“Tenzin, that’s not the— Wait, you had a stash of North African gold just lying around?”
“Yes.”
He let out a slow breath. “Sometimes I want to be you when I grow up, then I think about your tenuous grasp on sanity and remind myself it wouldn’t be a good idea.”
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The wind whipped her hair around her head. She wasn’t wearing braids, so the mass of it rose like a black cloud behind her.
“Sanity,” she said, “is vastly overrated.”
“Is it really worth pissing off the Mad Duke to keep some old coins? Especially when Gio asked us to tread carefully in Naples? Are they worth that much money?”
“No.” She sat up and squinted. “That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“They’re mine. I don’t give people things that are mine. Especially if I don’t like those people.”
“But you’ll go to all this trouble to forge duplicates for him?”
A smile quirked her lips. “I will enjoy his look of triumph when he holds the fakes. That will be very satisfying.”
“Because you’ll be laughing internally?”
“Yes.”
“You’re twisted, Tiny. So very twisted.”
“That’s what keeps me alive.” She leaned forward as the boat approached the islands. Instead of pulling into the main canal, Claudio turned northeast and headed along the outer edge of Murano, slowing to putter past tiny docks where local boats bobbed in the chop. He pulled up to an unmarked set of steps near a redbrick wall.
“Three a.m.?” Claudio asked.
“We’ll be here between three and four,” Tenzin said. “Is that enough time?”
“Of course.” Claudio grinned. “The boat can always go faster.”
“Don’t scare the boy. I can fly back if time gets short.”
Tenzin floated out of the boat and Ben leapt across to the closest dry step.
“Thanks, Claudio.”
“See you later,” the young man called in English.
Tenzin took Ben’s hand and led him down narrow pitch-black streets. Within minutes they were standing outside a small warehouse, its high windows glowing with a red-gold light.
Tenzin knocked once, then pushed the door open. They walked in to see a large, open workshop with a glowing-red forge at one end, racks of tools and equipment across the opposite wall, and a large worktable at the other. A worktable where a black-haired vampire held a woman sprawled. She was half-undressed and her hand clutched his long hair.
“Oscar!” Tenzin yelled.
The vampire’s head rose, blood dripping from his lips and his fangs bared.
“You’re late,” he growled. His hands still pinned the woman down, but she was struggling.
Ben’s lip curled and he reached for the knife at his waist. Tenzin put a hand out, halting him.
“I’m paying you to mint coins, not have sex with your engraver. Let Ruby go and show me what’s finished.”
Chapter Six
RUBY SMACKED OSCAR’S MASSIVE SHOULDER. “Let me up, you beast. And get your hands out of my knickers. You got no sense of propriety, you don’t. Sorry, Tenzin!”
Ben turned and faced the forge. “Maybe we should have waited for them to answer the door, huh, Tiny?”
“Why?”
“I forget I ask this of the woman who regularly climbs in my bed to stare at me while I sleep.”
“You make it sound creepy, when really I’m just impatient.”
Ruby continued to berate Oscar as she dressed. The old vampire muttered something under his breath and she quieted. Then he walked to the forge and waved them over.
“This gold,” he said, motioning to a small table. “It’s very soft.”
“It should be the same composition as the originals,” Tenzin said, picking up a button of gold from a shallow pan of sand where a row of buttons had been poured. She dropped it in the bucket nearby.
“It is,” Oscar said.
Ben couldn’t quite place Oscar’s accent. He didn’t sound or look Italian. Ben was guessing Spanish, but what would a Spanish glassmaker be doing in Murano? He had a large, smooth scar up the side of his neck, and his head was square as a block. Heavy black hair curtained a face that wasn’t handsome but might be called compelling.
Oscar took a pair of clippers and snipped at the row of gold buttons, trimming them into neat rounds as he dropped them in the water. “The softness of this particular alloy means we’ll have to do more deformation with the finished pieces than I originally planned.”
“You saw the originals I brought. I trust your skills.”
