Episode 4: More Than You Know, Chapter 4
The entrance of Cassandra's mother was preceded by that of her father, holding the study door open for his wife as she carried the tea tray through. She set down the tray on the coffee table in the centre of the small group and proceeded to dole out the fragrant brew with functional formality. Only once every person had received their cup and saucer did she retire to an armchair and study her daughter's appearance.
"You look well," she stated, having concluded her scrutiny to her satisfaction, at least for the time being. "Has your medication changed?"
"It has," Cassandra nodded stiffly.
"Your father tells me you are considering marriage," she continued, ignoring Stone. "Is that wise, in your condition?"
"My health has nothing to do with the matter," Cassandra replied, her chin up and her back rigidly straight. "We are all dying, mother. Some of us faster than others, some slower. Some of us with plenty of warning, others when they least expect it. I have no intention of denying myself happiness because I might drop dead tomorrow."
"And you believe matrimony to this man would make you happy," the professor raised an eyebrow. "Really, I cannot understand why."
"Mother!"
"I intend no disrespect to your..." Professor Cillian paused and looked Stone over for the first time, "your beau, but to hang one's happiness on an outdated and essentially superstitious ritual is utterly ridiculous and I had thought I had raised a more sensible child than that."
"That outdated and superstitious ritual is a part of my faith, ma'am," intoned Jacob quietly, one hand wrapped tightly around Cassandra's. "It is to your daughter's credit that she'll take that step with me even though it ain't a faith of her own."
Cassandra's mother turned her gaze fully upon Stone, surveying him from head to foot as if she had spotted an error in the conclusion of a research paper and now had to search the data to find where that error had cropped up. "I do not recognise your name or features, Mr Stone. What branch of science did you say you studied?"
"I did not say, ma'am," he corrected her softly. "In fact, I'm not a scientist of any branch or kind."
"Then what are you?"
"I am a Librarian, like your daughter," Jacob shifted his grip on Cassandra's hand. "It's how we met."
"A librarian?" Professor Cillian's cold gaze swung back to her daughter. "You work in a library now?"
"I do," Cassandra nodded. "And I plan to continue to do so for the rest of my life. It suits me. The people there understand me. They accept me and they appreciate my talents."
"And what 'talents' do you have that help you file books and collect late fees? I expect your mathematical skills might help with the latter," commented the professor. "I cannot see how advanced scientific knowledge and understanding can help with the Dewey decimal system though."
"We have a large collection of relics and artefacts as well as many incredibly old books," smiled Cassandra, turning out one of the phrases they had practised with Ezekiel while setting up Stone's fake history. "I am of great value in protecting and restoring those items."
"I see, so this library is more of a museum, really, then," clarified Doctor Cillian from his chair. "I should like to visit it some time. Do you have many interesting Oriental exhibits? I am studying the history of China at present."
"We have a few, sir," admitted Stone, sharing a glance with Cassandra, "although I prefer the history of Japan, myself. I've been working on a full scale exhibition of Ancient Warrior Traditions of the Far East lately. I find the honour code of the Samurai fascinating."
"Indeed? I found them somewhat illogical at times, especially regarding the idea of seppuku. Then your function in the library is managerial?" Doctor Cillian enquired, turning his attention to Stone. "Or are you one of the janitorial staff responsible for moving the items in question?"
"My function is advisory, sir," replied Stone, his face unflinchingly impassive. "I am the Library's main expert in art history. Although my predominant areas of expertise are Western, I find it interesting to step outside my comfort zone every once in a while and study something new."
"I find I cannot argue with you on that point," nodded Doctor Cillian, whose thin mouth had betrayed his surprise and appreciation of Stone's own knowledge. "Where did you study?"
"I read History of Art at Oxford, England, as an undergraduate then went on to read for a Masters in Archeologie et Histoire de L'art at the Sorbonne, in France," Stone returned promptly, reciting the qualifications he had 'acquired' only a few hours ago. "I wrote my Masters thesis there on the influence of European culture on Native American art. It was generally well received."
"You impress me, Mr Stone," mused Professor Cillian. "It seems you are not as unintelligent as you first appeared. And tell me: are you paid well for your advisory role at the library? It is my experience that such jobs hardly provide a salary on which one can support a family with ease."
"Well enough, ma'am," Jacob replied with an easy smile, although Cassandra could feel the muscles in his forearm tighten as her mother spoke. "The job is a stable and well paid one, and I have a little income of my own from shares in a family enterprise. I will be well able to support your daughter, and any children we may be blessed with."
"And you are aware of the situation my daughter is in regarding her health?" Professor Cillian continued, pinning him in place with her ice blue eyes as competently as a Victorian pinning a moth to a board.
