The librarian grinned. “The quest for the Abominable Snowman, huh? At least it’s a diversion.”
“Diversion?” Daniel’s tone was shocked. “His descriptions are mind-numbing. Listen to this passage: ‘Although none of the guides I have employed heretofore were able to produce tangible evidence of a yeti footprint, I continue to be sanguine in my hopes. My persistence shall be rewarded. We have now traveled to the foothills of the Tanggula Mountain Range in the central portion of the Tibetan plateau. A profusion of yeti footprints, if not the creatures themselves, have supposedly been found near the top of Mount Geladaindong. At twenty-two-thousand feet above sea level, it is the tallest summit in the range. My sherpa is adamant that the elusive creatures live upon the high sharp peak, for that is what the mountain’s name means in Tibetan. I have further been informed by the same reliable source that the area also boasts a colony of snow leopards. I should very much like to bag one during my stay. Its head would make a fine addition to my trophy room and—’”
“Stop!” Chris commanded, gripping Daniel’s arm.
The scion peered at his friend. “I know. I can’t bear it either. It’s awful stuff. Aside from the writing itself, aren’t snow leopards endangered?”
“No, that isn’t what I meant.” Chris cast a wary glance around the reading room. Its two other occupants were immersed in their own studies. He lowered his voice. “Go back to the explorer’s description of the mountain. Read that part again.”
Daniel scanned the page, finding the relevant passage. “Here it is. ‘A profusion of yeti footprints, if not the creatures themselves, have supposedly been found near the top of Mount Geladaindong. At twenty-two-thousand feet above sea level, it is the tallest summit in the range.’” The scion looked inquisitively at the librarian.
Chris was frowning in concentration. “No, that’s not it. Read the next sentence.”
“‘My sherpa is adamant that the elusive creatures live upon the high sharp peak, for that is what the mountain’s name means in Tibetan.’” Daniel stopped abruptly and turned to Chris.
Both men smiled simultaneously.
“High sharp peak,” the librarian repeated in an elated tone.
“That’s it!” Daniel exclaimed. “We found it!”
“Shhhh!” A warning shush came from one of the reading room’s occupants.
“Very sorry,” the scion murmured.
“Let’s go back to my desk,” Chris urged. “I want to check something on the computer. And bring that book with you.”
They hastened back to the Reference Desk, and Chris darted behind the counter. “The whole point of mentioning the ‘high sharp peak’ in the riddle was to get a fix on a river, right?”
Daniel stood in front of the counter. He nodded solemnly. “A river that runs red to the serpent’s heart. I’m not sure what that part means.”
“One thing at a time.” Chris studied his monitor intently. He typed a few keystrokes. “I’m trying to find out if the headwaters of any major river start at that peak. What was it again?”
Daniel spelled the name.
“Jackpot!” Chris turned the monitor so Daniel could see it.
“The glacial meltwaters beside Mount Geladaindong give rise to the Yangtze River.” The scion read the words in a disbelieving tone. “We solved part of the riddle by stumbling on an obscure reference in an obscure journal purely by accident.”
“There are no accidents, my friend.” Chris retorted.
Daniel squinted at him.
“Never mind. That’s a much longer conversation.” The librarian began typing again. “I want to test a theory about your riddle. What was the name of that mountain you climbed in Nepal?”
“It was called Kailash.”
Chris typed again. “Latitude thirty-one degrees north.” He typed another string of characters then turned triumphantly to the scion. “The headwaters of the Yangtze are also located at thirty-one degrees north.”
“So that’s what the first line of the riddle meant. I finally understand it.” Daniel was speaking more to himself than to the librarian. “The flock of doves originated on Kailash and flew in a straight line toward sunrise—east. They perched on the high sharp peak where the river begins. It’s all so obvious.”
Chris was only partially listening, intent on a new search. “Ha!” he exclaimed. “And here’s another piece of your jigsaw puzzle. When the Yangtze flows from the mountain, it starts out as a smaller river.”
“The Ulan Moron,” Daniel read aloud. “That’s a funny name for a river.”
“Not Moron, you adorable wingnut. It’s pronounced ‘Mor-AHN.’” Chris turned his gaze fully on Daniel. “In English, Ulan Moron means ‘Red River.’”
“‘Where the river flows red to the serpent’s heart.’” Daniel repeated the clue. “The Red River.”
Chris leaned his elbow on the counter and propped his chin in his hand. “You’d better start packing, Danny Boy.”
“But we’ve only solved the first line,” Daniel protested.
“One down, one to go.” The librarian’s eyes were twinkling. “Between the two of us, I’ll bet we can crack the rest of that riddle before the week is out.”
The scion gave a grateful smile. “I’ll dust off my suitcase tonight.”
Chapter 29—Location, Location, Location
Griffin, Cassie, and Elle handed their boarding passes to the gate attendant and found their row on the plane. It held three seats across. Elle chose the center, Cassie the window and Griffin the aisle for more leg room.
Cassie leaned back against the cushioned headrest, breathed a sigh of relief, and closed her eyes. It had been a hectic few days. When they’d first come down the mountain, Elle insisted that they go to her grandmother’s
