“And maybe in other mysteries of that frozen world,” Gray added.
“Possibly.”
“But considering the astounding discovery Catherine made here, recovering the Golden Library, why did she focus on this lost continent? What drew her so immediately on that course?”
“It was an obsession of hers—not Hyperborea—but to establish the roots of the Russian people. She first believed it was the Scythians who might be our forefathers.”
“The militant nomads of the Eurasian steppes?” Gray remembered Bailey and Yelagin bringing up those Bronze Age people last night at the embassy.
“The same. Even today there is an offshoot of the philosophies of Aleksandr Dugin—a group who call themselves the New Scythians—who pursue this same ideology. In fact, there’s been a lot of friction between the New Scythians and the Arkangel Society, both arguing about who is right.”
“And where did Catherine land, during her time?”
“She turned away from the Scythians and became convinced our true origins were much farther north.”
“In Hyperborea.”
Anna nodded. “Her fascination is well documented. And there are rumors she dispatched ships on secret missions to the Far North, searching for this lost continent.”
Jason called from the fireplace. “I’d say she found it—or at least, foundsomething.”
Gray and Anna turned to him.
Jason stood with his hands on his hips, his neck craned back, staring up at the length of the mammoth tusk. The room was decorated with other artifacts across its crowded shelves: large chunks of crystals, stuffed birds under glass domes, painted pottery, tiny bronze sculptures.
Gray couldn’t understand why the tusk had captured Jason’s attention. Still, he stepped closer. “What is it?”
Jason pointed up, using his other hand to wave dust from the artifact’s surface. “Someone turned this huge horn of ivory into one massive piece of scrimshaw.”
Gray squinted and saw he was right. The artwork engraved into the tusk was broken by age and incomplete, but he could easily identify a collection of pyramids, tiered buildings, and spires.
He looked across the room to where Bailey and Yelagin conversed in low tones, searching the shelves and walls on that side. He remembered the bishop mentioning an archaeological discovery on islands in the White Sea.
Pyramids, tombs, and thrones.
Gray studied the scrimshaw.
Is this a peek of what those crumbling sites once looked like? Or is it evidence of a more sophisticated civilization even farther north?
Anna pointed up, but not at the mammoth tusk. “There’s a plaque on the wall. It’s inscribed with a long list of names. Like a memorial to lost explorers.”
Gray looked higher and saw she was right. “But what’s written to theleftof that list? Though it’s Cyrillic, it doesn’t look like a name.”
“It’s not. But I believe it proves that this is a testament to those who died exploring. Possibly those who sought out Hyperborea and never returned.”
“What does it say?”
She read the phrase aloud, “‘Never go there, never trespass, never wake that which is sleeping.’” She turned to Gray. “This may be part of the reason Catherine hid this library, kept her discoveries secret. She must have discovered something dangerous.”
“Then why preserve all of this?” Gray asked. “Why plant seeds under Moscow—possibly other places, too—that lead here? She must have wanted the library to be rediscovered.”
“Maybeeventually. She clearly believed the knowledge was worth safeguarding. Even if it was dangerous. Perhaps she feared those of her time weren’t ready for it, couldn’t handle it.”
Gray slowly nodded. “She planted those seeds for a future generation to discover. Maybe as a test.” He pictured the boobytrapped vault and the encrypted page in the Greek book. “To prove we’re cautious enough and wise enough to receive such knowledge.”
“But are we?” Anna challenged him. “My brother’s team wasn’t cautious enough and suffered for it. And while we might have proved clever enough in solving her encryption, it was only bycheating—by using our technology to peer through the Lavra’s sketch to see her easier puzzle.”
Gray couldn’t argue with her.
