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〃Let's find out。〃 Nora retrieved a pot from her daypack； then grabbed the small packet Bonarotti had thrust into her hand。 She unwrapped it curiously。 Inside were two Ziploc bags； still dry； one containing what looked like tiny pasta and the other a mix of herbs。 ADD TO BOILING WATER AND COOK SEVEN MINUTES was written on the first bag in black Magic Marker； REMOVE FROM HEAT； DRAIN； ADD THIS MIXTURE was written on the second。
Ten minutes later； they pulled the simmering mixture from the fire； drained off the water； and added the second packet。 Instantly； a wonderful aroma rose from the pot。
〃Couscous with savory herbs；〃 Sloane whispered。 〃Isn't Bonarotti a prince？〃
From the couscous； they moved on to Sloane's dish…lentils with sun…dried vegetables in a curried beef broth…then cleared away the dishes。 Nora shook her bag out and laid it in the soft sand； close to the fire。 Then； stripping off most of her wet clothes； she climbed in and lay back； breathing the clean air of the canyon； gazing at the dome of stars overhead。 Despite the words of encouragement she'd given Sloane…despite the remarkable meal…Nora couldn't entirely escape a private fear of her own。
〃So what'll we find tomorrow； Nora？〃 Sloane's husky voice； surprisingly close in the near darkness； echoed her own thoughts。
Nora sat up on one shoulder and glanced over。 Sloane was sitting cross…legged on her sleeping bag； bing her hair。 Her jeans were drying on a nearby limb； and an oversized shirt spilled across her bare knees。 The flickering light threw her wide cheekbones into sharp relief； giving her beautiful face a mysterious； exotic look。
〃I don't know；〃 Nora replied。 〃What do you think we'll find？〃
〃Quivira；〃 came the reply； almost whispered。
〃You didn't seem so sure an hour ago。〃
Sloane shrugged。 〃Oh； it'll be here；〃 she said。 〃My father is never wrong。〃
The woman's face wore its trademark lazy smile； but something in her voice told Nora it wasn't entirely a joke。
〃So tell me about your father；〃 Sloane went on。
Nora took a long breath。 〃Well； the truth is； from the outside he was a traditional Irish screwup。 He drank too much。 He always had schemes and plans。 He hated real work。 But you know what？〃 She looked up at Sloane。 〃He was the best father anyone could have had。 He loved us。 He told us he loved us ten times a day。 It was the first thing he said to us in the morning and the last thing at night。 He was the kindest person I ever knew。 He took us on almost all of his adventures。 We went everywhere with him； looking for lost ruins； digging for treasure； scouring old battlegrounds with metal detectors。 Nowadays； the archaeologist in me is horrified at what we used to do。 We packed horses into the Superstition Mountains trying to find the Lost Dutchman Mine； we spent a summer in the Gila Wilderness looking for the Adams diggings…that sort of thing。 I'm amazed we survived。 My mother couldn't stand it； and she eventually took steps to divorce him。 As a way to win her back； he went off to discover Quivira。 And we never heard from him again…until this old letter arrived。 But he's the reason I became an archaeologist。〃
〃You think he could still be alive？〃
〃No；〃 said Nora。 〃That's out of the question。 He would never have abandoned us like that。〃
She breathed the fragrant night air as silence settled into the canyon。 〃You have a pretty remarkable father yourself；〃 she went on at last。
A thin trace of light suddenly lanced across the dark sky。 〃Shooting star；〃 Sloane said。 She was silent for a moment。 〃You said the same thing； back on the trail。 I suppose it's true。 He is a remarkable father。 And he expects me to be an even more remarkable daughter。〃
〃How so？〃
Sloane continued to stare at the sky。 〃I guess you could say he's one of those fathers who holds his child to an almost impossible standard。 I was always made to perform； to measure up。 I was only allowed to bring home friends who could carry on an intellectual discussion at the dinner table。 But nothing I did was ever good enough； and even now he doesn't trust me to succeed。〃
