
the nights of ghostly crying
from ancestors not his own....
He was feeling a bit on the poetic side lately, wasn't he? It was strange,
unearthing fragments from an ancient
culture, and stranger still that the culture wasn't even his --
-- Dad's, though, in a way, and in the dream --
He shut that thought down before it could get any further, afraid of the
concomitant feelings, afraid of
what he might uncover. And he realized that, beneath the soft bristles of his
brush, a sliver of color had
appeared, a dull red against the lighter soil.
Jake waited for a break in Prylar Eivos's oratory.
"... but men, quantum-dating of the jevonite artifacts unearthed at the site
proves indisputably that they
actually predate the First Hibetian civilization," the monk stated firmly, and
took a deep bream.
"I think I've found it," Jake said quickly.
The prylar smiled, stepping forward and crouching, using the tunnel wall as a
support. He pulled his own
brush from a fold in his robes and whisked the remaining soil from around the
piece with practiced ease.
As Jake suspected, it was another broken clay shard. For every intact relic
that was uncovered at B'hala,
mere seemed to be about a billion broken ones.
And they all have to be catalogued.
"Let's see what we have here... ah, very good, Jake!" The prylar stepped back,
reaching for one of the
innumerable trays on the nearby cart. "And how gratifying -- it's kejelious,
one of the most important
materials used during the Sh'dama Age. Have I ever told you about kejelious? I
don't know if anyone
truly appreciates how versatile it can be, when the liquid ratios are
altered..."
Jake nodded, smiling, seeing no point in reminding the monk that he'd already
heard all about the virtues
of the stuff, twice. Eivos really was a nice old guy, and
seemed to be genuinely excited about the work -- though for the first time in
all
his weeks at B'hala lake found himself feeling disappointed, gazing at the
slender
fragment as the monk eased it from the ground.
Maybe because it's not what you came here to find, his mind whispered, and it
was another thought mat he pushed away -- but not so quickly as he might have
only a few days before. Things were changing whether he liked it or not, and
though he knew it was inevitable, had known for some weeks, a part of him was
still fighting to avoid the next step.
Acceptance.
When the prylar suggested that they break for a meal, Jake was relieved. He
hurried away, suddenly eager to be out of the tunnels where the dead were
dust
and wind, where his father was a ghost that could only be longed for.
It was late in the afternoon before he thought of it again.
The dream, Jake. Last night.
He felt a tingle at the back of his neck, a subtle shiver of remembered
dream-reality -- something about the wormhole ...?
Jake sighed, still not sure he wanted to remember. Not sure he was ready, in
spite
of the fact that he'd been having trouble concentrating for the last several
days,
really. He was alone in one of the smaller catalog rooms, a constant, soft