Mariposa relayed instructions to his secretary and hung up. "It will be a few minutes before everything is ready. I appreciate your honesty; it makes it much easier for me to explain things. Approximately a month ago, Arthur Pendleton and Shinia Norlen came to consult with me on a journal they had in their possession. They believed it contained directions to the lost Bothar mine."

Mark barked out a laugh. "The what?!"

If Mariposa was offended he gave no indication. "Let me supplement your knowledge of the Second Families. The Bothars arrived in Garthyme's Ford in 1869 along with the Landers. Like the First Families they tried to stake mining claims in the Willow Whisper Creek Canyon south of the settlement. The walls of the canyon contain elemental gold embedded in veins of quartz. Though the gold is difficult to remove from the gneiss and schist walls of the canyon, it can be easily separated from the quartz. Hence the First Families were able to maintain their control over Garthyme's Ford for decades.

"The First Families prevented, through means legal and illegal, the Landers and Bothars from staking claims in the canyon. Rather than admit defeat, however, they prospected elsewhere. Josiah Landers reasoned that the creek would erode gold out of the walls and carry it down across the syncline, eventually depositing it in the lake just north of the town. In 1870 he did find gold in the bottom of the lake and within a year of operations the Landers were producing as much gold as all of the First Families combined. Ezekiah Bothar, however, went into the mountains west of Garthyme's Ford. In 1871 he found a cave that also contained elemental gold, and he brought his family to it to help him mine it. Their output rivaled the Landers's, and they used the wealth to invest in the railroad and create an overland shipping company, as you know. After he helped the other Second Families take over Garthyme's Ford, Ezekiah founded the town of Aurum near the mine in 1876, to better handle the collection and shipping of the gold."

"Then if it's a part of history, why's it lost?"

"Officially the mine played itself out in 1880, though by then the family fortune was tied to its investment in railroad and shipping interests. However, Miss Norlen informed me that family records showed it was still producing right through the war. Unfortunately, the location of the mine was known to only the leaders of the main branch of the family in Aurum. When the influenza epidemic struck in 1918, it wiped out nearly 50% of the population of the town, including virtually all the Bothars. The only members of the family to survive were those living in Cairnsford and the various branch families around the country, but the secret of the mine's location died with the Aurum Bothars."

"But there hadda be records, maps, somethin' written down."

Mariposa shook his head. "According to Miss Norlen there were none, except for Ezekiah's journal, and that was generally believed to have been lost when a flash flood destroyed the first Bothar mansion in Aurum in 1906. The Bothars have searched for the mine for the past twenty years, but have found nothing. Most have given up, but Miss Norlen's family kept at it. She inherited the quest from her brother, who inherited it from their father. Only recently did she discover that in fact the journal still existed. Somehow she managed to acquire it, and she and Mr. Pendleton brought it to me to examine."

"But if the journal's got the secret in it, why'd she bring it to you?"

"It is written in code, which she wanted me to break."

"You made any progress?"

There was a knock on the door. Mariposa continued as he stood up to open it. "Unfortunately, no. They allowed me to examine it briefly, but they had a dispute over whether to leave it." He paused by the door before opening it. "In the end they decided to try to settle their dispute and they promised to be back. I have not heard a word from them since." When he opened the door, he said, "Ah, our refreshments are here. Would you please pour for us, Miss Penneywhistle?"

The secretary wheeled a cart into the office. "Excuse me, Professor, but there's a young lady to see you. Says it's most urgent."

Mark looked up with a start, but Mariposa raised his hand in a halting gesture, saying, "Calm yourself, lieutenant, it is probably nothing; a student seeking a resource most likely. But if it is indeed Miss Shinia, do we want her startled -- bolting for the door? Let me handle it."

Mark was about to read the librarian the riot act, but something in the man's tone turned the policeman's anger into patience. As the large man settled back into his chair, Mariposa said, "Then I'll leave you in Miss Penneywhistle's very capable hands."

