Karina spent the next week laying low. She puttered around my shop in her real form, made some jewelry, and we hit the clubs in Dublin a couple of times. The glamor she used to meet the Night Market dealers stayed safely out of sight.
I could tell she was bored and also anxious that the book might come through and she would never hear of it. Nothing I could do about it, though. One day, she wandered around the booksellers dressed in her Scholar’s robe.
That night, we were relaxing after dinner in Dublin.
“No hints about the book?” I asked.
Karina shook her head. “Word of the theft has reached a couple of the rare-book dealers here. They’re both excited and frightened.”
“So, word of the theft traveled here faster than the book? That seems unlikely unless a Walker carried the rumor.”
“That’s what I thought, too, although they didn’t say anything concerning the book, but the rumors are that a major value rare book may become available soon. I think I should assume the book is here.”
“You might go hit up Buka and that other Devil you talked to. Tell them you heard a rumor, and ask them if they think there’s anything to it.”
She looked thoughtful, then said, “Might be a good idea.”
Letting her run around on her own wearing Scholar’s robes was one thing, but especially after her experience with the Filestri, I wasn’t going to let her Night Market persona out without some backup. I called Felix and asked him to come watch my stall.
Although Karina needed to maintain the glamor she had used when she met the Devils, I wasn’t constrained. If any of the Filestri were looking for her, I didn’t want them to identify the persona I’d used at the Breesh mansion. I cast a glamor that looked like my friend Siobhan in Dublin, and followed my sister out into the Marketplace.
She visited Buka first, and left her phone on so I could hear their conversation.
“I ran across a rumor of an ancient Devilish artifact that might be for sale. A book.”
“Really? Does this book have a name?” Buka asked.
“Gospels of Satan, or something like that. Supposedly one of the early printings.”
Buka shrugged, his expression unimpressed. “No, I haven’t heard anything. You could get a version at half of the book stalls in the Market.”
A sly look slid across his face. “I heard you had an altercation with some Filestri.”
“Oh, really? Altercation? Is that what they call it here when a woman says no?”
The Devil thought that was as funny as I did.
“Burning cars in the streets of Iri City?” Buka asked.
“Some men just won’t take no for an answer. You have to punctuate it.”
Buka chuckled and shook his head. “No, no word about Devilish books, but we aren’t a race given to reading. If you’re into Devilish religious statuary, I’ve heard about a piece that might pique one of your collector’s interest.”
“I might be,” Karina said.
Buka seemed to be trying not to grin. “I’ll have to accompany you. My contact only speaks Devilish.”
“All right. When can I see this piece?”
“We can go now, if you wish.”
I wondered if Buka played poker. If so, Karina could take him for everything he owned in an evening.
Although I owned my stall and all the contents, I paid a monthly fee to the Marketplace for light, heat, and other services. One of those services was a pair of universal translators. I had given one of them to Karina when she first showed up. She didn’t need Buka’s translation help, and if the other Devil was an approved Marketplace vendor, he had his own translator.
I trailed along as Buka led my sister through the Marketplace to the section with art galleries. I always found that area fascinating. What different cultures, let alone races, found aesthetically pleasing was a constant wonder to me.
Some of the pieces I saw for sale were simply incomprehensible to Human-Elven sensibilities. I knew better than to look into the Krestinian store we passed. Their art had a reputation of triggering seizures. That was understandable, considering their race had three compound eyes like an insect.
Buka had spent most of the time during their journey through the Marketplace trying to lure Karina into bed. She had demurred because her schedule that week included washing her hair, doing her laundry, babysitting her cousin’s cat, and going to church. I didn’t get to hear her next invention, as they arrived at a stall and went inside.
Devilish art wasn’t my cup of tea, but it was at least comprehensible. Three-dimensional wall hangings depicting demonic beings eating Human children—blood, gore, and all—just wasn’t my thing. I had never been to Hel, their home planet, and it wasn’t on my vacation planner.
Luckily, I didn’t have to go into the Devil’s stall. I hung around across the hall and tried to look like I was window-shopping instead of loitering. I had my phone in my pocket and an earplug so I could hear Karina’s conversation.
I half-listened to the introductions, then heard some shuffling around and muttering. Then Karina gasped.
“Is it alive?” she asked, a touch of fear in her voice.
“Oh, no,” Buka reassured her.
“What is it? Is it a portal of some kind?”
“No, just a work of art.” Then, “What are you doing?”
“Taking pictures of it. You don’t expect me to ask a patron to shell out that much gold without them seeing it, do you?”
That was my cue to pull my phone out of my pocket and take a look at what she was photographing.
It was shiny black, maybe sixty to eighty centimeters high, and resembled some kind of creature. Some kind of dragon, maybe? It was somewhat human in shape, with a gargoyle face. But its limbs were twisted, and it looked almost melted in places.
“It’s more than a statue,” Karina said. “It has a lot of magic embedded in it. You said it is Devilish?”
“Yes, it was created with magic.”
She took a few more pictures, walking around it, then said, “Touch it.”
“What?” Buka’s voice scaled up like a high school girl’s.
“Touch it. Pick it up.”
He started stammering, and the other devil—who obviously had a translator—chimed in, saying that there was no need for that, it was fragile, and they might damage the finish.
Finally, with Karina continuing to insist, the other Devil approached it with a large piece of cloth and started to wrap the statue in it.
“No,” Karina said. “I want to see you touch it with your hand.
The Devil had red skin, but I swore he blanched. “It’s a religious object,” he said. “Only one blessed by Satan should touch it. It would be sacrilegious.”
“Why? What will happen? How am I supposed to sell it to someone who can’t touch it? And if a Devil is afraid to touch it, what would happen if I touch it?”
I couldn’t really see through the phone, but she evidently reached out.
“No! Don’t do that!” Buka screamed. The other Devil stepped in front of her, holding the cloth up to try and prevent her from advancing.
I heard her chuckle. “I don’t think I’m interested. None of my clients would want such a thing. But I wish you luck finding a buyer. I would appreciate it if you let me know before a buyer picks it up. I’d like to be in a different World.”
With that, the picture on the phone blurred and then blanked. I looked up and saw my sister tearing out of the Devil’s stall like her tail was on fire. She didn’t slow down, turning down the corridor. I followed her.
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