Read Online On Etruscan Time by Tracy Barrett - Free Book Online Page A

answered. “I’m twelve.”
    â€œOkay, fine,” Hector muttered. If this was some kind of joke, he didn’t want to play along. He stood up and brushed the dirt off the seat of his pants. Maybe the crowd around the trench had thinned and he could go back and see what they had been so excited about.
    But as he turned, he caught sight of the valley. He must have fallen asleep, because now it was cool evening and the long shadows made everything look different.
    But it was more than the change in light. Something was terribly wrong.
    The dig—where was the dig? Where was the shed, and where were his mother and Ettore and Susanna?
    Instead of the blue-jeaned and T-shirted Americans and Germans and Italians, small people with copper skin and long dark hair were walking in the flat area where the trenches should be. Hector swung around. The hill still rose above him, but the houses were gone, and a thick forest covered its steep slopes. Where there had been a crowded town splattered on its sides now there were just a few low buildings. He looked back down to where the dig should be, disbelief crowding every thought out of his mind. Instead of a silver-green olive grove in the distance, tall, dark trees now cast a heavy shadow. In place of the trench where he’d found the broken pot, there was a pile of wood scraps and pieces of pottery, and behind it stood a magnificent, colorful building with a double row of columns in front and an inhuman, brightly painted face glaring down from the peak of the roof. He had seen that building before, but that was in a dream—a dream where something terrible was happening to that same boy. But now there was no silent, waiting crowd, and the boy was sitting next to him, hands unbound, no tearstains on his cheeks.
    Hector swallowed hard. “What’s happening?” he whispered. “What did you do with them?”
    The other boy didn’t answer, but he, too, rose to his feet and watched the activity with his hands on his hips, a smile curling his mouth.
    There were lots of people. The littler children were naked except for a pouch hanging around each of their necks, and the adults weren’t wearing much either. Some were talking, some were repairing a wall, and two young men were wrestling and laughing as older men looked on and shouted what sounded like encouragement.
    Arath turned to Hector. “Welcome to my home,” he said softly.

9
    For a moment, Hector could only stare and blink, his mouth hanging open. Then he managed to sputter, “Your—your home? What are you talking about? What have you done with all the people? And the dig? And my mom? ” Without waiting for an answer he tore along the path down to where the dig should have been.
    In a few seconds he was in the midst of all those dark-haired people. They strode past him as though they didn’t see him. Two women came by, and one of them almost bumped into him.
    â€œHey!” he protested, backing up. She didn’t pay any attention but said something to the little girl with her, who nodded and ran off to join a group of naked children playing with what looked like marbles or jacks in the dirt.
    What was the matter with her? Was she deaf? Or just ignoring him?
    Something was weird about the sunlight, but he couldn’t figure it out. And then he saw. He had no shadow.
    The boy—Arath—had caught up and stood panting next to him.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Hector demanded. “How did you do this?”
    â€œDo what?” Arath asked. The woman who had just passed by turned and looked at Arath curiously and then moved on.
    â€œThis,” Hector said, pointing at the busy square, the bright building, the group of children squabbling over something. “How did you get all these buildings here? Is this some kind of hypnotism?”
    â€œNo, it’s real,” Arath said, but Hector shook his head.
    â€œYou hypnotized me,” he said,