Neil wanted to.Two months ago, he would have, flush with faith in his profession and the institutions that shaped it.
That faith had died in the echoing silence of an Old Kingdom quarry, witnessed by the endless columns of chiseled stone—and the heartbroken gaze of the friend he’d let down.
“I can’t,” Neil admitted helplessly.
Constance watched them silently, her eyes wide with surprise at how quickly the dynamic had turned.
“You’re here because my grandmother wants you here, and I respect her wishes,” Subhas bit out.“But I don’t trust you, and I won’t let you get in our way.”
Neil felt the words like blows.He wasn’t sure that he didn’t deserve them.
Subhas turned toward his men, who watched the exchange from the other end of the peak like they might eye a tiger mauling its prey.“We can be there in a half-day’s walk tomorrow, but we’re stopping here for the night.It’s going to rain.”
As though to punctuate his remark, another roll of thunder rumbled across the sky.
He walked away.
Neil remained rooted to the spot like a statue, his mind and heart reeling.
“Neil?”Constance asked softly.
“It’s all right,” Neil blurted out.“It’s… He’s… I’m…”
The words failed him.
Constance looked quietly sympathetic, but she said nothing to reassure him.How could she?
Subhas wasn’t wrong.
Neil had spent so much time over the last few weeks tormenting himself over the question of how to reconcile his impossible powers with his identity as a scholar.He had nearly forgotten the other lesson he had learned in Egypt—the one Sayyid had so painfully taught him.
If he was ever going to do this work again—work that he truly, passionately loved—he had to find a way to do it differently.To do it right.
Neil stared out at the uneasy promise of the slender stone that pierced through the shadowy trees.
“We should go help,” he concluded numbly, and turned away from it.
?
Twenty-Five
Rain washed againstEllie’s tent in a rasping patter.The downpour had started an hour before, but inside the canvas shelter, she remained dry—drowning only in her own worry.
A single paraffin lantern illuminated the two bedrolls.Kalb lay on the ground beside the blankets, his eyes mournfully fixed on the entrance as though he could will Adam to appear there.Every now and then, the dog let out an eloquent huff of longing.
Ellie thought of Adam’s casual theory that Kalb was his new lucky rock.He would have to revisit that hypothesis, as nothing had gone right for them since they had left the palace.
She was exhausted.Her leg hurt.She itched with the need to know how Adam was doing, but going out to look for him would only raise Borthwick’s suspicions higher than they were already—if she even made it that far.Regular patrols circled past her tent, the men set to guard the camp through the night.Jacobs would also be attuned to anything she or Adam might do that could cause him trouble.
As much as she hated it, for the moment all she could do was wait.
Ellie pulled a cigar tube from the pocket of her trousers.Unscrewing the lid, she slid a slender carved bone into her palm and traced her thumb over the rough texture of the Glagolitic characters carved into its smooth surface.They spelled out the wordsvetu… for light.
Instinct tickled.Ellie looked up to see a figure lingering in the rain-soaked gloom beyond the open flap of the tent.
A woman stared solemnly at Ellie through the downpour, wrapped in the pale folds of a drenched sari.
Black hair streamed over her shoulders.Her eyes glinted through the darkness like flecks of obsidian.