As the librarian exited, Mark accepted the coffee being offered to him, then began an inspection of the cigar which had been brought on the same tray. He was in the process of lighting it when he heard Mariposa's voice once more. He blew forth his first deep lungful of smoke as the door opened and he heard Shinia remark, "I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice, Professor --" She broke off abruptly when she spotted Mark in his chair. She stopped short, went white, and turned to rush out, but Mariposa had already closed and blocked the door.

"And she loves to show her appreciation, doc," Mark scowled, peering darkly through the smoke hanging about his head.

"Of that I have no doubt. Will you not join us, Miss Norlen? Do you prefer coffee or tea?"

Mariposa indicated the other chair. Shinia looked from him to Mark and back to him again, like a trapped animal. Then she straightened, squared her shoulders, and said confidently, "Coffee will be fine, cream and sugar." She then turned towards the lieutenant. "Hello, Mark. I'm glad to see you again."

"I'll bet you are," he replied shortly.

"Please," Mariposa exhorted as he retook his seat behind the desk. Miss Penneywhistle placed a cup of tea in front of him. "Let's comport ourselves like adults."

"After you," Mark said sarcastically.

Shinia smiled sweetly and took the far chair. Mark sipped his coffee. Mariposa waited for the secretary to hand Shinia a cup and place a saucer of cream in front of the cat. "We can help ourselves from here. Thank you, Miss Penneywhistle." The woman smiled at everyone and winked at Mark, then left.

Shinia gave him a sardonic, lopsided smile. "Made a new friend I see; I'm jealous."

"If I were you," he responded in a low growl, "I wouldn't bring that up."

Her look turned serious. "I'm sorry, Mark. I tried to contact you last night, but the police were watching the house."

Before Mark could reply, Mariposa said, "Perhaps you had better explain all the details." Shinia gave him a questioning look and opened her mouth to speak, but Mariposa forestalled her by raising a hand. "I have already informed Mr. Thorner of the background details. What we need to know is what happened yesterday."

Shinia took a sip of coffee first. The silence was broken only by the sound of the cat lapping its bowl. "When I got back yesterday morning, I undressed and went to bed. About mid-afternoon Arthur came to see me. He somehow got into the house. He was upset that I had sent you to warn him off, Mark. We had an argument. He threatened to destroy the journal if I didn't call you off; I threatened to have you kill him if he did. Finally we agreed to collect the journal together and take it to Prof. Mariposa here. He waited downstairs while I dressed. When I came down I found him dead in the living room and a man bent over him. I'm afraid I screamed. When the man stood up and pointed his gun at me, I ran for the door. I didn't even bother to close it, I just ran out of the house and down the street. I didn't stop running until I saw a cab waiting on a traffic light. I jumped in and told the driver to take off. I've been hiding out ever since."

That cab was probably mine, Mark thought, in which case he just missed her. Aloud he asked, "You didn't hear the shot?"

"I thought I heard a soft pop while dressing, but it didn't sound like a gunshot."

"What kinda gun did you see?" Shinia smiled apologetically.

"I'm afraid I don't know anything about guns."

Mark took out his revolver. "Did it look like this?"

Shinia nodded slowly. "Yes, but it was smaller, and it had a longer barrel."

"How long?" he asked as he put the pistol away. Shinia held her hands about a foot apart.

"A thirty-two, with a silencer."

"Logical," Mariposa agreed, "especially considering the autopsy report. Why did you not go to the police?"

Shinia looked distressed. "I didn't think they would believe me, not after they found out I was Arthur's partner."

"I coulda backed up yer story," Mark said. "I found Pendleton's body, but was attacked by the same mook you saw. I told the local cops all about it."

"I didn't know that. I waited for you to return to Pat's apartment, but you never showed, and when I came back after dark the police were there. How was I to know they had you?"

Before Mark could inquire further, Mariposa asked, "Tell us about the journal."

"Well," she started slowly, "I've known about the journal ever since I was a little girl, but like everyone else in my family I thought it was lost. Then I found out that the Museum of Natural History had it from a friend of mine who works there -- he saw it in a storage room. I needed it, but I didn't want the museum administrators or the authorities to know I was involved. So, when another friend put me in contact with Arthur, I asked him to buy it for me. I told him I would go as high as $25,000 and he could keep the difference if he could acquire it for less. Well, he did; he had it stolen instead. When he told me I refused to pay him the money. He threatened me by saying that his 'partners' would come after me if I did not pay up. When I resisted, he threatened to destroy the book. I couldn't allow that, so I told him what it was."

