The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

“Forget about where he’s pointing, Fargo. Think about where he’s looking—at his reflection. Remember, everything’s opposite.”

“Quite right,” Lazlo said. “If Hilderic’s the penultimate king looking up from the Underworld and the Usurper is Gelimer …”

“Who,” Remi said, “would be looking in the same direction as Narcissus—and us …”

“We were searching in the wrong part of the ruins.”

“No doubt about it,” Remi replied. “Anyone looking at that mosaic would assume that Narcissus was pointing to the reflecting pool. He was pointing to the reflection. The reflection of the hidden steps, which should be behind him in the temple.”

Lazlo’s eyes gleamed. “Quite right, Mrs. Fargo. But don’t forget about Saturnalia, which seems to have been brought up frequently in these old legends passed down by Amal’s family. According to the rules of the festival, we can safely assume that the hidden steps are on the opposite side of that depicted in the mosaic. It’s not here behind us at all. It’s over there.”

Everyone looked in that direction, seeing nothing but the ancient twisted ivy vines that seemed to be holding up the ruins. The wind gusted, rustling the leaves, causing a soft, plaintive wail deep within the temple. Then, just as suddenly, it died and all was quiet.

“That was spooky,” Renee whispered.

“Nasha …?” her uncle said, his voice laced with concern. “She was with Amal. Where are they?”

Remi shaded her eyes from the glare of the sun. The two had been standing on the edge of the ruins just a few minutes ago. “Maybe that wasn’t the wind at all.”

“Nasha … Amal …”

Sam and Remi ran to the other end of the ruins, seeing nothing but the thick vines and the marble beneath. They called out again, but no one answered. “Let’s split up,” Sam said. “Half take the right side of the ruins, half the left.”

After several minutes of searching without finding the pair, they reconvened in front of the ancient temple. Nasha’s uncle shaded his eyes, searching the hillside leading up to the olive grove. “Could they have gone back to the house?”

“We would’ve seen them,” Sam said.

He was just about to suggest they make another pass around the temple when he heard Nasha’s voice coming from beneath the tangle of ivy as though she were singing a jump rope rhyme. “Sator … arepo … tenet … opera … rotas. Behold …” She parted the thick vines, peering out, surprised at the sight of everyone watching her. “Is something wrong?”

“Where’s Amal?” Remi asked.

“Down there.” She pulled the ivy curtain wider, revealing a passageway that led into the hillside behind the crumbling temple. “Amal was showing it to me. It’s where she used to go when she was little.”

Relieved, Sam took his phone, turned on the flashlight, and checked the passage. One of the fluted columns had collapsed onto the hillside, providing a trellis over which the ivy had climbed, hiding the entrance from prying eyes. In fact, had Nasha not pointed it out, Sam doubted they would’ve been able to find it behind the vines at all. “Amal?”

“Here,” she called out.

Sam led the way, discovering Amal sitting on the floor of a small cave.

She narrowed her gaze against the intrusion of light. “Sorry. I just wanted to show Nasha where I used to play when I was her age. I’d mostly forgotten about it.” She looked around the small cavern, then stood. “This is where I used to come to escape. It always relaxed me, sitting in the dark.”

Nasha scurried in and sat next to her, looking equally at home.

Lazlo was drawn to the inscriptions carved on the cavern walls. “If nothing else, I’d say we’re on the right track.”

“Ancient graffiti,” Amal said.

“Indeed …”

Remi followed the direction of Lazlo’s gaze. “Sam, bring that light closer.”

He aimed the beam at the spot Remi and Lazlo were focusing on. Scratched into the wall was a graffito that looked very much like the temple in the mosaic. And below it, what looked like a staircase set directly below the penultimate column on the right-hand side.

The very column they’d passed under on their way into the cavern.

CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR

A man who is patient is rewarded.