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“We don’t know what’s in there,” he said. “Perhaps the air is foul. It’s not safe.”
“I won’t go far. It has to be me. I don’t think you’ll fit.” I picked up the light from the floor, turned my body sideways, and wedged myself through the gap.
“Anna,” he whispered. “Be careful.”
I held up the lantern. I was in a large, empty expanse, nearly as big as the laundry cavern itself. Unlike that space, however, two walls of this chamber were covered with painted murals, their colors preserved in vibrant glory. One depicted a giant image of the Goddess herself, still bright enough to see in the beam of the lamp, stretching her arms toward the full moon against the backdrop of a mountain range. Around her, women, some nude, some wearing white, raised their arms toward her. A feeling of awe filled me at the beauty of the image.
On the opposite wall the beam from my lamp illuminated a second scene, showing a ring of women surrounding a statue. They stood in a dense wood of green trees. I thought immediately of Mareus. As if I had conjured a breeze from the inland sea, a faint movement of air stirred my hair.
“What do you see?” Sebastianus called quietly through the break in the wall.
“There are paintings here. I’m going to go on to the next chamber. The air is fine. It seems fresh and cool.”
I crept forward. I heard the groan and shift of rock as he threw his weight against the wall, trying to open it farther. I reached the far end of the chamber and found an immense double door made of bronze. A simple latch held the doors closed. Sebastianus thumped up behind me, the tapping of his stick echoing in the cavern. He, too, now held a lantern.
“Look at this.” He ran his fingers over letters carved in the bronze.
I squinted. “I can’t make it out.”
He bent closer, tracing the shape of the words. “Arcadius Potentis. Corlivo.”
“By the Goddess,” I said. “Arcadius the Mighty. The Life of the Heart.”
“By the Goddess indeed.”
“What if this is it?”
He put a hand on my shoulder. “There’s only one way to find out.”
The latch slid back as smoothly as if it were last pulled only the day before. With a creak, the bronze doors swung inward. We held up our lamps.
xxxii
THE ROOM BEYOND WAS LONG ENOUGH THAT THE FAR end remained in shadow. Its ceiling soared in a curve high overhead, supported by great pillars. It seemed that the room had been excavated out of solid rock, leaving the thick columns of stone in place. Niches were hewn into the walls all along the length of the space, each with two small steps leading to carved shelves. Every ledge held piles of scrolls, clay tablets, and even bound volumes with wood or terracotta covers. Alcove after alcove, hundreds, no, thousands of books.
Although the space had been sealed for centuries, it wasn’t stuffy. We stood in the center of the expanse, turning around and around, struggling to take it in. The treasure of Arcadius the Mighty was not a pile of gold or gemstones. It was a library.
“There must be ten thousand volumes here,” Sebastianus whispered. “More than were ever stored in his library at Arcadium.”
“This is incredible,” I said.
“It’s been here all along,” he said. “Right here.”
I looked toward the far end of the space. “I think I see an opening over there. There must be farther chambers beyond this one. One room, no matter how grand, is hardly a cave city.”
He shook his head. “I never imagined anything like this.”
“Nor I.”
Our voices echoed in the huge cavern.
He walked slowly toward one of the alcoves and climbed the steps. He felt around in a shelf and pulled out a carved tablet. He blew the fine layer of dust off it. “By the gods, look at this. It’s some kind of picture-writing. This is certainly pre-Arcadian.”
I crossed the space, shining my lantern into one niche after another. There was more here than could be read in a single lifetime. “How could he have accumulated so many works?”
“He must have had help building this collection. By the gods, here’s something by Colosthenes. Incredible.”
“I wonder how all this material is organized,” I said.
