“I believe this is a piece of—”
“The Lost Tablets of Alexandria!” Dr. Navel interrupted, gasping, and no longer looking at his children. Suddenly, the room went silent and all heads turned toward him. “From the Lost Library itself.”
“And there’s another thing,” said Choden Thordup, turning the document over to reveal the back. It was covered in small, neat letters, written in light blue ink.
When he saw it, Dr. Navel gasped and dropped his sherry glass to the floor, where it shattered.
6
WE WITNESS A WAGER
DR. NAVEL TOOK the plastic folder from the mountain climber and studied it carefully, as the whole room got quiet.
“This is my wife’s handwriting,” he said. Oliver and Celia looked at each other, stunned. For a second, they forgot all about the plot to destroy their father.
“I do not know the language on the paper,” explained Choden Thordup. “But the image at the top of the page is clearly the seal of Alexander the Great. Your wife, thankfully, wrote in English on the back.”
“Mom?” Oliver mouthed at Celia, who just shook her head with confusion. They had both seen their father get excited about clues before. He’d dragged them all over the world looking for their mother, and it never led to anything but long flights, animal attacks, missed television, lizard bites and disappointment. Celia just couldn’t get too excited about some old piece of paper. And Oliver got his hopes up way too easily. Sometimes Celia felt like she was three years older than her brother, rather than three minutes and forty-two seconds.
“The language is ancient Greek,” Dr. Navel pointed out, and Celia managed to see strange letters and weird symbols curling around each other.
For years, she’d heard her father say the phrase “it’s all Greek to me” when he didn’t understand something, and now she knew what he meant. The symbols didn’t look like any letters Celia knew. She couldn’t understand them at all.
“‘Mega biblion, mega kakon,’” Dr. Navel read out loud.
Ancient Greek, we should note, wasn’t “all Greek” to Dr. Navel. He understood it perfectly, as any decent explorer would.
“Big books, big evil!” said Dr. Navel. “A statement by the famous Callimachus.”
“Who is Callimachus?” Oliver asked, and his sister glared at him. Her brother was already distracted from the point of coming to the ceremony—to warn their father and to get cable.
“He was a scholar at the Library of Alexandria,” Dr. Navel said. “He invented the first classification system in the world. He organized all the knowledge in the library—which was written on these tablets. The Lost Tablets are the catalog of the Great Library—a complete account of all its wonders. They were created back before the library was lost.”
“That doesn’t look like a tablet,” Oliver said.
“Well, they called them tablets,” Dr. Navel answered, “but they really used parchment to write them. It wouldn’t have been practical to carve new tablets for every book and scroll. The library was far too big. It held all the knowledge in the world.”
“Ugh,” Celia groaned. “We have to hear about librarians now? This is worse than school! Worse than afternoon public television! Dad, we have to warn you about—”
“Callimachus had a feud with the other scholars in Alexandria,” Dr. Navel continued, thinking out loud and not hearing a word his daughter was trying to say. “Some said he was part of a secret society that was trying to take over the library and seal it off from the world, but no proof has ever been found.”
“Why was he a librarian if he thought big books were evil? Why would he want to seal it off?” Oliver wondered, and then saw his sister glaring at him again. “You know, as if I cared,” he added.
“That is an excellent question,” Dr. Navel said, thrilled his son was taking an interest. Their mother always said that their father had “selective hearing.” Celia never knew what that meant until now. “Callimachus was from the noble class, and he hated the idea of common people having access to all that knowledge. Knowledge is power, after all, and all the knowledge in the world would mean all the power in the world. Callimachus thought that that power should be kept for only a few—”
“Dad,” Celia interrupted, because she just didn’t care about ancient librarians. “We have to warn you about—”
“Look at what your wife says,” Choden Thordup interrupted Celia, who was getting really sick of being ignored.
