The Descent

'Tell me, as a professional,' he asked, 'what do you make of this exhibit?'

She  was  being  tested,  and  January  was  in  on  it.  Ali  went  along  with  them  for  the moment,  cautiously.  'I'm  a  little  surprised,'  she  ventured,  'by  their  taste  for  sacred relics.'  She  pointed  at  strands  of  prayer  beads  originally  from  Tibet,  China,  Sierra Leone,  Peru,  Byzantium,  Viking  Denmark,  and  Palestine.  Next  to  them  was  a  display case  with  crucifixes  and  calligrams  and  chalices  made  of  gold  and  silver.  'Who  would think they'd  collect such exquisitely  delicate work?  This is more what I would expect.' She passed a suit of twelfth-century  Mongolian armor,  pierced  and  still  stained  with blood.  Elsewhere   there   were   brutally   used   weapons   and  armor,   and   devices   of torture...  though  the  display  literature  reminded  viewers  that  the  devices  had  been human to begin with.

They  stopped in  front  of  a  blow-up  of  the  famous  photo  of  a  hadal  about  to  destroy an  early  reconnaissance  robot  with  a  club.  It  represented  modern  mankind's  first public contact with 'them,'  one  of  those  events  people  remember  ever  after  by  where they  were  standing  or  what  they  were  doing  at  the  moment.  The  creature  looked berserk  and demonic, with hornlike growths on his albino skull.

'The pity  is,' Ali said, 'we may  never  know  who  the  hadals  really  were  before  it's  too late.'

'It may  already  be too late,' January offered.

'I don't believe  that,' Ali said.

Thomas  and  January  traded  a  look.  He  made  up  his  mind.  'I  wonder  if  we  might discuss  a  certain  matter  with  you,'  he  said.  Immediately,  Ali  knew   this  was   the purpose of her entire visit to New York,  which January had arranged and paid for.

'We belong to a society,' January now started  to explain. 'Thomas has been collecting us  from  around  the  world  for  years.  We  call  ourselves  the  Beowulf  Circle.  It  is  quite informal,  and  our  meetings  are  infrequent.  We  come  together  at  various  places  to share our revelations with one another and to –'

Before she could say  more, a guard barked,  'Put that down.'

There  was a sudden commotion as guards rushed down. At the center  of  their  alarm were  two  of  those  people  who  had  come  in  behind  Thomas  and  January.  It  was  the younger man with long hair. He was hefting an iron sword from one of the displays.

'It is for me,' his blind companion  apologized,  and  accepted  the  heavy  sword  into  his open palms. 'I asked my  companion, Santos –'

'It's  all  right,  gentlemen,'  January  told  the  guards.  'Dr.  de  l'Orme  is  a  renowned specialist.'

'Bernard  de  l'Orme?'  Ali  whispered.  He  had  parted  jungles  and  rivers  to  uncover sites throughout Asia. Reading about him, she had always  thought of him  as  a  physical giant.

Unconcerned,    de    l'Orme    went    on    touching    the    early  Saxon   blade   and leather-wrapped  handle,  seeing  it  with  his  fingertips.  He  smelled  the  leather,  licked the iron.

'Marvelous,' he pronounced.

'What are you doing?' January asked him.

'Remembering  a  story,'  he  answered.  'An  Argentine  poet  once  told  of  two  gauchos who entered  a deadly knife fight because the knife itself compelled them.'

The  blind  man  held  up  the  ancient  sword  used  by  man  and  his  demon  both.  'I  was just wondering about the memory  of iron,' he said.

'My friends,' Thomas welcomed his sleuths, 'we should begin.'

Ali  watched  them  materialize  from  the  darkened  library  stacks.  Suddenly,  Ali  felt only  half  dressed.  In  Vatican  City,  winter  was  still  scourging  the  brick  streets  with sleet. By contrast, her little Christmas holiday in New York  City was  feeling  downright Roman,  as  balmy  as  late  summer.  But  her  sundress  served  to  emphasize  these  old people's   fragility,   for   they   were   cold   despite   the   warmth   outside.   Some   wore

fashionable ski parkas, while others shivered  in layers  of wool or tweed.

They  gathered  around  a  table  made  of  English  oak,  cut  and  polished  before  the  era of  great  cathedrals.  It  had  survived  wars  and  terrors,  kings,  popes,  and  bourgeoisie, and  even  researchers.  The  walls  were  massed  with  nautical  charts  drawn  before America was a word.

Here  was  the  set  of  gleaming  instruments  Captain  Bligh  had  used  to  guide  his castaways   back   to  civilization.  A  glass  case   held  a  stick-and-shell   map  used   by Micronesian  fishermen  to  follow  ocean  currents  between  islands.  In  the  corner  stood the   complicated  Ptolemaic  astrolabe   that   had  been   used   in   Galileo's   inquisition. Columbus's map of the  New  World  occupied  a  corner  of  one  wall,  raw,  exotic;  painted upon a sheepskin, its legs used to indicate the cardinal directions.