Читать книгу The Serpent’s Curse - Tony Abbott, Tony Abbott - Страница 16

The curator led them back up to the atrium.

As Wade watched the man disappear, Darrell’s hip pocket began to ring. “It’s Dad,” he said, and stepped away, listening, Lily along with him. Becca turned to follow them when Wade stopped her.

“How’s your arm?” he asked.

She smiled. “Okay. Better all the time.”

“Good.” He was still deciding if he should tell Becca about the dream. The one he’d had leaving Guam in which Becca had seemed to be, well, dead. He’d so far been unable to say it out loud. It was too upsetting, even for him. Naturally, he worried that his dream had something to do with Markus Wolff’s intense look at her in the Mission in San Francisco, although that was clearly impossible, since his dream had been earlier.

“What about the Mission?” Becca asked.

“What?”

“You said Mission, just now.”

His face went hot. “I did? Well … it’s just … I wonder what Markus Wolff meant about the twelfth relic. That we should ask ourselves what it was.”

“Me, too. Strange, huh?”

“Yeah.”

That went nowhere.

Darrell was off the phone now. “Good news. Investigators are spreading across Europe.”

“He said we have to be prepared that they won’t find your mom today or probably tomorrow,” Lily added. “That it’ll take some time, but everybody feels good about it.”

“Excellent,” said Julian. “It may not be long now before we know what the ribbon says and where it points.”

“Find the relic, find Sara,” Becca said.

“That’s the idea,” said Wade.

There was a slow click of heels on tile, and a tiny, very old woman hobbled into the open atrium as if wandering in from the long past. She wore a dark beige pantsuit with a bright pink scarf flowing up out of her vest like a fountain. Her eyes flickered like a pair of tiny flashlights low on battery, and she bleated, “I’m … ancient …”

Wade glanced at the others, then back to the woman. “Oh, not so much—”

“… curator here at the … Morgan,” she said, scowling at him. She huffed several more breaths as if each could be her last. “Dr. Rosemary Billing …”

“Pleased to meet you, Dr. Billing,” Becca said.

“Ham,” the woman said.

“Excuse me?” said Lily.

“Ham,” the woman repeated. “Billingham. My name is Bill … ingham. Why won’t you let me …” Three, four breaths. “… finish? Now … who are … you all … and how … may I help you?”

One by one they told her their names. She frowned severely at each one until Julian’s. “Julian?” she gasped, adjusting her glasses. “There you are! Well, if you’re … here then it’s quite all right. Fol … low me.”

Stopping and starting several times, like a car backing up in a tight space, Dr. Billingham turned around and toddled down the hallway she had just come from, wheezing the whole time. What seemed a day and a half later, they arrived at a small, windowless room. Rosemary flicked on the lights and, after much finger motion, unlocked a glass-topped display case.

“Despite these … scytale staffs being, in many cases, also used as … weapons, they’re old, and … we must consider them extremely fragile. Rather … like me …”

Wade didn’t know whether to laugh or not, but he knew to wait.

Five breaths later, she added, “… dieval manuscripts.”

Then Rosemary waved her hand over the contents of the case like a game-show hostess. She was right to do so. As Julian had promised, the library’s collection of scytale staffs was special. They were obviously ancient, and all were roughly between five and ten inches long. Two were carved in thick ebony, one appeared to be cast in bronze, and the others were shaped of ivory or wood. Each was nestled in its own formfitting compartment and labeled by date. The earliest was from the sixth century BCE—“Before the Common … Era,” Rosemary explained—the most recent from Germany in the eleventh century. The smallest staff was little bigger around than a pencil, while the largest bore a circumference similar to the handle on a tennis racket.

“Now show me your rib …,” Rosemary asked Becca alarmingly, then finished with “… bon.”

Becca removed the ribbon carefully from her pocket, unrolled it, and laid it flat on the table.

The curator frowned through her spectacles as she examined the ribbon. “About a … hundred letters?”

“Ninety,” Becca said, glancing at Julian, who nodded.

“Ah, just … like … me …”

Wade waited six, seven breaths, but that turned out to be the end of her sentence.

Rosemary tugged either end of the ribbon lightly. “The fabric is silk. Without … running tests, I would guess it was woven sometime in the fifteenth or sixteenth century.”

“That fits our date,” Darrell said.

