what it looked like at different hours and in different seasons. My mother always knew when he did it because the next day I would be late getting up for school.”
He takes a puff on his cigarette and blows the smoke out. “I hope to do the same with Bernard.” Then he turns his head to look at me. “And what do you hope for?”
I think about it. “I don’t know,” I tell him. “For now, finding the second set of plans.”
“Yes,” he says. “But what then?”
This is, of course, the question hanging over all of us. We have each come here for our own reasons, reasons that may ultimately be at odds with one another. Brecht, I think, is mostly driven by scientific curiosity, a wish to finish what was started when he and Evrard Sauer realized what they had found. Also, I think, he hopes that the weapon might be used to buy the safety of his daughter and grandson, if that becomes necessary. Ott, too, I think, believes that the weapon can be used as a bargaining chip. He hides this behind talk of using it to prevent another war, but I believe he would be just as happy to use it to start another one.
When I don’t answer Brecht’s question, he tries another tack. “The world is filled with legends about items with unbelievable power. Items that have been hidden to prevent greedy men from finding them and using them for their own ends. Always someone finds them, and always the outcome is ruin.”
“You think we should leave whatever is hidden here alone?”
“Everyone who goes in search of power believes that they will be the exception,” he says. “That they will be the one with the wisdom to use the power for the right purpose.” He stands up. “But what do I know? I am a scientist, not a philosopher.”
He leaves me alone on the rock, looking up at the stars. But I am not alone for long. A few minutes later, Boone joins me. He sits down beside me and takes my hand. Alone in the dark, we can do this without worry, and I lean against him.
“What were you and Brecht talking about?”
“Opening Pandora’s box,” I say. “Finding the lost Ark of the Covenant. Wearing the Ring of Gyges.”
Boone whistles. “That sounds like some conversation.”
“He asked me what we plan on doing with the weapon.”
“Ah,” Boone says. “And what did you tell him?”
“Nothing,” I say. “What would you have told him?”
“No fair,” he says. “You’re trying to get me to answer the question for you.”
He’s right. And I do want him to answer it. He doesn’t.
“Are we still Playing Endgame?” I ask.
“I’m still the Cahokian Player,” he replies.
“And I am still not Cahokian,” I remind him.
He pulls me closer. “One thing at a time,” he says. “Let’s see if this key of Brecht’s really is a key, and if the door is even a door. And what the hell is the Ring of Gyges, anyway?”
“It’s from Plato,” I tell him. “Don’t they teach you anything in your American schools?”
“Just readin’, ritin’, and ’rithmetic,” he says. “So, what does it do?”
“Makes the wearer invisible, so that he can do anything he likes without being caught. The story asks us whether or not people will behave morally if they don’t fear being caught or found out.”
“And what’s the answer?”
“Plato says it depends on the nature of the man.”
“The weapon could change everything,” Boone says after a moment. “For us. For the lines. For everyone.”
Before I can reply to this, Brecht appears behind us. Instinctively, we pull apart.
“You need to come down,” Brecht says. “There is a problem.”
“What’s happened?” I ask as Boone and I get to our feet.
“It’s Ott,” he says. “He’s disappeared. And so has the girl.”
Boone
When we get back inside, Yildiz runs up to us, speaking wildly in Turkish. She’s talking so fast that I can’t understand a word she’s saying, but Ari does.
“She says Kelebek went to get water. A few minutes later, she realized that Ott was gone as well.”
“Maybe he just went out to smoke,” I suggest. “Or walk around.”
“The key is gone too,” Brecht tells me. He holds up the box containing the weapon pieces. It was tucked into my pack, but someone has obviously removed it.
I look at Ari. We should never have left the box unattended. It was a stupid thing to do.
“We have to find him,” I say. I turn to Yildiz. “Do you know where the well is?”
She nods enthusiastically, and beckons with her hand. “Come,” she says.
The three of us follow the old woman as she leaves the room and goes outside. She hobbles quickly in the opposite direction of the stargazing rock, heading for the doorway of another fairy tower. Once inside, she begins to descend a set of stairs that spiral down into the earth. It’s dark, so Ari, Brecht, and I turn on our flashlights. The beams cross one another as we hurry behind Yildiz, casting looming shadows on the stone walls.
The stairs corkscrew down, as if a giant has plunged them into the dirt. I estimate we descend about 50 feet before they stop and we find ourselves in a tunnel just tall enough for me to walk in without having to bend over. It’s maybe four feet wide, and we have to walk single file.
“They designed these tunnels so that enemies would have to enter one at a time,” Brecht says from behind me. “It made them easier to pick off.”
“That’s very reassuring,” I tell him. “Anything else we should watch out for?”
“Oh, all manner of traps,” he says. He sounds excited. “Pitfalls. Falling rocks. In the other city Sauer and I explored, there was a room that filled with sand, burying anyone who became locked inside it. The architects of these places were very clever.”
Ahead of me, Yildiz begins calling out Kelebek’s name. I try to quiet her, in case Ott is hiding somewhere, but she ignores me, her frantic cries echoing through the stone tunnel. There is no answer, and she calls out some more.
My fear is that Ott took the key and followed the girl, then forced her to show him the door and open it. But since we don’t know where the door is, we could be going in the totally wrong direction. All I can do is continue to follow Yildiz as she races through the tunnel. When we come to a fork,
