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City of the Yeti Page 12
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“So Alexander did know about the Sramana!”
“While he was in India,” Nineveh explained, “Alexander ordered his scouts to investigate the Yeti legend. They used brutal methods to get information, and eventually learned of the Deshret capital, probably from some monks. Alexander and Ptolemy led a group of soldiers into the foothills and onto the mesa, but they didn’t attack. Instead, they were awed by our appearance and mental powers, probably thinking we were Greek gods. The two men were shown most of the relics gathered thus far. Alexander was convinced that this tunnel should house all of the world’s greatest treasures, for all time. Before leaving, he ordered that his troops have their memories erased; only Alexander and Ptolemy retained knowledge of the mesa.”
“Every decade for centuries,” Malidiya said, “a trusted scribe from the library was given directions to our city, and asked to deliver selected items for safekeeping. Those trips were usually uneventful; what robber would be interested in a bunch of scrolls? The low humidity here has preserved most of the documents.”
Grandpa moved slowly down one aisle, pointing out boxes of scrolls as if they were everyday items at the marketplace. “Along here, we have original writings of the Greeks: poetry and plays, philosophy, history, science, and medicine. For example, epic poems by Homer called the Iliad and Odyssey; early medical texts known as the Corpus of Hippocrates; the mathematics of Euclid; and the original Greek translation of the Old Testament. Over there, you’ll find Egyptian manuals on astronomy, Persian sacred texts, Buddhist writings, and much more.”
Malidiya spoke from another aisle as she ran her fingers across an elaborately carved wooden box. “Here’s one of my favorites. Hypatia was one of the first women to study and teach mathematics, astronomy, and philosophy. A Greek, she lived in Alexandria around 400 AD. Her public lectures were popular and drew large crowds. She dressed in the clothing of a scholar or teacher, rather than women’s clothing, and moved about freely, driving her own chariot, contrary to the rules for women’s public behavior. She also had considerable political influence in the city. Unfortunately, she was later murdered by a mob for being too different.”
Rachel ran over to take a closer look, and Malidiya opened the box. “This holds all her known writings, and also some of her inventions. Hypatia helped to design the astrolabe, a navigational instrument that measures the positions of the sun and stars; also the hydroscope, which measures the properties of fluids.”
Grandpa held up his hand and waved it around. “All of this is unknown to current historians. You’ll find detailed descriptions of many lost civilizations, for example, the Minoans of Crete; the Indus Valley people; and the Khmer Empire of Southeast Asia. There are also personal accounts of famous religious figures like Buddha, as chronicled by his son; and Jesus, as recorded by the Jewish scholar Philo of Alexandria. Human history will have to be rewritten once these documents become public. Not everyone will be happy about it.”
As we returned to the tunnel, Rachel asked the elders, “What do the Sramana think of human religion? Do you have your own religion?”
“The answer is complicated,” Malidiya replied, “but many of our beliefs can be found embedded in yours. We’ll explain another time.”
Though not as large, the next room reminded me of an old-fashioned pharmacy. Tall cabinets protected hundreds of glass bottles containing herbs, roots, bark, and powders in a rainbow of colors. I saw dried animals parts hanging on the walls, including tails, limbs, horns, claws, beaks, and turtle shells. The odors were overpowering, like a combination of every spice I’d ever smelled. Rachel covered her nose with her hand.
“This storeroom holds a sample of natural medicine for almost any ailment that affects humans and Sramana,” Nineveh said in proud voice.
Malidiya picked up a dried monkey paw and scrutinized it. “We’ve had many distinguished researchers bring us their discoveries, and in turn, take away new ideas. For example, the famous Greek physician, Galen of Pergamum, visited us around 150 AD, as part of his training in herbal medicines. He later treated patients ranging from gladiators to Roman emperors.”
Occupying the center of the room was a large table covered with a smooth granite slab. The top was cluttered with mortars and pestles for grinding, cleavers and knives for chopping, and balance scales for weighing. I could almost picture a long line of customers ordering special mixtures.
