“Good enough for me,” Temple said. “You passed the quiz. Now back in the plane and let’s get to work.”
“So we’re in?” Phoebe voiced. “Past the bullshit? No more secrets, no more games?”
“Or freakin’ quizzes?” Orlando added.
Temple grinned. “No more quizzes. But as for the secrets… In time I’ll let you in. Don’t want to blow your minds all at once. Then you’d be no good to me. Or your friends.”
“Our friends,” Orlando whispered. “How are they?”
“You can find out soon. Get on the plane and let’s head back to our facility.”
“But…” Phoebe looked back to the ruins, silent and desolate. “But this city was so ancient. And Tunguska was only a hundred years ago. What’s going on?”
“They’re both related.”
“And Mars?”
“We’ll get to that.” He stepped back into the plane. Orlando met Phoebe’s eyes, and saw all her confidence fleeing. Saw her teetering on the edge of exhaustion, overcome by the weight of such visions and responsibility.
He felt the same things, but right now he feared something far more personal. If he didn’t get her out of this, she might never come back. So he did the only thing he could think of.
He took her hand, pulled her close. And kissed the dust from her lips.
11.
Caleb hadn’t been back here, to the modern library, for almost five months. The last time, he and Alexander had spent a couple days in the city, visiting all the tourist spots and sailing in the harbor, where Caleb had pointed out the place where he had nearly drowned that fateful day he had his first vision of the Pharos. They visited Qaitbey’s Fortress, and Caleb had a difficult time keeping Alexander from finding the secret lever that would open the door to the sub-chambers… and the great seal guarding a now-empty vault. The boy wanted to see, and Caleb couldn’t blame him. Someday, he promised, they’d come back when it was safe, when they wouldn’t get caught.
He had vowed that they would do it together, with Lydia. The next time all three were in Alexandria together. The next time…
Caleb had to stop and hold onto a pillar as a rush of images burst into his skull. Like she was still there, still waiting.
Caleb caught his breath and looked up to see Alexander and Rashi staring at him, both concerned. They stood between a gap between two enormous rows of shelves. Books as far as he could see in any direction.
“I’m okay. Just had a moment.”
Alexander moved forward. “Was it Mom?”
Caleb smiled. “Yeah… just, I haven’t been here since…”
“Dad?” His hand on Caleb’s shoulder, Alexander pulled him up. His grip was strong, firmer than Caleb had ever remembered.
And Alexander shook his head. “No reason to be.”
“I did to you what my mother did to me. She stole my childhood, and I never forgave her for it, not until the end.”
Alexander rolled his eyes. “I’m still a kid. I’m—what’s the word?
A laugh mingled with a choking sob as Caleb stood up and hugged his son under the watchful gaze of the Keeper, Rashi. When they were ready, they made their way through the stacks and the shelves, the seemingly endless texts, volumes and tomes. While they walked, he took a moment to gaze fondly on all these works, and looked up at the sunlight-kissed levels above, all those treasures preserved here, hopefully for a long time to come.
At last, they made it to the elevator and accessed the locked sublevel. As the doors closed, Caleb glanced away from his son, out the doors and saw-
The once metal-walled hallway was now decorated with ancient artwork: Sumerian friezes, Babylonian bas-reliefs, Egyptian murals… Caleb had walked this hallway more than a hundred times, and each time he felt as if he were coming home.
Into the vault, Rashi joined several other Keepers: two men and a woman busy at work at their stations. Hideki Matusi, bone-thin, yet regally elegant in a way Caleb always associated with ancient scholars, stood over a glass table, lit from below, as she analyzed scroll fragments with a microscope. She took a break from translating the ancient texts and came down to greet them.
She nodded sympathetically to Caleb. “We mourn for Lydia. But the work must continue, as she would have wanted it.”
Caleb looked down at his shoes, choked up.
But then Hideki smiled at Alexander. “Ah, the precocious child returns.”
“Hello Hideki!” Alexander waved, beaming at her. “Can’t wait to help out again.”
“Yes, yes, so long as you promise not to spill chocolate milk on any more priceless fifth-century BC papyri.”
“I promise.”
“I mean it.”
Caleb found it surprisingly comforting to laugh, to be distracted from the finality of loss. “She means it, Alexander. And so do I. Socrates would have been
Rashi took a seat at the conference table, the very same one used by Nolan Gregory years ago when he had confined the Keepers down here for their protection. That day was the last great crisis for the Keepers. But now, they had lost two key members in the past week. One to tragedy, the other to greed. With Lydia and Robert
