“It’s a pity the IVC trove keeper couldn’t meet us here.” Griffin had come up behind Cassie as she stood observing the ruin.
“Why not?”
“Called back to the States on business. We spoke over the phone in Karachi yesterday. He didn’t recall having seen a lily carving during excavation. If it’s to be found here, we’ll have to rely on your intuition to guide us.”
Cassie narrowed her gaze. “Looking at that giant brick pile, I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Not to worry.” Griffin held up a folded sheet of paper and waved it at her. “I’ve acquired a map and a headful of facts regarding what we’ll see today.”
Cassie peered back inside the doorway. “Where’s Erik?”
“I thought he was right behind me.” Griffin turned to look around him in surprise.
“I went to get some more bottled water.” Erik hurried out to meet them, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “The temperature is supposed to top a hundred degrees today.” He laughed wryly. “Good thing we weren’t here during the summer when it was really hot.”
Cassie eyed the wind-blown, sandy terrain. “Speaking of deserts, why would anybody build a city in a place as scorched and parched as this?”
“They wouldn’t,” Griffin replied. “Shall we?” He gestured that they should follow him down one of the trails leading to the ruins.
“What do you mean they wouldn’t?”
“Thousands of years ago, Mohenjo-Daro’s location would have been considered ideal. It was situated in the flood plain between the Indus and Ghaggar-Hakra Rivers.”
“Let me guess. The rivers dried up?” the pythia ventured.
“In part,” the scrivener replied. “The Gaggar-Hakra dried up, and the Indus altered its course, but neither of those events was determinative. The critical issue was a decrease in monsoonal moisture. At the end of the last Ice Age, the rainy season in this part of the world could be depended upon to flood the river valleys and allow for bountiful harvests year after year. Over time, desiccation set in just as it had done in North Africa and the Arabian Peninsula. This once-thriving urban center fell into decay. Not only Mohenjo-Daro but all the other great cities of the IVC as well. A thousand towns which had been built in the river valleys between the Himalayas and the Arabian Sea disappeared.”
“And now the only thing that’s left is desert,” Cassie remarked.
Griffin stopped to consult his map when they came to a junction of several trails. “I believe we should start with the citadel mound. It’s the highest spot in Mohenjo-Daro and will give us a good view of the entire site. The mound is directly ahead.” He pointed toward a hill covered with a cluster of brick structures. The tower on the crest of the hill was capped by a dome.
In response to Cassie’s quizzical look, Griffin explained, “That stupa was built over the ruins by Buddhists in the fourth century. Stupas are devotional shrines which sometimes contain relics or the remains of Buddhist monks. This one was built atop the citadel tower long after the original inhabitants disappeared.”
The stupa was surrounded by smaller buildings at various elevations along the hillside. Although the rectangular walls varied in size, they were uniformly constructed of baked red brick. All were roofless and exposed to the sky. A quick inspection of their interiors showed nothing of any interest. The trio threaded their way through a maze of partition walls and narrow lanes to reach the top of the hill. From that vantage point, they stopped to gaze out over the city. The perimeter wall stretched at least three miles around. Aside from the citadel mound on which they stood, Mohenjo-Daro also contained a lower town. The pythia directed her attention to the partially-excavated settlement below but could see little more than rectangles that had once been houses and circles that may have been the tops of wells.
“I’m not sure what to make of all this,” she said, leaning against a wall as she studied the ruins in dismay.
“Well then, let me enlighten you.” Griffin once again checked his map, presumably to point out structures of interest, but she didn’t hear the rest of what he had to say.
Images flashed through her brain in quick succession like animated snapshots in a very old photo album. Images of what Mohenjo-Daro had been in its prime. There were people everywhere. Thousands of them: walking, working, talking. She saw oxen pulling carts laden with grain through the streets. Artisans in their shops crafting tools and jewelry. Farmers toiling in irrigated fields outside the city. Priestesses performing religious rites. Children playing in open-air courtyards. The entire landscape was green and glowing in the rich morning light. The air swirled with humidity, borne on breezes drifting up from the rivers flowing on either side of the town—
“Cass, are you alright?” Erik was shaking her arm. His face looked tense.
“Sure, why?” she murmured.
“We seem to have lost you.” Griffin’s expression appeared as troubled as Erik’s. “You were staring vacantly into space. We called, but you didn’t hear
