of hours in Almaty.»
She nodded and gestured for him to follow her.
«My car is in the parking lot. I’ve booked a room for you in a hotel downtown. Inexpensive, but clean. I think you’ll like it.»
They walked side by side, maintaining their distance. The air between them seemed filled with unspoken words. Alexei searched for a way to start a conversation, but everything felt inappropriate or banal.
«You’ve changed a lot,» Dinara said unexpectedly as they approached her car – a small blue Toyota. «You look… sterner.»
Alexei smirked.
«And you’re still the same,» he replied.
It was a lie. She had changed. Become more confident, more reserved. During their student years, Dinara had been open and impulsive, always ready to argue and defend her point of view. Now there was a kind of inner strength and calmness about her that hadn’t been there before.
They got into the car, and Dinara confidently steered out of the parking lot. They drove in silence for several minutes. Finally, Alexei couldn’t stand it and asked:
«How is your grandfather? Is he still alive?»
«Yes, he’s alive,» Dinara nodded. «He’s 84 now, but still a sturdy old man. Lives in a village near Issyk-Kul. Grows apples and keeps a bee farm.»
«I’d like to meet him.»
Dinara gave him a quick glance.
«That might be arranged. But first, tell me what you found.»
Alexei hesitated. On one hand, he had come specifically for this – to share his discovery and get help. On the other – something made him cautious. Perhaps it was Dinara’s strange warning on the phone, or simply the years spent in academia, where one always needed to protect one’s research from competitors.
«I’ll show you when we’re in a secure place,» he finally said.
Dinara braked sharply at a traffic light and turned to him.
«You don’t trust me?» There was more surprise than offense in her voice.
«It’s not that,» Alexei rubbed his temple. «It’s just… my grandfather warned me to be careful. And you said something similar on the phone.»
The light turned green, and Dinara focused on the road again.
«All right,» she said after a pause. «First, we’ll go to the museum. I have an office where we can talk privately.»
They drove the rest of the way in silence. Alexei looked out the window at Bishkek. It was a modern city with new buildings, billboards, and wide avenues. But what distinguished it from other similar cities Alexei had visited was the abundance of greenery and the mountains on the horizon.
Finally, they arrived at the Historical Museum building – an imposing structure of Soviet architecture with a wide marble staircase. Dinara parked in the staff parking area and led Alexei through a side entrance.
«This wing houses the restoration workshops and staff offices,» she explained, swiping her card through an electronic lock. «I have a small office on the second floor.»
They climbed the stairs and walked down a corridor lined with shelves stacked with cardboard boxes and wooden crates. Dinara stopped at one of the doors and took out her keys.
Her office turned out to be a small but cozy room with a window. Bookshelves filled with academic literature, a desk with a computer, and maps of Central Asia and photographs of archaeological excavations on the walls. In the corner stood a small sofa and a coffee table – evidently a place for relaxation and conversations with colleagues.
«Make yourself comfortable,» said Dinara, pointing to the sofa. «Would you like some tea? I have an electric kettle.»
«Thank you, I wouldn’t mind.»
Dinara switched on the kettle and sat opposite Alexei, folding her hands in her lap.
«Now we can talk calmly. What did you find in your grandfather’s archive?»
Alexei took a deep breath and removed the medallion on a chain from the inner pocket of his jacket. The silver disc gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window.
«This.» He placed the medallion on the table between them. «According to my grandfather’s diary, this artifact was found during the expedition to Issyk-Kul in 1954. Your grandfather, then just a boy, helped with the expedition and seems to have been somehow connected to this find.»
Dinara examined the medallion with evident interest, but without touching it.
«My grandfather did indeed often talk about the 1954 expedition. He lived with his parents in a village near the excavation site and helped the scientists as a guide.» She raised her eyes to Alexei. «But he never mentioned any medallion.»
Alexei nodded.
«In my grandfather’s diary, there’s an entry where he decided to hide the find from his superiors. And that your grandfather said the medallion ’wanted to stay’ with him.»
Dinara smiled slightly.
«That sounds like my grandfather. He always had a special sense for ancient things. He said they ’spoke’ to him.»
The kettle clicked off. Dinara stood to prepare the tea. Her movements were fluid and precise, like someone accustomed to working with fragile artifacts.
«Did you open it?» she asked without turning around.
«Yes,» Alexei replied. «Inside was a parchment with an inscription in Latin and something like a fragment of a map. „Lux in aqua, aqua in luce. Clavis Salomonis aperiet viam.“ Light in water, water in light. Solomon’s key will open the way.»
Dinara froze for a moment, then slowly turned to him. Her face had become serious.
«Solomon’s key,» she repeated. «That’s interesting. In our region, there are legends about sacred artifacts hidden in the waters of Issyk-Kul. Some of them are connected to the Nestorians who fled from the Mongols in the 13th century.» She placed a cup of tea in front of Alexei. «But I’ve never heard of a «Solomon’s Key’ in this context.»
Alexei sipped the hot tea – strong and sweet, as is customary in Central Asia.
«I studied this matter before my trip. The «Key of Solomon’ in Western tradition is a grimoire, a book of spells attributed to King Solomon. But judging by the context, this refers to some physical object.»
«Perhaps it’s a metaphor,» Dinara suggested. «Or…» she fell silent, as if contemplating something.
«Or?» Alexei prompted.
«Or it’s indeed some artifact, so valuable that our grandfathers chose to conceal its existence from the authorities.»
She finally took the medallion and began to study it carefully, turning it in her hands.
«Undoubtedly Nestorian work. The cross is of a characteristic shape, and the ornament is also typical of their art. But the symbols on the reverse side…» she frowned. «They resemble Syriac script, but with elements I cannot identify. Possibly some secret code or font known only to initiates.»
She placed the medallion back on the table.
«I need to show this to my uncle Ermek. He’s the custodian of the nature reserve on the northern shore of Issyk-Kul, right where the excavations took place in 1954. And he’s a great specialist in local folklore and history.»
«That would be great,» Alexei nodded. «When can we meet him?»
Dinara glanced at her watch.
«I can call him right now. If everything works out, we could head to the lake tomorrow morning.