The Prophecy (Daughters of the People Series Book 1) (16 page)

As the credits
rolled across the TV screen, she leaned her head back and whispered, “Ok.”

“Ok, what?”

“I’ll go out
with you.”

He smiled down
at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Next Friday?”

“Sure.”

He laid his
cheek against the top of her head, and she closed her eyes, hoping she’d made
the right decision.

The translations
progressed nicely. The cylinder seals, the first items James had tackled, had
presented less of a problem once he’d remembered that the symbols engraved on
them could be symbolic representations other than language. Scenes of worship, maybe,
or historically significant events.

If he hadn’t
been so distracted by his growing attraction for Maya and his worry over
Amelia, he would’ve realized that a lot sooner, a fact that nagged at him. To
effectively do the job he’d been hired to do, he’d have to find his focus
sooner rather than later.

He checked his
watch. Maya would be at the lab any minute now to go with him to present their
findings to Director Upton. He finished packing the small impressions of the
seals and stuffed the reports he’d prepared in his briefcase, eager to get through
the meeting.

Tonight was the Big
Night, his date with Maya. He’d taken the entire week to plan this one evening.
He scrubbed his hands down his thighs and exhaled a shaky breath. Had he ever
been this anxious over a date before or so worried about its outcome?

Maya was still a
tantalizing mystery to him. She’d been more open since the exhibition. God
knows why, but that night seemed to have been some kind of turning point for
her. Curiosity over the match she’d fought with Indigo’s sister ate at him, but
he refused to bring it up. It had obviously been a difficult night for her, and
if she wanted to talk about it, she would. His nagging would only push her
away. Still, the whole incident tugged at him. Maybe she’d open up once she
felt more comfortable around him.

On the other
hand, maybe she’d never trust him enough to open up. He had no end game in mind
with her except to, as he’d told her during The Dance, explore the
possibilities. What was wrong with two intelligent, unattached adults who were
attracted to each other trying to find common ground?

When he’d
presented that question to the Three Professorteers, Phil had leveled a pitying
look on James and said, “You’re overthinking it, man. Just go with the flow.”

Maybe Phil was
right.

A hard rap on
the door startled him back to the present. He jerked his gaze around. Maya
leaned against the doorframe, her mouth curled into a smile. “You looked like
you were a million miles away.”

“Yeah. Sorry.
Just, ah, thinking.”

Not in a million
years would he tell her what he’d been thinking about.

The walk to
Director Upton’s office went quickly. She was waiting for them in a small
sitting area set up on one side of her office. “Punctual as usual, Maya. Dr.
Terhune, would you like something to drink before we begin?”

James settled
onto the overstuffed chair to Rebecca’s left. “Thanks, no.”

“I’ll start,
then.” Maya perched on the loveseat next to the director and launched into an
explanation of her progress translating one of the texts from the burial. “One
of the problems I’ve had is that the text seems to be written in a strange
dialect of Latin, possibly one that was in the early stages of becoming its own
language. If so, it’s not a dialect I’ve encountered before.”

James nodded.
“It’s possible the account was rendered in Latin as a translation of another,
quite different language. Normally, that wouldn’t make a difference, but if the
text’s author wasn’t a native Latin speaker, it could account for some of the
oddities Maya’s encountered.”

“How far along
are you?” Rebecca asked.

“About halfway
through.” Maya pursed her lips and shrugged. “It seems to be an account of an
event that must’ve had some importance to the woman in the grave, though it’s
not an event I’m personally familiar with. There were a few names and places
mentioned that I’d like to research in the Archives, once I’m finished
translating the whole. ”

“A sound
approach,” Rebecca said. “I’d like to read the account myself. I wouldn’t mind
helping with additional research, if you need a hand.”

“Of course,
Director.”

Rebecca turned
her pale gaze on James. “How is your work coming, Dr. Terhune?”

“Steadily. I’ve
been working with the cylinder seals. They seem to be the oldest textual
artifacts.” James opened his briefcase and pulled out the reports he’d printed.
He handed one to each of the women and kept one for himself, then placed the
box of impressions on the table, opening the top so that they were displayed
against the foam holding them in place. “The seal in the first picture of the
report corresponds to this impression.”

One by one,
James took the director through an explanation of the cylinder seals,
describing the materials they were made of, the time period they might’ve been
created during, and linking each to a possible place of origin.

Rebecca scanned
through the report, lingering over the images embedded into it. “The carvings
on these are incredibly intricate. What was their function?”

“Anything from a
scene of worship to the equivalent of a notary’s seal or a signature. I haven’t
yet determined that for most of these.” He flipped to an image of a limestone
cylinder seal and pointed out the corresponding impression. “This one for
example. The image begins here on the left with seven figures, two groups of
three stacked on top of each other with the seventh rendered twice as large as
the others. Next is what could be a grove of trees, and finally a four-legged
creature of some sort. That section is too worn to really lend itself to a
solid identification.”

Rebecca leaned
forward, studying the impression. “What does it mean?”

“I’m not sure,”
James admitted, “but there are a couple of observations I’ve made that might be
important to determining the meaning. These figures are clearly female. It’s
difficult to make out in the smaller figures, but the larger one has definite
breasts. Usually, cylinder seals depict men or possibly goddesses, but ordinary
women aren’t often portrayed.”

“Are these
goddesses, then?”

“I don’t think
so. They’re carrying weapons, specifically quivers for arrows, not unheard of
for a goddess. But, normally when gods are portrayed on these seals, it’s
during an act of worship or the god-figure is accompanied by a name or symbol.
That isn’t the case here.”

