— AREN'T YOU PLANNING on going up? — the question was directed at Umbert, who seemed accustomed to moving easily at heights, like a young mountaineer.
— Don't worry about them — the architect replied without stopping. — They'll reach the Throne Hall before us... And don't ask me how they do it. To understand their magic, you need to be a Wisdom Keeper, a position I'm not privileged to hold. I'm just the Master Builder.
The detective thought he detected a hint of bitterness in his tone. He didn't mean to criticize that attitude, but deep down, it was ironic that the other members of the lodge felt disappointed when they themselves were putting obstacles in the way of others sitting on the Throne of God. He would have the opportunity to weigh in if all went well and what they had promised him was true.
By the time the men reached the entrance level, Giovanna was already standing under the giant granite blocks — pyramidal in shape — that rested on the doorframe.
— Be careful going down — Monroe warned his niece. — The descending canal is too low for us to walk upright. It's only a meter wide and a little over a meter high.
— This reminds me of the crypt in Murcia Cathedral! Doesn't it, Umbert?
Gregory Evans's observation, not without sarcasm, caused Monroe to give one of his typical, mischievous smiles.
— If you felt claustrophobic there, wait until you enter the Cheops — he said seriously. — For your information, I'll tell you that we'll have to squat down about one hundred and thirty meters of canal until we reach the Chamber of Chaos, with the weight of millions of tons of stone on our backs. It will be a great challenge for someone like you who needs wide open spaces.
— I think I can handle it.
— Then, if you both agree, we'd better go in — was Giovanna's practical suggestion.
Accepting the proposal as a duty, they turned on their flashlights and entered the narrow stone corridor without further delay, crawling along the floor of cross planks and bars on both sides of the wall.
Before them, the darkness and silence that precede the unknown.