Dr. Navel ignored Celia too. He also forgot what he was talking about, and immediately flipped the page over to look at his wife’s handwriting. He read aloud what she had written:
“ ‘November fourth’—She wrote the date! We know when she was there!” he said, as if it were the most exciting news in the world. “ ‘November fourth, little time left; they are close behind me, letting me search for the missing pages until they strike’—She was being chased!” Dr. Navel looked around the room to see if anyone else shared his concern, but all the explorers wanted to hear was what she said about that parchment. “ ‘I’m closer now than I’ve imagined. No one thought the Great Library might be in Shangri-La. Only the shamans’ eyes can tell the way from here.’ ” Dr. Navel fell silent for a moment. “That’s all she wrote,” he sighed. “She did some strange sketches of skeletons and demons and things. . . . I’ve never seen anything like them before.”
“What’s going on?” Oliver whispered to his sister.
“Don’t ask me,” she whispered back. “I’m supposed to be watching the Duchess in Business Class tango with Captain Sinclair.”
“I hate dancing,” Oliver said. “And I’m hungry.”
Celebrity Whisk Warriors would just be coming on after The World’s Greatest Animal Chases Three. It was one of Oliver’s favorites. Celebrities had to make exotic meals for famous chefs in dangerous situations. The best meal cooked with the fewest injuries won money for charity.
Celebrity Whisk Warriors reminded him of his mother, who loved to cook, though she always made weird things like roasted caterpillar pie or scorpion soufflé. Oliver was getting really hungry just thinking about food, and all this was taking too long. He craved fried chicken and strawberry shortcake, or an ice cream sundae and cheese puffs. His mouth watered, but he didn’t dare eat any of the food the waiters were carrying on trays. It was all weird things his mother would have liked.
“All right, Dad!” Celia finally said, fed up with how long it was taking to tell their father that someone wanted him dead. These things should really be easier to do. “We have to tell you something!”
“Not now, Celia!” Dr. Navel snapped. “Can’t you see that your mother might have made the greatest discovery of the past two thousand years? She might have found Shangri-La and the Lost Library at the same time!”
“But Sir Edmund is trying to kill you!” Celia shouted.
The room went silent for what felt like forever.
“Can we get cable now?” Oliver muttered, staring down at his feet.
“What?” said Dr. Navel.
“Can we get cable?” Oliver repeated quietly.
“We heard Sir Edmund plotting to kill you,” said Celia. “And we thought if we warned you, we could get cable installed in the apartment.”
“Nonsense!” a voice from the crowd shouted.
No one could see where the voice came from.
“Lies!” the voice called again, and everyone looked down to see Sir Edmund as he stepped into the conversation, wagging his finger into the air.
He wore a black tuxedo with a frilly ruffled shirt. His jacket had decorative bands on the shoulders, like a military officer’s, and he wore a gold medal on his chest emblazoned with an emblem of a scroll locked in chains. The chains were encrusted with jewels and they sparkled right into the children’s eyes.
“Your children have seen too many movies.”
“I agree with you,” said Dr. Navel, “but I do wonder why they would make this up. I have never known them to imagine a
nything at all before.”
“Because they are brats,” Sir Edmund said. “And they believe too much in fiction. It must run in the family,” he sneered. “This document could not possibly be from the Lost Library of Alexandria. The tablets are as lost as the library itself. And there is no such place as Shangri-La. If you believe in this foolishness, you are as foolish as your foolish children.”
“I do wonder,” said Dr. Navel, turning back to the mountain climber. “If this is indeed a Lost Tablet from the Great Library of Alexandria, how did it get into Tibet? Who are these shamans my wife mentions? And who was chasing her? And, of course, where are the rest of the Lost Tablets? What do her drawings mean? Where is Shangri-La? So many questions . . .ʹ
“Excuse me!” Sir Edmund called up at Dr. Navel. “I said you are a fool!”
“Yes,” Dr. Navel replied, “I heard you. I have more important things to do right now than worry about your opinion of me.”
“He also threatened to kill you!” Oliver called out, but none of the adults reacted. Threats were nothing new at the Ceremony of Discovery.
“Do you really think Shangri-La could be real?” Professor Eckhart asked.