Nineveh walked over to a sturdy cabinet that was locked. He opened it with a small key hidden on top. Inside, I saw flasks filled with powder in shades of brown and gray. “This is a very complex blend of natural products,” he said, “developed by trial and error over a thousand years. Once the powder is dissolved in water, we call it the Elixir of Longevity. It can slow the deterioration that comes with age and disease.”
Elixir! I thought back to Ephesus’ claim of Deshret immortality.
Malidiya next spoke like a schoolteacher. “Two conditions must be met before a Sramana is permitted to use the Elixir. First, there can be no history of bad behavior. Second, he or she must prove worthy through accomplishments and leadership.”
“How long can a Sramana live after taking this Elixir?” I asked.
“A few elders have reached two hundred years,” she replied.
Rachel and I blurted out together, “Does it work on humans?”
“There are only a few cases of humans using the Elixir as prescribed,” she said. “Those people were well on their way toward the two-century mark; however, unnatural deaths intervened, due to injury, murder, suicide – well, all the usual human failings.”
Grandpa sat on a high stool, looking tired. He glanced at the elders, as if to ask their permission to speak. “I’ve been taking a bit of that Elixir,” he said, “because of my health issues. It hasn’t made a big difference with me. Guess I started too late.”
Nineveh selected a pint-sized flask of brown powder, carried it over to the worktable, and poured a few tablespoons into each shallow bowl of the scales. Then he poured the measures into two small glass bottles, sealing each with a cork stopper. To my surprise, he handed the bottles to Rachel and me.
“This is for us?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
“Yes, but you must wait until you are adults, since the Elixir works best during the body’s long, natural decline. To start, use only a small pinch once per year. After you reach middle age, you can take it once a month.”
“Why us?” I asked.
“Because we want you to live long enough to study and catalog everything here,” Nineveh said, reminding us of his request.
“But isn’t Grandpa doing that?” Rachel asked. No one responded. I concluded that his health was worse than he’d admitted.
Grandpa gazed at Rachel and me with a gentle smile, and then said, “All my life I’ve dreamed of finding a place like this. Woven into the folklore of every Asian culture are rumors of a magnificent collection of artifacts hidden somewhere underground. And now, here it is, and there’s so little time left to study everything. It will take young, fresh minds to finish the job.” His smile faded as he excused himself from the remainder of the tour. A guard arrived to help him back to the lookout room, where he could rest.
As we stuffed the bottles of Elixir into our coat pockets, I wondered if this was some sort of trick or test, but couldn’t imagine what they’d gain by deceiving us.
After we left the pharmacy, Rachel asked the elders, “Have you two been taking the Elixir?”
“Yes,” Nineveh replied, “but we didn’t start until later in life, for various reasons. As a result, we may only live to be one hundred and sixty or so.”
I wished for sunlight in the next room, because it was packed with gems, minerals, and crystals of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Some were obviously valuable: large chunks of uncut emeralds, rubies, diamonds, and sapphires. Others were simply spectacular, like the cluster
of purple quartz crystals ten feet high, and the orchid-shaped, white gypsum formation that defied gravity.
Nineveh commented, “Many of these beauties were left here for safekeeping by cultures that, sadly, didn’t survive to reclaim their donation.”
In one corner stood a display of polished gems about the size of apricots. I’d seen similar but smaller versions in Indian stores. Malidiya explained while pointing to each. “These mani stones are tied to Hindu mythology. This deep blue stone is the Kaustubh Mani. It is a powerful jewel that bestows fortune and invincibility on its wearer. That shiny white stone is the Chinta Mani. The wearer is freed from all worries, and guaranteed wealth and comfort. And that brilliant blue stone is the Syamantak Mani, said to blind the onlooker in daylight, but in darkness, it fills a room with light.”
I stared carefully at the last stone, which was indeed glowing slightly. She added, “Something like this must surely contain some magic, don’t you think?”
