iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第42章

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　〃The　dean　came　in　before　they　could　ask　and　told　me　not　to　answer　questions。〃
　〃What　are　you　going　to　do？〃
　〃She　said　I　should　find　a　lawyer。〃
　He　says　it　as　if　it　would　be　easier　to　find　a　basilisk　or　a　unicorn。
　〃We'll　figure　something　out；〃　I　tell　him。　After　I　finish　up　the　discharge　paperwork；　we　head　out。　There's　a　police　officer　stationed　near　the　entrance；　who　eyes　us　as　we　begin　walking　toward　him。　A　cold　wind　sets　over　us　the　second　we　step　from　the　building。
　We　begin　the　short　walk　back　to　campus　on　our　own。　The　streets　are　empty；　the　sky　is　dimming；　and　now　a　bicycle　passes　by　on　the　sidewalk；　carrying　a　delivery　man　from　a　pizza　shop。　He　leaves　a　trail　of　smells　behind　him；　a　cloud　of　yeast　and　steam；　and　as　the　wind　picks　up　again；　kicking　snow　into　the　air　like　dust；　my　stomach　rumbles；　a　reminder　that　we're　back　among　the　living。
　〃e　with　me　to　the　library；〃　Paul　says　as　we　approach　Nassau　Street。　〃I　want　to　show　you　something。〃
　He　stops　at　the　crosswalk。　Beyond　a　white　courtyard　is　Nassau　Hall。　I　think　of　pant　legs　flapping　from　the　cupola；　of　the　clapper　that　wasn't　there。
　〃Show　me　what？〃
　Paul's　hands　are　in　his　pockets；　and　he　walks　with　his　head　down；　fighting　the　wind。　We　pass　through　FitzRandolph　Gate；　not　looking　back。　You　can　walk　through　the　gate　into　campus　as　often　as　you　like；　the　legend　goes；　but　if　you　walk　out　of　it　just　once；　you　will　never　graduate。
　〃Vincent　told　me　never　to　trust　friends；〃　Paul　says。　〃He　said　friends　were　fickle。〃
　A　tour　guide　leads　a　small　group　across　our　path。　They　look　like　carolers。　Nathaniel　FitzRandolph　gave　the　land　to　build　Nassau　Hall；　the　tour　guide　says。　He　is　buried　where　Holder　Courtyard　now　stands。
　〃I　didn't　know　what　to　do　when　that　pipe　exploded。　I　didn't　realize　Charlie　only　went　into　the　tunnels　to　find　me。〃
　We　cross　toward　East　Pyne；　heading　for　the　library。　In　the　distance　sit　the　marble　halls　of　the　old　debating　societies。　Whig；　James　Madison's　club；　and　Cliosophic；　Aaron　Burr's。　The　tour　guide's　voice　carries　through　the　air　behind　us；　and　I　have　the　growing　sensation　that　I　am　a　visitor　here；　a　tourist；　that　I　have　been　walking　down　a　tunnel　in　the　dark　since　the　first　day　I　arrived　at　Princeton；　the　same　way　we　did　through　the　bowels　of　Holder　Courtyard；　surrounded　by　graves。
　〃Then　I　heard　you　go　after　him。　You　didn't　care　what　was　down　there。　You　just　knew　he　was　hurt。〃
　Paul　looks　at　me　for　the　first　time。
　〃I　could　hear　you　calling　for　help；　but　I　couldn't　see　anything。　I　was　too　scared　to　move。　All　I　could　think　was；　what　kind　of　friend　am　I？　I'm　the　fickle　friend。〃
　〃Paul；〃　I　say；　stopping　short。　〃You　don't　have　to　do　this。〃
　We're　in　the　courtyard　of　East　Pyne；　a　building　shaped　like　a　cloister；　where　snow　falls　through　the　open　quad　in　the　middle。　My　father　has　returned　to　me　unexpectedly；　like　a　shadow　on　the　walls；　because　I　realize　he　walked　these　paths　before　I　was　born；　and　saw　these　same　buildings。　I　am　walking　in　his　footsteps　without　even　knowing　it；　because　neither　of　us　has　made　the　faintest　impression　on　this　place。
　Paul　turns；　seeing　me　stop；　and　for　a　second　we　are　the　only　living　things　between　these　stone　walls。
　〃Yes；　I　do；〃　he　says；　turning　toward　me。　〃Because　when　I　tell　you　what　I　found　in　the　diary；　everything　else　is　going　to　seem　small。　And　everything　else　isn't　small。〃
　〃Just　tell　me　if　it's　as　big　as　we　hoped。〃
　Because　if　it　is；　then　at　least　the　shadow　my　father　cast　was　a　long　one。
　Look　forward；　the　physical　therapist　says　between　my　ears。　Always　forward。　But　now；　as　then；　I'm　surrounded　by　walls。
　〃Yes；〃　Paul　says；　knowing　exactly　what　I　mean。　〃It　is。〃
