Free The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel) by Michael Scott Page A

the spire with the flapping pennant.
    “You know,” Josh said, “for what’s supposed to be the most powerful and beautiful city in the world, it looks a bit shabby.”
    Sophie nodded. “When we were flying over it, it looked amazing, though.”
    “Distance makes everything beautiful,” Virginia murmured. She stopped at the mouth of a narrow alley and stared at the rooftops, trying to orient herself, straining to find the flag over the tops of buildings.
    Sophie turned and looked back down the alleyway to see if they were being followed. The only movement was a rail-thin dog rooting in a pile of refuse. It pulled out what might have been a hunk of meat and looked up at her, eyes winking red in the gloom, then turned and slunk away.
    Since leaving the market square, they had run through a dozen alleys identical to the one where they stood. Flanked on either side by tall featureless walls, it was narrow and dark, strewn with rotting fruit and buzzing with flies. Sophie spotted a long-tailed rat scurrying in the gutter and watched it disappear into a hole in the wall. There would always be rats and flies, she guessed. She and Josh had traveled the world with their parents, visiting wherever Richard and Sarah Newman were working. She had seen alleys like this in South America and the Middle East, in southern Europe and across Asia—though unlike those, this alley had no paper or plastic rubbish, no scraps of wood or discarded aluminum cans.
    Sophie turned and looked over her brother’s shoulder. The contrast was startling. Behind her was dirt and poverty; before her lay wealth and the magical Danu Talis of legend. The alleyway opened onto a broad tree-lined boulevard. On the other side of the street was one of the canals she’d spotted from the air. Across the canal were more tree- and flower-lined streets, inset with fountains, dotted with statues of men and beasts and creatures that were neither one nor the other. Ornate buildings painted gold and silver sat behind spike-tipped walls and carved stone gates. Each building was a different architectural style, and she caught glimpses of fl at-topped pyramids and windowless squares, delicate twisting spirals and crystal-wrapped circles.
    “Recognize them?” Josh asked.
    And she did. She suddenly realized that the buildings resembled ruins she’d visited with her parents: here were echoes of Egypt, Chaco Canyon, Angkor Wat and Scotland.
    He saw recognition in her eyes. “I’m guessing these are the originals. Humans copied the designs.”
    “Why the different shapes?” Sophie asked.
    “Different clans?” Josh suggested.
    “When Elders age, they Change,” Virginia said. “Sometimes in odd and unusual ways. They need odd and unusual buildings to live in.”
    Some of the buildings bore carvings or murals; others were daubed with paint or hung with pennants and flags. A few—mainly the flat-topped pyramid shapes—were unadorned.
    “I think we’re looking at the better part of town,” Virginia said with a grim smile. “And like rich communities every where, it’s full of gates and guards. Some things never change.”
    “Guards? Where?” Sophie asked.
    Josh pointed. “Just inside the gates . . .”
    She nodded, suddenly spotting them. There were little guard posts inside the gates of the mansions and palaces. Within the guardhouses figures moved in the shadows, keeping out of the blistering sun. “I think there are more guardhouses on the other side of the bridge,” she said.
    “I believe they are,” Virginia said. “And I have a theory.” She stepped out of the alleyway and strode across the empty boulevard toward the nearest bridge. “Let us test it.”
    The twins looked at one another and hurried after her.
    “A theory?” Josh asked.
    “It is clear that this Danu Talis is just like every other civilization I’ve encountered.” The immortal’s thin lips twisted when she said
civilization
, as if she found the word distasteful.
    There was a