Some distance away, they arrived at the landing of a short, glass staircase that descended into a rather spacious chamber the size of L’Eden’s grand lobby. The marble floor had been Forged with phosphorescent threads, casting a warm glow throughout the room. A domed skylight stretched about eighteen meters above them, shedding moonlight on the treasures below.
Only, they didn’t seem like treasures at all.
There were twelve chest-high black pedestals, six on each side of the room. At the base of each pedestal was a little metal sphere, no larger than her palm. Atop each pedestal stood an exquisite glass perfume bottle. Each one looked fluted, the glass teased into shapes of unfurling violets or tight-budded roses, the warm glow cast from the floor tangled in the glossy crystal.
“Where are the maps?” asked Hypnos.
“Thosearethe maps,” said Séverin. “A rare, mind Forged substance that will drop knowledge of a place inside one’s head.”
Across the back wall stretched a large, square panel roughly thesize of two large dining tables and filled with thick coils of blown glass. The pigment within them swirled with vibrant shades—mint green and persimmon orange, dusky rose and garnet red, a teeming riot of color. It undulated until the colors wavered like a hypnotic warning.
Laila touched the covering on her nose and mouth. Through the Forged silk filter, she caught a whiff of something else. Something scorched and fetid.
“No one wants their treasures out in the open,” said Séverin. “We have to engage all our senses. Enrique, is there anything worth noticing here? Any pattern of historical significance?”
Enrique startled at the sound of his name. He eyed the room and then Séverin, who was staring hopefully at him. Enrique cleared his throat.
“The bottles look like Murano glass, and perfume was a powerful tool to the ancients, which strengthens the conclusion that these might be maps to temples.”
Séverin grinned. “I knew you’d see something.” Enrique ignored him.
Hypnos shuffled, tugging at the neckline of his robes. “Does anyone else find the room far too hot?”
Now that he mentioned it, the roomdidfeel uncomfortably warm, but perhaps that was due to insulation. Laila pushed her damp, curling hair away from her forehead as Séverin eyed the room warily.
“Something about the room prefers this temperature,” he said.
“You make it sound like the room is alive,” said Hypnos, uncomfortable.
“Perhaps it is,” said Séverin. He eyed the staircase, then the panel of glass coils before stepping onto the first landing. “I’m going down.”
“Very well,” said Laila, following after him.
Séverin blocked her way. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet, let me—”
“Let you what?” demanded Laila. “Martyr yourself?Again?If you die, this whole thing fails anyway because we can’t use the lyre. So either you stay back and watch us go, or suffer the fact that we’re going in with you.”
Behind her, Enrique, Zofia, and Hypnos looked a little shocked. Hypnos raised his hand.
“I… don’t have to go?” he said.
Laila glared at him.
Séverin sighed, then moved back. “You are right. I am yours to command.”
“If only,” muttered Laila, walking down the staircase.
The moment she stepped onto the top step, she reached inside her sleeves, touching the corsetry around her waist that Zofia had outfitted with her Forged creations. Laila drew out one of the portable lights, flashing it onto the perfume bottle on the first pedestal. Something flashed inside.
“Keep an eye on the back wall,” said Séverin.
Zofia nodded, positioning herself at the front of the room.
Inside the first perfume bottle was a small, golden key. Here, the smell of rotting meat was even stronger.
“It’s definitely holding a key,” she said, covering her nose.
“May I?” asked Séverin.
