Griffin pointed toward some of the workers who were dumping multi-colored plastic buckets into a hopper next to a water-filled metal trench. “That’s a quick way to filter the dirt for smaller, finer artifacts.”
“Kind of like sifting for gold,” Cassie observed.
“Precisely.”
Fred drove past the central buildings to a higher section of the mound. Set off by itself was a short flat building near another dig site covered with a canopy. He pulled the minivan up to the building and switched off the engine. “We’re here,” he announced.
Cassie slid open the side door. “Where’s here?”
Fred climbed out. “This is the Arkana’s section of the dig. The building is our site office. It’s where the trove keeper works whenever he’s in the area.”
Griffin stepped down and stretched his legs after their long confinement.
When Cassie turned to face the door of the building, she smiled. For the first time today, she saw something that looked exactly the way she thought it should.
An elderly man stood in the doorway. He stepped forward a few paces with the aid of a walking stick. Cassie noted that it was capped with a gold lion’s head. Despite the hundred-degree heat, he was dressed in a brown suit and matching vest. His crisp white shirt was neatly pressed. The only concession to the weather was a straw Panama hat. He shook hands with the men, but when his attention turned to Cassie, he gave a little bow from the waist.
“My name is Aydin Ozgur. I am the Anatolian trove keeper, and I am deeply honored to meet the pythia.” He spoke flawless English with only a hint of an accent.
Cassie resisted the urge to dip him a slight curtsy. Instead, she held out her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Ozgur.” She studied his face. His skin was brown and wrinkled as a tobacco leaf. He had a bushy white moustache that drooped at the corners of his mouth. She guessed he might be as old as Faye, but his brown eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“You have come a long way,” Ozgur said. “I can offer you refreshments, but perhaps you would prefer a short tour of the site first?”
Cassie blurted out impulsively, “Oh, I’d love to see the site!”
“Remember, don’t touch anything,” Erik muttered under his breath.
The pythia smiled impishly. “Relax, Max.” She wiggled her fingertips at him and then jammed them into her pockets.
They made their way along a narrow gravel path leading up to the dig. The visitors shuffled behind the trove keeper, trying to slow their pace to match his. Ozgur steadied himself with his walking stick as he picked his way through broken rock. He stopped when he came to a canopy on the edge of a large hole in the ground.
“Wow!” Cassie exclaimed.
Looking down into the wide depression, she could see the floor was divided by a series of low mud-brick partitions. It was almost like looking at an overhead floor plan of a house. The partitions were only a few feet high though the crew working below was digging down to expose more wall. Several people were on their hands and knees scraping away at the floor of the structure. They all had plastic buckets handy where they dumped the dirt they were excavating.
Cassie turned to the trove keeper. “Who lived here at Catal Huyuk?”
He smiled at her eager curiosity. “A peaceful people. They farmed and kept livestock. Their houses were made of mud brick which was covered in white plaster. The structures were all built next to one another. There are no streets.”
“No streets,” Cassie echoed in surprise. “How did they get around?”
Aydin chuckled. “They moved from building to building across the roofs. In order to enter a dwelling, one had to climb down through a hole in the roof using a ladder. Are you familiar with the pueblos in America?”
“I’ve seen pictures of them,” the pythia replied doubtfully, “but I’ve never been inside one.”
The old man nodded. “They are built in much the same way as Catal Huyuk. People liked living in close proximity to one another.”
“Guess high-rise apartments aren’t so modern after all,” the pythia commented.
“That is true.”
“What’s that over there?” Cassie pointed to the opposite end of the pit where a small hollow mound of clay protruded from the wall.
“I believe that’s an oven.” Griffin glanced at the trove keeper for confirmation. “Am I right?”
“Yes, each house had an oven for cooking food. It also provided warmth and light since there were no windows.”
“You mean the only light came from a hole in the roof?” Cassie was incredulous.
“And very little light even from that source,” Griffin speculated. “In winter the hole would have been covered to keep out the snow.”
“It’s hard to believe it ever gets cold here.” The pythia felt as if she were standing in an oven. “It has to be almost a hundred degrees.”
“Quite possibly.” The trove keeper still looked unflappably cool himself. “But I assure you the winters are harsh. A covering would have been required over the hole in the roof. Sadly, while it kept out the snow and wind, it would also have kept in a great deal of smoke.”
“Great. They probably all had emphysema.”
“Not likely,” Erik chimed in. “They only lived to be about thirty in the good old days.”
“Yikes. That means at my age I’d be an old woman.”
“Way past your prime, toots.” The security coordinator gave an infuriating grin.
Cassie turned her back to him. Her attention was immediately caught by a very familiar object on the floor of the dig site. “Is that what I think it is?” she asked Griffin excitedly.
He nodded. “Something very like it.”
The pythia studied the short square pillar of
