The Prophecy (Daughters of the People Series Book 1) (3 page)

“Dr. Lindberg,
would you mind if I took a closer look?” Maya asked.

“Certainly not.”
A gentle smile lifted Dr. Lindberg’s expression. “We welcome your good
opinion.”

The sketch
artist gathered her material and climbed out of the pit, heading toward the
main encampment. “Be back when you’re done.”

“Thanks.” Maya
maneuvered herself carefully into the pit and examined the skeleton’s upper
torso as she picked her way around the remains. “Strange that this one body was
buried when the others were left laying where they fell.”

“She must have
been quite significant,” Dr. Lindberg said. “Perhaps a courier or a diplomat of
some sort.”

Maya paused in
mid-step. “What makes you say that?”

“That’s the reason
I’m here.” James waggled his eyebrows. “Late last week, the team found a small
stash of documents sealed in a metal box that was buried with our mysterious
female.”

Indigo had
reported that cylinder seals had been found with the body, possibly worn as
jewelry, but not documents. Maya filtered through her knowledge of Iron Age
Scandinavia. “Documents, in northern Europe during the fifth century? Maybe Roman
in origin?”

“Only one.”
James’ smile exuded the same excitement clawing at Maya. “But it wasn’t
produced in northern Europe, best I can tell. There were at least three
languages written on a variety of media buried here. Some pictographs as well.”
His smile stretched into the grin of an academic with a rare treasure on his
hands. “One item was a small clay tablet written in Linear A.”

Maya blinked,
clamping her jaws together against a disbelieving gape. “No.”

“Oh, yes.” He
rocked forward onto the balls of his feet and back again. “So far, we’ve
uncovered the clay tablet, animal skin, papyrus, half a dozen cylinder seals.
Some of it just fragments, but still.”

She sucked in a
breath. The smell of freshly turned dirt seeped through her, comforting in its
familiarity. “A regular library, then.”

Dani cleared her
throat. “Maetyrm,
the armband
.”

Maya knelt in
the dirt beside the skeleton, carefully balancing herself above it. The armband
glittered dully in the late afternoon sunlight, and a small chill went up
Maya’s spine. It was crafted of hammered copper, greening with age and exposure
to the elements and the dirt it had been buried in. In the dimming light, she
could just make out a symbol stamped into it, a single eye staring at her from
across at least fifteen centuries. It was a symbol she knew well and it raised
her hopes higher than she’d ever allowed them to soar.

She stood and
brushed her hands off against the loose cotton of her cargo pants. Dani’s grin
held smug satisfaction, an emotion Maya could hardly deny the younger Daughter.
It was welling up in her own chest, even as she tried to tamp it down. Hope
could do funny things to a Daughter, and here was hope in its highest form, a
possible clue to the lost prophecy contained in one of the most ancient symbols
of the People, a symbol associated specifically with that prophecy.

Maya glanced
from Dr. Lindberg’s weathered face to James’ smiling one. “Take me to the
artifacts,” she said, and crawled out of the pit.

* * *

Three hours
later, Maya stood in front of the bathroom’s mirror towel-drying her hair. As
soon as they’d arrived back from the dig, still burning with excitement, she
and Dani had retreated to their separate rooms to clean up. Jet lag would kick
in soon, but for now, adrenaline kept them going.

Moisture fogged
the mirror. Maya swiped a hand towel over it and cleared a space big enough to
work, preparing for the night ahead. She smoothed an anti-frizz product through
her hair. The tightly coiled curls relaxed slightly then sprang into shape. As
a young woman, she’d wished for any kind of hair other than the slightly
coarse, kinky brown headful she’d inherited from her mother. Long silky hair
like Indigo’s or wavy curls like Dani’s. Anything. Nostalgia plucked at her.
Young girls always wanted to be different, no matter the era.

Maya leaned
forward and applied eyeliner to her almond shaped eyes, then brushed mascara
over the thick, black lashes. She’d inherited those features from her mother,
along with the high, arching eyebrows, the wide, full lips, and pixie face. The
aristocratic nose came from her father and seemed out of place covered by her
café
au lait
skin. A sharp pang hit her, regret mingling with sorrow. She’d had
them for such a short time. What she wouldn’t give to have known them better.

She paused,
gazing at herself in the mirror. Her mind rarely drifted to her parents. They
were both long dead and, except for the night of their brutal murders, she
remembered very little about them. Sometimes a smell reminded her of her
mother’s embrace or she’d hear her father’s voice in the timbre of another
man’s. Their kindness, their love; those were the things she’d clung to during
the long, lonely years of her childhood.

