“Bummer,” Dane said. “And here I hoped it would be a proposition of a more personal nature.” He smiled, put his beer down, and leaned forward, mirroring her posture. It was a technique by which Bones swore. He said it created empathy and identification. Then again, when had Bones ever cared about either of those things? Dane suppressed a laugh and leaned back, letting his arms hang over the sides of the chair.
“Very funny,” she said, misunderstanding the reason behind the grin on his face. “Personal comes after I’ve known someone a great deal longer than one evening. Or did you think I was, shall we say, promiscuous?”
“Didn’t think, only hoped.” That was a comeback worthy of Bones, but it didn’t gain him any points. Jade just smirked. Bones had a natural way with women, while Dane had to work hard at it. It wasn’t fair. “Seriously, what’s your proposition?”
“I need to have another go at that underground stream.” She raised her voice and hurried on when she saw Dane grimace. “I think it will take only one more time. I need to go back to the place where you rescued me.” She paused, her brown eyes boring into him. “And I need a dive partner.”
“I hate fresh water dives,” Dane protested. “They’re dangerous, as you found out today, and they’re not something I’m comfortable doing.” Jade kept staring at him in silence. He knew what she was up to, waiting for him to fill the gap in the conversation. She would try to keep him talking until he talked his way through all his objections and right smack into doing what she wanted. Not biting, he retrieved his beer and took another swig.
“I don’t blame you. I know it’s dangerous work, which is why I need an experienced diver with me.” Her voice softened. “This is very important to me. I’ve been working on it for ten years. It’s not…” She broke off, uttered a distinctly unladylike curse, then mumbled something that sounded a lot like “Why do I get so flustered around you?” before turning her attention to her beer.
He made her feel flustered? He swore he would never understand women. The look of disappointment on her face was heartbreaking. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re working on?” he said.
“If I tell you, will you dive with me?” She cocked an eye at him.
“No,” he lied, knowing full well that he was going to let her have her way because… well, just because that’s what was going to happen. “But I’ll think about it. Tell me what you’re doing here.”
Jade leaned across the small table, close enough that he could smell her perfume. Jasmine or something like it. “Are you familiar with the story of the Seven Cities of Cibola?”
“I’ve heard the name,” he replied cautiously. “That’s about it.” A creepy déjà vu feeling blanketed his mind, enveloping him in a muzzy semi-conscious state. He couldn’t possibly be getting into another weird mystery.
“Part of the impetus behind Spanish exploration of New Spain, what we could term Colonial Mexico, was the myriad of myths about treasure and magical places.” As she spoke, she sat up straighter and her voice gained strength and confidence. She would make a great lecturer. “One of the greatest was the legend of Las Siete Ciudades Doradas De Cíbola, the Seven Golden Cities of Cibola. The myth was an outgrowth of the Moorish conquest of Portugal in the early eighth century. Allegedly, in the year 714, seven Catholic bishops and their followers fled across the Atlantic to a land called Antilia.”
“The Antilles,” he chimed in, to show that he was paying attention.
“Correct. The story goes that they fled to the New World and established the seven cities, where they hid gold, gems and religious articles to keep them safe from the Moors.”
At the mention of religious articles, Dane bolted upright. “Oh no. No friggin’ way!” He struck the table with his fist so hard that both their beers tipped over. Jade managed to catch hers, but his hit the table, spewing its foamy contents everywhere.
“Nice,” Jade deadpanned. “Are you always this erratic? What did I say, anyway?” Her smooth features were tense with concern.
“Nothing,” he muttered. “I just had a bad experience recently and…” What could he tell her that she would actually believe? “It’s not important.” Before she could reply he hurried to the galley to retrieve some paper towels. Returning, he sopped up the mess as Jade looked on with an expression somewhere between amused and offended.
When the spill was cleaned up, she nodded like an officer at inspection time, and inclined her head toward the bow. “How about we move back there and watch the sun set?” Dane liked that idea just fine, but was disappointed when, once they were seated, she resumed her story.
“The Antillean islands failed to produce the great quantities of gold and silver the Spaniards were expecting, so they set their sights on the continent and its purported riches. As soon as Cortes and his men finished conquering the Aztec Empire in the early 1520s, they set out to find these legendary Seven Cities of Gold. The expedition took them as far as the Texas panhandle, but needless to say, they found no sign of Cibola.
“And then, in 1528 a Spaniard named Cabeza de Vaca was shipwrecked on the Texas Gulf Coast. He wandered through Texas and into northern Mexico before his rescue in 1536. He told of fantastic treasures he had seen in villages to the north, “with many people and very big houses.” And thus, what is now New Mexico became targeted as the mythical Cibola.
“Viceroy Antonio de Mendoza soon became intrigued by the fantastic riches rumored to exist in the Seven Golden Cities of Cibola beyond New Spain’s northern frontier. In 1539 he sent an expedition led by Estevanico, a black slave who had been shipwrecked with Cabeza de Vaca, and Fray Marcos de Niza to verify de Vaca’s reports. Estevanico did not return. It is reported that he died in western New Mexico at Háwikuh, one of the Zuñi pueblos.”
“I notice you emphasize ‘reported’ that he died,” Dane observed. “You don’t think so?”
“Be patient, I’m getting to that,” she reproved, smiling. She was warming to her tale, and obviously thought he was as well. And he was, despite his better judgment. “Get yourself another Dos Equis and shut up. Get me one too.”
He produced the drinks in short order, and settled back in to hear the rest of the story.
“Fray Marcos returned to New Spain, declaring he had seen golden cities, the smallest of which was bigger than Mexico City. These strange people were said to possess in great quantities domestic utensils and ornaments made of gold and silver, and to be proficient in many of the arts of the Europeans.”
“I think I know how this story ends,” Dane said, recalling a bit of history. “Coronado took a stab at it, and failed miserably. Seems like these seven golden cities were just mud villages and such. Nothing but a pipe dream.”
“Right. He spent almost two years searching for the seven cities, but finally concluded that they were a myth. His expedition was branded a failure.” She bit her lip and stared out at the water.
“This Fray Marcos guy, why do you think he lied? Didn’t want to admit to having failed? Maybe he didn’t want his friend to have died in vain?”
Jade turned and met his gaze with wide-eyed seriousness. “The kindest historians think that, from a distance, he saw sunset on adobe walls containing bits of silica, and believed he was looking at glimmers of a city of gold.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Dane protested. “Why would he see a city of gold from a distance, and never go close enough to get a good look? And what about all the details he provided? How would he know those things if he observed from afar?”