I hunch forward again and continue the time-consuming task of translating. “Often talked of, never seen, ever coming, never been.”
Is it a prophecy?
I sniff-snort. Blasted nose.
The next part reads, “Daily looked for, never here, still approaching, coming near.”
It’s sounding like a prophecy, but of what?
My back starts protesting its harsh treatment, but I ignore it. “Thousands for my visit wait…”
Whose visit would gobs of people wait for?
“… but alas for their fate…”
That sounds ominous.
Waiting. My visit. Alas. I’ve got no clue.
I sniff as I rub my chin, continuing. “Though they expect me to appear, they will never find me here.”
These people are waiting in the wrong place…
What is this?
My knees start throbbing along with my back, but I’m nearly done, and I persist.
“What am I?”
Great question, Sherlock.
I sit back, my back and nose thanking me and drop my hands in my lap. “What am I?” I frown as my mind whirls, trying to make heads or tails of it all. “The title said ‘answer lady sphinx’.” Yes, I’m still talking to myself.
I furrow my brow. Sphinxes are mythical creatures. Tales told of one in ancient Thebes terrorizing its citizens by demanding the answer to a riddle taught her by the Muses—what creature walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon and three in the evening? It ate every person who answered incorrectly. Eventually Oedipus gave the right answer: man, who crawls on all fours in infancy, walks on two feet when grown, and leans on a staff in old age. At that, the sphinx killed herself.
“Answer lady sphinx. Answer lady sphinx.” I wave my arms about, as if that’ll conjure an answer.
The great sphinx of the Giza plateau is the most famous, but there’s been a host of sphinxes around Egypt since time immemorial. Egyptians believed the creatures protected important places.
My brain keeps mulling, trying to assemble all the pieces into one coherent picture. It doesn’t come quickly, but at length, inspiration strikes.
It’s a riddle.
“Often talked of, never seen, ever coming, never been. Daily looked for, never here, still approaching, coming near. Thousands for my visit wait, but alas, for their fate, though they expect me to appear, they will never find me here. What am I?”
“Yes,” I shout. Lightness fills my chest as clarity dawns. I become more and more sure of it, especially with “Answer lady sphinx” as the title.
One sentence remains for me to decipher, the answer to the riddle if I have to guess. I return my attention to the scroll and quickly discern the ancient Egyptian, very long-winded way of saying, “tomorrow.”
I grin from ear to ear, scanning the trove of scrolls. Do all of these contain riddles? I snort; they’re a regular joke book, if so. Imagine. But whether riddles or something else, this is an unbelievable discovery.
I throw my head back and laugh because it’s mine. Luck has finally smiled on me.
Movement out of the corner of my eye interrupts my celebration, and I pivot my head to see a column of dark, swirling smoke coalescing. My heart accelerates.
Smoke.
But there’s no flame, and I don’t smell any smoky odor.
I scan the rest of the room.
The swirls grow thicker and thicker and…
I shriek as a man with an olive complexion, perfectly styled, short onyx hair, and five-o’clock scruff lining his jaw, steps out. That, along with his fine, gray-leather duster, tell me he’s trouble.
Chapter Four
My heart pounds, and I grab the Maglite as I bolt up.
Gold eye, silver eye.
The guy isn’t huge, taller than me for sure, but aren’t most guys? He looks to be in good shape, and there’s no way I’ll best him if he tries something. The light from my headlamp doesn’t reach him so with hands trembling, I shine the flashlight at his face.
He squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head away. “Do you mind?” His rich baritone voice comes out pissy as he turns palms up in protest making the silver and gold rings decorating the first three fingers on both hands glint in my beam.
“Who… who are you? Whe… where did you come from? How’d you do that?” I make a circle in the air with my free hand miming the swirl of his smoke trick.
He clenches his jaw and shakes his head, hands still up.
I can picture him rolling his eyes under those dark lids, but I don’t care. No way is Mister Duster going to hurt me if I can help it. I brace, moving my feet shoulder distance apart and grip the flashlight more tightly.
“Would you please stop blinding me with that thing? I’m not going to hurt you.” He’s got an accent. It’s not strong, maybe that’s why I can’t place it.
“I’m just supposed to believe you?” My pitch rises.
His muscled abdomen moves with the force of expelled air under the well-fitted, leather vest.
Huff all you want, I don’t care.
If I wasn’t so scared, I might enjoy checking him out further, but I need to find a way out of here while protecting my find. But how? There’s no way I’ll make it up ninety-nine steps before him.
“You have questions. We can’t very well talk if you don’t lower your light,” he says.
He hasn’t moved any closer, thank heavens, but my gut isn’t buying his cajoling. Guys dressed like this always mean trouble. Always.
“You don’t seem to be having a problem talking.” I keep my light trained on him and resist biting my lip.
Eyes still closed, his scowl morphs into a grin as he lowers his arms and straightens, then shifts his feet apart giving him a confident, wholly masculine look. He probably smells good, too.
Stop it,