Mark scowled and shook his head. "Stupid. You should've paid him the money. You could afford it."

Shinia turned on him angrily. "If I had I would have been guilty of receiving stolen goods."

"It was too late already. By askin' him to get it for you, you were already guilty of conspiracy."

"I didn't know he would steal it!"

"He was a fuckin' mobster; wadda think he was goin' ta do, waltz in an' buy it from the gift shop?"

"I didn't have the fucking money, okay!?" she shrieked. Then, when she realized what she had done, she said grimly, "Damn you!"

Mark grinned in triumph. "Which is why ya want ta find the mine in the first place, right?"

Shinia hung her head. "Alright, yes. On paper the Norlens are wealthy, but we lost our liquid assets in the Crash. All our remaining money is tied up in real estate and business interests, and we don't want to liquidate anything."

"So what were ya goin' ta pay him with?"

Shinia shrugged. "I thought I could put him off until after I had found the mine."

"Stupid," was all Mark could say. Shinia glared at him.

"All right," Mariposa interrupted again, "you told Mr. Pendleton about the mine. What then?"

"He said he intended to be my partner, 'whether I liked it or not.'"

"Which was when you brought me the book."

"Yes."

"Well, why get Pat an' me involved?" Mark interjected.

"I needed leverage over him. I thought if I could threaten him with bodily harm he would be more cooperative. I wanted to have possession of the book, but he wanted to keep it as insurance that I would pay him his percentage. I thought I could use Pat to get him to give it up. When Pat left town, I decided to get you to do it."

"Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"I didn't need to. I just needed your threat of violence to force him to comply with my wishes. Besides, I knew nothing about you. For all I knew you would try to partner with him against me. I couldn't risk that."

Mark had to admit, she had a good point. From her point of view, he was just a muscleman, and he knew from experience it was never wise planning to give musclemen ideas. Aloud, however, he asked, "So, wadda ya doin' here now?"

"Since I couldn't find you, I came here to get Prof. Mariposa's help."

Her words made sense, but the lieutenant no longer trusted her. Turning to Mariposa, he asked, "Well, doc, what'd ya think?"

Mariposa stared at him for a long moment. If Mark had read him correctly, he was certain the librarian understood he was playing a bluff. Mark could only hope he would cooperate. Mariposa then turned his attention to Shinia.

"The journal was not written in a code," he told her, "but a dead language. It is similar to an ancient tongue known as Aklo. I can translate it, but I will need to have the journal. How soon can you get it to me?"

Shinia looked embarrassed. "That may be a problem. You see, Arthur kept it hidden some place; I don't know where, exactly."

Mark rolled his eyes. "You got no idea?"

"He rented a house here in town; I'm sure it's there."

"What makes you think so?" Mariposa asked.

"Well, the few times I asked to see the journal he always met me at a neutral location within a half hour of my call."

"That rules out his home in Denver," Mariposa evaluated. "Even if he had his own car it would take him at least a couple of hours to come down here."

"Have ya ever been in his place?" Mark asked her.

She looked suspicious. "Once or twice; why?"

"Can ya draw me a plan?"

"What do you have in mind?" Mariposa asked.

"I'm thinkin' that maybe we should get that journal fer ourselves."

Mariposa pursed his lips to hide a smile. His cat began purring. "You do realize of course that what you are suggesting is against the law?"

"The mook is dead; he ain't goin' ta complain."

Mariposa nodded. "True, but would not the police need to have the journal for evidence?"

"Evidence of what? He wasn't killed for the journal, so it ain't got nothin' ta do with his murder."

Mariposa smiled and steepled his fingers again. "I believe you are splitting hairs."

"Did ya tell the cops about the journal?"

"No."

"Well, I certainly didn't, so unless they snatch Shinia they won't know it exists."

"I see your point. Do you propose to break in and take it?"

"You gotta better idea?"

