I shielded my eyes from the hot sun. “When was that?”
“Almost four hundred years after the death of Christ.” I glanced back at the island, so tiny and remote amidst the long ribbon of the Nile. “There used to be an obelisk, smaller and deemed portable by a Mr. Bankes,” my uncle continued. “He sent it on to England where it decorates a country estate.”
Imagine looking at a centuries-old monument and thinking it would make a handsome lawn ornament. “That’s appalling.”
“In this case, it helped immeasurably to decipher the hieroglyphs,” he said.
I set my mouth to a stubborn line. “It doesn’t make it right.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He glanced at me, hazel eyes piercing. “Don’t forget your promise to me. You must never speak of your time here.”
“I won’t, Tío.” I glanced at the towers of Philae. “Are we staying on the island?”
Tío Ricardo nodded. “We have a campsite on the eastern side. You’re welcome to stay on the Elephantine if you’d prefer to bypass the experience of sleeping in a makeshift tent of sorts.”
My hands curled tight over the railing. We had already gone over this. “Whatever accommodations you’ve constructed will be fine for me.”
My uncle merely shrugged before drawing the other men away to make preparations for disembarking. One of them inquired after Whit, but Tío Ricardo said, “He had a long night. Leave him be.”
I turned away from the railing and found him resting on one of the deck loungers. I only had a view of his profile, his eyelashes casting a shadow against his angled cheekbones.
He was a handsome young man.
Who could not be trusted. The fact that I wanted to appalled me. I had too much to lose to place my faith in the wrong person. Mr. Hayes reported to my uncle, but there was a small part of me that wished he were on my team. That he would move heaven and earth to help see me through the mess I was in. Perhaps it was only loneliness that made me feel that way, but I suspected it was actually because I liked Whit, and I wanted him to like me back.
I pushed away from my spot on the deck and went below to pack my purse and canvas bag, determined to be ready to leave when it was time.
I wouldn’t be left behind again.
*
I stared at my home for the duration of the excavation season. The crumbling structure was rectangular shaped with no ceiling or doors to speak of. It was partitioned into six narrow rooms, the width of each amounting to no more than four or five feet. Looking at it from the front, it resembled a wide-toothed comb, with the bedrooms fitted between each spindle.
“We’re sleeping in there?”
“That’s right,” Whit said.
I took inventory: no washroom or lavatory. No kitchen or main living space to rest after a long day, presumably spent digging. No place to store clothing.
“Having regrets?” he asked, smirking.
I met his gaze head on. “Do you have an extra chamber pot?”
His grin faded. He turned away, but not before I caught the faintest blush staining his cheeks. I’d embarrassed him. I never thought such a thing would be possible. I studied him more carefully, noting how his eyes looked surprising clear. Less red-rimmed and more alert. He’d lost his flask in the Nile, but there was plenty of drink on board the Elephantine. He must not have been partaking.
The realization was like an arrow to my heart. To me, his drinking didn’t seem like he was doing it to enjoy it, but rather to forget. It felt like the first step in a new direction.
I couldn’t help wondering what he ran from.
“This building is all that remains from the dormitories belonging to the priests who lived on Philae,” Whit said after a beat. “The walls are made of limestone without any embellishment or decoration, and so your uncle thought we might use them as the priests once did.” He pointed to the top. “We’ve stretched out a long tarp above and, as you can see, curtains have been placed in front of each division to act as doors. Your uncle, Abdullah, and myself each have a room while Mr. Fincastle and his daughter will share one.”
“Plenty of space for me,” I concluded, picking one of the empty rooms. “Without it, I suspect I would have been left behind on the Elephantine. Who else slept here?”
“Your parents,” he said, watching me closely. “They slept in the same exact quarters.”
It still happened. That feeling of having been dropped a hundred feet at the mention of Mamá and Papá. The feeling that I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs fast enough. It would always feel this way. The pain was a forever fixture in my life. Much like having arms and legs and ears. Their death was a truth that was both strange, and yet profoundly ordinary. People died every day. Well-meaning distant relations told me that one day I’d be able to move past it. But I’d traveled thousands of miles only to discover that I couldn’t leave this new weight I carried behind me.
My parents were gone forever, but I brought them with me wherever I went. This was why I would fight to find out what my uncle had done. I wouldn’t be able to move on if I didn’t. And there was a part of me that wanted to finish what they began, and to help find Cleopatra. They might not have wanted me to be involved, but now that I was here . . . I wanted to make them proud.
“Do you want to see the headquarters?” Whit asked, jarring me from my thoughts.
I blinked. “Sure.”
He spun around and took two enormous steps to the left of our campsite, spreading his arms wide.
Another structure stood close by, boasting of one partial wall made of golden stone. Somehow, I’d missed it entirely, too preoccupied by where I was supposed to sleep. Pressed against the wall was a long wooden table covered by various supplies; brushes and scalpels, candles, handheld mirrors, and bundles of rope. Several crates littered the floor, overflowing with what appeared to be junk. Broken handheld mirrors, mismatched and worn shoes, fraying ribbons. Nothing worth saving at first glance, but something told me that each item held the remnants of old magic. Energy pulsed through the air, like someone drawing a finger across still water making ripples. I felt the soft vibrations against my skin.
“We try to find objects that haven’t been handled much. Forgotten items stored away in attics and the like,” Whit said. “That’s why you can feel the old magic in the air. It will fade in time the longer the items are used around the campsite.”
The Elephantine crew also served as the digging crew, and they situated themselves in a cluster some fifty feet away from the dormitories, surrounding a large fire pit. The campsite was an easy distance from the archaeological site, only a fifteen-minute walk or thereabouts, and nestled in a palm grove.
Whit rummaged through several large maps littering the table, and then he handed one to me. “Here, this is a map of Philae, if you wanted to see it.”
I studied it, noting the size of the island. It appeared to be on the smaller side and I decided to include it in my journal. I went back to my room, Whit trailing behind me.