Джеймс Фрей – The Buried Cities (страница 2)
“It’s thought to be unlucky,” Brecht answers. “Although people still reside in many of the underground cities, this one was abandoned centuries ago. The locals avoid it, and as you saw, there are no populated towns for many kilometers in every direction. That is not by accident. They fear this place. They say it’s cursed.”
“Cursed?” Ari says. “How so?”
“It’s said that if anyone disturbs the secrets hidden here, he will suffer greatly.”
“Just like in
Yildiz turns again. “Boris Karloff!” she says, and gives me a thumbs-up. I return the gesture, and she cackles happily. Kelebek, watching us, scowls.
“Rather like that, yes,” says Brecht. “Well, more like the real-life Lord Carnarvon, who financed the expedition to find Tut’s tomb and died shortly after it was opened.”
“Carnarvon died from a mosquito bite, not a curse,” Ott says, snorting. “I suppose Hollywood didn’t find that interesting enough.”
I ignore him. “But you’ve already opened this particular place, haven’t you?” I ask Brecht.
“Yes and no. We did a bit of excavation. But we were … interrupted.”
I stop walking, which forces Ari and Ott to stop as well. Brecht turns and looks at us. Ahead of him, Yildiz and Kelebek keep going. “What?” Brecht says, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. Despite the cold, he is sweating.
“What have you not told us?” I say.
“Nothing,” he says. “I told you that the second half of the weapon plans are here.”
“Yes,” I say. “And do you know where, exactly, they are?”
“No,” he admits. “Not exactly.”
Ari and I look at each other. Ott curses. Hearing him, Yildiz and Kelebek stop and wait to see what is happening.
“You might have mentioned this earlier,” I tell Brecht.
“I told you the truth in Moscow,” he says. “Just not, perhaps, the whole of it.”
“What makes you so sure the plans are here, then?” Ott asks, voicing what we are all wondering.
“Information gathered at the site where the first set of plans was found,” he says. “There was a map. It showed the location of this city, as well as details of the underground rooms.”
This is better news. “And you recall the details of this map.”
“Regrettably, it was destroyed,” he says. “Shortly after we arrived here to begin our search.”
“Destroyed?” Ari says.
“By one of the other guides,” Brecht explains. “He claimed he was doing it to prevent us from causing a disaster. He was shot for his troubles, but the damage was done. The map was gone.”
“And there was no copy?” I say.
“None. And no further work was done.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“The tide of the war was turning against our employers,” Brecht explains. “All available minds and bodies were recalled to Germany in an attempt to defend what remained of the Reich.”
“Then how are we going to find the plans now?” Ari says.
“By doing what archaeologists and adventurers have done since the first robber broke into the first tomb,” Brecht says. “Following the clues.”
My heart sinks. “You’ve had four days to tell us this.”
“If I had, you wouldn’t have come,” he says. “And I couldn’t risk losing my daughter and grandson.”
This I understand—although he’s wrong. Even if he’d told us that we were coming on an expedition with no guaranteed outcome, I would have come. Ari and I have agreed that we need to do whatever we can to make sure the weapon doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.
Next to me, Ari makes a noise suggesting she is less than happy with this new revelation. I put my arm around her. She tenses for a moment, then relaxes against me. “Come on,” I say. “It will be like a Tintin adventure.”
“You know the Tintin books?” She sounds surprised.
“How do you think I learned French?” I say. Then I address Brecht. “Where do we start?”
“Up there,” he says, pointing to one of the rock towers.
We begin walking again, following Yildiz as she climbs a flight of steep steps carved out of the rock and passes through a small doorway. She enters easily, but most of us have to duck to avoid striking our heads on the lintel. Inside, another set of stairs curls up the side of the tower. Yildiz is mounting them, with Kelebek behind her. Brecht follows her, then Ari, then Ott. I bring up the rear. We slowly rise up the tower, our speed dictated by Yildiz’s pace, corkscrewing around and around until we empty out into a small chamber at the very top. Narrow windows spaced around one half of the room let in light and air. The other wall space is taken up by a series of crude paintings. I examine them along with the others. There is a central figure painted in white and blue. It is humanoid in shape, but without discernible features. Around it are many smaller figures, painted in brown and yellow.
“They look as if they’re worshipping it,” I say. “Is it a god?”
Yildiz says something in her language. Kelebek says, “It is one of the star men.”
I look at Ari, and an unspoken question passes between us:
Yildiz says something more, and again Kelebek translates. “The stories say the star men first came many centuries ago. They brought with them secrets that they shared with the people here. They taught them to build cities.”
“Has she ever seen one?” I ask.
Kelebek says something to Yildiz. Yildiz shakes her head and replies.
“No,” Kelebek says. “She says she is not that old. They stopped coming long before that. But she has seen lights. When she was a girl. Lights from their ships in the heavens.”
I don’t contradict the old woman. Perhaps she has seen lights. Many people have. I doubt very much they belonged to spaceships of any kind.
“Why are we looking at this?” Ott asks, sounding impatient.
“We’re looking at
Yildiz speaks.
“The people turned against the star men,” Kelebek says. “They called them demons and killed them with the star men’s own weapons. But then they turned against one another as well, arguing about what should be done with the weapons and the other technology the star men left behind. Many died. And so some of them who were wiser than the others destroyed the weapons to stop the fighting.”
Again Yildiz says something. Her voice never wavers, as if she has told the story many times before.
“But two of the people—sisters—hid what was left of the weapons, each putting some of the parts in a secret place known only to her,” Kelebek translates. “Along with the instructions for building it. In case it should be needed again. One of the sisters was our ancestor, and her story has been passed down from mother to daughter until now.”
“I believe one set of pieces was hidden in the other city, where we found the first set of plans,” Brecht tells us when Kelebek is finished. “I believe the second set is here, hidden somewhere below.”
“But how do we find it without a map?” Ott says.
“A map would be helpful, yes,” Brecht says. “But perhaps we don’t need one. Before the map was destroyed, I was able to identify one point of interest, what I believe is a door. But I couldn’t figure out how to open it.”
“And now you have?” I ask.
“I had a lot of time to think while I was in Taganka,” Brecht says. “And it occurred to me that the answer might be right in front of us. Do you have the box with the pieces?”
I nod. We’ve brought it with us, and I’m carrying it in a pack on my back. Now I set the pack down, open it, and remove the box.
“Open it, please,” Brecht says.
I unlatch the lid and raise it. Inside, the pieces of the weapon rest inside their compartments. Brecht comes over and looks at them, then takes one out.
“All this time, we thought these were pieces of the weapon,” he says. “But I think this one may be more than that.”
“What do you think it is?” I ask.
Brecht turns the piece in his fingers. “I believe it is a key.”
“You
I look at Brecht, who is gazing at the piece in his hand with a peculiar expression. I wonder what he’s thinking. Myself, I am thinking that we might have come a long way for nothing. I hope I am wrong.