Page 22 of Troy Story
Though Dusty had initially been disappointed not to be assigned to Stuart’s trench, she enjoyed working with Kerim. Rather than dismiss her rudimentary knowledge of Turkish, he encouraged her to practice with the laborers. He also enjoyed sharing anecdotes from his previous seasons at Troy. With fifteen years of experience, he knew the site better than most people. But unlike Dr. Hughes, he wasn’t the type to boast about it.
When it came to boasting, Dusty had expected TJ to behave the same way he had in Cyprus the previous summer—braggy and full of himself. But he only acted like that around Emilia. Otherwise, he was easy to work with, which was why Dusty had agreed to pair up with him.
At the moment, he was outlining a row of stones with his trowel, while she stood at the side of their trench and used a wooden sieve to sift through the dirt he’d unearthed. With each bucket she sifted, she picked out the broken pottery, tool fragments, and animal bones.
Setting down the sieve, she hopped into the trench and held up a few pieces of a broken pot. “Look at how big these are. I’ll bet they’re pithoi fragments.” Previous excavations had revealed rooms filled with pithoi—enormous ceramic jars used for storing food.
TJ stood up and stretched out his back. Taking a piece from her, he rubbed it against his shirt. “Yep. That means Kerim’s assessment was right. This building was probably used for storage. Disappointing.”
Placing her hands on her hips, she gave him a mock glare. “What’s wrong with a storage facility? I didn’t take you for a treasure hunter.”
“A treasure hunter? Me? That’s the lowest form of insult. Well, that and ‘tomb raider.’ But don’t get me started on that one. I hate the way the media sensationalizes archaeology instead of regarding it as a science.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. More than once, TJ had expressed disgust at Hollywood’s version of archaeology, including the Indiana Jones movies. “Then why are you so eager to find something newsworthy? Are you trying to score points with our evil overlord, Dr. Hughes?”
TJ’s lip curled. “No. The guy’s a has-been, living off his former glory. It’s so disappointing. Remember when he bragged about that documentary he was in? I saw it when I was fifteen, and it totally inspired me. I wanted to be as famous as he was. But so far, he’s barely gotten his hands dirty. He expects everyone else to do the work while he hangs out with Mort and regales him with stories.”
Dusty peered across the site. Sure enough, Mort and Dr. Hughes were sitting in a couple of camp chairs in the shade next to Stuart’s trench. Per Mort’s request, the Turkish laborers had set up canopies over each work area.
TJ pointed to Emilia, who was on sieving duty at the other trench. “She’s the reason I’m on this mission, so to speak. When we found out Stuart put us on different teams, we made a bet to see which of us would uncover the most significant find. Before you judge me, the idea was one hundred percent hers.”
Dusty took a swig from her water bottle. “What’s up with you two? You met less than two weeks ago, and you’re already rivals?”
“We might have just met, but she was on my radar long before that. Like me, she’s a Bronze Age archaeologist, focused on the Mediterranean region. Once we get our PhDs, we’ll be competing for the exact same jobs.”
“But you have different specialties. You’re a lithics expert, and she’s into paleoethnobotany.”
He snorted. “Yeah. She studies ancient seeds. Talk about dull. But we’re both writing dissertations about the collapse of Bronze Age civilization during the late twelfth century BC.”
What was it with academics and their petty rivalries? “Then you should be working together, not competing.”
“Hard pass. First of all, we have totally different theories. And second? She’s a huge pain.”
“How so?”
He let out a huff of frustration. “This thing with the hotel room in Istanbul? I’ll admit I should have read the reviews before I booked it. Or I should have asked her if she wanted her own room. But you know me—I can handle any conditions. You give me four walls, a bed, and running water, and I’m in the lap of luxury.”
Dusty bit back a laugh. “Yes, we all know how hard-core you are.”
“Right? I’ve slept on the ground in the desert, I’ve dug my own shitter, I’ve gone for a week without showering.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe don’t brag about that one.”
“But you know what I mean, right? When I realized Em wasn’t happy with the room, I assumed she hadn’t worked under the same grueling conditions I had. But before I could apologize, she laid into me for not vetting the hotel on Yelp. Like I care what some tourist thinks? And when I accused her of acting like a diva, she blew up and started bragging about her dig in Mexico. As though she’d dealt with worse shit than I have. Hardly.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and crouched down to resume digging.
“So now you’re trying to one-up her?” Dusty clambered out of the trench and grabbed another bucket of dirt. Before dumping it into her sieve, she removed the bigger pieces of pottery and set them into the finds bucket.
“She’s the one who suggested it. I still think the Trojan War was just a legend. But what if Hughes is onto something? What if our team could find the cemetery he’s looking for, filled with fallen warriors and Bronze Age weapons?” He punched his hand into his fist. “If we found it first, Em would have to admit defeat.”
“I’d be up for anything that would put Hughes in a better mood. He’s such a grouch.”
“Did you notice he left for the site super early this morning?” TJ asked. “Mort must have swung by the field house and picked him up. They were already here when we arrived.”
“Yeah, I thought that was kind of weird. Hughes is always the last one up, and he never stops bitching about the coffee.” After the first time he’d grumbled about it, she hadn’t made it again.
“I know, right? Like, he was expecting a Starbucks?”
“Maybe that’s why Mort came and got him so early—so they could grab coffee in Güzelyali.”