“I want some of the trimmings from the reproductions.”
Tenzin cocked her head and watched him work. “No.”
“I want them,” Oscar said, dropping the trimmed gold into a small crucible where he’d melt it down again to make more buttons. Ben could see another pan of sand with round indentations where the smith would pour the next batch of molten gold. “I’m willing to subtract the value out of my fee. I’ll even pay above market.”
Now Tenzin looked curious. “Why?”
“I want it for a project. That’s all you need to know,” Oscar said. “Can we work something out or not?”
Tenzin said, “Fine. I’ll talk to you about it when the coins are done.”
“Good.” He nodded toward Ruby and continued trimming. “She has the last two die sets done.”
“Excellent.”
Ben and Tenzin walked back to the worktable where Ruby was still tucking in her shirt. “Sorry about that, Tenzin.”
“Forget about it,” Tenzin said. “Ruby, Ben. Ben, Ruby.”
“Oh, oi,” Ruby said, dark brown eyes sparkling in her round face. She looked African, but every syllable she spoke screamed London. Ben liked her smile, even when he caught the edge of tiny fangs peeking from her lips. “Pleasure to meet you, Ben.”
Not a human. Interesting.
“Nice to meet you too.” He held out a hand and she took it immediately. Ben was guessing Ruby was fairly young. Her mannerisms and slang said newly turned, and her hair was cut in a stylish, short afro held back with a deep purple scarf.
“So you’re the engraver?” he asked.
“I am now!” She grinned. “Oscar taught me the engraving bit. I was an art student before… before.”
“She’s good,” Oscar growled across the room. “She’ll be better than me with practice.”
“And this was very good practice,” she said, pulling up the heavy metal dies with intricate carvings on the face. “Now keep in mind, the actual dies would have degraded over years of use, but we don’t have time for that. These are the new ones, but like the other two sets, Oscar’ll heat ’em and cool ’em a few times to soften up the edges before we strike the actual coins.”
Tenzin nodded as if that all made sense. Ben was quickly catching up.
The original coins were over eight hundred years old. They would be scarred and deformed from time. Though gold didn’t deteriorate like silver or bronze, some marks of age would be inevitable. The original coin dies used to strike them would have had variations too. So after producing the imitations, Ruby and Oscar were going to have to age them. Each coin would have to be just a little different, or the ruse would be obvious.
Ben picked up a die. Crude Arabic inscriptions around a central circle. “Are these supposed to be… What language is this?”
“The original Norman tarì were imitations of gold coins minted by Arab rulers,” Tenzin said. “So they had Arabic or Kufic inscriptions.”
“So the original tarì are copies of other coins?”
“In a sense,” Tenzin said. “They were made of gold and the size was convenient. That’s why they became popular for trading. Nobody much cared who struck them as long as their value held.”
“So… we’re making copies of coins that were already copies of other coins?” he asked.
Ruby laug
hed. “It’s all so delightfully twisted, ain’t it?”
Ben shook his head. “That somehow makes me feel better, but I’m not sure why. Ruby, this work looks amazing. I’m no coin expert, but you’re really talented.”
“Thank you very much, Ben.”
Tenzin was looking at each and every engraving. “I concur. This is excellent work. Oscar has taught you well.”
“Means a lot coming from you,” Ruby said. “Thanks. I have a batch just out of the tumbler if you’d like to see ’em. Haven’t been treated, but they’re softened up.”
Tenzin nodded. “Let’s see.”
Ruby took them to a round metal cylinder turned on an angle. “I’d use a proper tumbler for lapidary, but since we’re going for a mix of wear, we didn’t want anything too even. I mocked up this crude one with a hand turner, and we’ve been using all sorts of textures for grit. Sand. Polishing compound. Even rocks and metal bits. Small batches. Nothing too regular.” She opened the side door and pulled out a coin from the milky liquid within. “Take a look at that then.”
Tenzin held the coin in her palm, feeling the weight, then she flipped it end over end and caught it in the air. She held it up to the light and inspected it, then handed it to Ben and reached for another coin.
