Joshua stiffened at this news. In the past, questions about compound security had always been directed to the spymaster. He was now being bypassed in that role as well. “In future, you are to inform me of any conversation you have with the diviner. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Brother Matthew seemed mildly alarmed.
“If he so much as asks you if it’s raining outside, you will tell me. Is that clear?”
The lieutenant gulped and nodded. “Quite clear, sir.”
Joshua relaxed and resumed his seat. He gestured toward the visitor chair, indicating that Matthew should sit down as well. Then he pushed the mysterious green bottle across the desk toward his lieutenant. “What do you make of it?”
“I... uh. Nothing, sir. I don’t make anything of it. We’ve been instructed to distribute one bottle to each chosen man. More bottles will arrive as they become available and we’re to ship them off right away. The diviner insisted that the bottles are not to be opened by anyone until he gives an express command to do so. Apparently, the contents are quite dangerous.”
The spymaster stared fixedly at the metal container. “My father once told me that our chosen men were to act as emissaries to carry a message to the Fallen World. I can only assume his message is contained in these volatile water bottles.”
“If you say so, sir.” Matthew’s tone was noncommittal.
“And that bit of information doesn’t trouble you?”
Matthew appeared downright baffled. “I’m sure the diviner has a good reason for everything he does.”
Joshua conceded the futility of coaxing a speculative idea from his second-in-command. “That’s all for now. You’re dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” Matthew rose and let himself out.
Joshua rubbed his forehead distractedly. Even before Matthew’s arrival, he had been worried about his eroding position. Now he was positively paranoid. What did these bottles contain? Bombs? Some sort of biological weapon? The vaccinations of his men would suggest the latter. In either case, his father’s lethal message to the Fallen might ignite a war, and Joshua no longer had enough influence to steer the diviner away from such a mad course of action. His ambition to succeed his father seemed pointless if the diviner antagonized the Fallen to such a degree that they retaliated by destroying the Nephilim altogether. Even if Joshua survived such a scenario, he would be left to rule over a kingdom of corpses.
Now, more than ever, he needed a plan to win back his father’s approval—a way to get Abraham to trust him and confide in him again. He cast about desperately in his mind for a solution, but his options were severely limited. No matter which alternative he considered, each one led back to the same conclusion. There was only one way to turn the tide in his favor. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Joshua steeled himself to embark on the most desperate measure of all.
Chapter 36—The Polar Bear
Daniel, Cassie, and Griffin claimed their bags from the carousal in the one-runway airport at Gallivare. They were now in the rustic wilds of Sweden’s northernmost county. Getting to this out-of-the-way place had taken some effort. First, they’d spent an entire day retracing their steps from Olkhon Island to the airport in Irkutsk. From there, they caught a nine-hour flight to St. Petersburg. The next leg of their journey involved a five-hour plane ride to Lulea, Sweden. After that, a forty-five-minute flight brought them to their final destination. They had chosen to make Gallivare their base of operations because of its proximity to the headwaters of the Lule River at the southern tip of Lake Akkajaure. As the largest town in the area, Gallivare and its environs boasted a total population of twenty thousand people which meant it was able to provide the comforts of civilization despite its remote location.
After exiting the small airport terminal, the trio stood uncertainly by the curb.
Griffin scanned the parking lot. “The Lule Saami trove keeper said she would send someone to meet us and act as our guide.”
“Hello! Hello!” A booming voice called out from the other end of the lot.
“Oh, dear,” the scrivener whispered. “It’s Lars.”
Cassie and Daniel gawked at the giant creature lumbering toward them.
“Be warned,” Griffin cautioned them. “He’s a hugger.”
“He’s a what?” Cassie’s question went unanswered as their new guide strode up and engulfed Griffin in an embrace which nearly lifted him off his feet.
“Welcome, Chief Scrivener, welcome. I see I got here just in time.” The man’s accent bore a typical Swedish lilt, and his J’s sounded like Y’s. “How have you been?”
It took several seconds for Griffin to reply since the man’s enthusiastic greeting had knocked the wind out of him and ruffled his Anglo-Saxon reserve. After catching his breath, he said, “I’m fine, Lars. Thank you. Let me introduce my associates. Lars Gustafsson, this is Daniel Metcalf.”
“Hello, Mister Daniel. Welcome!” The guide crushed Daniel in a bear hug which made him squeak involuntarily.
Releasing him, Lars turned to Cassie. “And you!”
“Me what?” the pythia asked warily, taking a step backwards.
“I already know who you are!” Lars lifted her up and held her at arm’s length as easily as if she were a toddler. Then he planted a kiss on either cheek. “Lady Pythia, I am delighted to meet you in person!”
He set her back gently on the ground.
“Wow, that was some greeting.” Cassie swayed slightly, trying to get her balance. “You must get a kickback from the Swedish Tourist Bureau. And, by the way, the name is Cassie.”
“No, no.” The guide shook his head emphatically. “You are honored guests in my country and deserve great respect. You will always be the Lady Pythia, and Chief Scrivener, and Mister Daniel to me.”
“Then what should we call you?” Cassie asked.
“Lars,” he replied simply. He beamed at them all, his
