“Not there?” The ragged king sat back on the floor and pressed both hands against his head, squeezing hard. “Ah, but you must forgive an old man. I have lived for… for a long time, too long, too, too long, and there is so much that I remember, and even more that I forget. I have memories and dreams and they get confused and wrapped up together. There are so many thoughts whirling around inside my head.” He winced, almost as if he were in pain, and when he spoke, there was nothing but the sadness of loss in his voice. “Sometimes it is hard to tell them apart, to know what really was and what I have only imagined.” He reached into his voluminous coats and pulled out a thick sheaf of paper held together with string. “I write things down,” he said quickly. “That’s how I remember.” He thumbed through the pages. There were scraps from notebooks, covers torn from paperbacks, bits of newspapers, restaurant menus and napkins, thick parchment, even scraps of hide and wafer-thin sheets of copper and bark. They had all been cut or torn to roughly the same size and they were covered in miniscule scratchy writing. He looked closely at each of the twins in turn. “Someday I’ll write about you, so that I’ll remember you.” He glared at Flamel. “And I’ll write about you, too, Alchemyst, so that I never forget you.”

Sophie suddenly blinked and the image before her fragmented as tears came to her eyes. Two perfect silver drops slid down her cheeks.

The king came slowly to his knees before her and then, gently, carefully, reached out to touch the silver liquid with his index finger. The tears twisted and curled like mercury across his fingernail. Concentrating fiercely, he rubbed the tears between forefinger and thumb. When he looked up, there were no signs of confusion in his eyes, no doubts on his face. “Do you know how long it has been since anyone has shed a tear for Gilgamesh the King?” His voice was strong and commanding, and there was the tiniest accent when he said his name and title. “Oh, but it was a lifetime ago, in that time before time, the time before history.” The silver droplet pooled in his palm and he closed his hand into a fist, holding the tear. “There was a girl then who shed silver tears, who wept for a prince of the land, who wept for me, and for the world she was about to destroy.” He looked up at Sophie, blue eyes huge and unblinking. “Girl, why do you weep for me?”

Unable to speak, Sophie shook her head. Josh put his arm around his sister.

“Tell me,” Gilgamesh insisted.

She swallowed hard and shook her head again.

“Please? I would like to know.”