The tyro’s mood shifted. In a soft tone, he said, “Promise me you’ll never try to be like everybody else. You’re too special for that.”
Hannah blinked back a few tears. “After the night you tried to rescue me, when I heard that Erik was dead and you were gone, I was sure our time was up. I never thought we’d speak again.”
“Me either,” he said with a catch in his voice.
To distract him, she asked hurriedly, “How’s Granny Faye?”
This question did little to change his troubled mood. “She’s... uh... still sleeping.”
“Oh,” Hannah said in a whisper. “But she might come out of it?”
Zach tried to rally. “Yeah, that’s what everybody keeps telling me. The doctors are waiting for the swelling in her brain to come down. Then we’ll see.” He forced a laugh. “Cassie said Gamma is too tough to kill.”
“I believe she is,” Hannah agreed. Her eyes welled up again.
“We’re gonna get you out of there,” Zach rushed to cheer her up. “Cassie and Griffin and Daniel are closing in on the Sage Stone. It won’t be much longer. Metcalf promised to exchange you and Erik for the artifact.”
Hannah sighed deeply. “I don’t really believe he’ll let me go, even for a little while.”
“Neither do we,” Zach agreed.
“What!”
“We expect a double-cross but don’t worry. Everybody on this end is working on a plan. Don’t think for a minute that we’d abandon you. You have no idea how much they all care about what happens to you. How much I—” He stopped speaking abruptly.
Hannah understood the implication. “I care about you too, Zach.”
“That’s good,” he concurred lamely. “It’s good that we both—” Again he cut himself off.
“Yes, it’s good that we both...” Hannah trailed off with a smile.
“Um, do you think Erik will let us talk every few days or so?” the tyro asked hopefully.
“I’ll make sure that he does. I’ll tell him it keeps up my morale.”
Zach chuckled. “Mine too. I can be a real pain when I’m not happy. The people I work for will do anything to shut me up. If Erik gives you a hard time, I’ll pester his boss until she orders him to let us talk.”
“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary. Still,” she paused, “I better give him his phone back now.”
“Yeah well, it’s good we talked because, um...” He gave an exasperated sigh. “You know...”
“Yes, I know. Me, too. Goodnight, Zach.”
Chapter 32—The Lady in the Lake
Daniel, Cassie, and Griffin sat on the shores of Lake Baikal gazing hopefully at Olga. The scout was on the brink of offering a solution to get them back on track.
“We must go to Matushka Ayana at once. She can help us.”
“‘Matushka’ means ‘mother’ in Russian,” Daniel noted cautiously. “I can’t imagine how your mother can help us except perhaps to lend moral support.”
“She is not MY mother,” the scout replied with a laugh. “That is simply what the people on the island call her. Matushka Ayana is a shaman. Her spirit guides are very powerful. Perhaps she will be able to see what the pythia cannot.”
“That’s just grasping at straws,” the scion protested.
“Hey, we’re fresh out of leads,” Cassie said. “I think we should grasp at any straw that’s offered.”
Olga stood and dusted sand off her hands. “We will need to get the car. She lives some distance up the shore.”
The four trudged back to the hotel to reclaim the old rusted sedan they’d rented at the ferry landing. Olga took the wheel and headed north from the hotel parking lot. They traveled for about twenty minutes, passing small settlements and fishing villages of no more than a dozen ramshackle buildings. Eventually, the scout turned off the road next to a domelike structure perched on a hill overlooking the lake. They all got out.
“This is Matushka Ayana’s yurt,” Olga explained.
“Her what?” Daniel asked.
Griffin intercepted the question. “A yurt is a customary Mongolian dwelling. It’s built of a collapsible wooden frame covered by layers of felt made from sheep’s wool. There’s a vent in the center of the roof to let out smoke from the hearth. It’s quite a practical design given the extreme cold in this part of the world.”
While the scrivener was speaking, Olga had gone on ahead to rouse the yurt’s occupant.
A tiny Mongolian woman peeped through the open doorway. She appeared to be in her sixties. Contrary to expectations, she wasn’t wearing a folk costume that matched her traditional home. She looked utterly commonplace in her western slacks and sweater. The old woman exchanged greetings with Olga and gestured for the scout and her friends to come inside. Olga shook her head and led the shaman out to meet the group standing by their car.
“She speaks no English,” the scout said.
Through an elaborate pantomime, it was obvious that Olga was introducing the shaman to the members of the Arkana team. The old woman smiled and nodded at each in turn
A rapid conversation ensued in a language which Cassie assumed was Buryat. The pythia inferred that Olga was explaining their predicament to Matushka Ayana. It was hard to guess the shaman’s reaction since she merely listened intently and murmured a question here or there. When the scout finished speaking, there was a long silence. The shaman scanned the faces of the visitors one by one. Her eyes were bright as black pearls, and they seemed to miss nothing. Her gaze settled on Cassie. She stepped forward a few paces and extended her arms toward the pythia.
Cassie darted Olga a quizzical glance.
“Give her your hand,” the scout prompted.
The pythia shrugged and complied.
The shaman took Cassie’s hand in both her own, examining the palm and fingertips closely. Apparently satisfied, she nodded and released it. Turning once more to Olga, she spoke for nearly a minute without stopping.
At the end of the monologue, the scout reached into her handbag and withdrew several bills. She straightened out the creases, turned them all upright and, bowing slightly, proffered the money
