Penelope wanted to touch the books, to pull one down and explore the contents but she was so overwhelmed by the choices that she couldn’t decide what to pick first. Alexis’s warning against touching magical objects also dampened her enthusiasm.
You are in the greatest archive in the world. Stop being such a chicken, Penelope.
She pulled down a thick manuscript with a tan leather cover. When nothing happened, she found one of the many study alcoves and placed it on a reading stand. Golden orbs of light gathered together to hover over her, covering her in light.
“Um, thank you,” Penelope said, unsure if the orbs were as sentient as the rest of the palazzo.
The Archives know you love them, Nereus had told her, and maybe providing her with extra light was the Archives’s way of proving that. She opened the book, and her hands came up, covering her mouth in surprise.
The pictures moved across the pages in brilliant color. Like the manuscript Nereus had shown her, each page was illuminated, the borders consisting of complex designs depicting life on the Nile River. It must have been made after they arrived in Egypt.
Sketches of people on boats tending crops along the Nile filled the pages. The picture moved again, and there were magicians and pyramids.
“No way,” Penelope whispered. She turned the page, and the borders turned into the squat complex pictographs of the Mayans. Like the previous page, it seemed to record daily life; growing corn, hunting in the rainforest, and raising children. The magicians revealed themselves again, building pyramids, teaching the knowledge of the skies, aqueducts, and healing.
Every page she turned, the magicians were in a different land, recording their experiences with new cultures. Sudan, India, China, Australia, Turkey. Penelope didn’t know how long she sat, mesmerized, until she was interrupted by a deep chuckle.
“How did I know I would find you hiding in a book?” Alexis asked, his hand moving through her hair to rest on her neck.
She smiled up at him. “You can’t share a place filled with books with me and expect me not to touch anything. I’ve been learning about how the first pyramids were made.”
“Ah, yes. Typical humans fixating on a good idea and copying it any way they can.” Alexis turned the book to look at the shimmering pyramids. “After Atlantis was destroyed, we needed a way to balance out the great hole of magic and energy that was no longer there. The pyramids acted almost like a safety switch system. They helped the power flow the way it should until the world could adjust to the new rhythms. Humans liked them, and over time they forgot their original purpose and made up other uses for them.”
“They just forgot?”
“Humans tend to reset themselves,” Alexis struggled to explain. “Originally, Nereus thought it had something to do with the loss of Atlantis, but it seems to just be human instinct. Do you ever wonder why humans choose to keep themselves in a permanent state of ignorance? They will learn a great secret of the cosmos; Divinity, the universal consciousness, that the Earth and every living thing falls into a beautiful order, whatever it might be. They learn it, and then it is like the thought is too big, too terrifying, so what do they do? They build convoluted religions, adding barriers and restrictions and rules and concepts around the Truth. They bury the true idea until it’s forgotten. But even more perplexing, every couple of generations they will remember the Truth they’ve fought so hard to forget. Take Atlantis, for example. Only the seven magicians survived. There was a time when Atlanteans traded with all the peoples and continents of the world. All of those people lived their lives and died. I’ve sought to hide certain information about Atlantis and the others have been extremely selective over the years on who they have told…”
“And?” Penelope interrupted.
“And every couple of generations, something strange happens. Something in the blood, and I have my theories about that, makes a buried Truth or memory be remembered. I believe this’s happened with you and Atlantis. You’ve always known it existed, knew it like you knew the sky was blue. It was real. You had to find it. The memory resurfaced, and you couldn’t let go of it and didn’t know why.”
“So what you’re saying is that humans purposely forget anything that’s too frightening or important? Why would they do that?”
“Do you ever wonder about the saying, ‘It’s like history repeating itself’? Why would that be? Why don’t humans learn the first time? Or the millionth? Why don’t people ever learn? If you can figure that out, you are doing far better than the rest of us.” He looked at the pile of books she had been reading and frowned. “I didn’t know you read hieratic.”
“I don’t read hieratic. I’ve always wanted to learn. Why did you think that?”
