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The Goddess was a formidable presence in the shadow by the wall. Her solemn stone eyes watched us both. I breathed deeply, willing her strength to fill me. After all, was I not the heir to her ancient priesthood? This grotto was my birthright. Untold generations of women before me had sanctified this place through their lives and work.

Something stirred to life inside me, the beat of a mighty heart, fierce and strong. An ancient, collective breath swelled my lungs. I thought of the small figure that my mother had left to me, the Goddess again, in miniature, a talisman to remind me of my own power. I was not an orphan. I had a thousand mothers.

Clemens Fabius stepped very close, so the wool of his toga was right in front of my face. He put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me down to my knees.

With a swift motion, I seized the rock in my hand. I leaped to my feet and hit him as hard as I could in the skull. He teetered, swayed, toppled, hit his head on the lip of the well, and fell with a heavy thud on the stone floor.

Straba’s ancient words came back to me, spoken by Sebastianus in his study so many months ago. You do not understand a people until you understand the gods they worship. Clemens Fabius did not understand me at all. I, on the other hand, understood him perfectly.

I untied one of the clotheslines and pushed his heavy legs together. I fastened his ankles as tightly as I could with the thin cord, looping it repeatedly. I did the same with his arms, hoping the bonds would hold if he regained consciousness.

A few feet away, Sebastianus was still breathing, his chest rising and falling evenly. Even so, I knew someone could breathe like that and still die. Kyra. What should I do? Should I run upstairs and find someone to help? Jovinian’s soldiers would be everywhere by now. And how would we ever get another chance to explore this place?

I studied Sebastianus’s rugged face, so dear to me. He believed in me. He would want me to keep looking. I found a small cloth that had been drying on a line and used it to wrap his head gently. After only a second, a dark red stain colored it.

I turned back to the little shrine, forcing my breath to slow and my pulse to steady. Breathe. I picked up the votive again. Water trickled in the well. Sebastianus’s rib cage rose and fell. I held up the little candle and examined the carving of the moon once more. That is what it was, a carving of the moon. The Goddess. The moon. The ink on my very wrist. Not the letter C for Caligine, but a crescent moon. Etched on the wall by ancient priestesses once here to—here to worship the great mountain goddess and—and, eventually, to watch over something else.

And then I saw the almost imperceptible crack in the rock wall, running from the center of the carved moon all the way down to the stone floor.

I pushed against the wall to the left of the tiny fissure. Nothing. I leaned hard on the right side. There was a slight shift. I shoved again, and the wall seemed to slip back half an inch. I tried again, but I couldn’t budge it farther.

There was another sound, and my heart skipped. Sebastianus was trying to sit up. I rushed to his side. He blinked, and then his eye focused on me. “Anna.” He touched the cloth around his head. His thoughts seemed to clear, and he propped himself up.

“Be careful,” I said.

“What happened?” He got to his knees and then tried to stand.

“Clemens Fabius hit you on the head with a stone. He’s tied up over there.”

Sebastianus stood slowly. He looked over at the bound man and then back at me. A look of wonder spread across his face.

“Be careful,” I said. “Your head.”

“I have a headache, but I think I’m all right.” He probed his forehead with the tips of his fingers and winced. “Head wounds bleed a lot, but this one isn’t deep.”

My shoulders sagged with relief. “Then I hit him with the same stone and tied him up.”

“You’re fearless,” Sebastianus said, touching the bandage on his head again.

“Look at this, Seb. I’m sure I’ve found something.”

Moving cautiously, he came to stand beside me. We looked together at the crack in the wall, now half an inch wide, nothing but darkness beyond.

“Grab a lantern while I try to move this,” he said.

I gave Clemens Fabius a wide berth as I took a heavy lamp from its hook.

There was a grinding sound.

Sebastianus had managed to widen the gap to three or four inches. I held up the light but saw only a few feet of empty space beyond.

“I can’t see anything yet. We should push together.” I put down the lantern, and we both braced our palms against the wall.

“On three,” Sebastianus said. “One, two, three.”

We pushed, and there was a deep scraping noise. The crack widened suddenly to the span of a foot.

“I think I can fit inside now.” I peered into the opening.