I didn’t know if either of us would make it out of our present peril alive—a truth that turned my stomach into tight knots. I shoved the worry aside, concentrating on what Abdullah was saying.
“Underground canals?” Abdullah asked. “You must be talking about the ancient cisterns of Alexandria.”
“Cisterns?” Whit asked.
“From the days of Alexander the Great when he founded the city, naming it after himself, of course. He was heavily involved in the planning of the city, which included making sure the inhabitants would have access to water. There are hundreds of cisterns that provided the water supply for Alexandrians, and they were connected by a series of canals fed by the Nile. But the canals weren’t just used for water—I believe it was Julius Caesar who sent his soldiers below to keep their movements secret when he was quelling the rebellion of Cleopatra’s brother Ptolemy the thirteenth.”
Whit and I glanced at each other, and I could sense we had been struck by the same thought. It was Cleopatra who had told Caesar about the underground waterways.
“So the underground canals run throughout the city,” Whit remarked.
“Yes,” Abdullah said. “By the way, everything I know about this underground network of canals I know because of the tremendous work of Mahmoud el-Falaki, a man of many talents: the court astronomer, an excavator, a physicist, and a mapmaker. He was tasked with creating a map of ancient Alexandria, and he was able to correctly place ancient buildings where they were situated in antiquity. Of course, no one in the English-speaking world believes him or has given him the credit he deserves,” Abdullah said sadly, shaking his head. His face blurred from the movement, the water rippling sharply.
While all of the information was fascinating, it didn’t help us pinpoint where Cleopatra could have hidden the alchemical sheet on her way to theroyal palace to request an audience with Julius Caesar. “I don’t suppose there’s anything else hidden down there,” I said.
“Well, now that you mention it,” Abdullah said slowly, “there’s a story repeated among some archaeologists. But it’s just a rumor and not founded on any evidence—only a few scraps of ancient written history.”
I leaned forward, excitement pulsing in my throat. “What rumor?”
“The Great Library of Alexandria was one of the most famous libraries of antiquity. It was dedicated to the nine muses of the arts and was a center of learning. It housed thousands of scrolls from not just Egyptian history, but the histories of dozens of countries. Unfortunately, Julius Caesar set fire to Egyptian ships in the harbor, hoping to block Ptolemy’s fleet, but the fire spread to a warehouse affiliated with the Library where thousands of scrolls were stored,” Abdullah said. “Some historians estimate around forty thousand scrolls were lost.”
“That’s terrible,” I exclaimed, thinking of Cleopatra and how she must have felt to see parts of her city catching fire.
“Well, because of that event, more priceless documents went to the daughter library at the Serapeum, an ancient temple dedicated to Serapis,” Abdullah said. “Many of the scrolls from the Great Library were moved there for safekeeping, but here’s the interesting thing—there’s rumor of a secret library where some of the most treasured papyruses were hidden.”
“A secret library?” Whit repeated.
Abdullah smiled. “The lore says it’s somehow connected to the Serapeum.”
“Serapis and his loyal companion, Cerberus,” I said, my gaze dropping to the box of my mother’s things. I knew I’d find a map of the ancient city of Alexandria tucked inside, where on a little side street, someone had drawn the figure of the three-headed dog.
“Yes, the two are often connected,” Abdullah said. “In fact, I believe there is a carving of Cerberus somewhere at the lighthouse. Interestingly, visitors to Alexandria first had to pay a toll to enter the harbor. Any scrolls or papyruses they brought with them had to be sent to the library in order to be copied. This was how the Great Library became what it was.”
“And some of those scrolls moved to the secret library,” Whit said. “Could it be underground?”
Abdullah tilted his head, shrugging. “Who knows where the library hides?”
Whit immediately wanted to visit the Serapeum, but the physician arrived, determined to see his patient. I think he believed to find Whit at death’s door and was quite astonished to see me yelling at him to stop putting on his boots.
The physician ordered me from the room, since I was apparently aggravating his patient.
I stood in the hallway, hearing the heated back-and-forth between the two, even with the door shut. I knew I ought to go back inside, but something held me back. Instead, I went to the lobby, my steps slow and meandering. Whit would live, and now I didn’t have the faintest idea of what to do next. Sometime during the night, when he held on to my hand in a death grip, I had forgiven him for what he had done. It seemed he would always do the extreme to help the people in his life. Steal a fortune to save his sister. Jump in front of a bullet to save me. Fight crocodiles.
The lobby was silent; it was too early for guests to venture out to see the sights. I slumped into one of the available low chairs and stared blankly around me, overwhelmed. One of the attendants took pity on me and brought over a pot of tea, which I sipped as my thoughts whirred.
Isadora was gone, and at some point Mamá and her lover would find out what I had done. They would come after me, seeking revenge, no doubt. I didn’t know what my mother would do, and again I thought of Mr. Fincastle and his wide assortment of weapons.
The truth of my situation stared me in the face. Elvira was murdered. Isadora was on that staircase because of me. During the long hours of the night, despair had kept me wide awake at the thought of Whit dying from the hole in his stomach.
Death followed after me no matter what I did.
Terror gripped me so fully my body quaked from it. Because in my heart, Iknewif I persisted down this path, someone else would die.
I would not risk Whit’s life ever again. He was recovering and on the mend, and he was the only one I had left who would stubbornly stay by my side. Even if it killed him.
Everything inside me rebelled at the idea of going after my mother. Except, my uncle and Abdullah would rot in prison for the rest of their lives if I didn’t pursue her.
But why did it have to beme?