Alexis held out a manuscript to her. “This is hieratic.”
Penelope scanned the pages, the dense black script messy but familiar. “No, that’s English.”
Alexis flicked through his journal and held up a page. “Can you read this?”
“It’s a list of notes about Tony Duilio’s floating city projects. Why?”
“Because it’s written in Arabic.”
Penelope looked at the page and back to him. “I swear, Alexis, I don’t speak Arabic. What’s happening? Is it the Archives?”
Alexis took her hand and light streaked down her forearm. He turned her palm over and studied the marks burnt into her skin from when she touched the Tablet.
“Strange,” he murmured, turning her hand over again. “The magic from the Living Language still seems to be inside of you.”
“I thought Nereus said it would go away. Should I be freaking out?” Penelope demanded, already freaking out.
“Are you in any pain?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t think it’s cause for too much concern. It might be a blessing.”
“How exactly?”
Alexis tapped the pile of books. “The magic of the trapped Living Language is automatically translating languages for you. It means there isn’t a single thing in this Archive that you can’t read.”
“Is it permanent?”
“It could be. If you are worried, we could ask Nereus. It won’t hurt you.”
Penelope clutched at her head. “Magic translating language in my brain without me knowing. Okay, magician, my head is now melting.”
“You are worried. Let’s find Nereus so she can put your mind at ease.” Alexis helped her to her feet.
“NOW THAT is interesting,” Nereus said a little while later, after studying the burns on Penelope’s palm. “I didn’t think the magic of the Tablet was going to disappear in you.” Words rose to Penelope’s skin again, and Nereus smiled. “This is an excellent gift for the Living Language to give to you.”
“How long do you think it will last?” Alexis asked.
“Tomorrow, forever, who knows?” said Nereus. She smiled at Penelope. “The Archives have given you the key to their heart, lucky girl.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Penelope managed as she watched the glowing words on her arm fade once more. Her eyes drifted to her Phaistos Disc ring, and the small pictographs started to rearrange themselves. “Whoa. It’s changing.”
“Doctor Bryne, you are going to have an interesting time studying in the future,” cackled Nereus. “You needn’t look so worried. Everyone has the potential for magic, Penelope. It’s whether or not they have the imagination, inclination, and tenacity to develop it. All of us use it in different ways. Yours is translating language, as is only fitting. Magic will always magnify what is already there, as you’ve seen with the others.”
“What about you?” Penelope asked Alexis who had gone remarkably quiet.
“He’s a multi like I am. It’s why I fought to have him be a magician and not a priest,” Nereus answered for him. “And he was far too good-looking to be shackled by celibacy.”
“Multi? As in multidisciplinary?” Penelope guessed, struggling to keep a straight face as Alexis blushed vividly.
“Pure magic of infinite potential.” Nereus looked at him proudly. “It means we don’t get stuck in one way of using our magic. We can use it by thought and desire. We don’t need words or music or any other prop; we think it, and we can make it so.”
“That’s a gross oversimplification,” Alexis managed to say before Nereus cut him off.
“He was the only other one I found like me in all my years of searching.” Nereus winked at her. “I simply had to have him.”
I know the feeling, Nereus, Penelope thought. Alexis’s cheekbones were still glowing red, his composure affected by his mentor’s praise.
“You had better take her upstairs and get her something to eat, Alexis. She’s looking pale, and she’s got a big night ahead of her.” Nereus hustled them out of her lab, but Penelope felt her pale blue eyes studying her all the way to the elevator.
AELIA WAS a Roman goddess, dripping with gold. On her head, she wore a crown that stretched out like the halo beams of the sun. Her dress was a stylized breastplate with a kilt of bronzed leather. A cloak made of a lion skin was wrapped around her shoulders. Penelope hoped it wasn’t real fur, but Aelia looked impressive, regardless. The gladius she wore on her hip was definitely real.
“Alexis warned me about magicians and Carnevale,” Penelope said, mouth hanging open. Aelia had arrived at her room as soon as Penelope had showered.
