yet was looking curiously at my seraphim.

“I’ve tried to leave you and Miriam out of all this. It’s a nightmare, not a privilege. But now, if you know of underground tunnels you must help me find them. The French will not give up. We’re in a race.”

“I’m a smith, not an explorer.”

“And I’m a mere trade representative caught up in distant wars, not a soldier. Sometimes we’re called to things, Jericho. You’ve been called to help me with this.”

“To find Moses’ magic book.”

“Not Moses. Thoth.”

“Ah. To find a book written by a mythical god, a false idol.”

“No! To prevent the wrong people—the renegade Egyptian Rite of Freemasonry—from harnessing its power for evil.” My frustration was rising because I knew how insane I sounded.

“The Egyptian Rite?”

“You remember the rumors of them in England, brother,” Miriam said. “A secret society, said to have dark practices. Other Masons abhorred them.”

“Yes, that’s right,” I encouraged. “I suspect the man who attacked your sister is one of them.”

“But I work with hard iron and hot fire,” Jericho protested. “Tangible things. I know nothing of ancient Jerusalem or hidden tunnels or lost books or renegade Masons.”

I grimaced. How could I enlist him?

“Yet we know there is a scholar in this city who has researched the ancient pathways,” Miriam allowed.

“You don’t mean the usurer!”

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w i l l i a m d i e t r i c h

“He’s a student of the past, brother.”

“A historian?” I interrupted. It sounded like Enoch, who had helped me in Egypt.

“More like a mutilated tax collector, but no one knows more about the history of Jerusalem,” Jericho conceded. “Miriam has befriended him. We need lanterns, picks, help from Sidney Smith . . . and the counsel of Haim Farhi.”

“And who is he?” I said cheerfully, relieved the blacksmith was helping.

“A man who knows more than anyone about the treasure hunters who came before you—the Christian knights who may have beaten you to your quest.”

c h a p t e r

7

I expected Haim Farhi would have some of the Aristotle-like gravity and dignity of Enoch, the mentor and antiquarian in Egypt who was murdered by my enemies.

Instead, I was struggling not to gape. It wasn’t just that this short, slight, middle-aged Jew with corkscrew sidelocks and dour, dark clothing lacked Enoch’s majesty. It was that he had been mutilated into one of the most hideous men I’d ever seen. Part of his nose was carved away, leaving a piglike snout. His right ear was missing. And his right eye had been gouged, leaving a socket closed by a scar.

“My God, what happened to him?” I whispered to Jericho as Miriam took the man’s cloak at the door.

“He incurred the ire of Djezzar the Butcher,” the smith replied quietly. “Do not express pity. He carries his survival like a badge of honor. He’s one of the most powerful bankers in Palestine and has Djezzar’s trust, having remained loyal after torture.”

“People use him for their savings and loans?”

“It was his face that was damaged, not his mind.”

“Rabbi Farhi is one of the province’s foremost historians,” Miriam said more loudly as they came toward us, both guessing the reason for 6 4

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our whispers. “He’s also a student of Jewish mysteries. Anyone delv-ing into the past is wise to seek his counsel.”

“So I appreciate his help,” I said diplomatically, trying not to stare.

“As I appreciate your tolerance of my misfortune,” Farhi replied in a serene voice. “I know my effect on people. I see my disfigure-ment mirrored in the look of every frightened child. But mutilation’s isolation gives me time for this city’s legends. Jericho tells me you’re searching for lost secrets of strategic significance, yes?”

“Possibly.”

“Possibly? Come, if we’re to make progress we must trust each other, must we not?”

I was learning not to trust much of anyone, but didn’t say that, or anything else.

“And these items may have some connection with the Ark of the Covenant,” Farhi persisted. “Is this not so as well?”

“It is.” Obviously he knew what I’d told Jericho.

“I can understand why you’ve journeyed so far, with such excitement. Yet it is my sad responsibility to warn that you may be seven hundred years too late. Men have come to Jerusalem before, seeking the same powers you have.”

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