"No, but you will need help. I propose that Bastet and I accompany you."

"Hey," grinned Mark, noting that the cat had raised its head from its cream and looked about when its name was mentioned, "the more the merrier."

After treating them to lunch in a nearby café, Bastet sitting in her own chair at their outdoor table, Mariposa drove Mark and Shinia back to his townhouse that afternoon. The lieutenant lifted an eyebrow in surprise when he saw the librarian's car.

"A Silver Arrow sedan?"

Mariposa was equally surprised. "You are familiar with this make?"

"Oh, yeah," Mark grinned. "I was in charge of the police detail guardin' the '33 car show."

Mariposa nodded his understanding. "Officially only five were built, but I commissioned this one. I had the interior custom designed."

Indeed, the inside of the car was quite beautiful, with padded leather seats, wood frames, mother-of-pearl detail, and silver trim, all in an art deco design. There even appeared to be a special rest built between the back seats for the cat.

Mariposa lived in a row of four-story brownstones in a recently-built upscale neighborhood close to the college. They spent the afternoon and early evening resting, then had a late supper. Mariposa turned out to be a gourmet chef and they dined on Caesar salad, beef Wellington, and chocolate mousse, washed down with a fine Bordeaux wine and port. Afterwards Shinia drew a rough map of a single-story building and described its interior. Mark and Mariposa discussed possible hiding places, but in the end they realized that it might take some time to find the journal. Mariposa then made a surprising suggestion.

"You should take Bastet with you."

Mark stared at the cat which looked back at him contemptuously. When he finally asked why, Mariposa answered, "She can help you find the hiding place."

The lieutenant scowled for a moment, but then shrugged his assent. After all, in New York he had seen both ghosts and the undead. He had mixed drinks with a wizard, battled hell beasts in a dimension not his own, and stared down a god-thing with nothing more than a service revolver and attitude. Staring into the reflective depths of the cat's eyes, he told himself, And so, it begins again.

Smiling, he finished his cigar in silence. After all, he wondered, what choice did he have?

Around midnight the quartet drove to Pendleton's house. Shinia insisted upon going as well, but Mark demanded she stay in the car, and Mariposa seconded him. The librarian parked a block from the residence on a dark side street. Mark was concerned that the dull silver color of the car would be visible, and that its distinctive shape would be memorable. But Mariposa assured him that the residents of Pendleton's neighborhood valued their privacy, and kept mainly to themselves. As a precaution, however, he let the cat out to reconnoiter. It was gone only ten minutes, and when it returned it jumped onto the hood, meowed pleasantly, and sat down to wait for Mark.

"There is no one about," Mariposa confirmed, handing Mark a flashlight. "Once you let yourself in, let her conduct a search. Once she finds it, your responsibility will be to remove it."

"Understood, doc."

Mark gave the librarian a thumbs up, then pulled a black knit head warmer which Mariposa had provided him over his shaved skull. As the lieutenant began to disembark, Shinia leaned forward from the back seat and said, "Good luck, Mark. Come back safely."

She made the request with such tenderness and seemingly honest feeling that Mark looked at her in surprise. Feeling fortunate the mask hid his expression, he mumbled a brief "thanks" and moved away before she could say anything more.

As he crossed the street, Bastet steady at his side, he whispered to the feline, "Guess this makes us cat burglars." Bastet simply meowed and kept moving forward.

The pair soon reached Pendleton's simple square brick house. The home showed no lights; the tiny covered porch was dark as well. The cat stood off to one side and waited while Mark knelt to examine the lock. It was a simple mechanism, but something about it made him suspicious. A quick inspection with his flashlight justified his hesitation. The lock was festooned with faint scratches; someone had been here before.

On a whim he tested the doorknob and found it unlocked. Stepping off to one side, he unlatched the door, then pushed it open. Instantly the cat dashed in. Swearing under his breath Mark waited, but no sounds besides those a cat would make reached him outside. Cautiously he looked in.