“I wanted to make sure you didn’t arrive in jeans,” Aelia said primly.
“I was hoping you would have something to fit me,” Penelope said uncertainly.
“Have you checked your wardrobe? Alexis would’ve made sure something was presentable in there if the palazzo hasn’t.”
“Magic wardrobe. Right. I keep forgetting.”
“Well, stop forgetting. You live in tights and jeans, and that’s not presentable for a party like this,” Aelia scolded and opened up the carved wardrobe door. “Athena be praised, Alexis has outdone himself.”
“He hasn’t even been here to see me, let alone hide a dress.”
“He doesn’t need to come into your room to do it.” Aelia pulled out the dress and Penelope’s heart stopped. She had never considered herself someone who lost her head over fashion, but the dress Aelia laid out on the bed made Penelope want to squeal with delight.
“I don’t think I know how to put that on,” she admitted, eyes wide. There were so many laces and ties that her mind boggled just looking at it.
“It’s okay, I’ll help,” Aelia said and held out a long shift of aquamarine blue that tied at the front with black ribbons. Fine black stitching decorated the neckline and hem in a plethora of magical protection symbols. As soon as Penelope slipped it over her head, she felt a light hum along her body.
“Alexis is taking every precaution,” mused Aelia. “It’s rather adorable to see him so worried about you.”
The dress itself was a mixture of greens, blues, and purples, as iridescent as a peacock’s feather. Sea creatures, wild and fantastical, had been stitched in gold over the silk taffeta. Tiny seed pearls lined the deep V-shaped neckline to where the bodice laced at the front, crisscrossing in a way that Penelope would have never figured out without Aelia’s assistance.
Each sleeve had to be laced firmly to ensure nothing came loose in the night. Aelia, who had lived in the Renaissance, pulled, tied, and arranged each layer to make everything sit perfectly.
“This is called a saccoccia,” Aelia said, tying the pocket around Penelope’s waist, hiding the ties under her bodice. “We are going to put this in it, just in case.” She produced from the wardrobe the distinctly curved shape of a small koummya dagger, sheathed in an engraved silver and bronze scabbard. “It will make both Alexis and I happier to know you have some kind of weapon on you.”
Penelope rested a hand on her new pocket and felt the hilt of the dagger. After being tortured, experiencing that level of helplessness, she knew she never wanted to feel that again.
“I don’t know if I have the personality to be able to pull all of this off,” Penelope said softly, as Aelia began working on her hair.
“It’s Carnevale. The whole point is that you can be someone or something that you are not. Nuns become whores, men become women, and aristocrats become beggars. It’s a living fantasy that you can carry out however you wish.”
“Faking it,” Penelope said, breathing out slowly to steady her heartbeat.
“Or unleashing what’s already there but hidden. Alexis knows the strength of your personality. He knows you will make the dress look magnifico. Like all magicians, he loves beautiful things. No matter how overdressed you feel, I can guarantee the men will be even more elaborate. Especially Phaidros, he’ll be gaudier and more eye-catching than any decoration in the room.”
“I can believe that. He’s full of flirtatious bravado, but I think it’s covering a sweeter side,” observed Penelope. She couldn’t shake the memory of Aelia carved and bleeding on a slab.
“He can be sweet when he wants to be, and a right asshole when he doesn’t,” Aelia replied as she slid gold and pearl pins into Penelope’s dark hair. “He does play the piano lovely though, whatever his mood.”
“There doesn’t seem to be anything you aren’t good at. I’ve always been criticized for being an overachiever, but you all make me look like a dunce.”
“We’ve had thousands of years to get good at the things we love. We have to occupy our time somehow, and magicians are naturally voracious in their need to know more. If you would’ve been born on Atlantis, I’ve no doubt you would have been a magician. You have that same hungry curiosity. It’s one of the things that draws Alexis to you. You both would get lost in the Archives for days, finally find each other and tell the other everything you had learned, have sex on a study table, and then disappear amongst the stacks again.”