She shook her head。 〃I still remember when I was in seventh grade； my piano teacher made all us students attend a recital。 I'd worked up this really difficult Bach three…part invention； and I was very proud of myself。 But the teacher had this other student； Ursula Rein； who was a true prodigy。 She's teaching at Juilliard now。 Anyway； she played right before me； and did this Chopin waltz at about twice normal speed。〃 Her face hardened。 〃When my father heard that； he made me get up and leave with him。 I was so angry； so embarrassed。 I'd practiced for so long； and I thought he'd be proud of me。 。 。 。 Oh； he made up some excuse； said his stomach was bothering him or something。 But I knew the real reason was he couldn't stand for me to e in second。〃 She laughed。 〃I'm still amazed he wanted me on this expedition。〃
Nora could hear the bitter undertone in the laugh。 〃It doesn't seem to have hurt you；〃 she replied。
〃Because I don't let it hurt me；〃 she said； looking at Nora with a defiant flip of her hair。
Nora realized Sloane might have taken the ment the wrong way。 〃No； that's not what I meant。 I meant； you're…〃
〃And you know what？〃 Sloane interrupted； as if she hadn't heard。 〃I don't ever remember my father telling me he loved me。〃
She looked away。 Nora； unsure how to answer； decided to change the subject。 〃I've been curious。 You've got the money； looks； and talent to be anything。 So why are you an archaeologist？〃
Sloane turned back to her； the grin returning。 〃Why？ Are archaeologists supposed to be poor； ugly； and dumb？〃
〃Of course not。〃
Sloane gave a low laugh。 〃It's the family business； isn't it？ The Rothschilds are bankers； the Kennedys are politicians； the Goddards are archaeologists。 I'm his only child。 He raised me to be an archaeologist and I wasn't strong enough to deny him。〃
The father again； Nora thought。 She looked into Sloane's face。 〃Don't you like archaeology？〃
〃I love it；〃 came the reply； a brief note of passion sounding in the rich contralto。 〃I never stop thinking about the precious things and the secrets that lie hidden beneath the soil。 They're waiting to teach us something； if only we're smart enough to find them。 But I'll never be a good enough archaeologist to satisfy him。〃 She paused a moment； then spoke more briskly。 〃It's funny； Nora； but if I find Quivira； you know who's going to be remembered？ You know who's going to go down in the history books like Wetherill and Earl Morris？ Not me。 Him。〃 She punctuated this with a short； harsh laugh。 〃Isn't that ironic？〃
Nora could not find an answer to this。
Sloane uncrossed her legs and lay down atop her sleeping bag。 She sighed； teased her hair back with one finger。 〃Seeing anyone？〃
Nora paused to consider this abrupt change of subject。 〃Not really；〃 she replied。 〃And you？ Are you dating someone？〃
〃Not anybody I wouldn't drop in a second if the right person came along。〃 Sloane was silent for a moment； as if thinking about something。 〃So what do you think of the men in this group of ours？ You know； as men。〃
Nora hesitated again； not feeling entirely fortable talking like this about people she was leading。 But the steamy warmth of the sleeping bag； and the brightness of the stars； somehow conspiratorial in their proximity； relaxed her defenses。 〃I hadn't really thought about them as； you know； potential dating material。〃
Sloane gave a low laugh。 〃Well； I have。 I'd pegged you for Smithback。〃
Nora sat up。 〃Smithback？〃 she cried。 〃He's insufferable。〃
〃He's in a position to do a lot for your career if this all works out。 Funny； too； if you like your humor dry as a martini。 He's led a pretty interesting life these last couple of years。 Did you ever read that book of his； about the New York museum murders？〃
〃He gave me a copy。 I haven't really looked at it。〃
〃It's a hell of a read。 And the guy's not bad looking； either； in a citified sort of way。〃
Nora shook her head。 〃He's about as full of himself as they e。〃
〃Maybe。 But I think part of that is just facade。 The guy can take it as well as dish it out。〃 She paused。 〃And something about th