She rolled her eyes again and tried to keep from smiling. “Well, thanks. What can I get for you this evening, Dr. Vecchio?”

“The Tibetan manuscript, please.”

“Of course.” She handed over a small paper slip so he could fill out the formal request for the item. Then she reached into the desk drawer to hand him a pair of silk gloves necessary for handing any of the ancient documents in the collection.

He took a seat at one of the tables in the windowless room, laying out his notebooks, a box of pencils, and a set of notes for Tenzin written in Mandarin. After a few minutes, Beatrice walked through the door from the stacks. Carefully placing the grey paper box containing the fifteenth century Tibetan book on the counter, she turned back to make sure the door to the air-controlled room was closed and locked before she walked around the desk and toward Giovanni.

“There is a book you need to copy for me,” Tenzin had asked.

“Why do you need it copied? Isn’t there a translation available somewhere?”

“No, I want this one. It’s in Houston. Didn’t you just move there?”

He frowned. “I didn’t move here so I could copy books for you, bird girl.”

“How do you know? Maybe that’s exactly why you moved there.”

“Ten-”

“I have to fly. Be a good scribe and copy it. Use the…what do you call it when you send me things?”

“The fax machine.”

“Yes, use that. I’m going into the mountains for a while. Have Caspar send them to Nima for me when you’re done.”

“I’m busy right-”

She had already hung up.

He noted again how well-preserved the manuscript was as the girl opened the acid-free paper box. The manuscript was a series of square, painted panels that contained spells purportedly used by goddesses for healing. The carved wooden covers and gold and black ink were startling in their clarity, and though it held the musty odor typical of old documents, he noted with satisfaction very little scent of mold or mildew clung to it.