Rebecca and Maya
exchanged a look James couldn’t decipher. He glanced between them. “What?”

“Seven women, a
grove of trees, and a four-legged creature,” Maya murmured. “Sounds familiar,
doesn’t it.”

“Indeed,”
Rebecca said.

James raised his
hand. “Mind cluing me in?”

Maya ignored him.
“I thought so, too, when I first saw the seal, but…”

“You didn’t want
to get your hopes up.” Rebecca ran one finger lightly over the impression of
the scene. “It may be time, Maya.”

Maya’s gaze
pierced through him as if he were paper thin. “Not yet, Director.”

“Soon, then,”
Rebecca said firmly.

James huffed out
a breath. “What are the two of you talking about?”

Rebecca set her
copy of the report on the table. “We have some documents here that might have
bearing on your work with these seals. I’d like the two of you to finish the
translations or as much of them as you can before you have a look at those.”

“Context is
everything when interpreting images like these.” James exhaled sharply and
rubbed his hands down his thighs. “Part of the reason I can’t tell you what
these mean is because they’re isolated from their time period and the locality
where they were created.”

“The fact that
they’re part of a collection is just as important and probably an overriding
factor to other possible contexts,” Maya pointed out.

“Yes, of
course,” James agreed. “But if you have relevant information that could shed
light on the original context…”

“All in good
time, Dr. Terhune,” Rebecca said. “You have my word.”

James slumped
into his chair. They were holding back something important, that much was clear.
On the other hand, he wasn’t willing to risk his removal from the project. If
they wanted him to wait, he would, but it rankled. “As you wish.”

Maya shot him an
exasperated glare.

Rebecca flipped
to images of two seals James had deliberately included on the same page. “These
look as if they were made of the same material.”

“They’re lapis
lazuli.” James pointed out the appropriate impressions. “These appear to
represent two different individuals. Notice the mixture of symbols and similar
cuneiform. It’s possible they were made at the same time or in the same
locality.”

James continued
his explanation of the possible meanings and origins of each seal. He concluded
by pointing out the holes drilled into the top back side of each one. “It was
fairly common for cylinder seals to be strung and worn as a necklace or in some
other fashion.”

“Is there any
possibility the woman from the grave wore all of these on the same necklace?”
Rebecca asked.

James mulled the
idea over. “It’s possible. Of course, it’s equally possible they were carried
in a pouch. At this point, it’d be unwise to rule out any possibility. We
simply don’t know enough yet.”

“Mmm.” Director
Upton studied the impressions, her fingers brushing over each one. “Well, I’ve
kept you long enough. The two of you have made excellent progress. I hope
you’ll have more news for me soon.”

After packing
the impressions away and saying goodbye, Maya and James left the director’s
office. When they were outside under the hot Southern sun, he said, “I can do a
better job if you share whatever it is you’re holding back.”

“I’m not holding
anything back.”

He snagged
Maya’s elbow and pulled her onto the grass, earning a startled look from a
passing student. “Except whatever documents the IECS has that might be related
to the seven figures seal.”

Maya shook his
hold off. “It’s not important, not yet, anyway.”

He scrubbed his
hands over his hair and glared at her. “How do I know that if you won’t show it
to me, whatever it is?”

“Because I’m
telling you it’s not important right now.”

“So you want me
to trust you, is that it?”

“Yes, I do.”

He glanced away.
“But you don’t trust me.”

Maya edged
closer and laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Where these artifacts are concerned,
yes, of course I do.”

“But not enough
to share important information with me.”

Maya exhaled a
heavy sigh. “It’s not really my decision.”

“Director Upton
didn’t seem to think so.”

“Ok, it’s partly
my decision, but you have to understand that there’s a lot at stake here. I’m
not the only one…” Her voice trailed off. “There are things here you don’t
understand.”

“Because you
won’t tell me,” he gritted out.

Maya leaned her
head back, closing her eyes against the sun’s brightness. “People could be
hurt.”

“It’s just a
cylinder seal, Maya.”

“No, it’s not.”
Something close to sadness flitted across her normally tranquil features. “It’s
potentially something much greater.”

“Then let me
help. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t, not
yet.” She squeezed his arm lightly and warmth spread through him, rippling away
from her simple touch. “Have a little patience and trust me, ok?”

She seemed so
anxious and a little tired, as if a heavy weight had settled on her and she was
the only person available to carry the load.

He clenched his
hands into fists, relaxed them. “You have to show it to me eventually.”

“Soon, I promise.”

He walked her
back to her office and left her there with a reminder that he’d pick her up
that evening at six thirty sharp. As he returned to his own office, the conversation
whirled through his head. How deep did Maya’s secrets run? And what was so
sacred she couldn’t share it with him?

* * *

Maya studied her
reflection in the mirror, examining her appearance. She’d deliberately chosen
the apricot sheath because it was
not
a dress she’d dreamed of wearing
on a date with James. It was simple and sleeveless, cut high at the neck, and
dipped to a few inches above her waist in the back. The fabric clung to her
figure, accentuating her flat stomach and the curve of her breasts and hips,
and stopped just below mid-thigh. She’d paired it with a simple two-stranded,
gold necklace and a matching bracelet, and a shawl, heels, and purse all in
black.

She twisted to
and fro, examining her three-inch heels in the mirror. They’d put her nearly
eye to eye with James. A thread of uncertainty worried at her. She straightened
her shoulders and pushed it away. He didn’t seem the type to care about a woman’s
height, and if he was, better to find out now so she could usher him right back
out of her life.

Dierdre whistled
softly and flopped crosswise onto Maya’s bed. “You’re totally rockin’ that
outfit, Mom.”