Order of the Air Omnibus: Books 1-3 (122 page)

Alma did look over at him, then back at her instruments. "Oh Jerry. That really would be…"

"…the find of the century," Jerry finished. "It would put Howard Carter to shame. Tut was a child king who ruled a few years, a boy who was frankly not very important in the scheme of things, a transitional figure who left little mark. Alexander the Great was…." Words failed him.

"A really big deal," Alma said.

"You don't get any bigger," Jerry said. "And in addition to the possible richness of the tomb itself, you have the magical books placed there by Septimius Severus."

"Not to mention Alexander's body itself." Alma's frown deepened. "Jerry," she said very slowly. "I have a question for you, and I want you to consider it carefully, a theoretical question that I've never seen anyone approach. Could you use bones that old as a material correspondence?"

"Alexander's bones?" Jerry started. "That would be…." He stopped. Bones that old, a body revered as a cult object for six or seven hundred years after Alexander's death, a tomb that was the focus of worship for millions of people over centuries…. The body of a man worshipped as a god… A body believed to have inestimable power… "Oh yes," Jerry said slowly. "You could use them. You could use them in all kinds of ways. Good and bad."

Alma's voice was steady, her eyes on the horizon. "Tell me about that."

Jerry marshaled his thoughts. "I don't know how much you know about Alexander."

"Assume I know nothing," Alma said. "He was a really famous king who conquered the world."

"Ok." Jerry took a deep breath. "Alexander's campaigns are a watershed moment in the history of Europe and the Middle East because this is the point where, in many ways, they become part of the same world. Before this you can more or less study European and Middle Eastern history in isolation from one another because the geographic and cultural boundaries are so extreme. Other than skirmishes along the borderline, like the Greco-Persian wars of the century before Alexander, these are separate worlds. From a Greek point of view, the world is made up of Greeks and Barbarians, and the world is eternally divided into men and not-men, those who are forever inferior. Alexander changes all that. Before Alexander there are two worlds. After Alexander there is one — a series of cultures and civilizations that blend into one another in a long spectrum from Italy to the borders of China."

Alma spared him another glance. "Italy to China?"

"That's what I study, Al. My specialty is Hellenistic syncretism. You remember the work I did a few years ago on a statue called the Lochias Kouros?"

She nodded. "That's the one Gil teased you about, right? The beautiful naked youth one."

Jerry nodded. "It was found in Alexandria, probably early third century BC. There's a whole genre of statues of handsome young men or athletes going back three hundred years and more before that, but this one is particularly interesting because of its posture and attributes — it seems to owe a lot to contemporary Indian iconography, a style called a Dancing Krishna."

"Suggesting what?" Alma asked.

"Cultural influence," Jerry said. "Indian artists working in Alexandria. Alexandrian artists studying in India. Or, equally compelling, artists of mixed blood who honored both of their cultural traditions, carving in a truly syncretic style that attempted to portray male divinity in a way that appealed to both cultures." Jerry pushed his glasses back up on his nose. "And that's Alexander. He encouraged his men to marry women of the lands they conquered. He gave thousands of them dowries to make honest women of the camp followers they had picked up. He married his officers to Persian noblewomen and married two foreign women himself, a Persian princess and a Sogdian woman."

"What's a Sogdian?" Alma said.

"We'd say Russian today," Jerry said. "Barbarians, by Greek lights. People who aren't people. Subhumans. That was what Alexander did — he broke the line across the world, and it never was the same again."

"But it is, isn't it?" Alma said. She frowned. "It's not as though we've gotten rid of racial prejudice or for that matter ethnic prejudice."

"No," Jerry said. "But we've never again reached the point where it's completely accepted. There have always been people, even in humanity's darkest hours, who believed that all human beings are people. And we've never, not even in the worst of the Middle Ages, been able to completely forget that there is the rest of the world and that there are people in it who are like us. Otherwise how could you have tales of a Saracen knight?"

Alma shrugged. "I suppose you couldn't."

