The next morning, we got in line.
Tindar is not a fan of early mornings the way Hitler was not a fan of, well, everyone he declared war on. So it was a bit of a struggle for me to convince Tindar we needed an early start if we were to beat the crowds to see this fabled Wanderer statue. Unfortunately, pretty much every pilgrim in Reston had come to the same conclusion. Some had obviously camped in the line up. Others, like us, straggled in at the first signs of daylight. By the time we got there, I'd guess we were about a hundred or so from the front of the line.
"I thought you dragged us here early to beat the crowds, not join them," Tindar growled.
Tindar may hate early morning, but I hate waiting in lines. I personally believe a successful life is one in which we spend no time standing in a line. Human beings are creative, vibrant beings who excel in walking their own path. Lemmings are reputed to be well suited to following a line up.
"You were the one who insisted we come here in the first place," I snarled right back.
The statue was on display in a small local county museum...or rather it would be on display to the public in about 45 minutes. The doors would remain shut until 8:30am when the museum opened. As a rule, this had never been a point of contention. In fact, the museum would often go a whole morning without a single patron, rather than this crush of people more suited for a rock concert than a tiny county museum.
Directly in front of us in the line was a young couple sitting on the ground, bundled together in a blanket to ward off the chill of the early morning air.
"You sound just like us yesterday," the woman said with a smile, leaning her head down upon her companion's shoulder.
"Yeah, I was grumbling just the same way about being in the line. But it was worth it."
"You've already seen the statue?" Tindar asked in wonder.
"Sure."
"Why on earth are you back in line again today?" I asked.
"Strange, isn't it? Well, they don't give you very long to look at it...because the crowds get so big later on in the day."
"Later in the day?"
"Yes, we came around midday yesterday and barely got in at all," explained the woman. "We just had to have another look."
"You never know," added the man sheepishly, "maybe we'll see something about the symbols that will solve the mystery.
"And help find the treasure," Tindar added with a laugh.
"Well, you never know," repeated the man.
"The researchers don't seem to have unlocked the mystery yet...not completely," the woman added.
"The picture in the paper wasn't very clear. What do these symbols look like?" Tindar asked casually.
The man eyed us up and down, presumably deciding if we would steal their treasure or not. "Well, like we said, they don't give you very long to see it. The statue itself is a funny shape. I can't really describe it. Very abstract. Like looking at a cloud, everyone sees something different. Lucy thought she could see a swan in it somehow. For me, I guess I was thinking more like a strange ship. Anyway, it's along the base where these symbols are etched in the clay."
"How large is this thing anyway? There was nothing to give it scale in the picture in the paper either."
"Oh, maybe a couple of feet high," said the man, holding his hand about three feet from the ground to demonstrate and further confuse.
"Can you draw roughly what any of the symbols looked like?" Tindar wondered.
The woman frowned for a moment, thinking. "There's one I kind of remember that wasn't too complicated."
She drew back the blanket and found a stick nearby to draw in the dirt. She scratched away for a moment, scribbled part of it out and tried again.
"There, I think that's sort of like what I saw." The man nodded, agreeing this was a reasonable facsimile.
My eyes widened, then I blinked a couple of times. Before I could say anything, I felt a sharp but subtle pinch on my arm from Tindar warning me to hush. The last thing I expected was to see a symbol I recognized...something that was clearly a Wanderer symbol. But there, crudely etched in the dirt in front of us was something that closely resembled the symbol
Miel had painted on our camper...the symbol of a Chandorean.
"Strange hieroglyphics indeed," Tindar said calmly.
"Do you know what it means?" the woman asked me pointedly. Apparently she had noted my initial reaction, if not the pinch.
"No...no," I told her. "It's just such a strange looking image."
I was absolutely dying to talk to Tindar about all of this, but clearly there wasn't any privacy to do so in this line. Neither did I want to leave the line. We certainly wanted to see the statue now more than ever. I didn't know much about this symbol, but I couldn't help wonder if looking at it, we would be able to unravel something of this mystery.
I could tell at a glance that under his suave exterior, Tindar was equally excited about the possibilities. It made waiting all that much harder.
When 8:30 came and went without the doors opening, we were more than a little miffed. What a day for the curator to sleep in. There were a number of jokes about that around us in the line up. By 9am, rumors had travelled up and down the line that there were indeed people in the museum, but there was no sign of the doors opening. About 5 minutes later, police arrived and pushed their way past everyone toward the door. They went inside, a terse apology was made to the first few in line about the delay and the door was shut again.
Those waiting in line were in a frenzy of speculation and doubt. The police came out again and spoke to the first few people in the line, then went back inside.
What questions had they asked? The rumors along the line said they wanted to know if anyone had come to the museum in the night. Of course, there were dozens of people, camping outside the door. Any that went inside? Or around the building out of sight? None that were noticed.
Still we waited.
At long last, a spokesman emerged to make the announcement we'd long expected.
"Ladies and gentleman, we're very sorry for the long delay. We're equally sorry we won't be opening the museum today to the public. It is with deep regret I have to announce, it appears the Wanderer statue you've all read about has been stolen sometime in the night.
The crowd murmured and gasped, the rumble of surprise becoming a roar of questions for the poor spokesman.
"I'm sorry ladies and gentlemen, that's all I can say at this time."
The crowd started to disperse. Tindar just stood and stared at the door as it closed again behind the museum employee. His eyes danced with a fire fuelled by wild curiosity.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Come," he said. "We have to talk to the others."
