The Rosetta Key

“I’ve loved you from the moment I pulled the wreckage off you in Alexandria,” I finally confirmed in a rush. “I loved you when we were riding in the chebek up the Nile, and I loved you in Enoch’s house, and I loved you even when I thought for a moment you’d betrayed me at Dendara Temple. And I loved you when I thought we were doomed in the Great Pyramid. I loved you enough to throw in with the damned British just in hopes of getting you back, and I loved you to throw in again, it seems, with the damned French. I loved even the hope of seeing you when I was in the valley down there, and all the long ride up the mountain, even when I had no idea what I’d say to you or what you’d look like or how you’d feel.” I was losing all discipline, wasn’t I?

Women can rob a man of sense faster than Appalachian jug whiskey.

And now, out of breath and hanging for hope, I waited for her to cut me dead with a word. I’d opened my chest to the muskets. I’d bent beneath the executioner’s blade.

She gave a sad smile. “It would be hard to love Alessandro, but it was not hard for me to fall in love with you.” I actually swayed slightly, dizzy with joy. “Then let’s leave now.

Tonight.”

She shook her head, her eyes wet. “No, Ethan. Silano knows too much. We can’t leave him to this quest. We have to see it through, and seize the book when the time is right. We have to work with him, 1 9 2

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and then betray him. It’s been my destiny since I met him in Cairo, and yours since you won the medallion in Paris. Everything has been leading up to this mountaintop, and the mountains beyond. We’ll find it and then we will leave.”

“What mountains beyond?”

“The City of Ghosts.”

“What?”

“It’s a sacred place, a mythical place. No European has been there, I think, since the Templars. Our journey isn’t done.” I groaned. “By the greed of Benedict Arnold.”

“So you and I must now be estranged, Ethan, to mislead him.

You’re angry I’ve partnered again with Alessandro, and we journey on as bitter ex-lovers. They must think us enemies until the very end.”

“Enemies?”

And then she swung and slapped me, as hard as she could.

It sounded like a rifle shot. I glanced back. The others were looking down the slope at us. Alessandro Silano, tall, his bearing aristocratic, was watching most intently.

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Silano was not the lithe swordsman I remembered. He walked with a limp, and pain had hardened his handsomeness, turning Pan-like charm into a darker satyr of frustrated ambition. He was more rigid from the injury he’d suffered in the balloon fall, and his gaze had no seduction this time, only purpose. There was darkness in his eye, and a hard set to his mouth. He winced as he came down a goat path from the ruined Byzantine chapel to meet us, and didn’t offer a hand or greeting. What would be the point? We were rivals, and my face still stung from Astiza’s slap. I suspected Monge or other physicians had given him drugs for the pain.

“Well?” Silano asked. “Does he have them?”

“He wouldn’t say,” she reported. “He’s not convinced he should help us.”

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“So you persuade by slapping him?”

She shrugged. “We have some history.”

Silano turned to me. “We don’t seem able to escape each other, do we, Gage?”

“I was doing just fine until you sent for me with Astiza’s ring.”

“And you came for her, as you did before. I hope she learns to appreciate it before you learn to tire of it. She’s not an easy woman to love, American.” He glanced at her, no more sure than me how much to trust her. She’d put him off, I could tell. They were allies, not lovers.

It’s not easy to live with something you can’t have, and Silano was not a man to tolerate frustration. We would all have to watch each other.

“She told me you’d bring two small metal angels you found in the Great Pyramid. Did you?”

I hesitated, just to make him squirm. Then, “I brought them. That doesn’t mean I’ll use them to help you.” I wanted to test how hostile he was. He could, of course, have me killed. “They’re in a safe place until we’ve talked. Given our history, you’ll forgive me if I don’t entirely trust you.”

He bowed. “Nor I you, of course. And yet partners need not be friends. In fact, sometimes it is better they are not: there is more honesty that way, don’t you think? Come, I’m sure you’re hungry after your journey. Let’s eat, and I’ll tell you a story. Then you can decide if you wish to help.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you can go back to Acre. And Astiza can follow or stay as she wishes.” He began limping back up the path, then turned. “But I know what both of you will decide.”

I glanced at Astiza, looking for reassurance that she despised this man, this diplomat, duelist, conjurer, scholar, and schemer. But her gaze was not of contempt but of sadness. She understood how captive we are to desire and frustration. We were dreamers in a nightmare of our own making.

We hiked to the roofless church, light picking out its rubble.