Was Malidiya joking? The rock was probably just luminescent. Didn’t they know about that property? I’d read how radium, when mixed with other elements, could produce a glowing substance; it was routinely painted on clock dials to make them shine in the dark.
It seemed to me that the twentieth century was quickly leaving the Sramana behind in terms of science and technology. Yet they were so advanced telepathically. I tried to imagine the contributions they could make to my world if people simply accepted them for what they were.
Ancient warfare was the next theme. As much as the Sramana shunned violence, they seemed fascinated with the history of human conflict. Almost half of this room was filled with an enormous wooden catapult twelve feet high, designed by ancient Greeks. It had been delivered in pieces that fit through the doorway, and then assembled inside.
Nineveh described items hanging on the wall. “Here are weapons that have inspired legends. From Homer’s tales of the Trojan War, we have Achilles’ shield and armor, said to make the wearer invincible. And there is the bow owned by Ulysses. Upon his return from the Trojan War, Ulysses was the only man who could string the bow and shoot an arrow through twelve axe heads, thus proving himself the rightful king. Over there, you can see swords used by Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, and Genghis Khan.”
Nineveh reached up, grasped Alexander’s weapon, and handed it to me. I raised the blade into the air and examined its shiny surface. It had a single edge and was slightly curved, reminding me of Narayan’s kukri knife. I was tempted to swing it around, but there wasn’t enough room for such horseplay. I set the sword down carefully on a bench, just satisfied that I’d made the connection with history.
A woven basket in the center held several bows, all of the same design but shorter than Sramana versions. “These well-preserved Mongolian bows date from the time of Genghis Khan,” Nineveh said, picking one up. “I’ve heard that you two have impressive archery skills. Why don’t you borrow this, and try it out later? Take a pack of arrows as well.” I slung the bow over my back.
We saw spears, axes, clubs, and other handheld weapons used in countless human wars, but very few artifacts from Sramana battles. Apparently humans had spent a lot more time and effort trying to kill each other.
It took several hours to see the remaining storerooms, each cluttered with crates, barrels, boxes, and jars. The total contents of the rooms probably exceeded the combination of all human museums, and no doubt answered many questions about the past.
Rachel and I were near exhaustion when the elders pointed to the last few rooms, which served as tombs for important individuals. Two of the tombs held great Sramana kings and queens, while the rest were devoted to humans. We were invited to open each door and take one step inside, but not walk around.
The first human tomb was a surprise. “Here lies the body of Temujin, also known as Genghis Khan, who died in 1227,” Malidiya said. This was impressive because the warrior’s gravesite had been a mystery for centuries. Most people assumed he was buried somewhere in Mongolia.
“Temujin was seeking immortality,” she continued, “and he came to the Sramana for answers. Our ancestors hated him, and certainly didn’t share any of the Elixir. However, they saw an opportunity to make a deal. Temujin could have a final resting place here, but only if he left instructions for his descendants to spare Sramana villages during their raids. This bargain insured our peace of mind during later waves of Mongolian conquest. Temujin arranged for an empty coffin to be buried in Mongolia, with great fanfare, in order to sidetrack grave robbers.”
The next tomb’s occupant was especially interesting: Alexander the Great. “According to legend,” Nineveh said, “after Alexander died in Babylon, his mummified remains were transferred between cities, only to be eventually lost. However, he actually requested that his body be taken directly to this room. All of the other activities were decoys.”
With great reverence the elders opened the door to the final tomb, shared by Buddha and Confucius, since the two men had known and respected each other in life. Although the outside world claimed burial sites for both, in fact the bodies had been delivered to the Sramana. Each sarcophagus was engraved with a quote, which Nineveh translated. From Buddha: “Resolve to be tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant with the weak. Sometime in your life, you will have been all of these.” And from Confucius, simply: “Are there no intelligent rulers who can appreciate what I have to offer?”