The room was a shambles. Whoever had broken in before must have been looking for the journal as well, someone unconcerned if knowledge of the break-in was discovered. The lieutenant's predecessor was also extremely thorough and destructive. He had ripped open the furniture cushions, punched holes in the walls, and pulled up the floorboards. Every cupboard was open, every drawer pulled out -- their contents scattered everywhere. Mark groaned to think that the journal might have already been discovered.

A sharp meow caught his attention. A flick of Mark's hand turned his flashlight and illuminated Bastet standing in an entryway. Noting that it had the lieutenant's attention the cat silently turned and dashed into the next room. Mark followed and found himself in a dining room which Pendleton had converted into an office. The destruction of the room was complete. All the furniture had been totally destroyed; file drawers ripped out of their cabinets, their contents dumped out and then thrown across the room; bookcases had been emptied and torn down; and a wall safe literally pulled out of the wall. Mark went over to it. Its door had been ripped off its hinges.

Stifling the urge to curse, he moved the twisted block of metal about as best he could, examining it with his light. The damage he found could have only been caused by major machinery, or a couple dozen men with crowbars and sledges.

And nobody keeps somethin' like that a secret, he thought. Anyone normal, that is; this kinda damage woulda taken hours, an' they woulda woke the whole neighborhood.

Anyone normal, the back of his mind whispered.

"Awww, Anton," he whispered, "what're you doin' in New York when I need ya here?"

Mark had felt uneasy since his arrival in the area. He had blamed it on the pressures he had left behind, the bad taste his recent string of disastrous cases, especially the last one, had left in his mouth. He had been feeling old, tired, fed up. Coming to the country, the clean, unfettered, great outdoors, he had expected to find peace, solitude, a chance to relax.

No such thing available to the likes of you, his mind growled.

Staring at the ruined safe, knowing what the hand-sized gouges in the sides of the metal meant, he felt himself growing dark inside, felt familiar steel falling in place around his sensibilities.

"It's all the same, everywhere ya go," he snarled. "Fuckin' voodoo don't let up for a moment."

His face twisting, anger boiling, he felt everything crumbling inside himself. Just a week or two of peace, it was all he had asked of life. Just a few miserable days to get away from the monsters and the blackness and the ever-encompassing evil. Just a moment out of time to himself, to forget, to breathe, to reach out to another human being and feel them reaching back. . . .

An annoyed yowl broke his concentration. Shining his light towards the jumble of debris that had been the bookcases he spotted Bastet atop it, eyeing him with impatience. Noting that it had his attention the cat began pawing at the pile. Mark carefully crossed the room and joined the feline, moving fragments at its direction.

Christ, he thought, the enormity of what was happening around him just beginning to sink in, I'm workin' with a cat. Well, bring on the dancin' skeletons, looks like it's time ta jump outta the frying pan again. . . .

In a moment he spotted what appeared to be a dictionary, one of the large editions libraries displayed on pedestals. As Mark pulled it free, he found it still intact. He reasoned that the intruder had simply pulled it free and dumped it rather than searching through it. Of course, the lieutenant admitted, he probably would have done the same thing.

"Course," he whispered, looking at Bastet, "when you've got a partner that's almost as smart as a dog . . ."

The cat turned its head at an odd angle, seeming to Mark that it was expressing displeasure. Chuckling, the officer opened the dictionary. His humor evaporated as he discovered the journal lying in a well cut out of the pages. As he did, the cat suddenly arched its back and hissed at him.

"Jeez-it, kittie, it was just a joke."

But, Bastet hissed more sharply, and suddenly Mark noticed the feline was not staring at him but past him. Immediately he turned, trying to brace himself against whatever it was he could see moving toward him in the darkness. Even as Mark's hand flew toward his weapon, the big man was hit by the approaching figure, a body-block slam that sent the lieutenant crashing to the floor, knocking the breath out of him. Following up immediately, his attacker lifted him off his feet and flung him violently against the nearest wall.

