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"Another," he answered, his eyes returning to me without fear. "A beautiful boyish one, who was human when I first laid eyes on him, and now he dances with a young woman who may soon be transformed as well. "
My heart beat furiously as I heard this. My heart beat in my throat and in my ears.
But he laid no judgment down upon me. On the contrary, he was without all judgment and for a moment I could do nothing but search his young mind to make certain this was true.
He shook his head gently.
"Forgive me," he said. "I have never been close to one such as you. " He was flushed suddenly. "I have never spoken to one such as you. I pray I shall have time to commit to parchment what I've seen tonight, though I swear to you on my honor and on the honor of the Order that if you let me go from here alive I will write nothing until I reach England, and the words will never do you harm. "
I shut the soft seductive music out of my hearing. I thought only of his mind, and I searched it and found there nothing but what he had just said to me, and behind it, an Order of scholars as he had described it, a seeming wonder of men and women who wanted only to know, and not to destroy.
Indeed a dozen marvels presented themselves of shelter given to those who could genuinely read minds, and others who from the cards could somehow with uncanny accuracy predict fortunes, and some who might have been burnt as witches, and behind it libraries in which time-honored books of magic were stored.
It seemed quite impossible that in this Christian era, such a secular force could exist.
I reached down and picked up the gold coin with the engraved word, Talamasca. I put it in one of my pockets, and then I took his hand.
He was fiercely afraid now.
"Do you think I mean to kill you?" I asked gently.
"No, I don't think you will do it," he said. "But you see, I have studied you so long and with such love, I can't know. "
"Love, is it?" I asked. "How long has your Order known of creatures like us?" I asked. I held his hand firmly.
His high clear forehead was suddenly creased by a small expressive frown.
"Always, and I told you we are very old. "
I thought on it for a long moment, holding on to his hand. I searched his mind again, and found no lie in it. I looked out at the young dancers moving decorously, and I let the music fill me once more as though this strange disturbance had never come about.
Then I released his hand slowly.
"Go then," I said, "leave Venice. I give you a day and a night to do it. For I would not have you here with me. "
"I understand," he said gratefully.
"You have watched me too long," I said reprovingly. But the reproof was really for myself. "I know that you have already written letters to your Motherhouse describing me. I know because I would have done so if I were you. "
"Yes," he said again, "I have studied you. But I have done it only for those who would know more of the world and all its creatures. We persecute no one. And our secrets are well kept from those who would use them for harm. "
"Write what you will," I said, "but go, and never suffer your members to come to this city again. "
He was about to rise from the table when I asked him his name. As so often happened with me, I had not been able to take it from his mind.
"Raymond Gallant," he responded softly. "Should you ever want to reach me¡ª. "
"Never," I said sharply under my breath.
He nodded, but then refusing to go with that admonition he stood his ground and said: "Write to the castle, the name of which is engraved on the other side of the coin. "
I watched him leave the ballroom. He wasn't a figure to attract attention, and indeed one could picture him working with quiet dedication in some library where everything was splattered with ink.
But he did have a marvelously appealing face.
I sat brooding at the table, only talking now and then to others when I had to, wondering on it, that this mortal had come so close to me.
Was I too careless now? Too absolutely in love with Amadeo and Bianca to be paying attention to the simplest things that should have sounded an alarm? Had the splendid paintings of Botticelli separated me too much from my immortality?