As we walked back to the tunnel entrance, I argued that modern museums would be able to study and protect everything here, but Nineveh wasn’t convinced. “I worry that there are no intelligent rulers who can appreciate what lies inside this mountain,” he said with a smile. “However, I trust you and Rachel to oversee the process, whenever that may occur. Aside from your grandfather, you two have more appreciation for this place than most adults I’ve known.”
Before leaving, we begged Grandpa to come to the city, where he’d be more comfortable, but he insisted on staying and working at the temple. I think he viewed each day spent among these treasures as a final, incredible gift.
Chapter Eighteen
Was it all a dream? The cliff-side temple; a tunnel bored through a mountain; rooms jammed with priceless relics; my grandfather. I awoke confused the next morning at our hosts’ home. Crawling out of bed, I looked around for any evidence that I’d actually been there. Unfortunately, I’d left the Mongolian bow behind in the tunnel.
I drifted into the kitchen, looking for some food. Amri and Mehrgarh had already left, which was unusual. Lothal and Harappa were still asleep. When Rachel appeared, we stared at one another, remembered our gifts, and pulled out the glass bottles from our coat pockets. Was the powder really safe for humans? Should we ask our father about the risks?
By late morning, Amri burst in, out of breath. “I’ve just come from the castle,” she said. “Last night, a Hedjet scout was caught at the entrance to the mesa. He’s been taken to the main hall. The elders will try to read his thoughts.”
Rachel and I exchanged a quick glance and dashed off toward the castle. Amri yelled behind us, “You might not want to see this!”
We knew the castle layout well now, and made our way up to a second-floor balcony that surrounded the great hall. Below, a dozen elders participated in a silent discussion, while two guards flanked the prisoner. As we crouched down, someone touched my arm; it was Amri. Instead of asking us to leave, she explained the scene. “That scout – who’s also a warrior – may have important information, but like most captured Hedjet, he refuses to talk. It’s difficult to force thoughts out of an adult Sramana, but together, the elders have a chance.”
The warrior’s eyes showed fear as the elders approached. Perhaps he’d heard of the technique they were about to apply. The guards forced him to sit on a large rug in the middle of the room. I was having doubts about staying, and Rachel flashed a wor
ried look, yet curiosity riveted our feet to the floor.
Nineveh and Malidiya parted from the group and walked up to the scout. For an instant I expected him to leap up and attack them, even though his hands were tied. Instead he just stared at the floor and trembled.
Suddenly, like an unexpected breeze, the scout’s thoughts rushed through my mind, similar to what had happened with our Hedjet kidnappers. He was trying to build a mental wall around his knowledge of an advancing army.
Both Nineveh and Malidiya held out their hands and touched the scout’s head lightly. He jerked, though no blow had been delivered. The elders closed their eyes and tilted their heads upward while concentrating. The scout’s legs shifted all around, but his head remained fixed, as if in a vice, even though the elders’ fingers barely made contact. Next we heard a low moan, suggesting he was in pain. I even sensed some pain myself, like a slight headache. It was becoming difficult to watch, so we both turned away, though that didn’t stop us from hearing the moans.
Finally the scout was silent. I looked back just as he passed out, collapsing onto the floor. Was he dead? Did the elders really possess such power? Rachel and I had been so vulnerable in their presence; they could have snapped us like twigs anytime.
After the scout was carried away, we walked down a narrow staircase and met Nineveh at the bottom. Rachel and I recoiled in fear. Thankfully, his voice was soothing. “I know that looked severe, but the scout will be fine, in every sense of the word. We’ve learned that a Hedjet army is only two days away. The scout estimates its size at six hundred warriors – twice the number of Deshret defenders.”
Amri gasped. Mehrgarh and Lothal were among the defenders.
“Evacuation through the tunnel will begin today,” Nineveh said. “It may take all night and into tomorrow, but we must finish before the Hedjet see anyone traveling toward the cliff; that would only spark their curiosity.”