“It’s good,” she said. “The weight and wear look perfect. The client hasn’t seen the originals in at least four hundred years, so he’s not going to be crystal clear on what they look like. No photographic evidence exists, so we just have to get close.”
Ruby nodded. “That’s what Oscar said too. Mostly we wanted them to have the right wear.”
“And the patina?”
Ruby tilted her head toward Oscar. “He’s in charge of that. With the copper content of this alloy, I’m thinking liver of sulfur might be involved, but maybe waxes too. Not sure what he has in mind.”
“It will look authentic,” Oscar shouted. “How I make it that way is my business.”
“Fine,” Tenzin shouted back. “And you’re about half-done?” she asked Ruby.
The young vampire nodded. “Give us another week or so.”
Oscar yelled over the roar of the forge as he put another crucible in to heat. “Ruby will bring them to your house on Thursday night.”
Ruby’s face lit up. “Really, Oz? All the way to the main island?”
Oscar grunted. “Just stay out of sight. Tenzin, leave. You’re distracting Ruby from her work.”
“Fine.” Tenzin walked over and punched his shoulder. The stocky man glared at her.
“What was that for?” he shouted.
“Just because you’re a bastard,” Tenzin said. “Don’t bite your woman unless she likes it, Oscar. I have ways of finding out.”
“She likes it.” Oscar’s eyes flicked up to Ben. “What’s this one, anyway?”
“Him?” Tenzin glanced over her shoulder. “He’s my publicist.”
Oscar narrowed his eyes. “Right. Keep him away from Ruby.”
“Ben’s trustworthy. He’s not going to poach your woman, you paranoid ass.”
“She’s an investment.”
Tenzin punched him again. “Such a bastard.”
❂
THURSDAY night, Ruby turned up just after dark in Claudio’s small boat. With her was a battered leather briefcase that must have weighed more than a bit, because the boat rocked when she hoisted it onto the steps.
“Thanks, Claudio!” she said, waving at the young man before he disappeared down the canal. Then Ruby planted her hands on her hips and looked at Ben. “Gelato?”
“Uh…” He set down the book he’d been reading. “I think we have some.”
“I don’t care if you have some here,” she said, grabbing his hand. “I want to go out. See the city. Get a drink. And definitely eat some gelato.”
“Okay.” Ben laughed and let her pull him down the entry hall. “Don’t get off work much, huh?”
“Ugh,” she groaned. “Oscar’s great, right? I don’t mean to whinge on. But he’s really overprotective. Very possessive, you know? I just need to get out a bit. I’m not nine hundred like some people.”
Ben tucked that one away and went to grab the key for the door. “Come on then. I’ll be your trusted escort through the city.”
Ruby winked. “Know every nook and cranny, do you?”
“Not quite, but I’m getting there.”
He glanced up and wondered if he needed to tell Tenzin they were going. Then he spied the heavy briefcase sitting on the stairs.
“Is that…?”
“A bloody fortune in reproduced Sicilian tarì? Yes, it is.” Ruby smiled. “And rather expertly reproduced if I say so myself.”
“Let me take it up to Tenzin,” he said. “Let her know we’re going out.”
Ruby was strolling along the entry hall, examining the marbles. “So you’ve got a mummy too, eh?”
“A mummy?” Ben resisted the urge to break into hysterical laughter. “No, not exactly.”
He hoisted the briefcase and climbed the stairs to the second level, knocking before he pushed the door open.
Tenzin was stretched out on a thick Persian rug at the end of the pòrtego, the grand entry hall on the main floor of the house. She was on her back, reading a book in front of the arched floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the front of the house. During the day, they were covered with a heavy red velvet drape, but at night they reflected the lights glittering across the canal.
The rest of the pòrtego was sparsely furnished and looked more like a gallery than a room. The terrazzo floors were a soft gold color and the walls were covered in a red Venetian plaster, but the ceilings were the tallest in the house, which meant they were the most comfortable for Tenzin, who preferred flying to walking when possible.
