Duarte recovered first. “This is unexpected,” he said. “Master Barsam, may we handle the piece?”
Barsam passed him a pair of thin cotton gloves. At that point, no doubt all the others were wishing they had asked first. Alonso di Parma was frowning. Enzo of Naples wore an expression that I could only describe as avid. Even Irene had a glint of excitement in her eyes.
“Mistress Paula?”
It took me a moment to realize Duarte was holding out the gloves to me. A challenge; I had sensed the frisson of disapproval in the chamber as the Portuguese spoke. I felt my face flush as I slipped the gloves on. I was terrified that my hands would shake and I’d let go of Cybele and smash her to pieces.
“Is this wise—” someone began, then fell silent as I reached into the straw and lifted the statue, supporting it from underneath with one hand as I held the neck with the other. The piece was lighter than I expected, and as it left the box, I saw why. Where the Cybele of the miniature had possessed a round belly, crossed legs, and neat bare feet, this statue ended abruptly at around waist level.
“Where is the inscription?” one of the merchants asked. “The lore is that Cybele wrote her last message on the piece. I see no markings of that kind here.”
“That’s because this is only half of Cybele’s Gift,” I said, looking at Barsam. “The writing is on her belly and across her hip, or should be. This piece is broken.”
A profound silence fell. As it drew out, I could almost hear the seven merchants thinking. I knew every one of them was mentally reducing his bid or withdrawing from the competition altogether. The deal had just been turned on its head.
I was asked to substantiate my bold statement and I did, describing the miniature I had seen in Irene’s library and its stunning resemblance to the artifact. Irene confirmed that the picture had indeed shown the figure of a whole woman. I found a trace of ancient writing near the broken-off edge of the statue: all that was left of the inscription. I must have been convincing. The place began to clear quickly, each of the merchants in turn making his polite excuses to Barsam and departing forthwith. Our host appeared unperturbed. He murmured that he had not known Cybele’s Gift was ever more than this half woman or that the inscription was so critical to its value.
Before we left the lamp-lit chamber, Father held the piece himself, subjecting it to close examination. “This is a remarkably neat break,” he said quietly. “If the other part could be located, it would not be so difficult to mend. Wouldn’t you agree, Paula?”
“Mmm,” I murmured, my head buzzing. Had Tati intended me to make just this discovery? Surely the quest she was leading me on could not be to find the missing half of the statue. I had spoken out instinctively, shocked to find Cybele less than her full, exuberant self. It was clear my revelation had lost Barsam the opportunity to deal with most of those present; their buyers would not want the artifact without the goddess’s last words and the luck they conveyed. Did that mean Father would also withdraw from the deal? I tried to read his expression, but I could not. He was wearing his merchant face.
When we got out to the courtyard, most of the guests had left. Duarte was over by the fountain, talking to Irene. He didn’t seem put out in the least by what had happened, or by her glacial stare.
“You wish to leave, Master Teodor?” Stoyan had obtained our cloaks from Barsam’s steward and now stood with them over his arm.
Father lowered his voice. “I wish to create that impression. But I want a word with Barsam after the others have departed. A few moments will do. Paula, the Portuguese seems to be settling for a long talk with your friend. I wonder if he can be persuaded to move farther out of earshot?” There was definitely something afoot; he sounded as if he was suppressing excitement.
“Of course, Father.”
Farther down the garden, the musicians were still playing, not to entertain company now but for their own enjoyment. They were gathered beside an outdoor cooking oven, with a number of Barsam’s household retainers as audience. The tulum had been joined by a drum and a stringed instrument; the rhythm set my feet tapping.
I gathered up Irene and Duarte with an announcement that I was keen to move closer and listen to the music properly. Murat followed us at a discreet distance. Behind me, Father, shadowed by Stoyan, moved to engage our host in quiet conversation. Between the fountain and the tulum, I could not distinguish the words.
“You are fond of music?” inquired Duarte.
“When it’s well played, yes.”
“And dancing?”
“I don’t have much opportunity for that kind of thing, senhor.” I’d danced at Jena’s wedding and at Iulia’s. Apart from that, there had been scant occasion for it since our portal to the Other Kingdom was closed to us.
“Of course.” He nodded sagely, but his dark eyes were dancing themselves. “You are a scholar, too serious for such frivolous pastimes. Since I am myself a lover of books, I salute you for that. On the other hand, it is a trifle early for you to be turning your back on the pleasures of youth. Are you not afraid of growing old before your time?”
“You are offensive, Senhor Aguiar.” Irene’s tone was unusually sharp. “Save your barbed comments for your own kind.”
“Thank you, Irene, but I can defend myself,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “Senhor Duarte, I am a grown woman, and I make my own choices as to how I will spend my time. Sometimes I read; sometimes I dance; sometimes I do neither. As far as I can see, you are a grown man and far too old for silly games.”
“Once again you dismiss me,” Duarte said, and I had no idea whether he was serious or not. “Like the rest of them, you believe I don’t have an ethical bone in my body.”
“Other folk’s opinions are all I have to judge you by,” I said. “Those and the brief impressions I’ve gained at our rather odd meetings. If your actions proved those opinions wrong, I would be quite prepared to revise my judgment.”
“Paula, perhaps we should be moving on,” Irene said. “Your father…” She glanced back toward the fountain, but the light was such that we could not see those who stood beyond it.
