24
WE’RE BEING WATCHED
ON A HIGH BOULDER at the top of the waterfall stood Sir Edmund with a group of six women whose teeth were filed down to razor-sharp points and whose skin was withered and craggy like a map of the gorge itself. They called themselves the Dugmas, but the twins called them the Poison Witches.
Together, they watched the water crashing below them and saw a tall man slip out from the cave behind the wall of white water. He was alone, with a gun slung on his back. His clothes were wet and covered with what looked bat poop.
“Norbu,” the lead witch with the jeweled turquoise headband said.
“You can stop calling him that, I think,” Sir Edmund answered her. “No one is around who can hear us.” They all looked back at the form lying on the ground behind them. Dr. Navel was still and silent, his breath moving very slowly in and out as if he was just barely clinging to life. “Frank Pfeffer has done well. He seems to know where he’s going now.”
“What of the children?” the lead witch asked.
Sir Edmund just shrugged.
“If they still live, they will do all they can to find the tablets before Norb—I mean, Pfeffer. That does not worry you?” she asked.
“I should have told you ladies earlier,” Sir Edmund said, “but there are no Lost Tablets. They were destroyed long ago. I saw to it personally.”
“What?” the witch exclaimed. The others gasped. They clapped in Sir Edmund’s face, which in Tibet was not a nice thing to do. These were some unhappy witches. “How dare you lie to us?”
“Don’t be so surprised. You lie to everyone you meet. I won’t have a lesson on the Golden Rule from witches who poison people around their campfire.”
“But we made a deal with you.”
“Our deal still stands. You get this explorer’s soul,” Sir Edmund said, and pointed at Dr. Navel. “In fact, you are guaranteed to get it, as the children cannot bring you something that does not exist, can they?”
“But . . .” The leader scratched her head, puzzled. While she was an excellent murderer and stealer of souls, she had never been to school or played chess or watched an episode of Agent Zero. She couldn’t think about complicated plans. She pretty much knew how to mix poisons into a small number of yak butter stew recipes. Plotting was not her strong suit.
“When Frank and his partner came to me with that piece of paper, I saw immediately that the note hid a code from the mother of those bratty kids, but I didn’t know what the rest the code really meant. I did know that Frank and his partner wanted revenge on the Navel family, and that Dr. Navel could not resist a chance to find his wife. I simply had to push him into it with my little bet, to get him to bring his kids and let them figure out what that code meant.”
“So you don’t even know what you are searching for?” the witches asked, shocked.
“Oh, it isn’t obvious? I am searching for the children’s mother. I believe she copied the tablets before I was able to destroy them. I must have that copy. That catalog is the most important clue to finding the Lost Library. The Council must be the only ones who possess it.”
One of the witches hissed and the rest clapped again. They didn’t like Sir Edmund very much. Not many people did.
“I had thought it would be easier to find this woman, of course. I hadn’t expected the Navels to be thrown off the plane or that Pfeffer might try to change our deal, but all is well again. I will find her and I will get what I want.”
“And what about what we want?”
“Apologies,” Sir Edmund said, though it was obvious he wasn’t really apologizing. “Come with me after Frank Pfeffer, and when I have what I want, you can have Frank’s soul too. How does that sound? Two explorers for the price of one.”
“And the children?”
“No.” Sir Edmund smirked. “I will keep the children. I have something else in mind for them. Their work is far from over.”
The leader held up her finger to Sir Edmund, demanding silence. She turned and huddled with the other witches and they murmured to each other like a football team planning a play. They talked for a very long time, while Sir Edmund kept checking his watch, which had a symbol of a scroll in chains on it, and looking down at the tiny form of Frank Pfeffer climbing the walls of the canyon. At last, the witches turned around again.
“We have consulted,” the leader said gravely.
“And . . . ,” Sir Edmund prompted. She puffed up her chest and looked as though she was about to make an important pronouncement.
“Sure,” she said at last.
Sir Edmund shook his head. “All right, so we follow wherever he goes and you do as I say until we get there.”
“Agreed,” the leader said. “But . . . there is a problem.”
“Oh, what now!?” Sir Edmund threw his tiny arms in the air in exasperation.
“We are forbidden to leave this valley. Ever since the protector-spirit banished the unruly gods in ancient times, we have been confined to this valley.”
“Ha!” Sir Edmund scoffed. ʺThat’s your worry? Dorjee Drakden is my prisoner now. I have locked up his oracle. We talked just the other day. He won’t interfere with you.”
“You make many assumptions, Sir Edmund.” The leader’s face grew grave and serious as she spoke. “Dorjee Drakden will never submit to someone like you. We have known him since the dawn of time. He went by a different name then. They called him Pehar Gylapo, and he was the most feared and dangerous of all the gods. He has only ever bowed to the pure of heart, those who do not seek power.”
“Huh,” Sir Edmund snorted. “Don’t seek power? I don’t know anyone like that. Now, if we have deal, let’s go.”
One witch grabbed the unconscious Dr. Navel and tossed him over her shoulder like a rag doll. The group began their climb behind Frank Pfeffer, who had no idea what dangers were following him.