She shook the
memories away and checked her watch, set to local time as soon as they landed.
After a quick mental calculation of the time difference between Sweden and the
IECS, she called Director Upton. The director’s receptionist answered on the
second ring, then patched Maya through.

“Maya.” The
voice was smooth, cultured, and well-modulated. Rebecca Upton appeared to be in
her early fifties, but she was much, much older, and had the political and
business savvy to prove it. Maya closed her eyes and imagined the director as
she usually was in the middle of the afternoon on a workday, wearing a tailored
power suit, bold but tasteful, with spike-heeled shoes in a matching color, and
just the right touch of accessories. Her ash blonde hair would be twisted into
a chignon, not a strand out of place, and her delicate features would be
artfully enhanced with barely-there makeup.

To the world,
Rebecca Upton was a successful business woman who ran the Institute for Early
Cultural Studies with the precision and strategy of a battlefield general. Few
knew that she was in reality a centuries-old warrior and had once literally
been the equivalent of a battlefield general. Few among the Daughters were as
canny, or as powerful.

“Director
Upton.” Maya wandered to the lone window and flicked the curtains closed as she
briefly outlined the status of their trip and relayed the information they’d
gathered on the dig: The condition of the other skeletons, unmoved after the
massacre; the discovery of jewelry and other artifacts, also left by the
marauders; and the threat of looting that had pushed Lund University, one of
the dig’s sponsors, to take protective measures.

“What about the
burial Indigo reported?” Director Upton asked.

“More than
promising, Director. The skeleton was female. She was buried with a spear and a
small cache of writing.”

The creak of a chair
drifted over the line. “Fragments?”

“Primarily, some
in remarkable condition. Dr. Terhune believes at least three separate written
languages are represented, but there could be more.”

“I’d like to see
those myself, if it can be arranged.”

“I’ll discuss
that with Dr. Lindberg tonight.”

“Do that.” The
chair creaked again. “And Dr. Terhune?”

Maya paused,
considered. “I can think of no one better suited to deal with these artifacts.”

“You’ll make the
arrangements?”

“Tonight, if
possible.”

“I’ll look
forward to seeing you in a few days, then.”

“One more thing,
Director.” Maya inhaled a deep, steadying breath. “The skeleton was wearing the
symbol of Marnan.”

“The eye.” The
director breathed the word out, her voice soft and reverent. “I never thought
we’d find it again.”

“None of us
did.”

“Finally, we
have hope.” Rebecca laughed, the wondrous, brilliant laugh of someone
discovering light after years of living in darkness. “After all this time.”

“Yes, Director,
I believe we do.”

“There’s no
question then that this is a Daughter.” Another sigh, a slight creak. “Make the
arrangements, Maya. I’ll contact the Council of Seven immediately. They’ll want
a full report on your return.”

They ended the
call not long after. Maya checked her watch again, wished briefly that Dierdre
wasn’t in school right then, and promised herself a call to her youngest
daughter after supper. Business before pleasure, she reminded herself, and left
her room in search of Dani.

James Terhune
sat at the bar of a hotel in Borgholm where the dig crew had gathered after
Maya had treated them all to a meal. He sipped a local brew and watched Dani
charm Olaf Lindberg’s wife, Helene. The young woman had latched on to the
elderly couple at dinner and appeared to be delighted with their company. The
three shared a love of old movies, something they’d discovered when Dani had
shared a childhood wish to
be
Audrey Hepburn when she grew up.

Strange young woman,
that one. James couldn’t quite put his finger on what was off about her. On the
surface, she appeared to be a typical blonde co-ed, friendly, vapid, and
working toward a Mrs. degree. After observing her for a while, though, he
realized that the ditzy act was just that. Dani blended in wherever she went,
as at ease chatting with the students as she was discussing classic film stars
with the Lindbergs. She was astute, observant, and a lot more intelligent than
he’d first thought, and that surprised him. Usually, he was a better judge of
character.

His gaze drifted
to Maya, deep in conversation with Dr. Lindberg. Now,
there
was a
mystery and another woman he suspected possessed hidden depths. Maya Bellegarde
appeared to be no older than Dani, yet she commanded the respect of the other woman
with an ease hinting at a far greater depth of experience. Where Dani was a
sunflower basking in the warmth of the light, Maya was reserved and
occasionally somber. During dinner, she’d maneuvered the conversation with little
effort, directing it from topic to topic in order, it seemed, to achieve a
specific goal without saying much herself. He suspected that goal had something
to do with the anomalous burial, but her manipulation was so subtle, sometimes
he thought he’d imagined it.

He also suspected
he was attracted to her, and that touched off an emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Concern? Dismay? He shrugged it off. She was an attractive woman. Ergo, it
wasn’t unusual for him, a red-blooded man in his prime, to be attracted to her.

