A Map Made in Heaven
Part 1

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Babbleonanonia
June 1940

The fiery orange sun, half concealed by a rocky hill, sat low in the cloudless western sky, pausing for a last look at this corner of the world before retiring for the night. As it had done for countless centuries, it placidly gazed into a shallow basin ringed with hills - an arid basin containing slowly shifting sand.

Located within this basin were the ruins of an ancient metropolis known as Loquacity. Crumbling stone pillars, decaying temples, eroding statues, and the shaky shell of the great palace stood desolate and dark against the sunset.

Loquacity had once been the hub of a prosperous empire. At its peak - circa 560 B.C. - the city had teemed with people. Tribute from conquered nations filled its overflowing coffers. Its palace had been the largest and most elaborate in the region. Its rulers had been, in turn, the most benevolent and the most tyrannical. Centuries after a rival empire had burned Loquacity and captured its surviving citizens, the city had remained silent save for the howling of the hot wind.

Since Loquacity’s rediscovery in 1915, archeologists had been constant visitors. Today was no exception. An archeological team from the neighboring country of Aridia was studying the catacombs that were dug into the hills surrounding Loquacity. This team consisted of Dr. Myra Foxworthy and a native guide.

While the sun slipped beneath the horizon, the guide - a pudgy, scruffy tan canine in a loose fitting blue shirt and baggy green trousers - packed equipment into canvas pouches that were slung over the camel’s back. He cast numerous wary glances at the big, black gaping holes in the hills where thousands upon thousands of skeletons reposed. Anxiously, he said, “Excuse me, Effendi, but the sun has gone down. Is it not time to retire?”

Myra - a petite brown fox wearing a khaki shirt, matching shorts, and pith helmet - was circling what looked like an ordinary sand dune. The lack of daylight didn’t bother her. She shone her flashlight all over the dune, judging its size and shape with a critical eye. “I can’t quit now. I have a feeling that this is Emperor Karat’s tomb. According to my research and the evidence that we found today, it should be at this very spot.” She took a small brush from her pocket and started to vigorously brush sand away from the mound’s surface.

“That is what she said yesterday,” the guide murmured wearily to the camel. “And the day before that. Crazy archeologists and their dead people.” Since early that morning, they had traversed miles of treacherous catacombs filled with rats, snakes, and other vermin. In his opinion, they had accomplished nothing, and, most importantly, they had come out with nothing.

As if in agreement, the camel snorted softly.

The guide slouched tiredly against the camel, watching as darkness consumed the desert. A myriad of stars twinkled in the inky black sky. A sliver of a crescent moon hung in the east. The wind wailed ominously through the catacombs; it sounded as if the dead were trying to reach him, to warn him, from beyond the grave. His mind became flooded with all of the scary, superstitious tales that he had heard in his youth. Despite the warm temperature, he shivered.

“I think I found something!” Myra brushed more sand away from the ochre-colored stone that she had revealed. Giddy as a schoolgirl, the seasoned archeologist pushed her square, wire-rimmed glasses further up on her nose to read the cuneiform characters that were etched into the stone. “It is! The long-lost tomb of Emperor Karat has been found!”

Her contagious enthusiasm as well as the prospect of a great discovery made the guide forget his fears. He hurried over to help. He, too, started to scoop sand away from the tomb using his hands.

Long into the night, they continued to move sand, stopping now and again to study the ornate, yet functional, cuneiform pictographs that covered the beehive-shaped tomb.

Hours later, the guide sat back on his heels, puffing and sweating from the exertion of moving heavy sand. “Perhaps this is not Emperor Karat’s tomb, Effendi. We have dug on all sides. There is no door.”

“Theremust be a door somewhere.” The indefatigable Myra shone her flashlight at the sand-encrusted cuneiform carvings. Using her fingers, she dug sand from between the pictographs. “Ah-ha! To open door, press bellybutton,” she deciphered. “Bellybutton?”

The guide’s face mirrored her confusion. He repeated the unfamiliar term. “Bellybutton?”

The flashlight’s beam danced over the tomb as Myra searched for another clue. Then, she spotted something - the cuneiform character meaning ‘bellybutton’. “Of course!” She pressed that specific stone block and stood back, smiling expectantly.

An avalanche of sand from the top of the tomb accompanied a low rumbling - the sound of stone scraping against stone. A door slid open before their very eyes.

