"This is a very old language." Harry Kim studied the photograph through thick-lensed reading glasses.
"The fact that the surface is scratched up and worn smooth doesn't help." Annja sipped her coffee and picked up another breakfast roll.
"No." Mr. Kim ran a finger under a line. "This is a Cantonese language, not Classical Chinese." He looked up at her. "Do you know Classical Chinese?"
"Not the language. But I know what it is. The Qin Dynasty established the written language that's become known as Classical Chinese so that Emperor Qin Shi Huang and his advisors could keep track of the various provinces they subjugated. The Qin Dynasty didn't remain in power too long."
"No, they did not," Harry Kim smiled. "You might know more about China's history than I do, Miss Creed."
Annja smiled back. "But I don't know the language."
Turning his attention back to the photograph, Harry Kim shrugged. "I do. A little. The problem with language is that it changes over the years."
"I know. Slang. References to people, places, and events. New technology. New philosophical or social thinking. All of those things get introduced into a culture and come out as new words or terms somewhere," Annja said.
Kim nodded. "Your parents must be very proud of you."
Normally Annja would have ducked such a statement, but Harry Kim was so honest she couldn't just ignore his generosity.
"I don't have any parents," she said. "I was raised in an orphanage."
Kim looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean – "
"It's okay."
"Family is important," he said. "One should not go through this world without it."
"I agree." Annja walled away that old familiar pang. She'd watched Harry Kim talking to his daughter and saw their easy relationship. Having someone like that must be nice, she thought.
Incredibly, Roux and Garin, the two men who had searched for the pieces of the sword for over five hundred years came to her mind. Actually, only Roux had looked for it. Garin had hoped it was never found. Neither man was family to her, but they shared ties that had come from the sword's reforging. Annja didn't know how deeply those ties ran, but they were deeper than anything else she'd ever had.
"In Chinese culture, family is one of the most important aspects." Harry Kim pointed at the photograph. "That is the meaning of this belt plaque."
"It's a family history?"
"Partly. But it's larger than that." Harry Kim sighed. "I can't understand everything here. Cantonese is largely dependent on common usage. There are references here that I don't understand."
Annja woke her PDA and took out the stylus. "Let's work on what you can understand. If we can't fill in the blanks, we can at least define them."
****
Long minutes later, Annja glared at the sparse information Harry Kim had gleaned from the photograph. She hated being stymied.
"Have you ever heard of a place called the City of the Sands?"
"No. No place by that name. Not until this photograph," Kim said.
"What about in legend or myth?"
Harry Kim shook his head. "I'd not even heard of LoulanCity before today, Miss Creed. You were the one with the knowledge of that place."
Annja sighed.
"You said LoulanCity was near the desert," Kim said. "Perhaps it was known as the City of the Sands."
Annja stood and stretched. That possibility just didn't feel right to her. She had no other explanation for it than that. So much of archaeology remained based on conjecture and educated guesswork. The absence of facts could be very frustrating.
"LoulanCity was at the northeastern edge of the TaklamakanDesert," Michelle suddenly spoke up from where she stood at the computer. Several Web pages were open on the screen. She'd obviously been following the discussion.
"I know." Annja glared at the photograph of the belt plaque that refused to give up its secrets. "Sven Hedin found the ruins of the city in 1899 while he was working on an exploration of the Silk Road. That area has been explored on a regular basis."
"A Chinese archaeological team is working a dig in that area right now." Michelle clicked on another screen, bringing it to the top.
Annja recognized the Web site as one of the pages she often visited.
"According to this, Dr. Michael Hu has returned to the dig site to follow up on the Chinese mummy that was found in – " Michelle trailed her finger along the screen.
"1980," Annja said.
Michelle looked at her. "You already knew that?"
"I did a lot of research before I came out here. Not just on the California Gold Rush and Chinese immigration, but on things that were currently going on over there. Dr. Hu's work caught my eye."
"You remembered that detail?"
"I've got a really good memory. In my line of work, you have to have one."
Michelle raised an eyebrow as she contemplated a picture on the computer screen. "Dr. Hu appears to be a good-looking man."
Annja refused to take the bait. "He's also published a number of papers and a few books on the history of the Silk Road. He seems very knowledgeable. From what I gathered, Dr. Hu is there looking for more evidence of the Mesolithic culture that was settled there before the city sprang up."
"Would that tie into this?" Harry Kim asked.
"I don't see how." Annja looked at her notes again. "The belt plaque didn't come from the Mesolithic era. I think the belt plaque might be a thousand years old or more, but the Mesolithic time is generally assumed to have started 10,000 years ago, then ended when humans started developing agriculture to supply food. Those periods ended at different times for different cultures, but first began in the Fertile Crescent area in the Middle East."
"This belt plaque also mentions the curse." Harry Kim was still studying the photograph. "Not only was the bearer of the belt plaque cursed, but so were all his progeny."
