“Perhaps the pythia would be kind enough to give us her impressions?” Jun slid the carving across the desk toward Cassie.
She took the precaution of sitting back in her chair and planting both feet firmly on the floor in case the object had any disorienting surprises in store for her. Then she took the horse’s head and held it between her palms.
The sun was blindingly bright. She gazed off a hundred miles in every direction, but all she could see was a sea of dried yellow grass waving in a strong wind. She was seated on horseback. Or rather ‘he’ since she was inhabiting the consciousness of a man. Judging by his apparel, he was a warrior. He wore a helmet on his head, and a long knife was strapped to his leather belt. The wind blew his blond beard across his chest. He shielded his eyes and scanned the horizon for a few moments, considering whether it was time for a change of direction. He cast a glance behind him. There were several dozen people in his caravan. Some seated in horse-drawn carts. Some on horseback. All waiting for his decision.
“Bring me the south-pointing chariot,” he commanded.
One of his followers rode forward, leading another horse which had been harnessed to a small two-wheeled cart. Resting on its platform was a collection of interlocking gears connecting to a pole surmounted by a carved horse’s head.
The leader studied the motion of the cart as it drew up beside him. The horse’s nose persisted in pointing off to his right. That meant they were still riding east. He squinted ahead in the glare of the overhead sun. The sea of grass was so vast and flat that it might as well have been an ocean. There were no mountains in sight. Not yet anyway.
“This way,” he called to his followers. He flicked his horse’s reins and advanced in the same direction they had been heading for weeks. Sooner or later, the dying grasslands would give way to mountains that gushed rivers. Then they would follow where the horse’s head wanted to lead them.
Cassie blinked rapidly. The office seemed incredibly dim in comparison to her sunlit vision.
“What did you see?” Griffin’s tone was worried.
She gave him a reassuring smile. “Nothing terrible, if that’s what you’re asking.” Glancing down at the artifact, she laughed in wonder. “It’s a compass.”
“Aha, I knew it!” Jun clapped his hands in delight.
“I don’t see any needle.” Griffin picked up the carving and examined it closely.
“The horse’s nose is the pointer, or needle, if you want to call it that,” Cassie explained. “But from what I could see, it didn’t work by magnets. It was driven by gears, and it always pointed south.” She told them the details of her vision.
Jun’s eyes were sparkling with excitement by the time she finished. “And you’re sure this leader in your vision was Caucasian?”
“Well, I didn’t have a mirror,” Cassie demurred. “But the guy had a blond beard, he was dressed like an overlord barbarian, and his followers were a bunch of white people riding through steppe country. If it swims like a duck and it quacks like a duck...” She shrugged.
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.” Jun traded a knowing glance with Rou.
Cassie scowled. “Wait a minute. The guy who owned this horse’s head must have been somewhere a thousand miles away in the grasslands. Probably Kazakhstan. How did this artifact get to China?”
“It was found at a dig site only ten miles from here,” Jun said. “The Majiayao culture inhabited the area around Lanzhou between 3100 and 2700 BCE. They were the earliest culture in China to show evidence of bronze weaponry.”
“Weaponry?” Cassie asked. “I thought all the Neolithic tribes around here were peaceful agriculturalists.”
“Oh, yes. They were.”
“Then the weaponry must have been brought here by outsiders,” Griffin speculated.
“Most certainly. Cassie’s vision has offered us a missing link regarding the overlord migration to China.”
“Then you’re saying this warrior with the yellow beard and weird compass used it to find his way to Lanzhou?”
“That’s right,” Jun agreed, smiling broadly. “I believe this little carved horse’s head pointed you directly to the Yellow Emperor.”
“The Yellow Emperor!” Griffin exclaimed. “But that’s impossible. He was Asian.”
Cassie held up her hand. “It looks like I need some backstory here. I know you mentioned him as one of the three mythical sovereigns but who exactly is the Yellow Emperor?”
Rou leaned over and whispered in her grandfather’s ear.
Jun nodded in agreement. Addressing the others, he said, “Rou wishes me to advise you that the answer to your question is far from simple. The true identity of the Yellow Emperor is cloaked in myth and legend. To unmask his face, we first need to separate fact from fable.”
Chapter 13—Dancing Around the Problem
Dr. Rafi Aboud handed his ticket to the usher and accepted a program. He found his seat in the dress circle of the Auditorium Theater. After getting settled, he scanned his surroundings. The century-old theater had been a landmark of design in its day, credited with inspiring the Art Nouveau style in Europe. It boasted an elegance that the modern taste for curtain glass and bare metal had completely lost. Aboud decided he liked the excessive opulence of it all. Built in the 1890s, it still served as a major venue for the city’s performing arts. The doctor glanced at his program. The Joffrey Ballet was dancing Stravinsky’s The Firebird tonight. He, himself, wasn’t an aficionado of ballet but his business associate was. He expected that Vlad had a particular fondness for this piece as it was scored by a Russian composer and based on a Russian folktale.
Aboud sighed at the thought that he had never had the time to cultivate his finer sensibilities. He expected that with the profit from his current venture, he could soon afford to be a patron of the arts as well as a man of leisure. He cast a glance at the theater-goers taking seats
