“Why backward?” Lydia interrupted.
“The sun was the center of everything. The light they all aspired to.”
She nodded, as if the truth had been obvious all along. “So then, Jupiter’s next?”
“Yes. Then Mars. Then Venus, which is also the symbol for the material of Earth. Then Mercury, the Moon and finally the Sun.”
“Wait, why not the Moon before Venus? It’s between Mars and Venus, right?”
Caleb shook his head. “I’m guessing that would stump, or kill, most people who thought they’d figured it out and dared to try. No, in the tradition of alchemy, the Moon occupies an elevated station. It’s the second largest object in the sky, dwarfed only by the Sun. Its influence, while subtle, is just as indispensible to life on our planet. And, as if we needed more confirmation, in the alchemical process of turning something into gold, the Moon represents Silver, the stage just before achieving perfection.”
Lydia smiled thoughtfully. “Okay, so if we spin the seven symbols in the proper order, we can open the door without releasing the water?”
Caleb considered that for a while, but it still didn’t make sense. He thought about the alchemist’s instructions, the order for transmuting imperfect material into perfection. And finally something clicked into place.
“That’s the wrong question.”
“What?”
“Trying to avoid the water trap — avoiding any of the traps — seems like the wrong way to look at this.”
“How do you mean?”
“Bear with me a moment. First, let’s consider how the water trap was sprung. Waxman set it off when he turned the Water symbol.” Caleb focused on the symbol for.
“He started with Water,” Lydia whispered, “but that’s wrong.”
Caleb nodded. “Saturn is farther away from the Sun than Jupiter.”
“So it needs to be Saturn first, or Fire, then Water.”
“Calcination, then dissolution.” His scalp broke out in a sweat. Could it be that simple? As long as you know the right sequence of the visible planets? “The problem,” he said, “is that we know that when the door opens, a devastating flood is released. For that much water to emerge so quickly, the opposite chamber has to be already filled up, waiting for the doors to open.”
“What chance does that give us, then?”
“Maybe we’ve overlooked something.” Caleb scanned the photos again and came back to something he had puzzled over earlier. “There,” he said, pointing, “all by itself above the left edge of the seal. It looks like a ring set in the limestone about eight feet above the ground, with a crescent moon symbol above it.”
“So?” Lydia reached for the bowl of fruit on the table and popped a fig into her mouth.
Caleb stroked the ragged stubble on his chin. “So why is it there? And is there another one somewhere? I can’t see the other side of the door, but maybe I didn’t photograph far enough. The crescent moon, it’s a symbol for Seshat, Thoth’s wife.”
Lydia nodded. “She’s the goddess of libraries and writing, I know that. But—”
“She was also the mapmaker and the designer of the king’s cities, his temples, and so on. One of her symbols is the rope, and in certain Egyptian hymns she was praised for ‘stretching the cord,’ or measuring out distances in the king’s temples and palaces.”
Lydia looked from Caleb to the photo. “So we get a rope?”
He nodded.
“But why? What do we do with it?”
“The first task of the true alchemist is to purify himself, to burn away and dissolve his ego. To blast away the imperfections.”
“You mean…” Lydia drew in a sharp breath and beamed. “We’re not supposed to avoid the traps.”
“Like I said.”
Caleb stood and started pacing. “Think about it … the water trap is an effective defense because of its sheer violence. A million gallons of water rush through the door at once and batter around everything that’s not weighted down. The room fills with water, but drains quickly. My guess is, if you’re secured well enough you can withstand it — hold your breath until it drains, and then you’re fine.”
“But why?” Lydia asked. “Why build the trap that way? Surely there has to be an easier way past the seal?”
“Yes, but you have to think like they did. Egyptian mystery schools had a different way of teaching — through intuition and experience, symbolism and reason. Imagine an initiate going through this ordeal. Surviving such a watery onslaught would be a transformative, cleansing experience. It would prepare him for the next stage in the process of enlightenment. Think of people who survive a tsunami, clinging to trees, watching their lives, their whole history, wash away. They can’t help but to be transformed by it.”
Lydia licked her lips. “Only the worthy,” she murmured. “So what comes first?”
“I hate to say this, but I bet there’s a fire-oriented trap we need to prepare for. Remember the legend about the Muslims who were tricked into almost destroying the lighthouse? The Arab treasure hunters released the tide of seawater and were swept into the harbor, but the few survivors described other horrors: fire, the floor falling away…” He thought about it. “I’m sure they didn’t even try the symbols; they just attempted to break down the door.”
“And maybe that sets off all the traps in sequence?” She walked up behind Caleb and slid her hands around his waist. She pressed her lips to his neck and he smelled figs, along with a hint of her ever-present jasmine perfume. His skin danced with excitement, both from this new revelation and from Lydia’s touch. “Can’t you try to RV the chamber? See the fire defense?”
Caleb’s throat tightened as if choking on a thick crust of bread. “No, I don’t think so.” It was one thing for visions to visit directly, but quite another to actually invite them in. It wasn’t a step he wanted to take just yet.
“So we’ll just chance it?” Lydia asked. “Get a rope, or a bungee or something, a harness. And then just pray we’re worthy enough?”
“I’d rather do this by myself,” Caleb said. “I don’t know if two of us can make it through, and…”
“And,” Lydia gave him a gentle squeeze, “you haven’t forgiven yourself yet for Phoebe.”
Or Nina.
Or any of the others.
Caleb tried to pull away but she held him close. “It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered. “And now’s your chance to make it up to her. We’ll get through that door, you and I. But you’ll need my help. I’ll bring cameras and flashlights, and you’ll have another set of eyes to catch anything you might miss, and—”
“And it will be twice the danger,” Caleb said, relenting. “But I know you won’t give up. Besides, I don’t really want to go alone.”
She smiled with him. “So what are we waiting for?”
“Nightfall.” From his occasional visits after a walk about the city, he knew Qaitbey had become a major tourist site of late, and guards patrolled regularly during the day. At night it was lit up from all angles to provide a visible backdrop of its imposing strength, but Caleb figured they could still slip into the courtyard, hug the shadows and get in to the mosque if they were careful. But they had no special connections this time, so they would have to use bolt cutters on the padlock.
“Good,” Lydia said. “Then we have time.” She pulled him away from the wall, toward the bed.
It was a moonless night, the air still thick with humidity, resisting the Mediterranean breezes. The stars shone fiercely above the waves, and as Caleb and Lydia crept through the arch in the sandstone wall, Caleb glanced up at the constellations, imagining for a moment he was a Roman soldier storming the great lighthouse, marveling at its flaming beacon thirty stories overhead. He could picture dozens of statues and winged creatures perched on ledges and atop windows punctured into the face of the great tower. And the simple, cunning dedication greeting visitors: Sostratus of Cnidos dedicates this lighthouse to the Savior Gods.