Annja waited, feeling excitement stirring within her. "What was the curse? And why was that person cursed?"
"If the reason is written here, I can't fathom it," Kim said. "Some of what is written here mentions a fox spirit. Are you familiar with those legends?"
"Yes. The fox spirit was supposed to be a fairy that lived on the life-force stolen from men." Annja had learned that a variation of the legend was common to most Asian cultures. "A fox spirit was supposed to be made up of yin, the female force. She sought out yang, the male force, and fed on it."
"Fox spirits are not always evil," Michelle said. "They can be good. Have you heard the legend of Daji?"
Annja thought for a moment. "I can't call it to mind."
"Daji was a character in a novel written during the time of the Ming Dynasty. The book was called Fengshen Yanyi."
"My daughter the scholar." Harry Kim leaned back and folded his arms over his thin chest. His words carried a hint of sarcasm, but Annja saw only pride on his face. "I sent her to college to learn stories she could have learned at her grandmother's feet."
Michelle rolled her eyes at her father's comments. "In the story, Daji was forced to marry Zhou Xin, who was quite villainous. During her suffering, a fox spirit entered her body and forced out the real Daji. The fox spirit was just as villainous as Zhou Xin, and together they taxed the populace unbearably and invented new tortures that had never before been seen. In time, Zhou Xin's generals rose up against him and one of them founded a new dynasty. After the generals beat Zhou Xin, the fox spirit was driven from Daji."
"What happened to Daji?" Annja asked.
"I don't remember. I'm sure it wasn't a happy ending."
"Fox spirits sound pretty evil to me," Annja said.
"But they're just as often romanticized." Michelle pulled up a picture on her screen of a lovely, near-naked woman. "Pu Songling, a writer in the early Qing Dynasty, authored hundreds of stories that usually featured supernatural elements. Many of them had fox spirits as characters, and several of those were love stories between men and ghosts and spirits. The thing to remember is that a fox spirit is not one thing or the other. It depends on what a fox spirit is here to do." Michelle looked at her father.
Harry Kim nodded. Then he smiled and shrugged. "If you believe in such things. These are enlightened times, Miss Creed. No one believes in fox spirits any more."
Annja thought of the sword she carried and how she could summon it when she needed to. "I'm sure there are still believers."
Harry Kim eyed her speculatively. "Perhaps you are right. I've seen things in my lifetime that I haven't been able to explain."
"Does it say why the original bearer of the belt plaque was cursed?" Annja asked.
Tapping the photograph, Harry Kim pursed his lips and paused. "Not exactly. There is some mention of some great wrong." He shrugged. "I can only translate that it had to do with the demise of the 'City of the Sands.' I suppose it could mean the city itself, but I would think it would be more in keeping if the person who delivered the curse were an emperor or a warlord or a leader of some kind."
"Who did the transcription?"
Surprise tightened Harry Kim's features. "That's a good question. Not everyone would have known how to read or write when the belt plaque was made."
Annja nodded. "The person who made the belt plaque either knew how to read or write, or told someone who could."
"Or the person who placed the curse upon the man inscribed the back of the belt plaque," Kim said.
"Did Ban Zexu know the belt plaque was cursed?"
"It's not the belt plaque that was cursed. It was the original ancestor. And all those who came after him." Harry Kim looked at Annja. "The whole lineage was cursed."
Annja considered that. Familial curses, both given and received, figured into a lot of myths and legends.
"Why would Ban Zexu carry the belt plaque?" Annja looked at the photograph again. "Why would he want a constant reminder that his family had been cursed?"
Harry Kim sighed. "I have no idea. He would not have wanted to be reminded. Nor would any of his ancestors before him."
"Someone should have gotten rid of it along the way," Annja said.
"Or at least been careless and lost it. I lose things from time to time. Even things that I want to hang on to," Kim said.
"The belt plaque would have been worth something to a collector," Michelle pointed out.
"Perhaps, Ban Zexu or his family were not the original owners of the belt plaque. He could have purchased it or stolen it. Perhaps the man – Huangfu Cao – who contacted you and brought you here had discovered the belt plaque had been taken from his family. Perhaps Ban Zexu only found it after the cursed family member died. It could have been a keepsake," Kim said.
"Who would want a cursed heirloom, Dad?"
"Someone who didn't know what it was." Kim considered the photograph. "Or someone who believed that getting rid of the belt plaque would have brought forth even worse luck."
"There's no family name on the belt plaque?" Annja asked.
Harry Kim shook his head. "No."
Dead end, Annja thought morosely.
"If you ever find out the truth of the belt plaque," Harry Kim said, "I would very much like to know." He tapped the book of local legend that lay on the table. "For my book."
"Of course." Annja smiled at him. "I hope that one day I can tell you that story." That means I'll know it myself, she thought.