“Darchen is about fifteen thousand feet above sea level—”
“—and the summit of Kailash is over twenty thousand feet.”
“Not to mention the diameter,” Griffin remarked. “Searching a mountain of this size is a daunting task, even without the risk of altitude sickness.”
“Nobody is allowed to climb the peak. It’s considered a sacrilege,” Rabten informed them.
Cassie and Griffin exchanged a panicked look.
“But what if the artifact’s in a cave at the very top?” Cassie objected. “How are we supposed to get to it?”
“Don’t worry. We won’t have to climb that high.” Rinchen grinned.
The pythia and the scrivener peered at him suspiciously.
“I think the thin air must be making you loopy too,” the pythia murmured.
“No, no.” Rabten rushed to his brother’s defense. “He means that we think we know where your artifact might be.”
“It’s up pretty high but not at the very top.”
“We’ve been to the spot before, but we didn’t make the connection that it was an Arkana artifact until we got this assignment.”
“There’s something odd in Saptarishi Cave.”
“Saptarishi Cave?” Cassie repeated.
“Yeah, it’s a holy shrine at the base of the peak. Around nineteen thousand feet up,” Rinchen said.
“Traditionally, pilgrims don’t consider themselves worthy to enter the shrine until they’ve made thirteen circuits around the base of the mountain.”
“Thirteen!” Cassie exclaimed in disbelief. “I don’t think so!”
“It’s OK,” Rabten reassured her. “With all the Western tourists traipsing through this area nowadays, nobody insists on following that custom.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Griffin murmured.
“Saptarishi means ‘seven sages,’” Rabten continued. “They’re very famous wise men in Hindu mythology. Supposedly they were married to these seven sisters—”
“Hold on.” Griffin cut him off. “Seven sisters, did you say?”
“Uh huh.”
Cassie and Griffin found themselves smiling.
“Oh boy,” the pythia said. “Jackpot!”
“What did we say?” Rabten asked helplessly.
“The seven sisters are a clear reference to the Pleiades,” Griffin answered. “The last artifact we retrieved was decorated with jewels representing the seven sisters and the clue inscribed on it referred to the constellation as well. Your Saptarishi Cave proves that we’re on the right track.”
“The cave is on the south face of the mountain.” Rabten pointed to a spot high above them.
“It’s about a seven-mile hike from Darchen to Saptarishi, and it’s a steep climb, so it’s going to take three hours or so to get there.”
Despite the distance and the thin air, Cassie and Griffin began walking with far more energy than either one had demonstrated that morning.
The scrivener scowled in concentration.
Noticing his expression, Cassie asked, “What?”
“Now that I think of it, I do recall reading some facts about the Pleiades as they relate to Hindu beliefs. Before the Aryan incursion into this region, the seven sisters were seven mythological priestesses who judged the merit of human souls. Alcyone, the most prominent star in the cluster, was even identified with the pre-Hindu mother goddess of creation. It’s quite likely that before Saptarishi Cave was claimed by the seven sages, it belonged to the seven sisters. Of course, once the overlords arrived in the area, they tinkered with its mythology as others of their kind have done the world over.”
“Makes sense,” Cassie remarked archly. “If you’re the new god in town what better way to improve your status than to hook up with the local goddess and become half of a power couple.”
“Marriage was the typical method by which overlord gods took control,” Griffin continued. “All the ancient goddesses of the region became consorts of overlord gods, and the same fate awaited the Pleiades. The sisters were married off to the Seven Sages, but their Sanskrit name bears a hint as to their pre-Hindu mythological function. They are called the Krittika. The name translates as ‘the cutters’ which hearkens back to their role as judges of human souls. They were the Himalayan equivalent of the Fates in Greece who also predated Zeus and the Olympians. The Fates spun out a person’s destiny and cut the thread of life when that destiny had been fulfilled.”
The scrivener paused, out of breath once more.
“Griffin, I think you better stop talking so much,” Cassie advised. “Not that it isn’t interesting, but you need to conserve the air in your lungs.”
He nodded between gasps, too winded to reply.
They all looked upward at the white summit of the holy mountain still miles above them.
It was going to be a long day.
***
Several hours later, the weary quartet approached the cave entrance. Some of the pilgrims around them were using ropes which their guides had anchored to the rocks above. The incline was steep, but the Arkana group opted to scrabble up the last bit of mountainside without any additional support. This was a perilous maneuver since they practically had to crawl on all fours over loose granite. The gravel was slippery enough that they risked sliding backward several hundred feet if they weren’t careful. Cassie made it a point not to look over her shoulder.
Fortunately, the cave itself offered solid footing. When they reached the entrance, they were able to straighten up and relax. Saptarishi Cave wasn’t so much a cave as a fissure in the mountainside—a stone ledge sheltered by a prominent overhang of solid rock. A gap of several feet separated the roof from the floor of the cave so that anyone inside could look out and view the scenery miles below. Along the outer wall between the floor of the fissure and the stone ceiling, someone had erected a series of huge man-made pedestals. Each of these pedestals held a dome-shaped structure and on top of each one was a golden spire that looked like a Christmas tree topper.
Rabten seemed to read Cassie’s unspoken question. “Those are the golden chortens,” he said. “There were originally thirteen and the shrine is still sometimes called the ‘Cave of the Thirteen Golden Chortens.’ There are more than thirteen here now though.”
“What’s a chorten?”
“It’s a Tibetan version of a stupa. Each one of those chortens houses the remains of a Buddhist saint.”
“Pretty colorful cave,” Cassie remarked, pointing to bright pieces of cloth strung from
