Effigy by Theresa Danley Page B

left the room.
    The library slumbered in darkness at the end of the hallway. John had always appreciated the solitude afforded by the windowless room. Time was becalmed in reclusive spaces and he’d taken great care to add to the effect with warm wood paneling, composed leather chairs and deep mahogany bookcases embedded into the walls. On the rare occasion when he required more life in the room he could part the long, flowing satin draping the French doors and the library would awaken in soft, frosted-glass light. Occasionally, after a refreshing study with his books, he’d find the inclination to stroll through those doors and comfort himself upon the cushioned wicker retreats strategically placed around Martha’s shaded garden.
    Today wasn’t going to be one of those days.
    John clicked on the nearby reading lamp and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. The short wall contained his most cherished astronomy collection, while the adjoining wall displayed a satisfactory blend of Mesoamerican study. His finger trailed across the spines of Hamlet’s Mill and The Mayan Factor. Somewhere around that area he knew he’d shelved the booklet he was looking for.
    There it was. A stack of papers pressed between two cardboard covers, all bound by three brass brads. He retrieved the booklet and was thumbing through it when he rejoined Peet and Lori in the den.
    “I believe the word, ‘Acatzalan,’ comes from… Ah, yes. Here it is.”
    He sat down on Martha’s microsuede sectional sofa and laid his reference upon the glass coffee table. Peet and Lori gathered around as he marked the word with his finger. “Acatzalan—meaning ‘among the reeds.’”
    Peet leaned in close. “Among the reeds?”
    “What is this?” Lori asked. “A dictionary of code words?”
    “A glossary,” John said. “From the Florentine Codex.”
    “The what?”
    “The Florentine Codex. It’s a series of twelve volumes written by the Franciscan friar, Bernardino de Sahagún, during the sixteenth century. He documented Aztec life as he encountered it shortly after the conquest. What we are looking at here is the English version of the Nahuatl language originally compiled through Spanish and Latin translations.”
    John waited for a reaction from them but he found only confusion garnered within their expressions. He was confused himself. “Would you mind telling me how this relates to your dissertation?”
    Lori picked up the beige scrap of paper from the table where John had left it. “I was actually curious about the hieroglyphs,” she admitted. “They look like snakes.”
    “That they are,” John agreed.
    “Are they Mayan date symbols?”
    John looked at her curiously. “What brings you to such a conclusion?”
    “The two parallel bars to the left of each hieroglyph.”
    John straightened. Something was amiss and asking questions only made the topic even more confusing. He needed to know exactly what was going on.
    “Anthony. A word.”
    With Peet obediently at his heels, John led the way back into the library. The reading lamp was still casting a warm glow over his favorite leather chair, easing across a wall of books. With a flick of his finger he motioned Peet to close the door.
    “What’s going on here?” he hissed.
    “What?”
    “Since when does a student specializing in Anasazi ceramics suddenly recognize a hieroglyph from a Mesoamerican calendar?”
    Peet’s face was blank. “Is that so hard to believe? Anthropology students are exposed to a variety of world cultures before they specialize in their own fields.”
    John wasn’t convinced as he gave him a long, assessing glare. “But a calendar glyph?”
    “So it is a date symbol?”
    “You’re giving her instruction, aren’t you?”
    Peet shrugged. “She’s my student and she’s struggling with her dissertation. I thought she could use some help.”
    “Over summer break? It looks to me like you’re taking a personal interest in your