The Dark River

She had cut the regulator tube on one of the metal rods. There was no air to breathe and no way to get out. Her flashlight was lost and she was struggling in total darkness. Maya gripped the mouthpiece with her teeth, reached over her shoulder, and felt for both sections of the severed air hose. The section connected to her mouth was filled with water, but air bubbled through the hose connected to the pony tank. She forced the two sections together and held them in her fist. Air mixed with water started to flow out of the mouthpiece. Maya swallowed the water and sucked the oxygen into her lungs.

With both sections of hose held tightly in her right hand, she pushed back with her left, feeling the gritty sand with her feet. Like a bystander staring at a car accident, her mind disengaged from the situation except to observe calmly and draw conclusions. She was completely blind, and within a minute or so the air tank would be empty. Her only chance was to find the tunnel that led back to the cellar room.

When her feet touched the side of the tunnel, she stopped immediately and slid her body sideways. Maya concentrated on the gritty texture of the fallen rubble. Her life had collapsed into a particle of bone and blood and tissue.

Trying not to cause another cave-in, she crawled backward inch by inch. The regulator made a faint gurgling sound and then her tongue tasted something that reminded her of ashes. She tried to inhale, but nothing filled her lungs. The ruptured hose had bled the tank dry.

Maya extended her arms, pushed backward, and her toes felt the bend in the tunnel. She kept moving and prayed that she wouldn’t get caught on the barbs. It felt like her brain was reacting slowly and she wondered if she was about to pass out.

A few seconds later, she felt hands on her ankles. With a swift tug, Lumbroso pulled her out.

“What happened?” he asked. “I saw sand coming out of the tunnel. Are you injured? Are you all right?”

Maya ripped off the face mask, spit out the mouthpiece, and gasped for breath. Her lungs were burning, and it felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. Lumbroso kept talking to her, but she couldn’t answer. She was incapable of speech, and only one thought stayed in her brain: I’m still alive.

The underwater camera dangled from its lanyard, and she handed it to him like a precious stone.

AROUND EIGHT O’CLOCK the next morning, Maya was a customer at an outdoor café in the Piazza San Lorenzo in Lucina. The piazza was less than one hundred yards from the entrance to the deserted building that concealed the sundial. Directly below her feet were layers of the past and secret rivers flowing through the darkness.

If she closed her eyes, she could see herself trapped within the underwater tunnel, but she had no desire to reflect on that moment. She was alive and in this world. Everything that surrounded her seemed both ordinary-and beautiful. She touched the smooth marble top of the table while a young Italian waiter brought her a cup of cappuccino and a peach tart decorated with a sprig of mint. The crust of the tart was light and flaky, and she let the sweet peach filling linger on her tongue. Although her sword case hung from the back of the wrought-iron chair, she had the mad impulse to abandon it and wander around the square like an ordinary woman, entering each shop to sniff the perfume samples and try on silk scarves.

Lumbroso arrived as she finished the pastry. He was wearing his usual dark clothing and carrying a leather portfolio beneath his arm. “Buon giorno, Maya. Come sta? It is a pleasure to see you this morning.” He sat and ordered a cappuccino.

“Last week I saw a tourist ordering a cappuccino at five o’clock in the afternoon. This is Roma, not Starbucks! The waiter was deeply offended. There should be a sign in all trattorias: ‘It’s Against the Law to Order a Cappuccino after Ten in the Morning.’”

Maya smiled. “What about an espresso?”

“Espresso is appropriate.” He opened the portfolio and pulled out a manila folder filled with glossy photographs. “I downloaded the images last night and printed them on photo paper. You did a very good job, Maya. I could read everything quite clearly.”

“Did it mention an access point?”

“The sundial combined locations that our modern sensibility would consider ‘real,’ as well as those places that connected you to another world. Look at this image…” He placed a photograph in front of her. “It’s written in Latin and refers to Aegyptus-the Roman name for Egypt. After the death of Cleopatra, Egypt became part of the Empire. To the right of this Latin inscription are words in Greek.”

Lumbroso handed her another photograph and sipped his cappuccino. Maya studied a photograph that showed both Greek and Latin words.

“The inscription uses a word that means ‘doorway’ or ‘portal.’” Lumbroso picked up the photograph and began to translate. “The portal to God was taken from Ludaea to Ta Netjer-the Land of God.”