Revelations

FORTY-ONE

Unable to keep a rendezvous with Sofia that evening, Ezio sent her a note arranging to meet the following day at the Bayezid Mosque, where he would give her back the picture.

When he arrived, he found her already there, waiting for him. In the dappled sunlight, he thought her so beautiful that the portrait scarcely did her justice.

“It’s a good likeness, don’t you think?” she said, as he unwrapped it and handed it to her.

“I prefer the original.”

She elbowed him playfully. “Buffone,” she said, as they began walking. “This was a gift from my father when we were in Venice for my twenty-eighth birthday.” She paused in reminiscence. “I had to sit for Meister Albrecht Durer for a full week. Can you imagine? Me sitting still for seven days? Doing nothing?”

“I cannot.”

“Una tortura!”

They’d arrived at a nearby bench, on which she sat, as Ezio suppressed a laugh at the thought of her posing, trying not to move a muscle, for all that time. But the result had certainly been worth it-even though he really did prefer the original.

The laughter died on his lips as she produced a slip of paper; his expression immediately became serious, as did hers.

“One good turn…” she said. “I’ve found you another book location. And it’s not far from here, actually.”

She handed him the folded slip. He took it and read it.

“Grazie,” he said. The woman was a genius. He nodded gravely to her and made to go, but she stopped him with a question.

“Ezio-what is this all about? You’re not a scholar, that much is clear.” She eyed his sword. “No offense, of course!” She paused. “Do you work for the Church?”

Ezio gave an amused laugh. “Not the Church, no. But I am a teacher

… of a kind.”

“What then?”

“I will explain one day, Sofia. When I can.”

She nodded, disappointed, but not-as he could see-actually devastated. She had sense enough to wait.