Read Online The PuppetMaster by Andrew L. MacNair - Free Book Online Page B

the later periods, the area I also loved, though he could more than hold his own in the Vedic. He would be our tailback.
    As the rookie I was hoping I wouldn’t have to warm the bench too much.
    C.G., flaunting his technical expertise, asked, “Is this picture made with Adobe Photoshop, Bhim?”
    “No, Punditji, It’s JPEG Viewer, very basic program that comes with the computer.”
Behind me Master grumped. “You two will need to go back to the cave and take some better pictures. The script is too small for anyone to read.”
    I smiled at C.G., who was leaning over my right shoulder. He grinned back. Clicking on the zoom button I expanded the image two hundred percent. There was a muffled gasp from Devi. Casually, I asked, “How is that? Better?”
    “Hmmph, I suppose so. You see, C.G.. I was correct. It begins on this side with the salutation and benediction, and moves east to west around the walls.”
    “Of course you are correct, Devi. You are always correct.” Master let that one go.
    C.G. went to reading the first few lines while I, wanting to make Masterji feel better and because I did actually need them, asked, “Master? Is there a pencil and paper close by?” As soon as he returned, our attention went to the screen.
    We spent the entire morning working on the first photograph alone, and four lines into it we knew it was older than we had thought. A single reference, a benediction to the Ashvini Twins, the demigods of healing, verified it. From that reference we knew it was at least from the thirteenth century BC or older.
    We settled into our individual tasks, I laboring the most, as my responsibilities, though less skilled, were more demanding. My task was to create three entries for each line of text. While Devi and C.G. bickered over word meanings and grammatical nuances, I rendered the older Brahmi script into the newer Devanagari. Then as quickly as I could, wrote the transliterations. That took the most time. Each syllable had to be depicted with a symbols from the International Phonetic Alphabet. Finally, I scribbled the English translation that the pundits did so casually in their heads. It was like creating two sets of shorthand and one of long, and by noon my vow to work until my fingers fell off was becoming a reality. For the first time in months I was happy to see Master glance at his Timex.
    Three minutes later—her watch was on time-- Mirabai entered with bowls of fried dough nestled in yogurt and lentils, tamarind, and mint chutney. This was accompanied by pistachio lassis and slices of baked nan. With a click, I saved the images to the flash drive and snap closed the laptop.
    Devi, through a mouthful of lentils, asked, “So C.G., it is clearly one of the early branches of the Ayur, would you not agree?”
    Draining his lassi with a slurp, C.G. wagged his head “We have only gotten to the benediction, but as strange as it feels, I must agree with you. It will be clearer tomorrow when we get into the main text, but it is undoubtedly medical, and I would agree that it is indeed much older than we thought.” He turned and surprised me by asking, “Bhimaji, you are a man of the world, are there tests that will prove the age of the rock or the stain?”
    I understood less than a third of the functions on my camera, so I wouldn’t exactly call myself a techy. How carbon tests worked, or iridium, or whatever chemists used to determine the age of a sample of plant dye was a mystery. “I’m really not sure, Punditji. I mean, I would think so. I guess I could research it.”
    “Yes, yes, the age of the rock and the dye, might be helpful . . .” He paused and then said what we already knew, “but not as much as the writing style. That will tell us. We just need time with it.” He paused and frowned. “I suppose a talk with Mr. Muktendra, the owner of the property, would be wise. To discuss security, you know. Then, at some point we can bring experts in with scientific equipment to verify