"I assure you, ma'am, I am in full possession of all the facts."
"Hmm," the Professor's eyes looked him over again. Suddenly, she came to a decision. "You will stay for luncheon. It is easy enough for John to double his quantities. Then you can tell me what you expect from my daughter in this... marriage."
"As you wish, ma'am," nodded Stone, with a glance at Cassandra. "But all I expect from your daughter is that she loves me, and lets me love her in return."
"How quaint," smiled Professor Cillian, the brittle curve of her lips never quite reaching her eyes. "If you would excuse me, I must return to my studies. John: would you clear these dishes. Perhaps Mr Stone would appreciate the fruits of your own little projects?"
"As you wish," Doctor Cillian echoed, rising as his wife stood and left the room. He turned to Cassandra. "Why don't you take... Jacob up to our own little library. You know where the main pieces are. You will find some new ones with them. I will join you once I have finished here and in the kitchen."
XXXX
"I cannot believe you found a wyvern's nest on your honeymoon," da Vinci enthused, measuring the small, carved wooden box Flynn had sat on the table.
"Don't encourage him!" Eve reprimanded the artist. "We were supposed to be exploring an ancient Egyptian temple!"
"Oh, you did go back to Pakhet's temple then?" Jenkins asked offhandedly, barely looking up from the notes he was taking.
"No, well, yes," Eve began. "I mean, we tried, but it had been destroyed. Earthquake, not long after the last time we were there."
"Ah," breathed Jenkins. "How entirely unexpected!"
Eve caught the amused note in the old man's voice and matched his smile. "Indeed!"
"To find a nest, though," proclaimed da Vinci, "and a wyvern's one at that!"
"I suppose we are certain it is a wyvern," Jenkins raised an eyebrow. "Did you see it?"
"Not as such," Flynn admitted, "but the dust from its cave is green and sparkles gold when the light hits it. Only wyvern dust does that."
"And what do you intend to do with said 'dust'?" Jenkins enquired, arms folded. "It has no apotheotic properties that I know of and is in fact toxic to humans, even in the slightest quantity."
"Best place for it then," shrugged the new husband. "Stop other people getting their hands on it.
"And what is this?" Da Vinci asked, pointing to an amulet around Flynn's neck.
"Ah, yes, I'm glad you asked me about that," replied Flynn, not looking at Jenkins or Charlene. "You see we also happened to bump into an old friend..."
"Emily Davenport," cut in Eve. "She gave Flynn that medal the day after we met her, on a dig at Sakkara. Told him to keep it safe. It's a medal depicting one of the Egyptian goddesses."
"Not goddess, queen," Flynn corrected her. "Queen Hetepheres, mother of the Pharaoh Cheops, or Khufu, depending on whose translation of the hieroglyphs you go by, who built the great pyramids at Giza. It shows her cartouche on one side and her image on the other."
"I still don't get why they would make a medal of her," sighed Eve, rolling her eyes.
"Well, she was a bit of a celebrity in her day, you know," Flynn pointed out. "She was queen, but she was more than that. The Egyptians believed that the Pharaohs were the living embodiment of gods. She was the daughter of one pharaoh, wife of another and mother to a third, not to mention all those that descended from her. Daughter of a god, wife of a god, mother of a god... The people worshipped her! Plus she pulled off one of the great disappearing acts of ancient Egypt. When Reisner opened her sarcophagus, or rather, ordered it opened, it was empty."
"Tomb robbers," Eve pointed out.
"Would have smashed the lid," Flynn countered. "This one hadn't been disturbed."
"Okay, so she was buried in a different sarcophagus," his wife shrugged.
"Not any we've found, and believe me: we've looked!"
"So what? You think she faked her own death?" Eve flung up her hands.
Flynn nodded at Jenkins and da Vinci with a charming smile. "Wouldn't be the first time."
"They're Librarians," she pointed out. "And we're talking what? Two thousand years ago? Three thousand? Four? Was the Library even around then?"
"I don't know, maybe," Flynn shrugged. "All I know is that it was founded by a man known as 'the scholar' over two thousand years ago. And Hetepheres, by the way, lived about four and a half thousand years ago."
"Also, life in the Library is not the only source of increased years," added Jenkins. "It's the use of magic that does that, and there was much more magic around in those days. That's what the pyramids were designed to do, remember: rejuvenate and revive their incumbents for their journey to the afterlife. There are stories that one of the earliest true pyramids succeeded in doing precisely that, and from there comes the legend of the mummy."
"But mummies aren't just legends, we've fought them," Eve frowned.
"Oh, they were just artificially animated by the magic in the medallions," Flynn assured her. "We're talking fully conscious, fully alive here."
"So," Eve's brows wrinkled further, "why make a medallion of her?"