The curator raised a finger as if to shush him. “Also, it doesn’t … stretch very much. This is good. It means we’ll have better luck finding an exact fit. Let’s start small … and go up from there.” Then, chuckling to herself, she added, “The narrower the staff, the larger the mess …”

Two breaths.

“… age.”

Rosemary took up the narrowest of the staffs, more of a dowel than anything else, with five equal sides. Pinching the top end of the ribbon against one of the sides, she gently spiraled it around the dowel like the stripe of a candy cane, making sure that the letters sat next to one another. The first line of the message read:

TGOSNOTSTPHID

Which, because of the peculiar wiring of his brain, Darrell said aloud before anyone could stop him. “‘To go snot stupid.’ No, wait. ‘Togo’s not stupid.’ Is that the dog from The Wizard of Oz? Who’s Togo?”

“You are,” said Wade, glaring at his stepbrother. “And we’re not sure what language it’s in, remember that. Copernicus knew several. Either way, that’s obviously not the right staff. Can we try a bigger one, to spread out the letters—”

“Keep your pant … s on, young man,” Rosemary growled at Wade, who she suddenly seemed to like less than she liked Darrell. “I shall choo … se what we do next. And I choose … a bigger one, to spread out the letters more.” She returned the first dowel to the case, then selected a thicker one and carefully wrapped the ribbon around it. It produced the following sequence of letters:

TOSMNHTTHLDE

“That’s not a word,” said Lily. “Another one?”

The curator’s wobbly cheeks turned red, and Wade wondered if she would explode and what that might look like. He stepped back. Rose … mary waved a hand in front of her face as if to cool off, then pulled out a staff with ten sides and a diameter of about one and a half inches. Wrapping the ribbon around it produced the following first three lines in English:

TOTHELAND

OFENDLESS

SNOWTOBEG

“To the land of endless snow …” Becca gasped. “That’s it! Yay, we found it!”

Rosemary’s face was purple when she whirled it around to Becca’s. “Who found it, dear? Did we … find it? Because I rather th … ink I found it.”

“You did, Rosemary,” said Julian. “As usual, you are being tremendously awesome. My friends here, as grateful as they are, are simply super anxious to know what the rest of the message says. Forgive them, please.”

“Dear … boy!” Rosemary said, pausing to pinch Julian’s cheeks a few times. “Here then … is the whole th … ing.”

TOTHELAND

OFENDLESS

SNOWTOBEG

THEATHOSG

REEKCONCE

ALTHEUNBO

UNDDOUBLE

EYEDBEAST

FROMDEMON

MASTERAVH

Wade drew out the notebook containing the major clues they’d discovered so far and, after much scribbling, broke down the text into individual words.

TO THE LAND OF ENDLESS SNOW TO BEG THE ATHOS GREEK CONCEAL THE UNBOUND DOUBLE EYED BEAST FROM DEMON MASTER AVH

And there it was, a riddle to the location of the second Guardian and the second relic.

“We’re all thinking it, right?” said Becca. “‘Demon Master AVH’?”

“Albrecht von Hohenzollern, Grand Master of the Teutonic Order in the fifteen hundreds,” said Darrell. “I like that Copernicus finally called him what he was.”

Wade set his father’s college notebook on the table, closed his eyes, and tried to think. Land of endless snow, Athos Greek, conceal the unbound … double-eyed beast … double-eyed …

“If I close my eyes … for that long … people think I’m dead!” Rosemary cackled.

“No, no,” Wade said, opening his eyes. “It’s just that … double-eyed beast describes the object we’re looking for, and it’s based on a constellation.” From his backpack, he took out and unfolded the celestial map his uncle Henry had given him.

“Oh, there are several star charts in our collection,” Rosemary said, “but that’s a very nice one.”

“Thanks.” Carefully running his fingers over the constellations, Wade searched the chart’s colorful illustrations, hoping something would pop out at him. His mind flashed with the idea of the twelfth relic, but he waved it away. Right now there were at least a dozen candidates for double-eyed beast—constellations named for dogs, wolves, dragons, monsters—but not one of them suggested that it and it alone was the one Copernicus referred to on the ribbon. “If I study this long enough, I bet I can figure it out.”

“Then my work here is done,” Dr. Billingham said. She slid the ribbon from the staff, pressed it into Becca’s palm, replaced the staff in the display case, snapped the case shut, and locked it away. “For the further meaning of your message, I suggest you all trot off to Hell …”