Mark choked as his assailant held him by the neck, strangling him. He pounded his fists on the other's arms and kicked out with his feet, but the attacker simply absorbed the blows. Then, suddenly Bastet wrapped itself around the man's head, clawing, biting, and spitting. Mark was instantly released. He collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath while his assailant shrieked and flailed about wildly trying to dislodge the demonic feline. As the cat hung on, tearing and slicing, Mark struggled to his feet. Then, still gasping, he grabbed up a broken chair leg and began slamming the intruder with it, repeatedly. The lieutenant's blows were powerful, but they glanced off the howling man as if he were striking the wall of a cliff. Then, the assailant rammed into Mark accidentally in his wild gyrations and sent the policeman back to the floor.

Feeling the desperate first touch of fear clawing at his spine, Mark scrambled across the floor to where he had discovered the ruined safe door. Hefting it with all the strength he could muster, he swung wildly, screaming, "Jump!"

Bastet leapt from the man as Mark's wild swing caught their attacker squarely in the face. Liquid splashed and the assailant stumbled. The weight of the door almost pulled the policeman off his feet, but he threw himself behind the swing and brought the door up in an arc which he directed toward his opponent's chin. The steel slab crashed against the man's head again, snapping his head backward, sending his arms flying, his legs stumbling.

Mark followed, bringing the heavy door around once more. Spinning his entire body, he released the door, sending it flying into the other man. It caught him in the center of his chest, knocking him backward into the wall. As Mark watched, panting, rubbing his throbbing neck, the man slid to the floor and collapsed in a heap.

Retrieving his flashlight, Mark shone it about until he spotted Bastet. He made certain the cat was unharmed, before he told it, "Goddamned good kittie," then crossed the room toward his attacker.

He was surprised to find the man still breathing, but the emotion dwindled as he examined his opponent. The man was built like a fireplug -- massive chest, wide hips, short, stout legs, topped by a block head with virtually no neck. His face, severely damaged by claw gouges and bites, was slightly elongated, with a receding forehead, protruding jaw, and no chin. The ears and eyes had atrophied, but the nose was almost a snout, long and flexible. The scalp and facial hair was short but thick, almost like fur.

Most disturbing, however, were the man's arms, short and stout like his legs, with hands easily twice as large as Mark's. The palms were broad, the fingers long and thick, the skin heavily callused. The nails were more like massive claws, sticking out beyond the fingers nearly an inch.

"Christ," marveled Mark, "these things hands or shovels?"

Then, as he looked again at the walls and broken furniture all about, remembered the gouged metal of the safe, he suddenly realized how all the damage had been accomplished. Then, he thought, What if this thing ain't alone?

Quickly he grabbed the journal and left the house, the cat following. Noting with relief that the street was still empty and quiet he closed the door and headed back to the car.

Once back at his brownstone, Mariposa took possession of the journal and went into his study, leaving Mark and Shinia on their own. The lieutenant would have been happy to just go to bed, but Shinia insisted on patching him up. His body had numerous bruises and his neck was abraded from the intruder's hands. Shinia turned out to be a fair nurse, and she soon had her charge bandaged up.

All the while the pair avoided discussing the obvious, but when they moved into the living room Shinia finally said, "Mark, I'm sorry I lied to you."

Mark sat beside her on the couch. Caution whispered from the recesses of his mind, reminding him that he could not trust her, that he should not even want to. But she sounded sincere, and he knew he wanted to believe in her. As one side of his mind cautioned him as to how risky that was, the other snarled that it did not care.

Not yet completely prepared to lower his guard, but desperate to give her the benefit of the doubt, he shrugged and said, "It's no big deal. I can understand why ya felt it was necessary."

As he fell silent, Shinia asked, "Are you alright, Mark?"

"Yeah," he smiled weakly, taking her hand. "I guess alla this ain't what I was expectin' for a vacation."

"Oh?" She squeezed his hand. "It hasn't been all bad, has it?"

"No," he admitted, turning to look at her, "not all of it."

She hesitated for a moment, then leaned towards him and kissed him gently. Before she could pull away, he took her in his arms and kissed her more urgently. She returned his embrace and they sat holding each other for some minutes.

Then, she whispered in his ear, "I think I love you." When he did not react, she pulled back and asked, "Mark, didn't you hear me? I said I think I'm in love with you."

"I heard ya."

"And it doesn't frighten you?"

"Should it?"

