“Does the Archive happen to have a journal from the Petrie and Caulfeild discovery of the Osireion in 1902?”
Confusion pinches his brow. “That’s an odd request.”
I glance around at the shelves. “I’d wager that’s an average ask in a place like this.”
Without replying, he quickly rummages through the short stack in front of him before heading my way with a book the appropriate size of a journal in his hand.
“It’s not the request itself that’s odd: someone else signed out this journal a couple months or so ago, though they didn’t write in the name of anyone here when they did.”
I grin as he hands it to me. “That must mean we’re on the right track.”
The only reason someone here wouldn’t want their name to be recorded for checking out this journal is if they didn’t want anyone to know their true identity. My guess is, Ansaldo came in here at my nonna’s request, copied the journal word for word, and had it sent to her. I wouldn’t have been able to open the Osireion without it, and the order wouldn’t have the amulet.
The question is: did Nonna know that was his plan all along? Or did she simply know the order possessed something that could help me?
Who cares?Excitement thrums through me as I flip through the old pages until I get to the part I’m looking for.
Eagerness colors Anders’s words. “You’re on to something, aren’t you?”
I nod, flicking to the next page. “My nonna, who I just learned was once a member of the order, had me read through a copy of this journal for research before leaving for my expedition to retrieve the Amulet of Amun.”
I thumb through the next few pages carefully, looking for the name I know is there.
“It was written by an unnamed assistant to Petrie and Caulfeild,” I explain, “who was able to figure out the code neededto get into the Osireion. Something must’ve happened to him before he could put it into use, though.”
“Little did you know,” Anders mutters.
I shake my head, muttering, “Oh, I think my nonna knew all too well.”
I’m almost to the page; my fingers start to shake.
“Near the end, when his ramblings become practically unintelligible, he talks about Seti the First’s short reign, and how his son—Ramesses the Second, or Ramesses the Great—had to complete most of his projects. Seti knew his son would be greater than him and, according to this journal, Seti’s last gift to his son was the Amulet of Amun.”
There!On one of the last pages, I find the single mention of the Amulet of Amun, where the riddle is. It’s on this very same page that Ramesses’s name is capitalized, underlined, and drawn over so many times, you can’t help but notice it.
I hurry over to the golden cypher.
Besides the largest disk on the far left that must be the key, there are seven other thick disks. That’s less letters than his name, but Egyptians didn’t use anything remotely similar to the English alphabetical lettering system, something that wouldn’t be invented until centuries later. I’m certain it’s some form of hieroglyphs that need to be placed in the correct order in sequence to the key on the largest disk.
“But how are you supposed to know what the key is?” I ponder aloud.
The amulet.
I move over to the box containing the priceless relic and carefully take it out. Although we’ve only been parted for a few hours, I’ve missed it.
Examining the winged scarab by the lamplight carefully, I recognize something I didn’t before, despite the dozens of times I’ve looked at it: the bloodstone is slightly translucent.Curious.Iplace it directly in front of the open flame from the candle beside me. Through it, something I never noticed before appears: a single and recognizable hieroglyph. I don’t have to look this one up—it translates to the sitting god. Which makes sense, given Egyptians believed pharaohs to be gods who were chosen as leaders of the people.
I let out a shallow breath.
Grasping the amulet with one hand, I turn the largest disk on the left side of the cypher with the other, until the sitting god symbol matches up with the single jutting point of the stone holder.
Once it’s in place, something clicks inside the mechanism.
I blow out a breath while Anders sucks one in. “Go fetch Bes and Cec from the kitchen.”
Anders sprints out of the Archive at my command.
Now, for Ramesses’s name.Thankfully, a book beside the cypher already lays open. I flip through it quickly to find the Rosetta Stone translations of the hieroglyphs, including the names of the known pharaohs.
