He half-raised himself out of the chair, leaning on both hands across the table. ‘Do not think yourself so far above me, Giordano Bruno. For all your degrees in philosophy and theology, I know you have studied natural magic too. Why else would you want that book? And do not think to mock me – my prophecies have shaped this kingdom—’ He broke off suddenly, as if stricken by a terrible premonition, and stared at the rolled charts in his hand until I coughed, bringing him back to himself. He squinted hard at me. ‘We are two sides of the same coin, you and I. Look – we are even wearing the same costume tonight. People would be hard pressed to tell between us.’
‘If I had known, I would have worn something different. I would not wish to be mistaken for you,’ I said carefully. ‘By some woman you had made a tryst with, for instance.’
He gave a dry laugh. ‘Hardly a danger these days. I always come as the Doctor to a costume ball, everyone knows it. You should have recalled that. You being the one who professes the art of memory,’ he added, unable to resist the barb.
I was too preoccupied with the thought of my encounter with Léonie in the clearing to respond in kind. It had been almost completely dark, and I was standing outside the reach of her lantern; I could not know for certain whether she had seen my costume and spoken as she did because she had been waiting for a man dressed as the Doctor from the Commedia and assumed I was he. But it made no sense to think she had been expecting Ruggieri; he was Catherine’s man to the bone, he would be the last person to incite anyone to harm the King. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes; I was tired and still blurry from drink, and my mind was making wild leaps without the aid of reason. I needed to rein it in and proceed logically.
‘Speaking of memory,’ I said casually, ‘do you remember the girl’s name? The one who sold you the book.’ I scratched at a splinter of wood on the table so as not to look overly interested.
‘She was trying to present herself as a boy, I recall. No one was fooled by that.’ He paused to pick a shred of meat from his remaining teeth. ‘When she finally admitted her deception, the name she gave was very ordinary. Something that made me suppose it was a false name too. Anne, perhaps? Jane? Mary?’
I tried to suppress my irritation. ‘Well, which?’
He shook his head. ‘I never had the benefit of your lessons in memory, of course,’ he said, with a malicious little smile. ‘Might have been Mary.’
‘And the surname?’ I asked, already knowing this was pointless.
‘Something like Gifford,’ he said, unexpectedly. ‘One of those peculiar English names.’
I sat up. ‘Mary Gifford. You are sure?’
‘Not how you knew her, I take it?’
‘She has had many names since I’ve known her.’
Ruggieri pulled at the points of his beard. ‘She sounds like a handful of trouble, Bruno. You must be made for each other.’
I stared into the fire, my thoughts scattered. Sophia Underhill. A boy called Kit. Mrs Kate Kingsley. And now Mary Gifford. At least I had a means to begin looking. Made for each other. There were times when I feared that might be true, and not in a comforting way.
Bells chimed the hour from a distant part of the palace. The candles burned low. I must have dozed a little, listening to the fading crackle of the fire and the sound of Ruggieri sucking the bones for the last scraps of meat. Eventually the chewing gave way to the rhythmic gargling of an old man’s snores. I roused myself and saw that he had fallen asleep, his head lolling on to his chest like a hanged man. I pushed my chair back and stood, as silently as possible. We were alone in the vast space of the library, wooden stacks filled with books stretching away into the darkness in both directions. I had no idea how much time had passed, but I decided that, whatever the consequences, I would rather not wait for Catherine’s summons. I picked up my mask from the table and tied it tight around my head again, flinching at the clamminess inside. Ruggieri might be deep in the arms of Morpheus but I supposed the guard was still outside and I was unarmed since the loss of my dagger. I cast around for anything I might use as a weapon and my eye fell on a poker in the fireplace. Tucking it behind my back, I tiptoed across to the door and turned the handle. Ruggieri shifted and snorted in his sleep; I froze, my throat tight, but he settled himself like an old dog and slumbered on. I slipped out, closing the door behind me and keeping my back pressed against it.
The guard looked surprised at my appearance; he gripped his halberd with both hands and demanded to know what I was about.
‘It is time for me to return to the Queen Mother’s apartments,’ I said.
He frowned. ‘I was given no orders.’
‘No, but I was. She told me to return at this hour.’
He glanced along the corridor to left and right, as if some explanation might be waiting. I suspected this one was not overburdened with wits.
‘We don’t want to keep her waiting,’ I added, with a warning note. ‘She will be angry if she hears you stopped me.’
He hesitated. ‘I will have to accompany you.’
‘Of course. Is it down here?’ I took a step forward in the wrong direction.
‘This way.’ He moved to usher me along, turning as he did so
