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Heart pounding, Dianora picked up the small container. “I think it’s the same box the statue of Garrin is holding. When I watched the holo a few minutes ago, I remembered this was in my pile of items to clean and catalog.” Sticking to the truth as far as she could felt like the safest route.
Holding out her hand, Isabel nodded. “Let me see it.” As she carefully examined the box, she added, “You flew out of the meeting I was afraid you were ill so I came here to check on you. I can understand your excitement now. We need to get this to Dr. Soren immediately.”
Accompanying her boss across the bustling dig to locate the director, Dianora could hardly keep herself focused enough to walk. Impossible to put the ring in the box, out of the question to admit she’d found the jewelry yesterday—at this point if the ring was revealed it would be assumed she’d planned to steal it and nothing she could say would save her. She shoved her hand in her pocket and touched the artifact to reassure herself. Maybe she could plant it in the dig in a remote spot or perhaps she’d find another box or container in her pile of items to catalog where she could hide the ring and ‘find’ it. Of course doing so would compromise the integrity of the dig. The proximity of objects to each other was an important archaeological clue.
Sick at heart at the archaeological crime she’d committed and was now compounding, Dianora tried to think of any way out of the mess. Confessing would be the end of her career, the lifelong dream she’d barely embarked upon after all her studies and hard work gone up in smoke. At best Soren would dismiss her and blackball her and at worst he’d hand her over to the authorities, once they could be summoned to this remote planet.
Dr. Soren was in the chamber he’d so recently unburied and Isabel was senior enough to confidently enter the location, drawing Dianora with her. Any other time she would have been thrilled to view the chamber and its contents in person but right now she was sunk in misery and desperation. Of course the director was working on the statue of Garrin.
Dianora gazed into the face of the man she’d seen in not one but two dreams and wished he were here to defend her. The ring came to me, she told herself defiantly. The bauble probably hadn’t been out of the puzzle box since the time this statue was carved until she opened it.
“Ah, Isabel,” Dr. Soren said agreeably, with a nod for Dianora. “I think this statue may have been one of a pair.” He straightened. “Look at this inscription here and give me your preliminary opinion.”
Her supervisor squinted and leaned close. “Possibly. Perhaps the second one was never carved before the civilization ended. We’ll have to study the wording closely.” With a dramatic gesture, she flourished the small box under Dr. Soren’s nose. “Or maybe the answer is in here.”
He retreated a step, eyebrows raised. “What in space do you have there?”
“It’s from the rubble Dianora is assigned to sort and catalog,” Isabel said. “She and I found it this morning and of course after watching your holos, we recognized it at once.” She raised the box to the level of the one Garrin was holding and it was obvious the items were identical.
Dianora took note of how deftly her boss took credit for finding the box, even if Isabel did include her.
Soren took the box as if it was made of fragile glass instead of sturdy wood and held it reverently. “My word, an amazing find. What serendipity.” He turned it over and around, trying to figure out how to open the lid. Shaking it gently, he said, “Sounds empty, which is disappointing.”
Holding herself back from grabbing the box and demonstrating how to work the puzzle, Dianora had to bite the inside of her cheek hard. Soren eyed her. “Were you able to get it open?”
“No, sir. It was one of the things I was going to work on this morning actually.”
The director handed the artifact to her boss. “Have the scans done and give it priority, would you?”
She took the box, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “Of course. We’ll leave you to your work but I felt you needed to see it immediately.”
“Absolutely.” He addressed Dianora again. “If you find anything related to the box or with Garrin’s name on it—anything which could be significant—report it to Isabel immediately. Don’t wait for the weekly report.”
“Yes, sir.” The ring was burning a hole in her pocket, figuratively speaking. She fought the temptation to confess right now.
“Garrin is the key to everything, or so I believe,” the director said. “The references to a possible AO connection were found in conjunction with records pertaining to his bloodline. Wouldn’t have been in his time of course, too far removed from the known AO timelines but there may be information pointing to an AO site if we’re able to dig deeply enough.” He bent over the inscription on the statue again. “Frustrating we’ve only been able to translate about a tenth of the written material we’ve found.” His muttering became inaudible and Isabel drew Dianora away.
“Be sure to make a note in your records I took custody of the box today on Dr. Soren’s orders,” her supervisor said as they exited the grand chamber. “We have to maintain the chain of control, especially since this particular artifact is so potentially significant.” She stared at the box in her hand. “I hope there’s something in here. What a discovery it would be.”
“Yes. It would be.” Dianora parted ways with Isabel as the supervisor continued on toward her own work station. Her mood was black and she kicked at a small rock in her path as she trudged to the door of her assigned spot. Entering the room, she slumped into her chair and buried her head in her hands, tears of frustration flowing. How had the situation deteriorated so fast from her making an incredible find to now having to hide the artifact for fear of being branded a thief? I tried it on, against all the rules and standards I was trained on. She had only herself to blame but the knowledge burned. Fishing the ring out of her pocket, she held it carefully between two fingers and studied the gems, wishing there was a way to make them reveal their secrets.
Before she knew what she was doing, she slid the ring onto her finger again and was suffused with a wave of frigid cold so intense she couldn’t breathe. As panic raced along her nerve endings and the room went black in her vision for lack of air in her lungs, she fell from the chair and lost consciousness.
CHAPTER THREE
Waking with a start and a sharp inhalation of breath, she looked around frantically to discover she stood in a prison, with cells stretching away on both sides. The cold stone walls behind her were damp and the stench was fearsome. In her peripheral vision she saw rodents scurrying away. Lights of an indeterminate kind flickered in brackets on the walls and one threw its illumination directly onto the face of the man sitting slumped against the wall of his cell, across from where she now stood. Her arrival must have been soundless because he had his eyes closed and appeared to be asleep.
Not seeing any guards, Dianora crept closer. “Garrin?” Could this truly be the ruler of the Belmane, in the long ago era?
In the flesh and now staring at her with piercing green eyes, a frown wrinkling his brow. His gaze flicked to her hand, which was over her heart. “You have the ring.”
As a member of the Archaeological Service Dianora had received the newest, most comprehensive translator implant available in the Sectors. It was said there were branches of the military with more advanced units but these were fine for the need the archaeologists had. Apparently the device could make sense of the ancient Belmane language. “It came to me, so to speak,” she said. Advancing to rest her hands on the bars of the cell, she surveyed him as he rose a bit shakily to his feet.
His clothes were torn and barely covered his body, revealing sharply defined muscles marred by wounds which had clearly been left untreated. His face was bruised and his lip was cut. As he moved, a chain clanked in the dirty straw under his feet and he could barely reach the bars, restrained by the cuff on his ankle. Stretching out his hand, he took hers, checking the ring. “Who are you, mysterious pale lady? Did the gods send you?”
“Why are you here? What’s going on?” Dianora glanced around in disbelief. There’d been no trace in the records of Garrin becoming a prisoner but of course the whole point of the expedition to which she was assigned was the lack of information about the lost civilization of Belmane. Are dreams ever this realistic? The analytical part of her mind was mulling over what exactly had happened to her. She couldn’t possibly be thousands of years in the planet’s past, could she? The touch of Garrin’s hand was warm and electric on her skin and even in these conditions, battered as he was, his face was compelling as he bent to hear her.
“The fucking Craadil took the fortress through treachery of one I trusted like a brother,” Garrin said with undisguised hatred. “Can you get us out?”