"I just thought --"

"Don't complicate things with thinkin'."

"Oh, Mark, what did I do right to deserve you?"

"Damned if I know," he grinned, and then they laughed.

The next morning they were awakened by Bastet jumping around on the bed, yowling up a storm. It seemed excited about something and urged them on as they got up and got dressed. They followed it down into the dining room, where Mariposa was already eating. Shinia just poured herself a cup of coffee, but Mark found he was ravenous. He took the eggs Benedict that were available, as well as a couple of brats and several pancakes. Mariposa waited until he had eaten his fill before indicating the journal between them.

"The language is a variant of Aklo, and a somewhat archaic one at that. However, there were a fair number of similarities to standard Aklo, and the fact that it was based directly on English made translation straight-forward."

"I'm not sure I follow ya, doc," Mark replied.

"It is fairly simply, Mr. Thorner. All languages have their own unique grammatical and syntagmic structure. For example, if I wanted to say 'Enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Thorner' in standard Aklo, it would actually come out as 'may pleasurable Thorner the man his meal-in-morning find'. Whoever wrote this journal was using English grammar and syntax, but Akloan words. He also tended to use words that were direct translations of English words rather than the proper Akloan words. For example, when he wanted to say 'breakfast' he did not use the Akloan word that means breakfast, or 'the meal in the morning'; instead he created a phrase that literally meant 'breaking a fast', by using the Akloan words for 'break' and 'fast'. That suggests he had a rather unsophisticated and elementary command of the language."

"But you were able to translate it," Shinia asked rhetorically. "You know where the mine is?"

Mark noted her avaricious tone, the hard gleam in her eye.

As he did, Mariposa nodded, answering, "Aurum was founded in a valley on the backside of the Front Range; the mine is located in the mountains northeast of the town."

"Where, exactly?" she asked eagerly.

This time Mariposa shook his head. "I believe it is best if I keep that secret for now. Besides, the directions are given in compass bearings off local landmarks and travel times, not precise longitude and latitude. I have memorized the directions; I would have to write them down to be of any use to you."

Shinia stared at him in disbelief, her fists clenched. As she glared at him with cold rage, for a moment Mark thought she might strike the librarian, but Bastet moaned at her menacingly. She glanced at the cat, locked eyes with it for an instant, then looked away, making a visible effort to control herself. All the while Mariposa did not flinch, simply watching her with a cold, analytical eye.

To forestall a confrontation, Mark asked, "So, what do we do next, doc?"

"I would have thought that was obvious," Mariposa responded, smiling. "Next we go to Aurum."

Though they left almost immediately after breakfast, their trip took them nearly the rest of the day. The problem was not the distance; Aurum lay barely forty miles due west of Cairnsford. The problems were the ridge of mountains that lay between the two towns and the poor or nonexistent roads. Mariposa explained, though, that it could have been worse, if it was not for the newly opened road through Willow Whisper Creek Canyon. It allowed them to cut straight through the mountains rather than go around them. Still, Mark found the journey through the canyon relaxing.

At the head of the canyon lay the town of Tielsweir. At one time a residential town for the miners who worked the canyon, it was hardest hit by the Crash, when the Second Families were forced to close down all but the most lucrative of the canyon mines. Gold production then centered on the Lake Garthyme dredging operation, so most of the residents moved to Cairnsford, left for Denver, or got out of Colorado altogether. Those few who remained eked out a living through tourism. Despite the Depression, people with means still liked to travel, and Colorado was a popular destination. Tielsweir was in the foothills at the base of the Front Range, and so not only profited from a spectacular view, but also its access to close-by wilderness areas and snow-covered peaks. As such, the residents operated shops, acted as outfitters and guides, and managed boarding houses and restaurants.

Despite it being May, the higher altitudes were cool and neither Mark nor Shinia had brought coats, so the party stopped at Tielsweir for a brief bout of shopping. While the couple found coats, Mariposa visited an outfitter he patronized to inquire about a good outfitter in Aurum. Then they continued on. If anything the scenery in the mountains proper was even better than down in the canyon.

