“Only a few female elders were harmed but, in the long run, Handsome Lake’s influence seriously affected the social balance of the People of the Longhouse.” Grace sighed in exasperation. “The United States government had never acknowledged the legal position of the clan mothers, and it finished the job in the nineteenth century when it denied the authority of the jigonsaseh—the clan mother of the entire league. A big part of my job for the Arkana is reconstructing the history of the women who held that title. They’ve been erased from the official record, of course.”
Grace glanced contritely at her listeners. “But you didn’t come all this way to hear me rant about overlord colonialism. You said you wanted to talk about a lost artifact?”
“That’s right,” Griffin agreed. “We think it may have been left with the Haudenosaunee centuries ago, and we’re trying desperately to find it.”
The trove keeper stood up once more and walked to the tent entrance. She leaned outside to glance at the sky. It was beginning to drizzle. “Can’t do much more here today. It’s almost sunset now. Let me tell the crew to call it quits. Maybe there’s something in the field notes back at the trove.” She asked Griffin, “Do you know the way there?”
The scrivener nodded. “I’ve been there a few times. I believe I can steer Cassie in the right direction. Should we plan on meeting you in half an hour?”
Grace nodded. “You got it.”
Cassie couldn’t hide her elation. “We’re going to see a trove!” She thought it was about time.
Chapter 37 – What’s in a Name?
Daniel parked his car in front of the Malta Public Library. The building was a two-story square edifice of grey stone blocks and arched windows. He knew very little about architecture, guessing that the style might best be described as Romanesque. Or was it Baroque? It hardly mattered. He’d already spent far too many days scrutinizing structures made of stone. He’d combed every ancient tomb and temple on both Malta and Gozo hunting for the elusive lily symbol but had found nothing.
His search was interrupted only by the unavoidable phone conversations with his father. The diviner apparently didn’t feel he could communicate intimidation effectively enough via email. Thus far, Daniel’s accounts of his progress had been a disappointment. No, he hadn’t found any promising leads yet. No, he wasn’t dawdling. Yes, he would call the diviner immediately if anything important turned up. Click.
The scion knew he was running out of time. Despite his protests to his father, he had, in fact, been dawdling. He liked this island nation. It was a world away from the oppressive atmosphere of the compound. Strange that he had never known his home was oppressive until he’d spent some time in the world of the Fallen. He made a mental note to stop calling them that. “Fallen” sounded disrespectful to him now.
He glanced up briefly at the stone facade confronting him. This really was his last hope. It had occurred to him that the library might contain ancient records which he couldn’t access on the internet. Perhaps some musty old document would hold a clue to point him in the right direction. He prayed that it might or else he would have to go home. The thought gave him no comfort.
As he was about to enter the building, his attention was diverted by an odd-looking orange car that swerved into the parking space next to his rented vehicle. An even odder-looking woman got out. She wore thick glasses which made her eyes seem enormous. Oblivious to his presence, she was muttering to herself as she approached the entrance.
He held the door open for her. She gave him a vague nod of thanks, never suspending the flow of babble issuing from her mouth. “It’s absurd that I didn’t realize it sooner. Of course, they would have taken it to her mountain. I should have advised them about that.” Daniel couldn’t make any sense out of her words, and thankfully she was out of earshot within a few moments.
The scion went looking for the reference librarian. Thanks to his friend David, he’d become adept at understanding the way in which libraries were organized. He assumed the one on Malta would be no different. He requested access to the earliest records associated with the island. Not merely the megaliths, but the history of the island itself. The reference librarian collected some materials for him and showed him into a separate reading room. He was cautioned that nothing could be removed from the library and was instructed to put on a pair of gauzy cotton gloves before touching any of the documents.
It was the middle of the day and the middle of the week which meant that the library wasn’t particularly busy. The room was all his. He looked at the clock—noon. Daniel immersed himself in the history of the island and became lost in the past. He didn’t look up again until the clock read four. With a start, he realized he’d spent the last several hours uncovering nothing. He began to flip through documents more rapidly—scanning for any reference to Minoan trade routes or journals documenting their contact with the archipelago. Absently, his hand turned over what appeared to be a map. He wasn’t quite sure why it was included in the stack of papers he’d marked for review. He paused long enough to scrutinize it carefully because something about it was tugging at the edges of his consciousness.
The map was a reproduction of Roman-occupied territories around the Mediterranean. At one time, their armies had conquered all the lands that surrounded the sea. His eyes, for no apparent reason, fastened on their province known as Hiberia. By the shape of the land mass, he recognized it as Spain. And then he saw it. A river named Iberus. He repeated the word aloud. It sounded vaguely like...
He flipped