“Why not?” said Dr. Navel, thinking out loud. “The legend says that there is a secret place somewhere in Tibet called Shangri-La. It is an earthly paradise, hidden and protected from the evils of the world. The monks of Shangri-La safeguard all the wisdom of the universe so that, if humanity ever falls into ruin, all will not be lost. It is possible, I suppose, that when the Great Library was destroyed, some wise scholar could have secreted the tablets away to Tibet. A secret city would be the perfect place to hide a Lost Library.”
“This is what I believe,” added Choden Thordup excitedly.
“This is ridiculous,” Celia said to her brother. “There’s a real plot to kill Dad and all these explorers can think about is a stupid library catalog and a made-up place hiding a stupid library. I’m missing Love at 30,000 Feet for this?”
“No,” Oliver said. “You’re missing The World’s Greatest Animal Chases Three. And what if this helps Dad find Mom?”
“What if the Codex of Zanzibar last year helped Dad find Mom?” Celia answered tartly. “Or the trip to the Golden Sarcophagus of Peru or the trek through New Zealand or the deep-sea exploration over winter vacation? There are always clues and they never lead anywhere except to missing our shows and you getting bitten by lizards.”
Celia’s eyes had welled with tears. Oliver’s too. He didn’t like it when his twin sister scolded him. But he couldn’t help thinking she was right. Except this time, the page had their mother’s handwriting on it, didn’t it? That clue had to mean something more than any of the others had. But something felt wrong about it. He couldn’t figure out what it was, but something just didn’t feel right.
“Something just doesn’t feel right,” Celia said. As annoying as it could be to have a twin sister, sometimes it was helpful. Oliver didn’t have to say anything. They were thinking the same thing. There was something not right about Choden Thordup either, for that matter.
Celia thought the Tibetan mountain climber looked the way a person looks when she’s just handed in a paper about a book she didn’t read. The teacher always says that seeing a movie isn’t the same thing, but it’s so much more fun to watch the movie, so you do and then you write the paper and you hope that the book and the movie are the same and that the teacher won’t notice. Choden Thordup had that look on her face. Celia knew that look. She was an expert in it.
“Shangri-La is a fantasy,” Sir Edmund scoffed. “Only fools believe in it.” He looked menacingly at Dr. Navel. Oliver and Celia tried to glare menacingly back at him, but he didn’t even seem to notice.
“My wife was no fool,” Celia and Oliver’s father answered. “She believed in it. I wasn’t certain until now, but I believe she found it, which means she was right about the Great Library too. The Lost Tablets are the closest thing we have to finding the library itself.”
He held the paper up above Sir Edmund, who did not even bother to look up at it.
“Don’t be an idiot, Navel.” Sir Edmund rolled his eyes. “You’ll get the children’s hopes up.”
Oliver and Celia looked to their father, who gazed back at them with his gentle blue eyes that held so much sadness. His glasses had slipped down his nose again. He missed their mother, very dearly.
“The scientific value of such a discovery would be unimaginable,” he finally answered. “Shangri-La and the Lost Tablets of Alexandria!”
“Poppycock!” Sir Edmund shouted.
“I am no liar, sir,” Choden Thordup added. “This place is real.”
“Rubbish!” said Sir Edmund. “No such thing.”
“But the doctor’s wife’s writing suggests that—”
“Balderdash!” Sir Edmund cut her off.
“You do wrong to insult our guest,” Dr. Navel said.
“You do wrong to believe in such a fairy tale. I think this discovery is just a cry for attention from an unknown mountain climber trying to make a name for herself. Who ever heard of Choden Thordup before today?”
The explorers’ murmurs got louder, but no one spoke up.
“I’ve discovered more in my sock drawer than you will ever see in your entire life,” Choden Thordup finally answered.
“Name one thing!”
“If we were in my country, Sir Edmund,” she snapped, “I would feed you to a yak.”
“Yaks don’t even eat meat,” said Sir Edmund.
“For you, they would make an exception,” Choden replied.
