Tucker felt the chafe of his cuffs, saw the muzzle on Marco, read the fear in Elle’s eyes—and made his decision.
Sorry, Gray.
Tucker let out a long breath. He knew exactly what knowledge would gain him the most time.
“Well?” Sychkin pressed him.
“You’re looking for the location of the Golden Library at the Trinity Lavra,” Tucker said stiffly. “The others learned where it is. Or at least, the spot on those grounds where it’s hidden.”
Sychkin looked at Valya.
“I warned you that these adversaries are clever,” Valya said, acknowledging that Tucker’s claim was possible. “You best not underestimate them.”
Sychkin turned back to Tucker. “Where?”
Knowing the cost of a lie, he answered truthfully.
“The Ringing Tower.”
28
May 12, 11:07A.M. MSK
Trinity Lavra of St. Sergius, Russian Federation
Deep under the Ringing Tower, Gray stood over Lomonosov’s desk. Next to him, Sister Anna cradled the only extant copy of Nicolas of Lynn’sInventio Fortunatain her hands. Her arms trembled with the weight of all those centuries, of what had been thought lost forever.
He stared past the buried study’s threshold and pictured the greater expanse of the Golden Library, spreading outward in dozens of chambers, all lined by golden chests that held the promise of many other treasures of antiquity.
“I wonder if there could be a copy of Cnoyen’sItinerarium, too?” Anna asked with clear wonder in her voice. “That other vanished book.”
Gray focused on the task at hand. “I don’t know if we need it. Lomonosov left theInventio Fortunataatop Mercator’s old map. Surely for a reason. It must be significant.”
Bailey reached out for the precious volume. “May I?” he asked Anna.
She passed it to him. “Of course.”
Bailey treated the book with great care and reverence. He drew it open. “Maybe we must read it. It’s written in Latin, but I should be able to translate it if given enough time.”
Gray sensed they were running out of exactly that. “I don’t think it was Lomonosov’s intent that we read the entire book. He left the text open to a specific page. That must be important.”
“Do you remember which one?” Anna asked.
“No,” Gray admitted. He took the book from Bailey. “But it shouldn’t be hard to figure out.”
He carefully flipped through the yellowed pages, nagged by something he was forgetting. Still, it took all his concentration to find the set of pages that were coated in dust after being left open for so long. He finally located them and confirmed it was the right set of pages from the crease in the binding as he splayed the book open.
“This is the spot.” He turned to Bailey. “Can you translate these two pages?”
“I better be able to, or they’ll strip me of my degree in ancient studies.”
Bailey set the book atop the desk and hunched over the pages. He read silently for a spell, hovering his finger over various lines. “Some sections are faded into obscurity, but the text seems to describe what you were discussing a moment ago. A great mountain—Rupus Nigra et Altissima, which translates to ‘Very High Black Cliff’—and a huge whirlpool below it, fed by four great rivers.”
Anna pointed to the map. “Mercator wrote those same words—Rupus Nigra et Altissima—next to the mountain on his map. Right in the center.”
Gray nodded, still nagged by the sense he was forgetting something.
With his brows furrowed, Bailey continued reading. “This line elaborates in more detail. ‘The land is most strange and should be shunned by all. Do not be deceived by its false pull, do not be lured by the wonders it hides, not even the long life it promises in stone and water. Instead, fear that which ended the people of Hyperborea. For if it ever breaks free, it will destroy all of us.’”