Maya smiled at
Dr. Lindberg, drawing the older man out. She didn’t flirt and charm as Dani
might. Instead, she met Olaf on an intellectual level. That intellect was damn
appealing, especially when coupled with serene features and a compact, athletic
body. Apparently, he was drawn to women who wore their power well. Who knew?

Since his
divorce two years before, he’d hidden himself away from the dating world. His
and his wife’s parting had been amicable, or amicable enough. He and Linda had
both wanted to protect their daughter, Amelia, the center of their world, or so
he’d thought. When Linda had told him she wanted a divorce, he’d been stunned.
In her view, they were two moons on different orbital trajectories
independently circling a planet named Amelia.

He’d thought
they were a family and she’d thought they were a planetary system. That’s what
he got for marrying an astrophysicist.

He wasn’t ready
to go through that again. Hell, he wasn’t even ready to date yet. Thankfully,
none of his friends were stupid enough to try setting him up on a blind date, or
any date for that matter. Between work and Amelia, he’d managed to fill his
free time and ignore the loneliness that had moved into his apartment with him.

He frowned down
at his glass. One beer and he was as morose as a man deep in his cups. If
that’s all it took to push him into that kind of contemplation, he really
needed to get out more.

“May I join
you?”

James glanced
up. Maya stood beside him, hands in the pockets of loose cargo pants, one
eyebrow arched.

“Sure,” he said.

She perched on a
stool beside him and waved away the bartender, then swiveled, facing the room.
The noise of the crowd ebbed and flowed around them. Laughter rang out, drawing
his eye to the Lindbergs’ table. Dani rose and pulled Helene up from her chair,
tilting her head toward the stage, speaking softly to the older woman. Finally,
Helene smiled shyly and nodded, and the two women threaded their way across the
bar to a karaoke machine. They chose a song and a moment later, the opening
measures of an old doo-wop rang through the bar. The two hopped up on the small
stage, Dani leading the way, and began to sing, hamming it up for the crowd
egging them on.

“She’s something
else.” James pointed toward the stage. “Your assistant.”

Maya’s lips
twitched into a small smile. “Yes, she is.”

“You’ve known
her a while?”

“Since she was a
little girl.”

“So, the two of
you grew up together.”

Her smile
widened. “Not exactly.”

He sipped his
beer, eyeing that smile. “What exactly, then?”

“She was my
student for a while, a long time ago.”

He huffed out a
laugh. “You can’t be more than a year or two older than her, not nearly old
enough to be her teacher.”

“You’re very
kind.” She dipped her head toward him, her eyes sparkling. They were almond
shaped and an odd golden brown in the low light of the bar. “But I’m a good
deal older than I appear.”

“You know, men
don’t really care about a woman’s age.”

“I know,” she
said, grinning. “That’s why we torment you with it.”

He laughed and
his earlier mood slipped away. “So, you were her teacher, then. And Indigo? Did
you teach her, too?”

Maya nodded. “She
was an excellent student, as was Dani.”

“Is that why
they call you… What was the word they used?”

“Maetyrm.”

He tried the
word out, letting the syllables roll across his tongue as he analyzed them. “A
Latin derivative?”

Maya turned her
gaze to Dani and Helene’s extravagant bows. “Not quite.”

He couldn’t tell
if she was ignoring him or simply didn’t want to answer the question. “What
does it mean?”

She hesitated,
smiled as Dani raised her hands in a cheer while she bounced back to the
Lindbergs’ table. “It’s a term of respect, usually meaning mother or even
revered mother. At the school, it’s reserved for teachers. And yes, I’m certain
it isn’t a Latin derivative.”

His brow
furrowed as he mentally sifted through the roots of the many languages he’d
studied, searching for a match.

“It’s not from a
language you’ve ever studied.”

Her voice
startled him. “What, are you a mind-reader now?”

She laughed and
her golden-brown eyes glimmered. “You’re one of the world’s foremost experts on
archaic languages. I’d expect you to pick apart an unfamiliar word and trace it
back to its origins.”

He slid back on
the stool, nonplussed. “Am I that easy to read?”

“Your occupation
is. If you weren’t curious about word origins, I doubt you’d be such a success
in your chosen field.”

He lifted his
glass in a simple salute. “You’ve got me there.”

“Speaking of
which.” Maya scooted around on her stool, facing him. “Were you serious about
researching at the IECS?”

“Absolutely.”

Her eyes met
his, and his heart jumped in his chest. Damn attraction.

“Dr. Lindberg
will probably release the artifacts from the burial to the IECS for
conservation. We have facilities there that can’t be matched in Sweden.”

“To deal with
the writing fragments?” The noise in the bar escalated. Without thinking, he
leaned closer to Maya. “Will they be allowed out of the country?”