Oliver and Celia smirked at each other. This was almost as good as a soap opera. Sure, their father’s life was in danger—even though he didn’t seem to care—and their mother might be found, and threats were flying back and forth across the room like paper airplanes during study hall, but this sort of thing happened every day on television, and you could eat microwave popcorn while you watched it. All the snacks at the Ceremony of Discovery were slimy. Some were still moving.
“Enough!” shouted Professor Kamil Rasmali-Greenberg, the president of the Explorers Club and the most legendary adventurer in the world. He had been made a king in several countries, was called a god in others and had the world’s largest collection of ties with ducks on them. He was wearing a thick purple and green one at the moment, and, because he was a very big man, the tie was almost as wide as Celia’s head.
“I will not have more arguing than usual at this meeting,” the professor announced. “We have now reached eight minutes of shouting and death threats for every one minute of meaningful discussion and that ratio cannot stand. There are two children standing here who are anxious for this gathering to be finished.” He winked at Oliver and Celia.
“True explorers do not behave like this,” the professor continued. “Unless their reputations are at stake. Therefore . . .” He paused and let his gaze sweep across the room. “I propose we settle this like proper members of this fine institution: with a wager.”
Another murmur spread through the room, along with some excited applause. Explorers love a bet, especially one with a risk of death or dismemberment.
“If Dr. Navel can follow his wife’s path to Shangri-La and discover the remainder of the Lost Tablets, he will gain fame and glory for all time,” said the professor.
“And if he cannot?” Sir Edmund asked, his voice dripping with contempt.
“If he cannot . . .” Professor Rasmali-Greenberg sighed, uncertain.
“I have a suggestion.” Sir Edmund smirked. “If he cannot find the Lost Tablets, he will be banished from the Explorers Club in disgrace . . . forever.”
A flurry of whispers and speculation passed through the Great Hall, and all eyes, including those of Celia and Oliver, went to Dr. Navel, who remained calm and cool. A grin crept across his face.
“I’ll accept this wager, on one condition,” he said. “If I win, Sir Edmund will also pay for the installation of cable televis
ion into our apartment.”
Oliver and Celia almost cheered.
“I have another condition too, then,” Sir Edmund snapped. “If you lose the wager, your children will become my servants.”
“Only during vacations,” Dr. Navel said. “They have school.”
“Every vacation until they are eighteen,” Sir Edmund responded. “Even the short ones.”
The twins’ smiles vanished. Their eyes went wide.
“Daaaaad . . .,” they both said warily, shaking their heads. “Daaaaad?”
“Agreed,” said Dr. Navel, and he extended his hand down to Sir Edmund, while Oliver and Celia stood with their mouths hanging open. “A wager is made.”
“It is made,” Sir Edmund said, reaching up to shake Dr. Navel’s hand with a curt snap of his wrist. He leaned in close to Oliver and Celia and sighed. His breath wrinkled their noses. “Your foolish father has doomed you, I’m afraid. This journey will lead you only to despair. A pity.”
He turned and left the room abruptly. Other explorers cleared a path for him as he went. The top of his head brushed the bottoms of everyone’s sherry glasses, but he held it high and knocked more than one to the floor.
“Dad,” Oliver tried again, once Sir Edmund was gone. “We heard him say he wanted to destroy you! What if you’ve fallen into his trap? And stuck us in it too!”
“Don’t be so suspicious, son,” Dr. Navel said. “You’ve seen too many spy movies. Sir Edmund is not nearly clever enough to trick me like that. I’ve been everywhere from Machu Picchu to Dayton, Ohio. I think I can handle him.”
“But Dad,” Oliver objected once more. Celia elbowed him in the ribs.
“Shhhhhhh,” she whispered. “If Dad wins this bet, we get cable.”
“But what if he loses?”
“Ms. Thordup,” Dr. Navel said to the mountain climber. “I would like very much to question you further about how you came to find this document and what you know of this hidden temple behind the waterfall. Perhaps you can even help us find a guide for the journey.” He turned back to Oliver and Celia. “Children, I’m glad to see you are already packed. We will leave for Tibet right away.”
We Are Not Eaten by Yaks Page 4
