The carving had not been clear at the auction. Ysabet had been watching the living creature while Darr held up the metal box, and the light had come from behind him.
Now sunlight lay across six small carved legs.
The body above them was blunt and folded. A single large eye looked out from under a ridge. Around its head, straight blades radiated from a circle. Age had worn their tips almost smooth.
Pip began to make the chain sound.
It came from too deep in the small body. Ysabet felt it through the soles of her shoes before she knew she was hearing it. Pip’s feet went rigid. The pouch drew close over the mouse inside, and a loose fold along its back rose like a ridge of disturbed water.
At the gate both guards knelt.
“Get up,” Edris said.
The woman obeyed first. The other pressed his hands against his thighs and struggled to rise, as if he had knelt too long rather than for a breath.
Ysabet stepped between Pip and the lid.
“Wrap it.”
Edris looked past her. She moved again.
“Wrap it up.”
He drew the felt over the carving. The sound continued for another moment, then broke into three irregular clicks. Pip dropped its head. One forefoot slipped on the paving.
“What is that picture?”
“A sacred remnant.”
“The picture.”
“A representation of an infant form.”
“Of what?”
Behind him the male guard made a small movement at his throat. The woman stared hard into the lane.
Edris stood. “Some histories are not helpful when delivered without preparation.”
“It’s standing on my paving. Prepare me.”
Mara had come closer. He glanced at her, and Ysabet knew before he spoke that he meant to ask for privacy.
“She stays.”
“I cannot discuss every matter before strangers.”
“Mara owns the paving.”
“That isn’t—” He stopped. The felt-wrapped lid shifted between his hands. “You have been caring for something of more than ordinary importance. I believe you have done so with sincere good intentions.”
Ysabet felt suddenly, unpleasantly young. There were people who could make her licenses and working years feel like a child’s collection of pretty feathers. They usually did it by praising her intentions.
“Tell me its name.”
“It may not have one.”
“Then tell me what you are afraid to say.”
He looked at Pip. The creature had retreated to the shelter and was putting its jaw against the mouse. One leg kept lifting as if the stone beneath it were too hot.
Edris’s face changed. The careful expression remained, but beneath it she saw something like hunger mixed with grief. It was gone before she could decide which.
“I am not afraid of the name.”
“Then you can say it.”
“I am afraid of what you may do with a fragment of knowledge.”
Mara said, “You’ve brought the fragment here yourself.”
For the first time Edris looked directly at her. She folded her arms. There was dried mud on the left sleeve of her dress, and a nail caught in the cuff.
He put the lid back into his coat.
“I will arrange a meeting with someone equipped to explain the record. Until then I ask you to keep the creature away from crowds. Do not let it take iron from old battle sites. And do not allow anyone to encourage signs of reverence.”
Ysabet looked at the guards.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I saw.”
The man colored above his collar.
“Why can’t you explain?”
“I can. But I have a duty to consider what follows.”
“So have I.”
He nodded, as though she had confirmed a point in a discussion whose shape only he understood.
“I can cover the cost of food while you consider the transfer.”
“No.”
“Without obligation.”
“Then leave the food and the records. I won’t agree to a transfer.”
The pause was longer this time. She could hear the carriage horse chewing its bit.
At last he said, “You have purchased an animal in good faith. That is not the only kind of responsibility involved here.”
“What happens if I keep it?”
“An examination may be requested.”
“By you?”
“By the order, through the proper authorities.”
“And after that?”
“It would depend upon the findings.”
He was not threatening to send men over the wall that night. She could see how much he wished her to appreciate that. There was a receipt in her room, a license in her case and a living creature putting its face into an old nail box. None seemed heavy enough to set against the word findings.
Pip left the mouse and came back out.
It approached the covered place where the lid had been, its six feet placing themselves carefully on the stones. Edris moved a chair out of its way. Pip stopped by the chair leg and touched the wood.
“The response has subsided,” he said.
“You frightened it.”
“I showed it something familiar.”
She almost answered. Then Pip rubbed the side of its jaw against the chair. It had left a wet patch there. The movement looked ordinary, foolishly ordinary, and she wanted to lift it and take it indoors.
Edris lowered himself again.
“May I see the new eye? I won’t use the lid.”
“From there.”
He leaned forward. A dull iron band showed on the hand braced against his knee. She had not noticed the ring before. Its face was narrow, crossed with cuts too shallow to see clearly.
Pip turned toward him.
The small eye closed.