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CAPÍTULO VEINTICINCO
We were met by another barrier. I bit my lip in frustration, eager to see what lay in wait but terrified of advancing any farther. Neither Abdullah or Tío Ricardo appeared to be concerned by the thick wall. It was massive, centered by two shrine doors carved with more hieroglyphs. Each one had a copper handle, and the handles were tied together with a thick rope spiraling from left to right.
“Made of papyrus fiber,” Abdullah commented.
“We’ll have to break the seal in order to confirm who’s on the other side,” Tío Ricardo said, sounding more boyishly excited than I’d ever heard him. He pulled out his pocket knife, intending to cut through the rope, but he hesitated. With a rueful shake of his head, he stepped away from the barred entrance and handed Abdullah the knife.
“You’ve come to your senses, then?” Abdullah said archly. “I thought I taught you better than that.”
Ricardo rolled his eyes. “You ought to do the honors.”
“Use your head, Ricardo,” Abdullah said. “Always rushing around without thinking.” He was silent for several long beats, considering. “We have Inez draw the seal first. Then after it’s been recorded, I’ll break the seal. But wedo notopen the sarcophagus, nor remove it from the chamber.”
I let out a soft sigh of relief. My mother and I had enough time to come up with a plan. “My supplies are just upstairs. I can start drawing the other rooms, if you’d like.”
Abdullah nodded. “And the crew?”
“Do you wish them down here?” Tío Ricardo asked.
Abdullah considered the question and then shook his head. “Not yet. I suggest they continue working on the rooms under Trajan’s Kiosk.” A gleam of excitement lurked in his warm brown eyes. “Now that we know what’s underneath the Temple of Isis, I wonder if the two might connect underground.”
Excitement pulsed in my blood. That must have been the magic I felt underneath the kiosk.
“Agreed,” Tío Ricardo said. “Whit, while Inez is drawing, we’ll record our findings of everything inside both rooms.” He turned to me. “Can you handle the responsibility?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Bien, bien,” Tío Ricardo said. “I think we ought to invite Mr. Fincastle to keep watch at the staircase entrance.”
“I will help record the artifacts,” Abdullah said.
My uncle inclined his head, and one by one, we walked back through the two chambers and up the hidden staircase, each of us with our marching orders.
My mother came to me that night while the rest of the camp slept. I sat on my bedroll, anxiously fiddling with the sheets until her outline appeared on the other side of the curtain, lit by the soft light of the moon. She tugged the fabric away and stepped inside. She was dressed in dark clothing again, a long black gown and double-breasted jacket obscuring her slight frame. She’d wrapped a scarf around her head, covering her hair and most of her face.
I stood and raised my index finger. Then I pointed in the direction of Whit’s room. She understood immediately, and beckoned for me to follow her outside. Wordlessly, Mamá led me toward the edge of Philae. The moon hung high above us, illuminating our path. Several times she paused to look around us, watching for danger. It was Mr. Fincastle who stood guard but even he’d gone to bed. Finally, she slowed down once we reached the riverbank.
Then she turned and wrapped her arms around me in a fierce embrace. She smelled different, not like her usual floral perfume that always remindedme of her. Here in Egypt, her scent was earthier. I still couldn’t believe she was alive and that she’d found me. I was immeasurably lucky. I’d gotten a second chance, when I had no hope for one.
“Something happened today,” she murmured. “All of you were inside the temple for a long time. Why?”
I licked my dry lips. “Mamá, it was my fault. I felt magic, and it was overwhelming, intense. I led them straight to her tomb.”
Every part of my mother went still. “Cleopatra has been found.”
I nodded miserably.
She faced the Nile, watching the slow current sweep past us. Millions of stars glimmered in the pitch-black night, reflecting off the watery surface. “Did you know ancient Egyptians used to throw their valuables into the river?”
I nodded. “During the annual flood, in worship of Anuket.”
Mamá bent and dipped her palm into the water. “Imagine everything she’s seen through the centuries.”
It was a sobering thought. The Nile knew everything, had seen the best and worst of Egypt.
“Cleopatra would have been brought to Philae all the way from Alexandria, over water, in a procession unlike any other.” She stood, her face pale. “Your uncle will destroy her final resting place. He’ll make millions illegally trading the artifacts at Tradesman’s Gate.”
“Mamá, how could we stop him? What could we possibly do?” I let the question permeate the cold night before continuing. “We ought to leave for Cairo, tonight. We can book passage back to Argentina, and leave all of this behind us.”
