Vasiliev stared at them, his face pale.
“How?”
“Adhesive magnets,” said Séverin, with a grim smile. “Fascinating, aren’t they? Even small particles that can coat a man’s shoes might retain their strong polarity. Now, the chain and lens pendant around your neck, if you please.”
He expected Vasiliev to frown in confusion… but instead, the other man just bowed his head. Guilt scrawled across his features. The same guilt Séverin detected in the design of his salon’s entrance.
“I knew this was coming.”
Séverin frowned, on the verge of speaking when Vasiliev grabbed a champagne flute, knocked back the drink and then shuddered as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
“A truly blessed man is one who knows his burdens,” said Vasiliev. His gaze slid to the champagne. “It was kind of you to provide mind Forged champagne. It absolves one of guilt, though I have few people left in my life to answer to these days.”
Vasiliev unwrapped the chain from around his neck, already starting to sway on his feet. The Tezcat spectacle lens glittered in the dark room. It was the size of an ordinary monocle and set into a structure that resembled a key. He placed it on his desk, his eyes slowly closing.
“She’s not safe, you know,” he said wearily. “She’ll find you. And then she will see reason.”
His chin dropped to his chest as unconsciousness overtook him. Laila looked at Séverin, horror on her face.
“Who is he talking about?”
But Séverin had no answer.
9
ZOFIA
Zofia pulled her now flameless jacket back on and tore off one of her Tezcat-detecting pendants.
Over the past few months, she had perfected the formula, so all she had to do was hold the pendant to an object and it would reveal whether there was a concealed Tezcat door. One by one, she held the pendant to the statues, but her pendant never changed color.
Whatever lay hidden here had taken different precautions. Zofia frowned, shivering. Arctic air filled the Chamber of Goddesses. A white tinge spread from the door, erasing the gold filigree on the tile and creeping up the walls. Where the white touched the statues, their shapes began to dissolve back into their wall niches. In a matter of minutes, they would disappear entirely. Even the riddle had begun to disappear from the floor:
THE NOSE KNOWS NOT THE SCENT OF SECRETS BUT HOLDS THE SHAPE.
It meant nothing to her, but when she looked at Enrique, his eyes seemed alight. Hypnos stood on his right, patting his own nose and then sniffing his hand.
“I’ve drawn zero conclusions,” announced Hypnos.
“Then keep an eye on the time and guard the door,” said Enrique, walking toward the statues. “The butler said we have twenty minutes. Zofia?”
Zofia rehooked her pendant.
“No Tezcat presence detected,” she said. “If there is one here, it must have several security layers.”
Enrique paced the room slowly. Zofia rummaged through the rest of her jacket pockets, pulling out more flammable Chardonnet silk, a box of matches, a small set of chiseling tools, and a Forged ice pen that drew water from the air and froze it. Zofia analyzed the room, but none of the tools she brought were helpful.
“I thought… I thought there’d be a sign or something to the treasure,” said Hypnos, blowing into his cupped palms for warmth.
“Like an ‘X marks the spot’?” asked Enrique.
“That would’ve been helpful, yes,” said Hypnos. “Someone should inform this treasure that I find it unbecomingly teasing. I thought it was supposed to be hiding in one of the goddesses? But then the riddle is talking about noses?”
“Zofia, any luck with the tools?”
“Luck is useless,” she said.
“Fine, any success?”
