detail—the choir stalls had been added in the early seventeenth century, with the charge of design and construction falling to an artisan carpenter named Francesco Brambilla. However, rather than assign the stalls a strict European identity, the man had involved an African carpenter in both the design and construction phases.
To even Espy’s unpracticed eye, Muhammad al-Idrisi’s cultural identity had been formed by both the region’s old yet fading Greek presence as well as the influx of Islamic influence. This could be seen in every detail, from the gentle arc of the handrails and the intricate latticework to the denser base that would have looked crudely hand-carved if one did not notice the complete uniformity of its entire span.
Esperanza began her study of the first level of stalls to her left, looking at both the flat facing surface and the more detailed portions that gave it life. From the corner of her eye, she saw Romero do the same, starting from the right. Espy’s experience with this sort of thing was limited; she’d proven helpful in the hunt for Elisha’s bones years before, but that was because, ultimately, the most important element of that search had been a language puzzle, which was her province. She doubted she would get that lucky again. It was why she held out the greatest hope in her brother, who while not as accustomed to the practice of archaeology as their missing friend, had a good deal more experience with the process than she.
She took her time walking along the stall, her hands running over certain places, bending so she could get closer to review something of interest. But as she walked, and as she saw Romero making similar progress, she could not find anything that stood out as something other than adornment.
Fifteen minutes later, they met in the middle and shared a look that communicated their disappointment.
“The other side?” Romero asked.
Espy nodded and they separated again, each finding the small opening near their respective walls that allowed them access to the place in which the choir would stand. With less light on that side, Espy found it more difficult to study the stalls and had to rely more on her hands. As she moved along, slower than she had with the front, she caught the occasional glimpse of her brother disappearing from view, then popping up at some distance farther down.
On the choir side, a wooden footrail ran the length of the stalls. While Espy was impressed that she could not find a seam in the entire run of the rail, neither could she find any mark or symbol on its surface.
“There’s still the second level,” Romero said when they’d finished their search.
“Unless we’ve missed it,” Espy said, acknowledging the fact that the person most suited to conduct the search was the person who was relying on them.
“There’s also the distinct possibility that we’re wrong,” Romero said. “That our conjecture regarding a Libyan connection being found in this building—and that the only north African artisan on the project somehow fashioned a message into his work—could be completely without merit.”
“It certainly sounds ludicrous to me,” Espy said.
“But what other choice do we have?” Romero finished for her.
With that, the two found the narrow stairs that led up to the second level, this time choosing to stay together. When Espy arrived at the top, she moved to the wall and looked out over the nave, the whole of it stretched out before her. Some of the people sitting in the pews, or walking about taking pictures of the sculptures, frescoes, and stained-glass windows, were looking in her direction, making her wonder if she and Romero had crossed some line no one had shared with them. With that in mind, she stepped away from the wall and set to work.
In backing away, she noticed that the panels of the stall contained a level of detail and design missing from their counterparts below. Romero noticed it too, and lowered his large frame to a knee so he could lean in and get a closer look.
“I don’t know what these are, but there’s an Arab look to them,” Espy said, pointing to a symbol formed of an outer box, an inset triangle, a box within that, and an interior circle. The only thing that made it seem more than a progression of geometric shapes was the decorative edges of the outer box.
Romero grunted. “It’s not Arabic. It’s an old European symbol for alchemy.” He pointed to the edges of the