Siberian Treasure

31

An old man stared at Gabe and Marina from across the room.

He sat at a large table, a cracked roll of thick, yellowing paper spread out in front of him. Even from a distance, she could tell that it was old and on the verge of deteriorating.

Something moved in her core as the man’s eyes caught hers, delved into them, trying to read her innermost thoughts. A palpable something hung in the room; something that she could only describe as other-worldly, spiritual … powerful.

The man blinked, and she could almost feel the dryness of his eyes as his lids scraped over them.

“You are hiding from someone.” He spoke at last, and it was as if she were in a fog. The words, smooth and low, came as if from far away, and it took a moment for them to penetrate. She nodded

Gabe shifted next to her, barely brushing against her arm, but enough that his movement reminded her that he was there.

“We … wanted to be alone.” She said the first thing that popped into her head, and just as the words came out of her mouth, she felt Gabe’s arm spasm, his movement more startled than before.

Breaking her gaze with the elderly man, she looked up. Shock warped across Gabe’s face and Marina realized what had happened.

The man had spoken in an unfamiliar language. And she’d replied in the same.

She looked back at him again, locking with his fathomless grey eyes, her mouth so dry she couldn’t have spoken again if her life depended on it. And perhaps it did. Damn good thing she and Gabe had changed their clothing.

Maybe, perhaps, they would be able to get out of this.

The elderly man did not move. He stared at them as if considering. She felt the cool wall behind her, and skittered her gaze around the chamber, looking for a possible escape route. She wasn’t in this alone, and the two of them would find a way out.

The room was furnished simply with seven chairs scattered about, including the one holding the frail man. Two large tables: one in front of him, and one, larger one, nearer to Marina and Gabe. Rolls of paper, a stack of what looked like ancient books, and in the corner, two beautiful drums. Crystals piled on the table next to the old man.

“It has been long since I’ve seen young love.” The man spoke again, his voice smooth. “But why must you hide? Deceit is not a strength one should embrace.”

Marina felt her pent-up breath release. She managed it so that it expelled slowly, not to give away her relief. The man believed her.

Gabe’s hand convulsed next to hers and she felt his confusion, but she had no way to explain. She brushed her fingers against his in a command to let her handle this as she nodded at the man.

Somehow she knew he was an important person. A Skaladeska, of course, now that he had spoken the language. She guessed he was in his late eighties. His pale skin still covered his skull closely, without the sagging lines of one who’d overindulged in his long life. Indeed, he looked as though he’d lived a harsh life, full of tests and trials. Yet an aura of calmness, and acceptance, and something ….spiritual. That word again.

Suddenly Marina knew who he reminded her of. The Dalai Lama. Or Obi-Wan Ben Kenobi.

That same quiet strength, that same calm spirituality, the same knowing.

She wondered what the hell she was doing here. Why she felt so weirdly comfortable.

Here. Heaven knew where.

Why had she left her organized, self-directed life for this?

For duty.

For a heritage she’d thought lost.

“It is a ….” Marina struggled to find the right word in a language she’d not heard or spoken for twenty-odd years, “ … secret.”

Would he let them go?

It wasn’t as if the man’s frail muscles could stop them if they wanted to leave. But … there was something else about him. He might, indeed, be a worthy adversary.

The man nodded. “I trust you have your reasons.” He gestured with his wrinkled hand, the blue lines tracing skin as delicate as an elderly woman’s. “Go, and live, then, with your deceit.”

Just as she turned toward the door, it opened.

Marina froze and Gabe bumped into her from behind.

She looked up into her father’s face.