Penelope couldn’t hold in a wave of embarrassed laughter; the image Aelia had painted was a vivid one. “Probably. I don’t know about the sex, but definitely all the rest.”
“There would definitely be sex,” Aelia said decisively. “It’s oozing off the two of you whenever you are in the same room together. I swear if Alexis doesn’t make love to you soon, Phaidros will try hugging your leg like a dog to ease some of the frustrated energy you are generating.”
“Sadly, for Phaidros, he’s not my type.”
“When he wants someone, Phaidros is everyone’s type.”
“Even yours?”
Aelia’s hands paused. “Especially mine.”
“And you two never have…”
“He doesn’t want me that way. Not anymore. We have a complicated past; the best we can hope for these days is a careful friendship.”
It was a sore spot, so Penelope changed the subject. “Are they going to meet us at the Arsenale?”
“Yes, they wanted to check out all of the grounds before we arrive. Lyca will escort us to them before returning to Nereus. I know I’m not like Alexis or Lyca, but I want you to know I’m skilled with a sword and can protect us. If there is trouble, you need to stay close to me while Lyca handles it, and if she doesn’t, I will. Do you understand?”
“I’ll stay with you, I promise.”
“Good! Now, let’s get started on your makeup and jewelry.”
It took more time to dress that evening than any other formal occasion Penelope could remember. Finally, when she had the chance to look at herself in a full-length gilt-framed mirror, she was shocked at the transformation.
A strangely dressed, beautiful creature stood before her, looking like a Renaissance sea witch. Aelia had done her eye makeup with elaborate green, purple, and gold eye shadow, blending the colors in a way that reminded Penelope of psychedelic beetle shells.
The shoes were something Marie Antoinette would’ve loved; they were elegant, heeled, and made of aqua and purple leather, stamped with shell patterns.
“The final touch,” Aelia said, handing her a gold and silver mask. It was a half mask that left her lips free. It was a delicate thing, lik
e golden lace that fit perfectly over her nose and cheeks. The edges dripped and curled in all directions like the spikes of a murex shell.
“You look incredible,” Lyca said approvingly when Penelope went downstairs.
“Thank you, I’m really nervous.” Penelope smoothed the skirt of her dress with her damp palm.
“Don’t be,” was all the encouragement Lyca gave. “Come on, we need to meet your Inspecttori.”
MARCO HAD INSISTED on meeting them at the palazzo as an escort, but with the blue and gold front door disappearing at the slightest provocation, Penelope had to convince him to meet them with a police boat at their dock on the Grand Canal.
Marco looked very suave in his all-black tuxedo but somehow still like a police officer at the same time.
To Aelia’s delight, Marco crossed himself when he spotted them moving toward him.
He smiled brilliantly. “Dottore, I barely recognized you. You’re embracing Carnevale like a Venetian.”
“Marco, these are my friends, Aelia and Lyca.”
“Buona sera,” Aelia purred from behind her golden mask as she moved to kiss both of his blushing cheeks. “Penelope has told me so much about you, Inspector Dandolo. Such a noble Venetian name.”
“Lady Time still hasn’t been able to rid the city of us just yet, signora,” he said, offering her a hand into the boat.
“Grazie mille.” She wrapped her fingers around his and smiled coyly. “And it is signorina, per favore.” His blush grew deeper before he turned to offer a hand to Lyca, but she was already in the back of the boat, checking every inch of it.
Penelope’s elaborate dress had made it impossible to step down herself but Marco, as a true Venetian, wasn’t bothered by the inconvenience in the slightest.
“Lyca is part of Alexis’s private security, isn’t she?” he whispered to Penelope as he physically lifted her up, skirts and all, and placed her on the deck.
“Yes, and she’s the best. Lyca could kill a god if she were asked to,” Aelia said, smiling with her blood-red lips, the only color on her that wasn’t metallic. Marco gave a nod of approval before maneuvering the boat into the packed waterway.
The Immortal City Page 21
