r o s e t t a k e y
1 9 3
“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.
There were heaps and hollows from excavation. Astiza showed me 1 9 4
w i l l i a m d i e t r i c h
the opened stone sarcophagus where the Knight Templar’s bones had apparently been found, concealed beneath the floor.
“Silano found references to this grave in the Vatican and the libraries of Constantinople,” she said. “This knight was Michel de Troyes, who fled the arrests of the Templars in Paris and sailed for the Holy Land.”
“There was a letter that said he laid his bones with Moses,” Silano said, “and buried the secret within him. It took some time before we realized the reference meant the location must be Mount Nebo, even though the grave of Moses has never been found. I hoped to simply find the document in the knight’s grave, but didn’t.”
“You hit the bones in impatience,” Astiza said.
“Yes.” The admission of emotion was reluctant. “And a crack in his femur showed a hint of gold. A slim tube had been inserted—his leg must have been butchered and its bone hollowed after his death—and within the tube was a medieval map, the names in Latin. It points to the next step. It was then that we sent for you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a Franklin man. An electrician.”
“Electricity?”
“Is the key. I’ll explain after supper.” By now there were twenty of us—Najac’s men, my own trio, and Silano, Astiza, and several bodyguards that Silano traveled with.
Evening had come on. These servants built a fire in a corner of the church’s ruined walls and then left key members of the expedition alone. Najac sat with us, to my distaste, so I insisted Ned and Mohammad eat with us as well. Astiza knelt demurely, not at all her character, and Silano commanded the center position. We sat on sand drifting across old mosaics of Roman hunting scenes, animals rearing before spears thrust by noblemen in a forest.
“So, we are all together at last,” Silano began, the warmth of the fire making a cocoon from the cold desert sky. Sparks flew up to mingle with the stars. “Is it possible Thoth meant unions like this, to solve the riddles he left for us? Have we unwittingly been following the gods all along?”
“I believe in one true God,” Mohammad muttered.
t h e
r o s e t t a k e y
1 9 5
“Aye,” said Ned, “though you’ve got the wrong one, mate. No offense.”
“As I believe in One,” Silano said, “and all things, and all beings, and all beliefs, are manifestations of his mystery. I’ve followed a thousand roads in the libraries, monasteries, and tombs of the world, and all lead toward the same center. That center is what we seek, my reluctant allies.”
“What center, master?” Najac prompted, like the trained dog he was.
Silano picked up a grain of sand. “What if I said this was the universe?”
“I’d say take it, and leave us the rest,” Ned suggested.
The count smiled thinly, threw up the grain, and caught it. “And what if I said the world around us is gossamer, as insubstantial as the spaces between a spider’s web, and all that sustains the illusion are mysterious energies we
