Monk leaned closer. “Who are these Scythians?”
Bishop Yelagin answered with a furrowed brow. “A Bronze Age people. Nomads of our northern steppes. They were known for their militant nature.”
Yelagin gave a small shake of his head, as if struggling to put thesepieces together. But the man’s lips drew into hard lines, suggestive that he wanted to say more, but was holding off.
Bailey drew forth another page. “Here is an account of two maidens of Hyperborea who traveled to Greece, to the city of Delos. They came bearing offerings of bundled straw, a hay impregnated with medicinals that were said to heal the incurable.”
Sister Anna nodded. “According to legend, the Hyperborean were a peaceful people from a verdant land and were gifted with long lives, many times a normal lifespan.”
“Perhaps such long lives were due to this strange medicine,” Bailey suggested.
Monk frowned. “If so, what became of these maidens and their miraculous cure?”
Bailey sighed. “According to Herodotus, the maidens were killed in Delos, which angered the Hyperborean people and caused them to close their borders. Afterward, Herodotus writes, ‘In honor of the maidens, Delian girls and boys still cut their hair and make sacrifices with bundles of straw.’”
Bailey lowered the page. “And it’s not just Herodotus who writes about Hyperborea. Plato mentions it inCharmides. Pseudo-Apollodorus inBibliotheca. And so many others. Virgil, Ovid, Seneca, Pliny the Elder, on and on.”
Gray huffed in exasperation. “Still, this all sounds like hearsay. Does Herodotus—or anyone else—offer concrete information about this place? Like where it might be located?”
“No,” Bailey admitted. “And I can’t say for sure if these marked passages are even related to the Golden Library. Whoever annotated them could’ve done so long before the illuminated sketch was added to the front of the book.”
“Then why are we focusing on this angle?” Gray pressed him.
“Because of thoseotherdrawings in the book.” Bailey slid over a page. “Like this one. I’ve consulted with Sister Anna and Bishop Yelagin. From the exacting detail, the strokes of the lines, and the fade in the ink, we all believe this was drawn at the same time, possibly by the same hand, as the sketch of the gilded book and the Trinity Lavra.”
Gray reached over and drew the photo closer. During the flight to Moscow, he had studied all the pics transmitted by the monsignor. This one had caught his eye, not only because of its strangeness, but also because it had nagged at him, and more so now—but he could not pin down what troubled him.
The photo was of a page from the book, likely a chapter ending, where someone had filled the lower half with a detailed sketch of jagged peaks surrounding a valley, one that contained what appeared to be a circular labyrinth, or maybe a shimmering lake, encompassing a lone mountain at its center.
Gray understood why Bailey had pointed out this page. “You believe this is a sketch of Hyperborea?”
“At least some corner of it. But whether the artwork was based on an eyewitness account or on some fanciful speculation, I can’t say.But the presence of this sketch—one that was drawn at the same time as the gilded artwork at the front—suggests that the marked passages concerning Hyperborea are related to all of this.”
Gray sighed, recognizing that it was worth considering. Still, he could not shake the persistent sense he was missing something.
He stared again at the drawing.
Something about that sketch...
His rumination was interrupted by Bishop Yelagin, who had found his voice again, loosening those tight lips. “Commander Pierce, the two men who you saw at the monastery, could you describe them?”
Up until now, Gray had avoided sharing too much information with the Russian pair, but he recognized that the two had been cooperative so far. Plus, he wanted any information he could gather on those who had hired Valya Mikhailov.
Not that he wasn’t already pursuing the matter on his own.
Since arriving here, Jason had sequestered himself in a neighboring room, working on a solo project, while also consulting with Sigma Command. Gray had already briefed Director Crowe about all that had transpired, and Kat was doing her own research into Valya’s employers.
Still, if possible, he wanted any firsthand knowledge.
Gray drew out a handheld tablet and brought up the photos of the two men that he had taken with his digital spyglass back at the monastery. The pictures were grainy, especially facial details, but the images were clear enough.
Yelagin studied them for a breath, then closed his eyes and gave a small shake of his head, not in refusal, but in sad resignation.
Sister Anna leaned over to examine them, too. Her reaction was far more incredulous. “It can’t be...” She glanced to Yelagin and pointed to the image of the hulking figure in a cassock and hat. “From his size and facial scar, that must be Yerik Raz,nyet?”
The bishop nodded.
Anna turned to them. “He serves commonly as a retainer for—”
