Tony Abbott - The Serpent’s Curse

“Seriously?” said Wade. “Duke Vasily’s ally was Albrecht von Hohenzollern?”

“‘Albrecht of Hohenzollern Prussia,’” Lily read. “The one and only Grand Master of the creepy Knights of the Teutonic Order, and the creepy nemesis of Copernicus!”

The reading room went quiet.

Becca closed the diary, unable to read anymore. “So … Copernicus meets Maxim Grek in Padua when they’re students. Later, when he has to hide the relics, he remembers his college friend, who is now in Russia, where Maxim quickly becomes the enemy of Vasily and Albrecht at the same time. Maxim Grek is very possibly our Guardian!”

Lily smiled. “And because the first will circle to the last, Copernicus leaves the clue in Magellan’s dagger, which we only found when Becca cracked it—saving my life. In other words, you’re welcome.”

Darrell eased back to the computer. “It goes on … ‘War plenty. Maxim prison was after and after for his life. Last years in Saint Sergius monastery inside out of Muscovy. Only after Maxim die is he buried. This can be 1556!’” Darrell blinked. “To translate the translation, Maxim was jailed in one monastery after another and finally spent his last years in a place called Saint Sergius, a monastery ‘inside out of Muscovy.’ He never made it back to Greece. They buried him in the monastery after he died.”

“Here’s Saint Sergius.” Julian turned a large photographic book around. Spread across two pages was a picture of the massive Saint Sergius monastery. It was an enormous and opulent fortress. Towering over its high white stone walls were dozens of plump domes painted brilliant gold or deep blue and flecked all over with silver stars.

“Can you imagine how many places you could hide a relic there?” asked Lily. “Seriously, it makes sense to start at the end of his life and work backward. It’s how we zeroed in on Magellan.”

Which Becca realized for the first time was true, as it had been for Uncle Henry, too. It was at the end of his life that he had passed the secret on to them.

“Man, I wish I was going with you,” said Julian.

“Going with us?” Wade asked. “To Russia? Are we seriously thinking the relic is in Russia?”

“Go to where he died. That’s where I would begin,” Darrell said. “Russia. The monastery at Saint Sergius. For which, by the way, you’re welcome.”

“All right, then,” said Wade. “It would be totally amazing if we think we’ve already figured out who the Guardian might be. But I’m getting nowhere on what the double-eyed relic is—”

Julian’s cell phone buzzed. He swiped it on and answered it. He nodded once, ended the call, and stood up. “We have to go right now.”

“Did the Order find us?” said Darrell. “Are they here? Why do we have to leave?”

“For brunch,” Julian said. “Our dads are meeting us in half an hour!”

As a precaution, Lily, Julian, and a guard left the Morgan from the old entrance on Thirty-Sixth Street, while Wade, Becca, Darrell, and another guard exited the brownstone through a pair of glass doors at 24 East Thirty-Seventh Street. They met one another a block east of the museum, on Park Avenue, where a brown four-door Honda sedan was idling at the curb. Dennis, the Ackroyds’ driver, sat behind the wheel. He smiled and unlocked the doors, the kids climbed in, and the two guards trotted back to the museum.

“Dennis, how are you feeling this morning?” Julian asked.

“Fine today,” he said. “Where to?”

“The Water Club.”

“I hope they have food, too,” said Darrell.

Wade laughed. Darrell was feeling good. They all were. In a couple of short hours, they had gained a solid idea of who the second Guardian was. That was real progress.

Ten minutes later, after zigzagging from block to block across streets and down avenues, they arrived at a broad, low restaurant overlooking the river. Julian thanked Dennis, who drove off to park nearby.

“Your father will arrive in … seventeen minutes,” said a man at the desk, checking his watch. “Your table is ready for you now.”

The dining room smelled deliciously of hot coffee, fried eggs, bacon, and pastries, and Wade’s stomach wanted all of them. They crossed the floor to a large round table by a wide bank of windows. Snowflakes, heavier now, were falling gently and dissolving into the river outside.

Becca took a seat next to him. “What’s this river?”

“The East River,” said Julian. “You can just make out the Williamsburg Bridge.”

“Oh.” She shivered. “Better to look at it than be on it.”

As soon as they were all seated, Wade drew the star chart from his backpack and unfolded it. “The constellation is here, somewhere,” he murmured. “The double-eyed beast has got to be one of Ptolemy’s original forty-eight constellations. But which one?”

“There are a dozen or so ‘beasts,’” Lily said, making air quotes around the last word. “And I’m including dogs, birds, Hydras, dragons, and bears.”

Wade nodded. “But some are profiles. Not all of them have both eyes visible.” As he looked at his antique sky map, Wade imagined Uncle Henry’s kind, old face, and he felt something shut off in his brain. The table, the windows, the snow vanishing into the river, even Becca and the others around him, seemed to fade into the background. His talent for blocking out noises and distractions—so tested lately—came forward.

He mentally ticked off the constellations that couldn’t for an instant be considered “double-eyed.” That still left a number of water creatures, centaurs, a lion, bears, a dragon, a horse, and more. Studying the golden and silver constellations, he remembered what his father had taught him about stars, and a small thought entered his mind.

Could double-eyed refer to the astronomical phenomenon known as a double star? “Huh …”

“Huh, what?” asked Lily.

“Well, maybe Copernicus meant that there’s a double star in the constellation’s head.”

“What’s a double star?” Darrell asked. “And don’t say two stars.”

Wade laughed. “Well, they kind of are two stars—”

“I asked you not to—”

“Which is why I did. A double star is really where two stars are so close together that they sometimes appear like one really bright star. It’s only when you observe them for a long time that you discover that there are two of them. Lily, can you cross-check double stars against Ptolemy’s forty-eight constellations?”

“Smart,” she said, her fingers already moving over the tablet’s screen, “for a non–intelligence officer, that is. I’m searching, searching, and … oh.”

“You found something already?” asked Julian.

“Actually, no. There are a ton of double stars in the constellations and a bunch where the eyes could be.”

Darrell leaned over Wade’s notebook. “Well, then, what about this ‘unbound’ beast? What does that even mean? A wild beast? A beast out of control?”

“Right,” said Julian. “Or maybe it’s loose somehow? Not together—”

“You mean like Wade?” said Darrell.

“Good one,” said Julian. “I mean like in a bunch of different parts? Is there a constellation, one constellation, in more than one part? That also has a double star in its head?”

Wade studied the star chart carefully before ruling out one constellation after another. Then he stopped, shaking his head. He ran through the constellations a second time. He felt a smile coming on that he couldn’t hide. “You got it, Julian. There is one constellation that has two stars in its head, and it is in two separate parts,” he said. “Just one …”