The Specialists: Native Tongue
Book #4 in the series by Shannon Greenland
Release Date: July 2008
Publisher: Speak, An Imprint of Penguin Group

Lost in translation?

A South American Indian girl has mysteriously emerged from the jungle carrying a centuries-old vase. Legend has it that this vase was important to the culture and heritage of at least fifteen different North and South American Indian tribes. And now that it has been discovered, all fifteen nations want it back. The tribes will be meeting in Rutina, South America, to “decide” who gets the vase.

Enter the Specialists. Parrot—with his amazing linguistics skills—will serve as an official translator. Meanwhile, GiGi will be heading to a cave with ancient hieroglyphics that purportedly reveal the rightful owners of the vase. No one has ever been able to decode these writings—not even the elders of each nation. It’s up to GiGi and her coding expertise to try to decipher them.

Of course there’s a hitch. One of the tribal chiefs is connected to Parrot’s past—in a bad way. Will Parrot be able to face his past and complete the mission, or will the vase fall into the wrong hands?

EXCERPT:

I jerked straight up in the saddle.

"You need to stay awake," Jonathan warned. "Look to your left."

Rubbing my eye, I looked to the left . . . and froze.

We were on a cliff.

And it dropped straight down.

Hundreds, thousands of feet down. I couldn't even see the bottom.

Not moving a muscle in my body, I stared at the ledge we were on. Each time one of Diablo's hoofs came down, pebbles skidded over the edge and disappeared.

With my heart galloping, I inched my head to the right . . . and froze.

Another drop off.

A really, really, really big drop off.

"J-J-Jonathan?"

"Calm down, GiGi. Diablo knows what he's doing. Concentrate on not moving. Don't do anything to set him off balance."

Locking every muscle in my body, I stared hard at the black hairs of Diablo's mane. I concentrated on not moving, not breathing. I heard a short, choppy, shallow intake of air and realized it was me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I forced a swallow, trying to moisten my mouth. I'd rather see darkness than the reality of the minuscule ledge and the vast jungle around me.

I heard another choppy breath come in and out of my mouth and then a deafening roar. "Wh-what was that?!"