“We’ll
eventually be returning them to Sweden, so yes, I believe so.”

“What if they’re
not released to the IECS?”

“Then we’ll find
another way to handle the matter.”

He studied her,
admiring her steady gaze and calm composure. “Do I want to know how?”

“Only if you
want a detailed account of wrangling with politicians.”

James mulled
that over. If politicians were involved, he really didn’t want to know. Her,
though, he wanted to know more about, and he damn sure wanted to figure out how
to get a crack at the IECS’ Archives. “What does my interest in the Archives
have to do with the Sandby borg artifacts?”

“We want you to come
work for the IECS on a temporary basis, deciphering and translating the
documents found in the anomalous burial. If you have time after that to work
with our other collections, all the better.” She tilted her head to one side
and her lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Of course, you’ll have plenty of
free time to work on any special projects you might bring with you.”

What an offer.
The very thing he’d been working toward on his own, handed to him on a silver
platter. It couldn’t be that easy. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. You’ll
receive on-site housing and a salary while you’re there. We won’t claim any of
your work product other than any translations you make for items held in our
possession. It’s a beautiful work environment.”

“It feels like
there should be a catch.”

“No catch,” she
insisted. “You’ll have your own office and a separate laboratory, full access
to a library, the dining hall, and the gym. The campus is lovely and has miles
of running, biking, and horse-riding trails, camping and picnic areas. We do
have schools on-site, so teachers, students, and even other staff members may
drop by on occasion to chat with you.”

“I knew there
was a catch.”

She laughed,
full-throated, beautiful, and a wave of heat washed over him. Damn attraction.

“Set office
hours and you’ll be fine,” she assured him.

“It sounds
idyllic.”

“In a lot of
ways, it is, but not all. Summer in Georgia makes Sweden feel like Antarctica.
Humidity is always a problem and the mosquitoes are relentless.”

“Another catch.”

“I’ll make sure
you have plenty of bug repellent.”

He grinned. When
was the last time he’d had a conversation this interesting? Hell, when was the
last time he’d had anything close to an interesting conversation with a woman?

His grin faded.
That woman was giving him an opportunity to follow a dream, of going to the
IECS and working with those artifacts, of having the chance to pursue his own
research in the archives there. Either opportunity alone was worth the hassle
of finding somebody to sublet his apartment and take over his classes. It was
so difficult to gain access to the IECS’ holdings, this might be his only shot.
If he passed it up, could he live with himself afterwards?

Then again, a
move like that would be hard on Amelia. Linda loved their daughter, but
sometimes, she got distracted to the point of neglect. That wasn’t a problem
when he was a stone’s throw away, but if he moved several states south, how
would his daughter fare?

He released a
slow breath. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“I expected as
much.”

“You’re taking
that awfully well. I expected you to argue or, I don’t know, cajole.”

She smiled in
that enigmatic way she had, as if she knew something he didn’t and wasn’t about
to share. “Everything will work out exactly the way it should.”

Dani bounced up
to them, her step light in spite of the late hour. “I’m heading back to the
site now.”

“Indigo said it
was her turn to stand guard tonight,” Maya explained. “Dani’s keeping her
company for a while.”

“Let me guess,”
James said. “You went to school together.”

Dani cocked her
head to the side. “Nope. We’re just friends in a friendly way, playing catch
up.”

Maya groaned.
“Please, Dani. Not the ketchup gag.”

Dani green eyes
widened. “Would I do that?”

“You absolutely
would.” She turned to James. “I’ve been the victim of that one myself. Don’t
let her draw you in with that innocent face or she’ll pull it on you, too.” To
Dani, she said, “Give me a minute and I’ll ride with you as far as the cabin.”

“Yes, Maetyrm.”
Dani bowed slightly, then pivoted on her heel and left.

James watched
her go, amused in spite of himself. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

“She absolutely
is,” Maya agreed. She stood and caught Olaf’s eye. “We’ll be here for a few
days if you have any questions about my proposal.”

“I appreciate
that. Thanks for considering me.”

“Oh, you’re very
welcome. We could use someone at the IECS with your particular skill set. I
hope you’ll decide to join us.”

“It would be
hard to turn you down,” he admitted.

“That’s the idea.
See you on-site tomorrow?”

James nodded, shook
her hand, and for the umpteenth time, cursed the attraction flowing between
them. It was distracting and would be a damn nuisance if he accepted her offer.

She picked her
way through the crowd, said farewell to the Lindbergs, then waved at other
members of the group who called out goodbyes as she left. Without meaning to,
he imagined working with her on a daily basis, feeling the nascent attraction
bloom into something stronger, and maybe even acting on it.