Ben tapped on the door again and she waved him in.
“Ruby’s here,” she said, putting the book on the ground.
He walked over and set the briefcase down next to her. “Yep.”
Tenzin grinned. “She brought the coins.”
“Is this the part where I pour them over you in a river of gold while you laugh maniacally? Because I’m going to be honest, this bag is heavy and I’m wondering how comfortable that would be.”
“No, no, no.” She rolled over and grabbed the briefcase. “Ah,” she said, peering inside. “Lovely.”
It wasn’t a river, but when Tenzin poured out the perfectly reproduced tarì over the rich wool of the Persian rug, Ben had to admit…
It was hot.
She spread them with her hands, a small sea of intricately etched gold coins scattering over the red, blue, and ochre of the rug. Ben knelt next to her and picked one up. The patina looked identical to the examples he’d seen online. Even to his experienced eye, the coins looked hundreds of years old.
“Amazing,” he said.
“Come on,” Tenzin said, pushing the coins into a pile. “It’s not enough for a bed, but you can use it for a pillow.”
He laughed. “A pillow?”
“Just…” She stood and pushed him down to the rug. “Do it. Everyone should lie on a big pile of gold at least once in their life, Benjamin.”
“Did you read that on a motivational poster somewhere?”
“No, but maybe someone should make one with that on it. I find gold very motivating.”
Ben lay down on the rug and put his head on the pile of gold coins, staring at the ceiling. The beams had been painted with tiny decorative elements in red and lapis blue. The rug was soft at his back. And the pile of gold coins…
Tenzin lay down next to him. “It isn’t very comfortable, is it?”
“No.” He picked up a coin and flipped it in the air. “Sleeping on gold does have a certain appeal though.”
“Yes.” Tenzin scooped a handful and let the coins run through her fingers. “Gold always does.”
The cool metal warmed to his neck as he lay on it. “I think that’s what it is,” he murmured.
“What?”
“The gold. It’s… warm. It’s precious metal, but it’s not cold. Diamonds are hard and cold. Platinum always feels mechanical to me. But gold…” He picked up a coin and balanced it on his nose. “Never tarnishes. It doesn’t break; it bends. It’s warm. More human than other precious metals or gems.”
He turned to see her watching him with a smile flirting at the corner of her mouth. “What?”
Tenzin said, “I’ve always wondered when you’d find it. It’s an honor to be here when you did.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your one true love.” Tenzin laughed and rolled away when he grabbed for her. “Should I leave you alone?”
“Shut up.”
“Wait, I can’t leave you alone. Your one true love needs to go in the safe.” She flipped a coin at him, and he caught it just before it hit his face. “Kiss your true love good-bye, Benjamin.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re the one philosophizing about gold.”
He filled a hand with the coins and let them pour out onto the rug again, delighting in the soft sound. “Do you blame me?”
“Me?” She rolled to her knees. “Never.” Tenzin flipped a coin up, caught it, and kissed it before she tossed it in the bag. “Not when I’m guilty of the same thing. Like recognizes like, my Benjamin.”
He tossed coin after coin in the leather satchel, listening to each one clink. “Ruby is still here. Wants to go out for a drink and some ice cream. You want to join us?”
She wouldn’t want to join them.
“No”—Tenzin confirmed his suspicion—“just be careful with her. Oscar is very possessive.”
“Yeah, I got that.” He frowned. “Everything all right there?”
“It’s none of my business.” Tenzin shrugged. “The girl doesn’t appear to be unhappy.”
“And if she was?”
Tenzin raised an eyebrow in speculation. “Ask her.”
“Fine. Be cryptic.” He rolled up to his knees. “You want to finish this and I’ll play host?”
Tenzin’s eyes danced. “That girl knows the city better than either of us, I’d wager. Don’t let her fool you. She’s smart and she’s not nearly as innocent as she comes across.”
Imitation and Alchemy Page 7