“Do you remember the job I did for that London banker about five years ago?” Giovanni lifted his fingers, pinching the air and drawing the candle flame upward.

“Not really, you know I find most of that dreadfully boring.”

“It was a Dante thing.”

“Oh yes, the Dante thing. Not much, I remember you mentioning it, that’s all.”

“Mmmhmm. There was an expert I heard rumors about-one of us. He was young but sounded like he was worth tracking down. In the end, I couldn’t find him. Didn’t need him anyway, but a mutual acquaintance mentioned a Boccaccio manuscript he had.” Giovanni let the flame grow to a foot tall before he began manipulating it to curve and twist before his eyes.

“How very fascin-”

“It was a rare copy. Florentine.”

“Why is this interesting to me?”

“Because I think it was one of mine.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

“From your library?”

“Yes.”

“Who was he?”

“An American, turned in Italy around ten years ago while he was there working. I looked for him, but he vanished quite admirably.”

“What does this have to do with your project?”

“I think I may have met the Dante expert’s daughter at the library where I’ve been doing that transcription for Tenzin.”

He would have chuckled at the sudden silence on the phone, but he was distracted by the perfect circle the flame formed. It reminded him of the ancient symbol of a snake eating its tail. It bent to his will, turning continuously in front of his eyes as he waited for Carwyn’s response.

“That’s quite a coincidence.”

“It would be, if either of us believed in coincidence,” he murmured as he let the flame unfurl and return to its home at the tip of the candle, shrinking until it was no larger than his fingertip.