"Alexander is the ultimate symbol of syncretism," Jerry said. "Of becoming one people. Which is a pretty scary idea, isn't it? What if we became one people? What if all the differences simply became variations in the style of a statue, matters of taste rather than of life and death?"

"Like whether we wanted to eat spaghetti or corned beef," Alma said. "The melting pot."

"Exactly. Alexandria was the first melting pot. It was the first city that was built to belong to everyone."

"Give me your poor, your tired, your hungry, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free," Alma quoted.

Jerry smiled. "And don't you know that there is symbolism in Lady Liberty, with her torch reaching out over New York harbor like the lighthouse did over Alexandria? Symbols are powerful, Al. We become what we ritually choose to be." He leaned his head back against the seat. "We're not perfect. But we're becoming. We're building the Temple in this life as in the last and the next, and each century the courses of stone rise higher, despite all attempts to knock them down."

"But if you had the body of Alexander…" Alma said thoughtfully.

"They must be after the treasure. The books of magic. And the prestige," Jerry said. "Whoever finds the tomb will be rich and famous. I can't imagine who could possibly think that they could use Alexander's body as a material correspondence. And do what? It was hallowed by civic rituals involving thousands of people. Who could possibly muster that kind of energy or create anything similar in the modern world? It's impossible. This is 1932. People don't believe in magic."

"True," Alma said. The shadow lifted from her face. "This business of using old tombs to try to call the dead must be unconnected."'

"It must be," Jerry said. "I can't imagine who could possibly think that they could harness and use the kind of power held in the Soma, in Alexander's tomb and body. I think we're looking at two different problems, Al. One is treasure hunters after the tomb thinking that they can raid it and get rich. And the other is your necromancers after…"

"After what?" Alma said. "That's what bothers me. After what? Treasure? Information?"

"I don't know," Jerry said. "But without any idea who they were trying to summon or why, I'm not sure what we can do. I think we need to focus on the leads we can work on."

"I expect you're right," Alma said.

T
he sun was setting by the time they reached Oak Lawn, glaring from the windshield and the bare metal of the Dude's nose, throwing long shadows across the field. The light was thick and honey-colored as Alma circled the crisscrossing runways, a pale star against the brown grass and patchy snow, the windsock flapping idly, wind out of the west light but steady. She chose her line and set the Dude down easily, then taxied back to the hangars at the western edge of the field.

She missed having Lewis or Mitch along, she had to admit — it was just easier to split the routine jobs between two people — but once again the Gilchrist name and the memory of the Great Passenger Derby smoothed the way, and she arranged for hangar space, fuel in the morning, and a cab to the nearest recommended hotel. The field manager collected a copy of the latest forecast as well, and she glanced over it as they waited for the taxi to arrive.

"Not good?" Jerry asked quietly, and she realized she was frowning.

"Nothing unexpected," she compromised. "Pretty much the same as yesterday."

But not exactly the same. The front was still advancing, bringing gusty wind with cold rain and snow behind it, and the latest forecast suggested it would edge further north. Not that she'd had any real hope of avoiding it all together, but she had hoped to skirt the edges, broken clouds and no precipitation. That didn't look likely, and she couldn't help worrying about Dr. Tesla. She didn't think he'd much enjoy being tossed around the sky even in a plane as comfortable as the Dude. For that matter, it wasn't her favorite activity, either.

And the forecast might still change. Tomorrow morning, the Weather Service could well be forecasting a blizzard — or clear skies all the way, if she wanted to be optimistic. They couldn't go any further tonight, not without running the additional risk of night flying, and running into weather after dark was hardly sensible. No, all she could do was wait and see.

"O
h dear," Dr. Tesla said, patting his pockets ineffectually. "I seem to be rather short." The hotel desk clerk looked at him dubiously.

"That's all right," Alma said. "We'll need two rooms. One for doctors Ballard and Tesla, and one for me." She hadn't expected differently. Jerry had opened his mouth and she forestalled him. "Dr. Tesla is traveling on Gilchrist's dime."

"That's very kind of you," Tesla said. "I'm not certain they'd even take my personal check, way out here in Chicago, far from the bright lights of Broadway."

