“Fascinating, sir. I fear, however, that it has little to do with me. May I show you what it is I do, sir? What I do most frequently, I should say. Observe.”
The monitor’s floating face vanished, replaced by the image of a remarkably handsome man in black. Although the tunic of the man in the glass was torn and white gauze showed beneath it, Silk did not recognize this man as himself until he moved and saw the image move with him.
“Is that…?” He leaned closer. “No. But…”
“Thank you, sir,” his image said, and bowed. “Only a first attempt, although I think it a rather successful one. I shall do better next time.”
“Take it away, please. I am already too much given to vanity, believe me.”
“As you wish, sir,” his image replied. “I intended no disrespect. I merely desired to demonstrate to you the way in which I most frequently serve my mistress. Would you care to see her in place of yourself? I can easily display an old likeness.”
Silk shook his head. “An old unlikeness, you mean. Please return to your normal appearance.”
“As you wish, sir.” In the glass, Silk’s face lost its blue eyes and brown cheeks, its neck and shoulders vanished, and its features became flatter and coarser.
“We were speaking of the gods. No doubt I told you a good deal that you already knew.”
“No, sir. I know very little about gods, sir. I would advise you to consult an augur.”
“Then let’s talk about monitors, my son. You must know more than most about monitors. You’re a monitor yourself.”
“My task is my joy, sir.”
“We’re fortunate, then, both of us. When I was at—in the house of a certain man I know, a man who has a glass like this one, he clapped his hands to summon the monitor. Is that the usual method?”
“Clapping the hands or tapping on the glass, sir. All of us much prefer the former, if I may be excused for saying it.”
“I see.” Silk nodded to himself. “Aren’t there any other methods?”
“We actually appear in response to any loud sound, sir, to determine whether there is something amiss. Should a fire be in progress, for example, I would notify my master or his steward, and warn his guests.”
“And from time to time,” Silk said, “you must look into this room although no one has called you, even when there has been no loud sound. Isn’t that so?”
“No, sir.”
“You don’t simply look in to make certain everything’s all right?”
“No, sir. My mistress would consider that an invasion of her privacy, I’m sure.”
“When I entered this room,” Silk continued, “I did not make any sound that could be called loud—or at least none that I’m aware of. Certainly I didn’t clap my hands or tap on this glass; yet you appeared. There was a swirl of color, then your face appeared in the glass. Shortly afterward you told me you weren’t a god.”
“You closed the door, sir.”
“Very gently,” Silk said. “I didn’t want to disturb your mistress.
“Most considerate, sir.”
“Yet the sound of my shutting that door summoned you? I would think that in that case almost any sound would do, however slight.”
“I really cannot say what summoned me, sir.”
“That’s a suggestive choice of words, my son.”
“I concede that it may be, sir.” The monitor’s face appeared to nod. “Such being the case, perhaps I may proffer an additional suggestion? It is that you abandon this line of inquiry. It will not reward your persistence, sir. Prior to entering the balneum, you inquired about weapons, sir, and places of concealment. One of our wardrobes might do.”
“Thank you.” Silk looked into the nearest, but it was filled almost to bursting with coats and gowns.
“As to weapons, sir,” the monitor continued, “you may discover a useful one in my lowest left drawer, beneath the stockings.”
“More useful than this, I hope.” Silk closed the wardrobe.
“I am very sorry, sir. There appear to have been many purchases of late of which I have not been apprised.”
Silk hardly heard him—there were angry and excited voices in the corridor. He opened the door to the drawing room and listened until they faded away, his hand upon the glass latchbar of the boudoir door, acutely conscious of the thudding of his heart.
“Are you leaving, sir?”
“The left drawer, I think you said.”
“Yes, sir. The lowest of the drawers to your left. I can guarantee nothing, however, sir. My mistress keeps a small needier there, or perhaps I should say she did so not long ago. It may, however…”
Silk had already jerked out the drawer. Groping under what seemed to be at least a hundred pairs of women’s hose, his fingers discovered not one but two metal objects.
