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With a murmured thanks, I took a long sip. The weight of everyone’s stares settled on my shoulders. I was the newcomer, a stranger. Even Mr.Fincastle seemed at ease, reclining on a mat, one of his guns within hand’s reach. Isadora sat primly, her back straight, balancing a plate on a bended knee. She threw me a smile and then continued her quiet conversation with her father.
I wrestled with this strange night.
Magic thrummed near me from Trajan’s Kiosk, a constant lure, but I concentrated on the strangers surrounding me. It struck me all over again. In a land so far from home, where the people I wanted to be with the most in the world would never join the circle around the fire. I sensed the team’s sympathy, but I was alone, without even my uncle to keep me from feeling adrift. I’d been foolish to think of Whit as a friend. His loyalty to my uncle was as immovable as one of the great pyramids, and Whit would guard his secrets and interests as fiercely as a sphinx. I sipped my tea as a way to have something to do with my hands.
Abdullah sat on the other side of me, an affable smile on his face. “Your father was a marvelous storyteller. He knew how to make people laugh. Is that not a nice thing? Here, I see that you’ve finished your tea. Would you like more?” He talked fast, his hands wildly moving. I nodded in bemusement, and he reached around me and untied my uncle’s necktie from around his neck, and then he held it up for me to see. “My favorite magic.”
“What is it?” I’d seen Tío Ricardo wearing the garment earlier, the pattern an unexpected fashion choice. It was a Scottish plaid in bold reds and greens.
Abdullah motioned for me to hold up my empty mug. I did so, and watched in amazement as he wrung the necktie over it. Hot water poured into the cup, steam curling up into my face.
“That’s extraordinary,” I said.
Kareem ran over with a tea bag, and I thanked him. My uncle’s lips twitched in amusement as Abdullah shook out the necktie, aiming away from everyone. When he returned the square-shaped fabric to my uncle, it was completely dry. Tío Ricardo tied the ends into a knot around his neck.
“There’s more magic in a crate over by headquarters,” Abdullah said. “Useful things for digging and researching. Feel free to explore it.”
“Oh yes, I will. Shokran, I’m eager for you to put me to work.”
“You’d like to dig alongside the rest of us?” Abdullah asked with a wry smile.
My uncle peered at me. “It’s a hard day’s work, Inez. I’ve been doing it for over a decade and it never gets easier.”
“It’s not the same thing,” I said. “But I’ve always liked to search for things, Tío. I’m afraid I’m much too like my parents and you, for that matter. If you teach me how to excavate, I’m sure I can do the job properly.”
My uncle shook his head. “I’d prefer that you sketch and paint what you can.”
I sipped my tea in lieu of responding. He could tell me how to spend my days, but he had no say in what I did at night. I thought back to that frantic moment on the dahabeeyah, the instant I saw him tuck my mother’s journal into his trunk. What else of hers did he want to keep safe? I wanted to discover everything he hid from me.
I wanted to know about the mysterious gate.
But first, I needed leverage.
I stepped gingerly out into the night, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, and found a softly treaded path toward Trajan’s Kiosk. The Nile lapped against the rocky coast of the island, a push and pull that soothed my fluttering heart. I carried some of my parents’ supplies: matches and a candle, Papá’s switchblade, a canteen of water, my sketch pad and charcoal pencils. The night whispered against my skin, and I wished for my uncle’s enchanted shoe. It would make observing my surroundings much easier.
From what I could see, the path behind me remained empty. I scrambled across the sand, reaching Pharaoh’s Bed as quickly and as quietly as I could. The call of the magic flared to life, roaring as fiercely as a proud lion. I took a step forward but the hair on the back of my neck rose, and goosebumps flared up and down my arms. My knees shook as I halfway turned around, waiting with my breath trapped between my ribs, expecting to see someone following me.
But only the stretch of sand greeted me.
I kept still for several seconds longer before whirling to face the kiosk.But the sensation of someone watching shook me, and my hands were not altogether steady as I stepped inside.
Only then did I strike the match and light the candle.
The small flame barely illuminated the grandeur of the enclosed space. The upper half of the structure displayed enormous columns, reaching three stories or more, while the bottom half were walls covered in bas-reliefs. I stepped closer, examining each carved area, looking for any signs of the goddess Isis. The magic thrummed, as consistent as my own heartbeat.
“Find anything interesting?”
I jumped and somehow managed to cut off the scream at the back of my throat. “Whit!Por el amor de Dios!”
As was his usual manner, he lounged against the entrance, ankles crossed. He regarded me in bemused stupefaction. “I can’t find any reason why you should be out of bed at this hour, Olivera. Are you perhaps lost?”
I glared at him.
“No? I didn’t think so.”
“Surely my uncle doesn’t expect you to keep an eye on me day and night.”
“That would certainly be scandalous,” he said, smiling faintly.
