The Remembering

“Beautiful, no?” Geaxi said.

“Yes … yes,” I mumbled. “More than beautiful.”

“Can you make anything of it, Zianno? Can you read it?”

“I … I don’t know. I’m not sure. Give me a minute or two.”

“Two is more than we can allow. You have one minute, then we must return.”

“All right, then,” I said. “One minute.”

I began by taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. I put my hands on the sphere and turned it, inch by inch, hoping to find a starting place in the bands of markings. But they were continuous, as if there was no beginning or end. I leaned in closer and examined each individual marking. Every single line, dot, circle, and half- moon was etched with the exact same precision, depth, and clarity. The sphere was a masterwork of stonecutting and stone polishing. Where had it been done? For what purpose, and most important, by whom? I had no answers, and the clock was ticking. Then, without thinking, I closed my eyes and let my fingertips dance lightly around the sphere, barely making contact with the markings, and something remarkable happened. Like a blind man reading braille, I suddenly understood one word—West. I read another word and then a phrase. It was the same phrase I had once discovered and deciphered in a cave in the middle of the Sahara Desert— “Where Time is under Water, Where Water is under Time.” I opened my eyes and turned to tell Geaxi, but she was no longer beside me. She was standing by an exhibit ten feet away, holding something in one hand and gazing at it with her mouth hanging open. “Geaxi!” I said. “I can read the sphere!” She didn’t respond or even blink. Her breathing was shallow and uneven. She seemed frozen, transfixed by what she was holding. I walked over to her and tapped her on the shoulder. Still, she didn’t respond. I looked down and saw that she was holding a skull. The skull was human, yet not quite like modern humans. The browridges were raised and much more pronounced. Also, the forehead sloped and the jaw was different. And it was most likely a child’s skull because it was too small to be that of an adult.

I turned to the exhibit, which was a collection of bones and a few tools. There were also photographs, a map, and a paper documenting the collection. The paper was written in Russian, but I was able to understand most of the context. It said the bones were that of a Neanderthal child, discovered along with five other children’s skeletons, at Mezmaiskaya Cave on the banks of the Sukhoy Kurdzhips River in 1938. The paper also said the skeletons were all found together in an unusual arrangement resembling a circle, as if they had been holding hands at the time of death. Nearby the bones, but farther back in the cave, the black granite sphere had been unearthed. I looked up from the paper in shock. Geaxi was still mesmerized by the skull in her hand.

Just then, I heard voices down the long hallway, and they were coming toward us. I yanked the skull away from Geaxi and set it back with the other bones. Geaxi made a small whimpering sound, but she didn’t move. Without hesitating, I slapped her hard across the chin. She blinked twice, then looked at me. “Young Zezen,” she said. “Where are we?”

“About to be caught,” I said, taking her hand and running across the room to the table next to the refrigerator by the door. The voices were close. I pulled Geaxi down and we ducked under the table just before two men entered the room.

They headed directly for the sphere, and as they passed by, I could only see them from the waist down. One wore brown trousers and plain brown shoes, old and scuffed on the toes and heels. The other wore black trousers and black Italian-style shoes, which looked almost brand-new. They were speaking in Russian. The man in the Italian shoes said, “I tell you, Arkady, I am at wit’s end. I have exhausted everything I know. During the war I learned Chinese in three weeks, and now this damned stone and its code has had me completely baffled for six months. I want you to look at it and tell me what you think.”

Brown shoes said, “If you haven’t broken it, then I haven’t much of a chance.”

“Don’t be modest, Arkady. You were once the best we had.”

“A long time ago, my friend, perhaps too long.”

“Still, I want you to see it before I send it off to Berlin.”

“Berlin?” Brown shoes replied.

“Yes.”

“The Beekeeper?”

“Yes, the Beekeeper. He is the only one. He will not fail to break it. I have done my best.”

“He is a dangerous choice, Valery.”

“I know, Arkady, but he is the only choice I have left.”

When I heard the name Valery, I peeked out from underneath the table. The two men were standing beside the big desk, admiring and examining the sphere. I could see their faces clearly. I studied the taller of the two, the one wearing the expensive black shoes. His chin was narrow and pointed. His cheekbones were high and wide, but his eyes were small and close together on either side of his long, straight nose. His hair was a dark shade of burnt red, and he combed it back from his forehead, which was high and round. Cardinal had said Valery had vulpine features and resembled a fox in looks, attitude, and intelligence. The man standing by the sphere talking about codes and ciphers was, without a doubt, the reclusive, elusive Soviet agent known as Valery.

I glanced at Geaxi. She seemed to be herself again and was also paying keen attention to the two men. With my eyes, I indicated that it was time to leave. I held the Stone in my hand, but it was unnecessary. We sneaked out from under the table without a sound, then out the door and down the hallway until we reached the connecting hall that led to the kitchen and the banquet room. There were no guards anywhere. I could hear Giles arguing loudly with them in the kitchen, still creating a diversion. We walked into the banquet room, where the Zhordanias were quietly changing back into their street clothes. Everyone ignored our late entrance, except for Giorgi. He looked over and gave Geaxi and me a quick wink and a knowing smile. In another ten minutes, we were all back in the old school bus and on our way, including Giles. He had been dragged and carried out by two of the men in dark suits, who were more than glad to be rid of him and The Great Zhordanias.

Once we were clear of the dacha, I wanted to ask Geaxi about what had happened to her. I changed my mind, however, and decided to wait until we were alone.

Giles wasted no time in getting Geaxi and me safely out of the country. We made our way south for about fifty miles, crossing the Psou River and entering the Abkhazian city of Gagra. We made a brief stop at a sanatorium. It was one of many the Soviets had founded in the area. Giles said his “contact” worked in the sanatorium. While he was inside, Giorgi told me in his broken English that Giles had been to the sanatorium many times before, but for quite another reason. “He has a cancer of the bone,” Giorgi said. “It eats him like a dark worm.”

We drove on to the Pitsunda cape, a place Geaxi said she had visited in the late fifteenth century while in the company of Genoan and Venetian pirates. After being introduced to a man with an enormous black mustache and a booming, loud voice, we were ushered onto his fishing trawler and shown to a small cabin belowdecks. Giles informed us that the man could be trusted and that we would be leaving for Istanbul at first light.

There was little time for long farewells or proper thanks for everything that Giles had done for us. But he did ask one question. He asked if we had had enough time to determine if the stone sphere was indeed Meq. Geaxi turned to me, waiting for the answer. I glanced at Giles, but spoke to Geaxi. Judging from what I’d been able to “read” on the sphere and what I’d seen and read in the exhibit, I could hardly believe the answer myself. The implications were mind-boggling. “Yes,” I said. “It is Meq.”

Geaxi seemed startled and puzzled simultaneously. She looked away for a second, then looked at Giles and regained her composure. She smiled. “Perhaps we shall meet again soon, old friend.”

Giles smiled back. He ran his hand through his white hair and leaned over, kissing Geaxi softly on the cheek. “Perhaps,” he whispered. Then he turned to leave, ducking under the low door of the cabin and disappearing down the corridor toward the stairs. His footsteps barely made a sound.

5. Itzalpe (Shade)

In shade there is protection. There is shelter from heat and the glare of light. There is also obscurity, deception, darkness, and danger. In shade one may change, one may pass by imperceptible degrees into something