then they'll just come after us!”

“But if we don't untie 'em, how are they supposed to get out? They ain't goin' to fit through that little hole we come through all tied together.”

“That's right, they ain't,” Bert agreed, struggling for patience. “That's the plan, Stanley. We takes the diamonds and go back to London, and her ladyship gets to stay here with her skeletons an' old bits o' junk forever.” His mouth split into a crooked yellow grin. “Everybody's happy.”

Stanley soberly shook his head. “That ain't right, Bert. The old toast that hired us back in London never said nothin' about leavin her an' her friends all tied up in a cave. He just said we was to follow her to Africa and make trouble for her so she would want to leave an' go back to London.”

“He never said nothin' about
not
leavin' her all tied up in a cave, neither,” Bert pointed out reasonably.

“But if we leaves 'em all in this cave, then what are they supposed to do for food an' water, Bert? They're goin' to get hungry.”