He shook his head. “No, but I know what it means.” He pointed at the symbol in the left hand passage. “This is on the Phaistos Disc. It’s the second word in the spiral. That other one is nonsense. The Disc isn’t just a key card. It’s a route map. If we go down this tunnel…” He turned and headed down the left tunnel.
Fiona followed quickly and caught up to him a few steps from another junction, this time with a passage intersecting from the right. He was scanning the wall, looking for another symbol. He aimed his flashlight at the wall, revealing another glyph, identical to the one at the other end of the passage. “Here.”
A quick check revealed a symbol with a different set of Phaistos characters at the beginning of the adjoining passage, and yet another on the wall that continued straight.
“One of these is the third word on the Disc,” Pierce said. “If we keep going in that direction, we’ll find more symbols in the same order as the Disc.”
“A map,” Fiona said, eyes widening. “I should have seen it.”
Fiona had a gift for languages, modern and ancient, spoken and nearly forgotten, but spotting patterns was a skill that took practice. And her self-deprecation was preventing her from realizing the true scope of what they had found.
Pierce smiled wide. “Fi, do you know what this place is? This is the Labyrinth.”
Her eyes widened in time with a broad smile. “Holy sh— Think there’s a Minotaur down here?”
Pierce thought she meant it as a joke, but he gave the question serious consideration. He doubted that a literal bull-man creature had been wandering the iron corridors for over three thousand years, but the mere fact that the tunnels existed, to say nothing of the magnetic lock on the front door, strongly suggested that at least some parts of the legend were true.
“According to the myth,” Pierce said, “the Labyrinth on the island of Crete was designed by the master architect, Daedalus. Ovid wrote that it was so elaborate that even Daedalus himself almost got lost in it.”
“Daedalus. The guy who made the wings.”
Pierce nodded. “After designing the Labyrinth, King Minos imprisoned Daedalus and his son, Icarus, so they would not be able to share its secrets. Daedalus collected feathers and stuck them together with wax to make a pair of wings so they could escape, but Icarus flew too close to the sun. The wax melted, his wings fell apart, and he crashed and burned.
“That story is also from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and it came much later. First century BC. But the stories of Daedalus’s inventions go back much further. He was a mechanical genius. I’ve often thought he might be one of Alexander’s alter-egos.”
He knew it was a bit of a stretch, but by no means impossible. Alexander Diotrephes was a complicated man with an even more complicated story, and he’d gone by many other names in addition to Hercules and Alexander. Pierce was not sure how much Fiona knew about Alexander, and this was not the time or place for that discussion.
The short version was that Alexander had achieved a sort of immortality by virtue of a unique physiology combined with a comprehensive knowledge of chemistry and biology that was advanced even by modern standards. George wasn’t positive, but he thought the man had been alive since before the ninth century BC. Immortality was a trait most often applied to supernatural beings or fictitious gods, but it was also the pursuit of learned men throughout all of history, ancient and recent. Alexander was one of the few who had achieved it.
“It would explain why he established the protocol,” Pierce said. “He knew that if this place was ever discovered, there would be a lot of impossible questions.”
“But why build it in the first place?”
“To imprison the Minotaur?”
“There are over thirty word combinations on each side of the Disc. If we take that to mean two safe paths through the maze, and we double that number for false trails, that makes at least a hundred and twenty different passages down here. Seems like a lot of work just to cage one magical beastie.”
Pierce shrugged. “If the Disc is a map, then the answer to your question is probably waiting at the center.”
“We’ll need the Disc,” Fiona said, and she headed back up the passage to the entrance, evidently having overcome her reluctance to explore the subterranean tunnels.
Pierce followed and they slipped through the opening. He reached out to pry the Disc free of the magnetic grip. It took some effort, but he managed to wedge his fingertips beneath it, and peel it away. As soon as he did, the door rolled back into place, sealing the tunnel again.
“I guess we’re supposed to leave the key in the door,” Fiona said.
Pierce stared at the Disc. “If I had some paper, we could do a rubbing. That way we’d have our map.”
Fiona grinned and held up her phone. “Or we could do something a little more twenty-first century, and take a picture of it.”
Pierce made a face. “You know what the problem with twenty-first century solutions is? Batteries die.”