Ethan Gage Collection # 1 (62 page)

“You broke apart a dead man's bones?”

“Silano found mention of the possibility while studying in Constantinople. Fleeing Templars came this way, Ethan, after their destruction in Europe. They hid something they'd found in Jerusalem in a strange city this map describes. Silano has discovered something else as well, something that may involve electricity and your Benjamin Franklin. Then we heard you'd been executed at Jaffa, but your body was missing. In desperation, I gave Monge the ring, wondering if he'd come across you. And now…”

“Were you
ever
in love with Alessandro Silano?”

She hesitated only a moment before answering. “No.”

I stood there, hoping for more before I dared ask the next, most logical question.

“I'm not proud of that fact,” she said. “He loved me. He still does. Men fall in love easily, but women must be careful. We were lovers, but it would be hard for me to
love
him.”

“Astiza, you didn't need me here to carry two golden angels.”

“Do you still love
me
, Ethan, as you said along the Nile?”

Of course I loved her. But I feared her, too. What had poor Talma called her, a witch? A sorceress? I feared the power she'd once more have over me when I admitted my attraction. And what of poor Miriam, still besieged in the walls of Acre?

Yet none of that mattered. All the old emotions were flooding back.

“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,
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.

 

S
ilano 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.”

“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
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.

“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 don't understand—that this energy may be nothing more than thought itself? Or…electricity?”

“I would say that the Nile you crashed into was no spiderweb, but instead substantial enough to break your hip,” I replied.

“Illusion upon illusion. That is what some of the sacred writings maintain, all inspired by Thoth.”

“Gold is mere spider's silk? Power grasps nothing but air?”

“Oh no. While we are but a dream, the dream is our reality. But here, then, is the secret. Let us suppose the most solid things, the stones of this church, are matrices of almost nothing. That the tumble of a boulder or the fall of a star is a simple mathematical rule. That a building can encompass the divine, a shape can be sacred, and a mind can sense unseen energies. What becomes of beings who realize this? If mountains are mere web, might not they be moved? If seas are the thinnest vapor, might not they be parted? Could the Nile become blood, or a plague of frogs spawned? How hard to tumble the walls of Jericho, when they are but a latticework? How hard to turn lead into gold when both, essentially, are dust?”

“You're mad,” said Mohammad. “This is Satan's talk.”

“No. I am a scholar!” And now he pushed to his feet, Najac giving him a hand that he shook off as soon as he was able. “You denied
me that title once, at a banquet before Napoleon, Ethan Gage. You insulted my reputation to make me seem petty.” I reddened despite myself. The man forgot nothing. “Yet I've probed these mysteries for twenty years. I came to Cairo when it was still in the thrall of the Mamelukes, and explored old mysteries while you were frittering your life away. I followed the trail of the ancients while you hooked your opportunism to the French. I've tried to understand the enigmatic hints left behind for us, while the rest of you wrestled in the mud.” He hadn't lost his high opinion of himself, either. “And now I understand what we're seeking, and what we must harness to find it. We have to catch the lightning!”

“Catch what?” Ned asked dubiously.

“Gage, I understand you have succeeded in using electricity as a weapon against Bonaparte's troops.”

“As a necessity of war.”

“I think we're going to need Franklin's expertise when we near the Book of Thoth. Are you electrician enough?”

“I'm a man of science, but I don't understand a word you're saying.”

“It's why we need the seraphim, Ethan,” Astiza broke in, more softly. “We think that somehow they're going to point to a final hiding point the Knights Templar used after destruction of their order. They brought what they'd found beneath Jerusalem to the desert and concealed it in the City of Ghosts. The documents are enigmatic, but Alessandro and I believe that Thoth, too, knew of electricity, and that the Templars set that as a test to find the book. We need to draw down the lightning like Franklin did.”

“So I agree with Mohammad. You're both mad.”

“In the vaults beneath Jerusalem,” Silano said, “you found a curious floor, with a lightning design. And a strange door. Did you not?”

“How do you know that?” Najac, I was certain, had never penetrated to the rooms we'd explored, and had not seen Miriam's oddly decorated door.

“I've been studying, as you said. And upon this Templar door you saw a Jewish pattern, did you not? The ten
sefiroth
of the kabbalah?”

“What has that to do with lightning?”

“Watch.” Bending to the dust on the floor by our fire, he drew two circles, their edges joined.

“All things are dual,” Astiza murmured.

“And yet united,” the count said. He drew another circle, as big as the first two, overlapping both. Then circles upon those circles, more upon more, the pattern becoming ever more intricate. “The prophets knew this,” he said. “Perhaps Jesus did as well. The Templars relearned it.” Then where circles intersected he began drawing lines, forming patterns: both a five-sided and a six-sided star. “The one is Egyptian and the other Jewish,” he said. “Both are equally sacred. The Egyptian star you use for your nation's new flag. Do you not think this was the intent of the Freemasons who helped found your country?” And finally, at the interstices, he jabbed out ten points, which made the same peculiar pattern we'd seen in the Templar Hall under the Temple Mount. The
sefiroth
, Haim Farhi had called them. Once again, everyone seemed to be speaking ancient tongues I wasn't privy too, and finding import in what I would have assumed was mere decoration.