Wind Raker - Book IV of The Order of the Air by Melissa Scott, Jo Graham Read Free Book Online

theories proposed by some of his countrymen.
    They finished their desserts; ice cream in tall glasses drizzled with bright green crème de menthe, and milled about on the patio while the waitresses cleared the table. Buck was giving instructions to the graduate students, and Jerry found himself next to Radke and out of earshot of the other men.
    “I was at the Neues Museum myself last year,” he said, and Radke gave him what Jerry could only take as a speculative glance.
    “Oh, yes? I hope you had some chance to explore Berlin as well.”
    “I did, and enjoyed it very much. It’s a fascinating city.” Jerry took a breath. “There was a club not too far from the Museum — Leo’s, it was called. A very interesting place.”
    Radke’s eyebrows twitched. As well they might, Jerry thought. Leo’s catered to queers, with a drag show that was for the regulars rather than the tourists and a decent jazz band. He didn’t dance himself, not anymore, but he’d enjoyed watching the handsome young men in their elegant suits turning in each other’s arms, bought a drink or two for the pretty boys in dresses.
    “I have been there,” Radke admitted, after a moment.
    “Congenial,” Jerry suggested.
    “Just so.” Radke gave him a sidelong glance. “I have not found anyplace similar here, but of course I’ve only been here a few days. But if there were someone to explore with…“
    “It could be an interesting adventure,” Jerry said, and Dr. Buck gave him a curious look.
    “We were discussing tourist activities,” Radke said, with a smile that wasn’t quite a smirk, and Jerry coughed to hide his own amusement.
    “There’s a good deal to see,” Dr. Buck said. “I hope you’ll find the time.”
    They spent the rest of the afternoon looking at the survey maps of Collins’ pineapple grove and making some preliminary plans. To Jerry’s relief, he and Radke were in agreement on the basic parameters of the dig site, and on the best places to put the first test trenches, and Dr. Buck promised to send Gray with a full team of laborers as soon as they were ready to get started.
    “Shall we say at nine o’clock?” Radke asked, and Jerry nodded. It still felt as though the ground was heaving underfoot, but surely that would wear off in another day or two.
    “Excellent.” Radke rubbed his hands together. “And now if I might borrow Mr. Hanson I would like to sort out the equipment you offered, Dr. Buck?”
    “By all means,” Dr. Buck answered. “Bob, I’ve told Dr. Radke he’s welcome to any and all of our tools. In the meantime, Dr. Ballard, one of our museum volunteers has offered to put you up for the night, and to help with making more permanent arrangements. Mrs. Patton is quite good at such things.”
    “That’s very generous,” Jerry said. What he’d really hoped for was a nice hotel room and perhaps dinner with Radke and a chance to — discuss their shared experiences — not to have to make nice to someone who was clearly a valuable museum employee. Not to mention having to negotiate a stranger’s house with only one leg to stand on.
    “Then we should go find her.” Dr. Buck held the door and Jerry perforce preceded him.
    The galleries of the Bishop Museum were cluttered. Too many artifacts and too little space resulted in cases of objects down the middle of rooms that should have had room to stand back, precious statuary roped off in corridors. Boxes of labeled potsherds and spearheads were affixed to the walls over shelves of entirely different objects with little explanation or reason. In short, they had an excess of riches and no place to put them. It was a glaring contrast with the spacious corridors of the Met. Spear tips from Ancient Egypt resided in their own padded boxes at the Met, nestled in cotton wool and properly labeled by an army of graduate students and curators. Here, spear tips from Polynesia were jumbled together in a box with a handwritten tag. Still, Jerry thought, this was