'What do you mean you've kind of found it?' Nash asked.
'Well, that's the thing,' Race said. 'The manuscript virtually ends in mid-sentence when they reach the town of Vilcafor. There's obviously more to be read, but it isn't here.' He didn't add that he was beginning to find the story kind of interesting and actually wanted to read more of it. 'You're sure this is all we have?'
'I'm afraid so,' Nash said. 'Remember, this isn't the original manuscript, but rather a half-finished copy of it, transcribed by another monk many years after Santiago wrote the original. This is all there is, this is all that the other monk managed to copy from the original.'
He frowned. 'I was hoping we'd get the exact location of the idol from it, but if it doesn't give us that, then what I need to know are the generalities: where to look, where to start looking. We've got the technology to pinpoint the location of the idol/f we know where to begin our search. And by the sound of things, from what you've read so far, it appears that you have enough there to tell me where to start looking. So tell me what you know.'
Race showed Nash his notes, told him the story of Renco Capac and his flight from Cuzco. He then explained that from what he'd read, Renco had made it to his intended destination—a citadel-town at the base of the Andes known as Vilcafor.
He also told Nash that, so long as they knew one particular fact, the manuscript detailed how to get to that town.
'And what fact is that?“ Nash said.
'Assuming the stone totems are still there,' Race said,
'you have to know what the “Mark of the Sun” is. If you don't know what it is, then you can't read the totems.'
Nash frowned and turned to Walter Chambers, the anthropologist and Incan expert, sitting a few seats away.
'Walter. Do you know anything about a “Mark of the Sun” in Incan culture?'
'The Mark of the Sun? Why, yes, of course.'
“What is it?'
Chambers shrugged, came oven 'It's just a birthmark, really. Kind of like Professor Race's there.' He nodded with his chin at Race's glasses, indicating the dark triangular blemish on the skin under his left eye. Race cringed. Ever since he was a kid, he'd hated that birthmark. He thought it looked like a smudged coffee stain on his face.
'The Incans thought birthmarks were signs of distinc tion,' Chambers said. 'Signs sent from the gods themselves.
The Mark of the Sun was a special kind of birthmarkla blemish on the face, just below the left eye. It was special because the Incans believed that it was a mark sent from their most powerful god, the Sun God. To have a child with such a mark was regarded as a great honour. The Mark of the Sun indicated that that particular child was special, in some way destined for greatness.'
Race said, 'So if someone instructed us to follow a statue in the direction of the• Mark of the Sun, they would be telling us to go to the statue's left?'
'That would be correct,' Chambers said, hesitating. 'I think.”
'What do you mean, you think?“ Nash said.
'Well, you see, over the past ten years, there's been sub stantial debate among anthropologists as to whether or not the Mark of the Sun was found on the left-hand side of the face or the right-hand side. Incan carvings and pictographs universally depict the Mark of the Sun—whether on pictures of humans or animals or whatever—under the carving's left eye. Problems arise, however, when one reads Spanish texts like the Relaci6n and the Royal Commentaries which talk of people like Renco Capac and Tupac Amaru, both of whom were said to have borne the Mark. The problem is, those books say that Renco and Amaru had the mark under their right eyes. And as soon as something like that arises, confusion reigns supreme.'
'So what do you think?'
'Left-hand side, definitely.'
'And we should be able to find our way to the citadel?'
Nash said, worried.
'You can trust my judgement on this one, Colonel,'
Chambers said confidently. 'If we follow each statue to the left, we'll find that citadel.'
Just then, a sing-song little bell rang from somewhere nearby.
Race turned. It had come from Nash's laptop—an email message must have just come through. Nash went back to his seat to get it.
Chambers turned to Race. 'It's all very exciting, isn't it?'
“Exciting isn't exactly the word I would use,' Race said.
He was just glad that he'd finished translating the manuscript before they had landed in Cuzco. If Nash was going to venture into the jungle after the idol, he didn't want to be a part of it.
He glanced at his watch.
It was 4:35 pm. It was getting late.
Just then, Nash appeared next to him.
'Professor,' he said. 'If you're up to it, I'd like you to come along with us to Vilcafor.'