　There's　a　spark　in　his　face　that　brings　those　three　words　home；　and　I　am　blown　back　again；　struck　by　the　very　sensation　I'd　hoped　to　find。　It's　as　if　my　father　has　pulled　through　something　unthinkable；　as　if　he　has　e　back　and　been　rehabilitated　in　a　single　stroke。
　I　don't　know　what　Paul　is　about　to　tell　me；　but　the　idea　that　it　could　be　bigger　than　I　imagined　is　enough　to　give　me　a　feeling　that's　been　missing　for　longer　than　I　knew。　It　makes　me　look　forward　again　and　actually　see　something　in　front　of　me；　something　other　than　a　wall。　It　makes　me　feel　hope。
　
　Chapter　21
　
　On　the　way　to　Firestone　we　pass　Carrie　Shaw；　a　junior　I　recognize　from　an　English　class　last　year；　who　crosses　in　front　of　us　and　says　hi。　She　and　I　traded　glances　across　the　seminar　table　for　weeks　before　I　met　Katie。　I　wonder　how　much　has　changed　for　her　since　then。　I　wonder　if　she　can　see　how　much　has　changed　for　me。
　〃It　seems　like　such　an　accident　that　I　got　sucked　into　the　Hypnerotomachia；〃　Paul　says　as　we　continue　heading　east　toward　the　library。　〃Everything　was　so　indirect；　so　coincidental。　The　same　way　it　was　for　your　dad。〃
　〃Meeting　McBee；　you　mean。〃
　〃And　Richard。　What　if　they'd　never　known　each　other？　What　if　they'd　never　taken　that　class　together？　What　if　I'd　never　picked　up　your　dad's　book？〃
　〃We　wouldn't　be　standing　here。〃
　He　takes　it　as　a　throwaway　at　first；　then　realizes　what　I　mean。　Without　Curry　and　McBee　and　The　Belladonna　Document；　Paul　and　I　would　never　have　met。　We　would've　crossed　paths　on　campus　the　same　way　Carrie　and　I　just　did；　saying　hello；　wondering　where　we'd　seen　each　other　before；　thinking　in　a　distant　way　what　a　shame　it　was　that　four　years　had　passed　and　there　were　still　so　many　unfamiliar　faces。
　〃Sometimes；〃　he　says；　〃I　ask　myself；　why　did　I　have　to　meet　Vincent？　Why　did　I　have　to　meet　Bill？　Why　do　I　always　have　to　take　the　long　way　to　get　where　I'm　going？〃
　〃What　do　you　mean？〃
　〃Did　you　notice　how　the　portmaster's　directions　don't　get　straight　to　the　point；　either？　Four　south；　ten　east；　two　north；　six　west。　They　move　in　a　big　circle。　You　almost　end　up　where　you　started。〃
　Finally　I　understand　the　connection：　the　wide　sweep　of　circumstance；　the　way　his　journey　with　the　Hypnerotomachia　has　wound　through　time　and　place；　from　two　friends　at　Princeton　in　my　father's　day；　to　three　men　in　New　York；　to　a　father　and　son　in　Italy；　and　back　now　to　another　two　friends　at　Princeton…it　all　resembles　Colonna's　strange　riddle；　the　directions　that　curl　back　on　themselves。
　〃Don't　you　think　it　makes　sense　that　your　father　is　the　one　that　got　me　started　on　the　Hypnerotomachia？〃　Paul　asks。
　We　arrive　at　the　entrance；　and　Paul　opens　the　library　door　for　me；　as　we　duck　in　from　the　snow。　We　are　in　the　old　heart　of　campus　now；　a　place　made　of　stones。　On　summer　days；　when　cars　streak　by　with　their　windows　down　and　their　radios　up；　and　the　whole　student　body　wears　shorts　and　T…shirts；　buildings　like　Firestone　and　the　chapel　and　Nassau　Hall　seem　like　caves　in　a　metropolis。　But　when　the　temperature　drops　and　the　snow　falls；　no　place　is　more　reassuring。
　〃Last　night　I　started　thinking；〃　Paul　continues；　〃Francesco's　friends　helped　him　design　the　riddles；　right？　Now　our　friends　are　helping　to　solve　them。　You　figured　out　the　first　one。　Katie　answered　the　second　one。　Charlie　knew　the　last　one。　Your　dad　discovered　The　Belladonna　Document。　Richard　found　the　diary。〃
　We　pause　at　the　turnstile；　flashing　our　campus　IDs　to　the　guards　at　the　gate。　As　we　wait　for　the　elevator　to　C…floor；　all　the　way　at　the　bottom；　Paul　points　to　a　metal　plate　on　the　elevator　door。　There's　a　symbol　engraved　on　it　that　I've　never　noticed　before。
　〃The　Aldine　Press；〃　I　say；　recognizing　it　from　my　father's　old　office　at　home。