For a second, Myra and the guide stood there, choking on sand and dust. Then, they rushed to the open doorway and peered in with wide, awestruck eyes. Inside, all was darkness. The air was stale in the cool, dry tomb.

“And to think that no one has been here for over two thousand years,” Myra murmured, sweeping her flashlight from side to side as she stepped in.

They were in a large, round room filled with amazingly well-preserved treasures. Carved chairs, painted urns, ornate headdresses, and jewelry had been placed in the tomb to honor the dead. Every inch of the walls and domed ceiling were covered with colorful, two-dimensional murals depicting ancient gods, Emperor Karat’s greatness, and everyday life in ancient Loquacity.

And in the middle of the room, upon a golden dias, was the jewel-encrusted sarcophagus of Emperor Karat.

Myra struck a match and lit the torches embedded in the walls. While the guide examined the delicately-crafted jewelry, the archeologist gravitated towards the sarcophagus. She took her brush and gently dusted off the thin layer of sand to reveal an austere tiger’s face embossed in gold and onyx on the sarcophagus’s lid.

“Do you require my assistance, Effendi?” the guide asked absently, fingering a golden necklace with a tiger-shaped jade pendant. He quickly dropped it when Myra glanced his way.

“Oh, yes. If you could just...”

Together, they managed to slide the heavy lid partially off of the sarcophagus, revealing the head and upper torso of the mummy.

“Nice to finally meet you, Emperor Karat,” Myra whispered reverently to the swathed remains of Loquacity’s most powerful ruler.

The guide shuddered at the sight of the mummy. He quickly returned to the jewelry.

Myra let out a gasp when she saw something clutched in the mummy’s brittle hands crossed upon his breast. “It really does exist! The fabled treasure map of Emperor Karat.”

“Treasure map?” the guide said, trying not to sound too interested. He poked the necklace deeper into his pocket.

“According to legend, Emperor Karat was obsessed with gems, especially diamonds. He hoarded jewels in a secret place, the location of which was known only to him and his most trusted advisor. No one’s sure how much he collected, but it’s said that one percent of the collection would make the owner rich beyond imagining.”

The guide reached for the yellowed piece of parchment, saying, “Perhaps we should look for this treasure. It would indeed be a great archeological find.”

Perceiving his greedy intentions, Myra added quickly, “It’s also said that there will be ten terrible curses cast on anyone who removes even the tiniest gem from the collection.”

“Surely you do not believe in ancient curses,” he scoffed. Again, he stretched his grimy, fat fingers towards the map. He, himself, happened to believe in curses, but many wealthy buyers did not - much to his delight and profit.

Myra shook her head vehemently and swatted his hand away. “I’ve seen too much in my line of work. I can’t afford to not believe in ancient curses,” she countered. “We must leave it untouched until we get it back to the museum at Aridia. Then we can properly catalog and study it. You must promise not to tell anyoneabout it. It’s a priceless artifact that belongs in a museum.”

Myra didn’t see the sly gleam in guide’s eyes when he bowed humbly and murmured, “If you wish it absolutely, Effendi.”

“Good,” Myra said with a satisfied, trusting smile. “Help me get this lid back on. I must contact the Babbleonanonian officials right away!”

With difficulty, they slid the lid back on the sarcophagus.

Higher for Hire
The Next Afternoon

Rebecca von Bruinwald, a petite brown bearess wearing a magenta cardigan over a white turtleneck and purple slacks, sat at her desk, talking to a prospective client on the telephone while simultaneously trying to prevent her eleven-month-old daughter Cassie from chewing on the phone cord.

“No, baby, don’t eat that,” Rebecca admonished quietly. She picked up a rubber giraffe and squeaked it in front of Cassie’s face.

With a delighted “Eeee!”, the little grey bearess wearing a lavender sun dress grabbed the toy and began slobbering on its head instead.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Bixby. Could you repeat that?” Rebecca said into the phone.

The door of the office/living room opened and in stepped the bearess’s husband, Baloo. The big grey bear wearing a button-down yellow shirt and red pilot’s hat greeted her with a smile and a cheerful, “Hi-ya, Beckers. Made it back from Kalakazoo, Wishagen.” For the hundredth time that day, he started to sing Glen Miller’s latest hit, “A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I got a gal in Kalakazoo...”

Behind him trailed

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