“I did make a point to listen to them on the flight home, all of them. They were beautiful.” God, she hated her lack of courage. Why couldn’t she tell him? “How’s the new book coming? Did you get a lot of work done while I was away?”
Bren searched her eyes. “You know… I don’t want to talk about work either. Let’s talk about us.” He squeezed her hand.
She swallowed. She already knew what was coming.
“I don’t want to wait anymore. Let’s be done with it, combine furniture, closets, the whole thing. Just move in. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?”
His request hovered in the air between them.
Semele knew that at their age, moving in together meant a proposal most likely would come next; it could be six months or six years from now, it didn’t really matter. Once they were on board, things were pretty mapped out. Her father’s death had been an excuse not to hop on, and then afterward, her assignments were, which sent her all over the world, sometimes for over a month at a time.
Before Switzerland she had been in Italy, sequestered in the damp, moldy library of a wealthy grandmother who possessed a trove of manuscripts, a few even penned by Catherine de Médici, the queen of France. Semele identified several astrological charts that had been written by the queen, along with personal letters to her friend Nostradamus. She had no idea how they had ended up in Florence, the city of Catherine’s birth, but the letters had been a thrilling find. In New York the collection sold for a huge sum at Sotheby’s. The family was elated that “Nonna’s treasure” had been rescued from the attic and returned to the world.
This was just one electrifying moment in a career that had many of them. She knew without a doubt her calling was to rediscover and help preserve history. The problem was she didn’t know what a future with Bren looked like alongside that. A small part of her wondered if she was subconsciously sabotaging her chance at happiness, if she was afraid of commitment.
“Okay,” she said, regretting her answer as soon as it was out of her mouth.
Bren leaned over and gave her a kiss she could barely feel; her thoughts were too scattered. She’d have to give up her beloved apartment in Brooklyn Heights for Bren’s condo in Williamsburg, which had twice the space. But she could live with carpet instead of parquet floors. Why was the thought even in her mind?
“We can start tonight and move some stuff over the weekend,” he said.
Tonight? Her heart sank. Already he was moving too fast. She tried to backpedal without seeming too obvious. She needed more time.
“I’d love to,” she said, “but there’s a manuscript I need to finish translating, and I’m so tired from the trip.” In other words, they were not spending the night together.
His face fell in disappointment “Right. Of course.”
He’d agreed, but she could see the hurt in his eyes. She had chosen work over him, again.
“I’ll make it up to you,” she promised as the waiter arrived with their entrées. “Let me just deal with this account.” And Theo… he would be in New York next month for the auction.
At some point she was going to have to face the thoughts about Theo running rampant in her mind. Deep in her bones, she knew they had started something that day in the gallery that was far from finished.
Message to VS—
Back in Brooklyn
Reply from VS—
Maintain surveillance. Wait for instruction.
I read Ariston’s translation of the Oracle’s scroll, and a shiver ran up my body.Wadjet had foreseen that her treasured box would be forgotten in a cavern of our library. She had asked me—by name—to make sure her symbols survived time. She tasked me with many things I had no idea how to accomplish.
At the time I didn’t know what to think, being singled out by a voice from a world that had long ago faded away. Not only had Wadjet foreseen that I would find her treasured box, she said I was born with the ability to divine the future. Her symbols, she said, were mine to master. The scroll explained, in detail, the meaning of each divinity symbol—how they worked together to form the geometry of life, and how within that ever-changing geometry, I could discern the answer to any question.
To appease my doubt, I spent untold hours in the library, researching divination in earnest. I read the stories written by famous oracles and seers who had attempted to bridge the barrier between humanity and the heavens. I found the seers of the past to be the most powerful.
In the long-ago world, seers believed divination to be the mother of all knowledge, the soul of philosophy, and the heart of religion. Their mysteries had been preserved in the library’s caverns, wisdom from the ancients who knew how to access the primordial knowledge that surrounds us.
I read countless scrolls that detailed how to interpret dreams, how to read birds’ signs in the sky. I read about powerful seers who had gone to war with their generals and foretold the future of battles before a single sword was ever wielded. I read lists of omens and portents. I learned about the differences between soothsayers—those who made predictions—and oracles, those who spoke from altered states of mind, such as the Pythia at Delphi. I studied accounts from seers who could interpret nature, who could read the messages hidden in a crash of thunder or a bolt of lightning, and the ones who were gifted with prophetic knowledge—the most rare seers of all.
As I read I became even more unsure of where I belonged. Wadjet believed I had the sight. She had written to me directly, as a teacher would a student. But how could I be a seer? Seers were from the families of wealthy politicians and were apprenticed at a young age to those who were already masters. I did not have the charisma or ambition to travel from city to city, gaining followers and prominence. I was just a girl who had found an ancient set of symbols.
If I were truly to become the seer that Wadjet had portended, then I needed to know more. So I began to spend all my time in the lower galleries, learning everything I could from seers whose accounts stretched far back into the shadows of time.
As I put myself through the rigors of my private studies, I failed to notice Egypt was in the midst of even greater turmoil. Perhaps if I had, I could have foreseen the tragedy that was to come.
***