　Colonna's　printer；　Aldus　Manutius；　took　his　famous　dolphin　and　anchor　emblem；　one　of　the　most　famous　in　printing　history；　from　the　Hypnerotomachia。
　Paul　nods；　and　I　sense　this　is　part　of　his　point。　Everywhere　he's　turned；　in　this　four…year　spiral　back　toward　the　beginning；　he's　felt　a　hand　at　his　back。　His　whole　world；　even　in　the　silent　details；　has　been　nudging　him　on；　helping　him　to　crack　Colonna's　book。
　The　elevator　doors　open；　and　we　step　in。
　〃Anyway；　I　was　thinking　about　all　that　last　night；〃　he　says；　pressing　the　button　for　C…floor　as　we　begin　our　descent。　〃About　how　everything　seemed　to　be　ing　full　circle。　And　it　hit　me。〃
　A　bell　dings　above　our　heads；　and　the　doors　open　onto　the　bleakest　landscape　of　the　library；　dozens　of　feet　underground。　The　ceiling…high　bookshelves　of　C…floor　are　so　tightly　packed　that　they　seem　designed　to　shoulder　the　weight　of　the　five　floors　above　us。　To　our　left　is　Microform　Services；　the　dark　grotto　where　professors　and　grad　students　huddle　in　clusters　of　microfilm　machines；　squinting　at　panels　of　light。　Paul　begins　leading　me　through　the　stacks；　running　his　finger　along　the　dusty　spines　of　books　as　we　pass　them。　I　realize　he's　taking　me　to　his　carrel。
　〃There's　a　reason　everything　returns　to　where　it　started　in　this　book。　Beginnings　are　the　key　to　the　Hypnerotomachia。　The　first　letter　of　every　chapter　creates　the　acrostic　about　Fra　Francesco　Colonna。　The　first　letters　of　the　architectural　terms　spell　out　the　first　riddle。　It's　not　a　coincidence　that　Francesco　made　everything　e　back　to　beginnings。〃
　In　the　distance　I　can　see　the　long　rows　of　green　metallic　doors；　spaced　almost　as　closely　as　high　school　lockers。　The　rooms　they　guard　are　no　bigger　than　closets。　But　hundreds　of　seniors　shut　themselves　inside　for　weeks　on　end　to　write　their　theses　in　peace。　Paul's　carrel；　which　I　haven't　seen　in　months；　sits　near　the　farthest　corner。
　〃Maybe　I　was　just　getting　tired；　but　I　thought；　what　if　he　knew　exactly　what　he　was　doing？　What　if　you　could　figure　out　how　to　decipher　the　second　half　of　the　book　by　focusing　on　something　in　the　very　first　riddle？　Francesco　said　he　didn't　leave　any　solutions；　but　he　didn't　say　he　left　no　hints。　And　I　had　the　directions　from　the　portmaster's　diary　to　help　me。〃
　We　arrive　in　front　of　his　carrel；　and　he　begins　to　twist　the　bination　lock　on　the　door。　A　sheet　of　black　construction　paper　has　been　taped　to　the　little　rectangular　window；　making　it　impossible　to　see　inside。
　〃I　thought　the　directions　had　to　be　about　a　physical　location。　How　to　get　from　a　stadium　to　a　crypt；　measured　in　stadia。　Even　the　portmaster　thought　the　directions　were　geographical。〃　He　shakes　his　head。　〃I　wasn't　thinking　like　Francesco。〃
　Paul　opens　the　lock　and　swings　the　door　wide。　The　little　room　is　filled　with　books；　piles　upon　piles　of　them；　a　tiny　version　of　the　President's　Room　at　Ivy。　Food　wrappers　litter　the　floor。　Sheets　of　paper　are　taped　to　the　walls；　thick　as　feathers；　each　one　scrawled　with　a　message。　Phineus　son　of　Belus　wasn't　Phineus　king　of　Salmydessus；　says　one。　Check　Hesiod：　Hesperethousa　or　Hesperia　and　Arethousa？　says　another。　Buy　more　crackers；　says　a　third。
　I　lift　a　stack　of　photocopies　from　one　of　the　two　chairs　crammed　into　the　carrel；　and　try　to　sit　down　without　knocking　anything　over。
　〃So　I　came　back　to　the　riddles；〃　he　says。　〃What　was　the　first　riddle　about？〃
　〃Moses。　The　Latin　word　for　horns。〃
　〃Right。〃　He　turns　his　back　to　me　to　shut　the　door　behind　us。　〃It　was　about　a　mistranslation。　Philology；　historical　linguistics。　It　was　about　language。〃
　He　begins　searching　through　a　column　of　books　atop　the　hutch　of　his　desk。　Finally　he　finds　what　he　wants：　Hartt's　History　of　Renaissance　Art。
　〃Why　did　we　get　lucky　with　the　first　riddle？〃　he　says。
　〃Because　I　had　that　dream。〃
　〃No；〃　he　says；　finding　the　page　with　Michelangelo's　scu