Jess’s sweating, shaking fingers slid along the creature’s jawline. The lion’s eyes sparked as red as blood, and a rumble built inside. The jaws parted, an instant away from clamping onto his arm and ripping it from his body in a spray of blood and torn bone.
His fingers brushed a slightly depressed area in the metal. It could have been a dent, since the beast was battle-scarred, cast-off, consigned here to lonely tunnel guard. But he pushed hard, knowing it was his last chance, and felt something click sharply inside.
The lion didn’t stop all at once. First, the rumbling died off, and then the glow faltered and flickered in its eyes. There was a ticking inside, like something very hot cooling off slowly, and then it was just . . . still.
A statue.
Jess pulled his hand back, still careful. Still wary. As the red glow died in its eyes the dark closed in and landed on him with the weight of real panic. What if he’d gotten it wrong? What if it was still moving in the dark and those jaws were opening? He fumbled for the glow he’d put aside and shook it back to life with so much enthusiasm, he almost dropped it.
The lion stared straight ahead, eyes dull gray now. One paw was slightly lifted and the body was tense, as if ready to lunge forward, but it stood utterly motionless.
There were still sounds from inside the body—ticks, pops, scratches. A spring slowly hissing as it uncoiled. Jess’s mouth was dry, and he felt giddy with relief. He tried to slow his breathing and had to stop himself from laughing aloud. After a few seconds, the exhilaration faded.
Mainly because he asked himself, Why did they put it here? Why in this spot? Surely it would have been a simple matter to position one right below the grate under Jupiter’s feet, the better to catch intruders before they even had a chance to discover any secrets.
If the lion had been put here, set to guard this spot, it meant it was important.
Jess squeezed past the bulk of the lion, moving carefully in case it should suddenly come back to life, and just beyond it lay the end of the tunnel. It emptied into a huge, rounded room lined with ancient mosaics dulled by time. But it was empty. This had once been some kind of ritual chamber, and on one wall Jess found a display of masks cast out of greenish bronze in frightening shapes.
He heard something directly overhead and looked up. Footsteps. They rang on metal, and as he raised the glow, he realized that there was a rounded, metal plate in the ceiling above. It looked solid and very old, and it was exactly where he would imagine a drainage grate would have gone. And who would remove a drainage grate and cover it with solid metal instead?
Someone who didn’t want anyone coming or going through it.
There it is. The prison.
Jess stood for a long moment, gaze fixed on that metal barrier, and then he turned and retraced his steps past the frozen lion, up the tunnel, out from under Jupiter’s robes, and back to the Serapeum.
EPHEMERA
Text of a letter from the Archivist Magnus to the Artifex Magnus, interdicted to the Black Archives by order of the Archivist
It was a true tragedy to lose Scholar Prakesh in such a useless fashion; she was an extraordinarily bright woman. Just more proof that Wolfe’s toxic influence has spread on to his students as well. Without her exposure to Santiago, no doubt she would have served the Library faithfully for the rest of her life.
We are reaching an impasse with the Obscurist Magnus as well. It might be necessary to bring her to heel one last time, by whatever means necessary. Her son might be broken, but he can still turn and bite. If you see any reason to suspect such might happen, make it clear to him that we have gathered up all those he cares for.
That should keep him in check, and, through him, his mother.
If not . . . well. You know my thoughts.
CHAPTER TEN
He arrived back just as his fellow soldiers were starting to wake, and except for the fact that he was already wearing his uniform, no one gave him a second look. He sat on his bunk and ate a pressed fruit from his pack, and wondered how to tell the others what he’d found. Too many ears. They needed privacy.
Glain could see he had news. She was clever enough not to ask, but he saw the level stare and the tilt of her head. What is she seeing? He had no idea. He was usually better at hiding in plain sight than that. Maybe it was the flush of triumph he couldn’t quite shake. He just hoped that turning off the sentry lion hadn’t triggered some alarms that would make exiting that way harder.
“You look happy,” she said to him, and took half his ration bar.
“Help yourself,” he said mildly. “It’s going to be a long day.”