Jerry looked uncertain whether or not to take that at face value, but Alma thought she saw a glimmer of amusement in Tesla's eyes that belied his conveniently distracted expression.

"I thought you'd been in Chicago many times," Alma said. "At least on your way to New York when you lived in Colorado."

"I suppose I have," Tesla said, a thin smile playing around his lips. "So kind of you to remember, young woman. I'm sure I will be quite comfortable."

"We hope so," the desk clerk said courteously. He held out the keys. "201 and 203. There is a shared bath between with locks on both sides. If that suits you, Mrs. Segura? I can put you in a single on the fourth floor if you prefer."

"I'm sure my distinguished academic passengers will be gallant enough to respect my locked door," Alma said. "Thank you." As though he thought Dr. Tesla, famously celibate and nearly eighty, required the discouragement of not having to pursue her through the hotel in his bathrobe! Or perhaps the discouragement was intended for Jerry.

Her room was perfectly comfortable, with a double bed and a dressing table and a very fluffy pile of white blankets. Alma undressed and stood a moment in her combinations, looking in the mirror. Her skin was pale against the ecru silk, nipples showing through the fabric darkly. When had they gotten so brown? When had her breasts gotten so heavy? You didn't notice it under thick winter clothes, but in the silk combinations it was obvious, even without the little pooch of a tummy. Just a little pooch. Maybe she'd gained a few pounds. It didn't look like anything. Not yet. But there was a change in the way she stood, a balance that was different. Her body didn't lie to her. She knew.

Last time it hadn't been like this. It had ended before it was so plainly written on her skin. She felt so well, so strong, like nothing in her life could ever go wrong, whole and healthy and on top of the world. But it could go wrong. It could go so terribly wrong, and she was so old.

Alma put her hand to her belly, touching the silk softly. So long until summer, and so hard not to start imagining. Now, for the first time, she felt like someone else was there. Not just that her body was doing something wonderful and strange, but that someone else was with her. She wasn't alone in the room. There was someone else, sleeping and small, but present.

As though the doors of life and death had opened, and at last someone had passed through. When Gil had died she had felt that moment, that moment of awesome change when his body was empty, when the real Gil stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder, while the hand she held limp between her own contained nothing. She had felt him go like trumpets unheard, a continental shift beneath the threshold of sound.

And now she felt it in reverse. Someone else was present. Here, in a hotel room in Oak Lawn, Illinois, someone else was here. Someone stirred, woke, thought. Some miraculous connection knitted.

"I know you're here," Alma said aloud. It sounded strange. Of course no one could answer. But there was presence, just as there had been when Gil died, a mighty wind rushing in through open doors.

A creeping sensation, like indigestion. Like gas passing through her belly, just a faint whisper, a tiny and strange discomfort.

The baby moved.

Tears overflowed her eyes and ran down her face, splashing on the lace edge of the combinations. It moved. That's what that sensation was. It was moving inside her. Like the last touch of life in the faintest movement of fingers pressed in hers, this was the first.

She answered, somewhere beneath Alma's heart, not with words but with the pressure of small limbs. I am here.

"You are here," Alma said. Her voice choked. "You are here, and I will love you forever. I promise. I will love you forever."

Chapter Twelve

Oak Lawn, Illinois,

December 19, 1932

A
lma woke to silvery light and pale cloud, a solid sky that didn't bode well. The local paper was predicting snow later in the day, and she believed it, the damp chill entirely familiar. Snow later, and a lot of it, that would be her guess. Luckily neither Jerry nor Tesla seemed much inclined to conversation over breakfast, and she buried herself in the Airport Directory, mapping out possible stopping points along the way.

Once they reached the airport, however, the ceiling had lifted and the Weather Service forecast was looking considerably more acceptable. Alma studied the charts a final time, wondering if she should swing further north anyway just to be sure, but that would mean a second fuel stop somewhere in Nebraska. No, she thought, better to keep to the planned line, and if she had to put down at least here would be plenty of fields available.