Страница 42 из 95
“Quite a place,” Michener said. “Isn’t it?”
“It’s what religion and commercial might can do when joined together. Venetian merchants were the scavengers of the world. Here’s the best evidence of their pilfering.”
“Are you always so cynical?”
“The Soviets taught me that the world is a tough place.”
“And to your gods, do you ever offer any thanks?”
She gri
“We’re hoping you might reconsider your paganism.”
She bristled at the label. The word itself implied that somehow the belief in many gods was inferior to the belief in one. She didn’t view it that way. Throughout history, many of the world’s cultures had agreed with her, which she made clear. “My beliefs have served me well.”
“I didn’t mean to imply they were wrong. It’s only that we may be able to offer some new possibilities.”
After tonight, she would have little use for the Catholic Church. She’d allow a limited amount of contact within the Federation, enough to keep the radical Muslims off balance, but never would an organization capable of preserving all that now surrounded her be allowed a foothold in her domain.
She motioned toward the high altar, beyond an ornate multicolored rood screen that looked suspiciously like an iconostasis. She could hear activity from its brightly lit far side.
“They’re preparing to open the sarcophagus. We’ve decided to return a hand, arm, or some other significant relic that can be easily extracted.”
She couldn’t resist. “You don’t see the ridiculousness in that?”
Michener shrugged. “If it’ll please the Egyptians, what does it hurt?”
“What about sanctity of the dead? Your religion preaches that constantly. Yet there’s apparently nothing wrong with disturbing a man’s tomb, removing part of his remains, and giving them away.”
“It’s an unfortunate thing, but necessary.”
She despised his bland i
She stared around at the deserted nave, most of the chapels, altars, and niches cast in deep shadows. Her two guardsmen stood only a few meters away. She studied the marble floor, every bit as exquisite as the mosaic walls. Lots of colorful geometrical, animal, and flower motifs, along with unmistakable undulations-intentional, some said, to mimic the sea, but more likely the effect of a weak foundation.
She thought of Ptolemy’s words. And you, adventurer, for my immortal voice, though far off, fills your ears, hear my words. Sail onto the capital founded by Alexander’s father, where sages stand guard.
Though Ptolemy certainly believed himself clever, time had solved that part of the riddle. Nectanebo ruled Egypt, as pharaoh, during the era of Alexander the Great. While Alexander was a teenager, Nectanebo was driven into exile by invading Persians. Egyptians at the time firmly believed Nectanebo would one day return and expel the Persians. And nearly ten years after his defeat, this idea proved more or less true, when Alexander arrived and the Persians promptly surrendered and left. To elevate their liberator and make his presence more palatable, Egyptians told stories of how, early in his rule, Nectanebo had traveled to Macedonia, disguised as a magician, and coupled with Olympias, Alexander’s mother, which would make Nectanebo, not Philip, Alexander’s father. The story was utter nonsense but prevalent enough that five hundred years later it found its way into the Alexander Romance, a piece of fanciful historical fiction that many historians, she knew, erroneously cited as authority. During his reign as the last Egyptian pharaoh, history notes that Nectanebo established Memphis as his capital, which solved sail onto the capital founded by Alexander’s father.
The next part, where sages stand guard, reinforced that conclusion.
At the temple of Nectanebo, in Memphis, stood a semicircle of eleven limestone statues depicting Greek sages and poets. Homer, whom Alexander worshipped, was a central figure. Plato, who taught Aristotle, and Aristotle himself, who taught Alexander, were there, too, along with other renowned Greeks to whom Alexander possessed a close co
Ptolemy had entombed the body he believed to be Alexander at the temple of Nectanebo. There it stayed until after Ptolemy’s death, when his son moved the body north to Alexandria.
Sail onto the capital founded by Alexander’s father, where sages stand guard.
Go south to Memphis and the temple of Nectanebo.
She thought of the next line of the riddle.
Touch the i
And smiled.
FORTY-THREE
TORCELLO
VIKTOR FLATTENED HIMSELF ONTO THE STAIRWAY, RAISING AN arm and shielding his face from the overwhelming heat that surged upward through the ground-floor doorway. The turtle had reacted to the rising temperatures, automatically disintegrating, doing what it was created to do. No way Rafael had survived. Greek fire’s initial temperatures were enormous, enough to soften metal and burn stone, but its secondary heat was even more powerful. Human flesh was no match. As with what should have happened to the man in Copenhagen, Rafael would soon be ash.
He turned back.
Fire raged ten feet away.
The heat was becoming unbearable.
He hustled to the top.
The old building was erected at a time when the first-floor ceiling doubled as the second story’s flooring. The ceiling below was, by now, totally ablaze. One of the purposes of having the turtle explode was to force the destruction outward. Creaks and moans from the second-story floorboards confirmed their rapid devastation. The weight of the three display cases and the other bulky exhibits wasn’t helping. Though the second story had not yet ignited, he realized that crossing the floor could be foolish. Thankfully, the stairwell where he stood was fashioned from stone.
A set of double windows broke the wall a few feet away, facing the piazzetta. He decided to risk it and stepped lightly, hugging the outer perimeter, glancing through the panes, down below.
CASSIOPEIA SAW THE FACE IN THE WINDOW. SHE INSTANTLY dropped the bow, gripped her gun, and fired two shots.
VIKTOR LEAPED BACK INTO THE STAIRWELL AS THE WINDOW SHATTERED. He gripped his gun and prepared to return fire. He’d seen enough to know that his attacker was a woman, clear from her silhouetted shape. She’d been holding a bow, but had quickly replaced that weapon with a gun.
Before he could take advantage of his higher ground, a flaming arrow bypassed the wrought-iron bars and pierced the open window, embedding into the plaster on the opposite side of the room. Thankfully, no turtle had saturated things here. Only the two packs he’d left earlier, one on the floor, the other inside the pilfered display case, were potential problems.
He needed to do something.
So he took a cue from his attacker and shot out the double windows that opened to the rear of the building.
CASSIOPEIA HEARD VOICES TO HER LEFT, TOWARD WHERE THE restaurant and i