Free The Kingdom by Clive Cussler Page B

which he supposedly appears. It was taken a year ago in Lo Monthang. We found that parchment at Lewis’s home.”
    “Do you have this picture with you?”
    “No,” Remi said, then glanced at Sam. Their shared expression said, Why didn’t we ask for a copy of the picture? Rookie mistake. “I’m sure we can get it, though.”
    “If it is not too much trouble. I like to think I would recognize Bully if it were truly him.”
    “Has anyone else come to see you recently about King?”
    Kaalrami hesitated again, tapping an index finger on her lip. “A year ago, perhaps a bit longer than that, a pair of kids were here. Strange-looking pair—”
    “Twins? Blond hair, blue eyes, Asian features?”
    “Yes! I did not particularly like them. I know that is not a charitable thing to say, but I must be honest. There was just something about them . . .” Kaalrami shrugged.
    “Do you remember what they asked you?”
    “Just general questions about Bully—if I had any old letters from him or remember him talking about his work in the region. I could not help them.”
    “They didn’t have a copy of this parchment?”
    “No.”
    Sam asked, “We never found the original translation. Would you mind?”
    “I can give you the essence of it, but a written translation will take a while. I could do that tonight, if you’d like.”
    “Thank you,” said Remi. “We’d be most grateful.”
    Professor Kaalrami adjusted her glasses and centered the parchment before her. Slowly she began tracing her finger down the lines of text, her lips moving soundlessly.
    After five minutes, she looked up. She cleared her throat.
    “It is a royal edict of sorts. The Lowa phrase does not translate well to English, but it is an official order. Of that, I’m certain.”
    “Is there a date?”
    “No, but if you look here, at the upper left corner, there’s a piece of text missing. Was it on the original parchment?”
    “No, I photographed it exactly as it appeared. Do you remember if the date was on the original you saw?”
    “No, I’m afraid not.”
    “Would you care to venture a guess?”
    “Do not hold me to this, but I would estimate between six and seven hundred years old.”
    “Go on, please,” Sam prompted.
    “Again, you must wait for the written version . . .”
    “We understand.”
    “It is an order to a group of soldiers . . . special soldiers called Sentinels. They are instructed to carry out a plan of some kind—something detailed in another document, I suspect. The plan is designed to remove something called the Theurang from its place of hiding and transport it to safety.”
    “Why?”
    “Something to do with an invasion.”
    “Does it explain what the Theurang is?”
    “I do not think so. I am sorry, most of this is only vaguely familiar to me. This was four decades ago. I remember the word because it is unusual, but I do not think I followed up on it. I am a classics teacher. However, I have no doubt there is someone on staff here who would be of more help with the word. I can check for you.”
    “We’d appreciate that,” Sam replied. “Do you remember Lewis’s reaction when you gave him the translation?”
    Kaalrami smiled. “He was elated, as I recall. But, then again, Bully never lacked for enthusiasm. He lived life to its fullest, that man.”
    “Did he say where he found the parchment?”
    “If he did, I don’t remember. Perhaps tonight, while I’m translating this, more will come back to me.”
    “One last question,” Remi said. “What do you remember about the time Lewis disappeared?”
    “Oh, yes, I remember. We spent the morning together. We had a brunch picnic along a river. The Bagmati, on the southwestern side of the city.”
    In unison, Sam and Remi leaned forward. Sam asked, “Chobar Gorge?”
    Professor Kaalrami smiled and tilted her head at Sam. “Yes. How did you know?”
    “Lucky guess. And after the picnic?”
    “Lewis had his backpack with him—that was more common than not