The party arrived in Aurum just before nightfall, and took lodging in an elegant boarding house. There were only two rooms available, which suited Mark and Shinia. At first the proprietors were reluctant to let Mariposa keep his cat in his room, but he managed to convince them that it could not sleep outside, what with the cold and the coyotes. Mark was not at all certain it would get cold enough to harm the cat, and he doubted it was possible such an animal could allow itself to get eaten. Indeed, he felt fairly certain that with Bastet it was the coyote that was in danger of being eaten.

In any event, as they were tired from their trip, the trio retreated to their rooms after only a light supper. Shinia fell right to sleep, but Mark lay awake for some time. Something about the couple who ran the hotel bothered him. It was nothing in their manner; if anything, they were overly solicitous. No, he decided, it was their appearance. Though not as startling or exaggerated, the old pair shared many of the same traits as the burglar who attacked him in Pendleton's house.

Brother, he thought, this is just the best vacation ever.

Then he continued to stare at the ceiling, wondering just what was going to happen next.

The following morning Mariposa announced to Mark and Shinia over breakfast that he intended to visit the town hall to check some records, then the outfitters recommended to him the day before. He wanted them with him when he arranged for their trip to the mine, but they were free in the morning to explore the town, which he suggested they do. At the very least they would need warmer, more durable clothing than they had brought with them, as well as boots and proper hats. He indicated Mark's derby when he said the last, a notion the lieutenant ignored with a snort. The librarian also suggested Shinia wear pants instead of skirts. Then he gave them a roll of bills and departed, his cat following quietly in his wake.

Aurum was a small town and they walked from one end to the other in a little over an hour. The townsfolk out on various errands proved to be very friendly; the couple could barely walk ten feet down the street without someone or other wishing them a good morning. But as with the proprietors of the boarding house, the townsfolk all shared to one extent or another the same basic build and features: short, stocky bodies and limbs, block-heads on squat necks, small eyes and ears, protruding mouths and jaws, snout-like noses, short, furry scalp and facial hair, and huge, spade-shaped hands. What Mark found especially odd, however, was that if Shinia was disturbed by their appearance she gave no sign.

On their return trip they stopped at a store that sold western-style clothing. The items displayed in the front windows were fancy, meant to attract the suckers, but when Mark explained they needed real working clothes for a trek into the mountains, the shopkeeper took them to the back of the store where he kept genuine western wear in unassuming bins and racks. They quickly found everything they needed, though finding sizes to fit them both was something of a problem. Still, by the time they left they each had two pairs of jeans, three flannel shirts, long johns, boots, several bandannas, a vest, gloves, shotgun chaps, a fur-lined overcoat, and, for Shinia alone, a ubiquitous broad-brimmed, low-crowned cowboy hat.

Since it was still early, they decided to take their purchases back to the boarding house. Shinia wanted to visit the second Bothar mansion, deserted for some twenty years but still standing. Afterwards they could lunch, then meet Mariposa at the outfitters. The building sat outside Aurum proper, on the side of a foothill within sight of the town. Being a journey of several miles, the couple rented a horse and buggy. Shinia handled the rig like an old pro and got them to their destination in short order. Despite being the home of a wealthy family, the mansion was a simple affair -- a three story square block with a gabled roof, a few windows, and a single door in front. Though it had obviously suffered from the weather over the years, it was also obvious that it had always been plain and unadorned.

Shinia pulled up to what was left of a hitching post and jumped down. Mark followed as she loosely tied the horse to a rusted iron ring. She then began to wander around the building with the lieutenant in tow. She was completely absorbed in her exploration, but something was nagging at the back of Mark's mind. He had no idea what it could be, but he trusted his instincts enough to know that something was not right and the feeling made him nervous.

As the couple rounded the back corner of the house they walked into what must at one time have been a garden. After twenty years the local flora had taken over, reducing its once manicured dignity to chaotic tumbles of scrub and prairie grass. Mark could trace the remains of a wall that had once enclosed the area, but little more. Shinia grimaced in distaste and turned back towards the house. Mark was about to do the same when a movement caught his eye. As he looked closer, a barren mound of earth began to shudder.

Created: October 28, 2006