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“I never worked with—never mind—no. Flasks filled with liquid. It could be anything.” She grew impatient. “Why are you showing this to me?”

“Because: someone is stealing the relics out of our churches.”

“Stealing...relics?” Ginevra was not sure she’d heard correctly.

“And whoever it is, he leaves these behind. One bottle for one relic. We thought with your background, you might recognize them, which is why, aside from your fortitude against illness, I—er, rather—Ludovico suggested that we write to you.”

“Ser Inquisitor, I do not follow.”

“With so many gone,” he continued, “our holy spaces are not watched as they ought to be. Seven of our most precious relics are now gone. And once the relics are taken, so die the residents of the parish. I myself am one of the very few left in the parish of Santa Reparata.”

“So...you did not ask me here to heal people?”

“Oh, no, NO, no, no, Monna,” he said, pulling at the pomander. “As we all unfortunately know, this plague is the wrath of God—” sniff “—manifesting itself on earth. The only escape is to pray for intercession from the saints—” sniff “—but we can’t do that because our saints keep disappearing.” The inquisitor’s voice broke and his cheeks became flush. Was he about to cry? Ginevra decided it must be the wine.

“Ser Inquisitor, are the relics not crusted in gold and jewels? It is not sorcerers who are interested in those, but ordinary men. You have no need for one with specialized knowledge—”

“Ha! You’ve a mind for inquisiting, just like me.” (Ginevra did not appreciate the comparison.) “The golden reliquaries remain intact, in position. Only the relics were taken.”

Ginevra shivered. A pall hung over the city; she felt its suffocating drape when she crossed through the gate. Who would choose to be closer to such a wicked crime? But, if this was the task she must accomplish to begin life anew, so be it. “What happens if the thief is not caught?”

“He will be caught. This condition must be met if your exile is to be rescinded.”

“Reversing my exile is a start. But it’s not enough to secure my help. You ask an extraordinary thing.”

“Name your price, then, bold woman.”

“I wish to join the Florentine Guild of Doctors, Apothecaries, and Grocers,” she said, finally voicing aloud what she had wished for a thousand times in silence.

“You wish to be a grocer?” he asked in all seriousness.

“No. I wish to register as a doctor, of course.”

“But you are a woman.”

“I am aware. And yet, I still wish to be admitted to the guild as a doctor. So I can practice my trade without persecution. I know it is unusual, but women may join, if they pass the exam. I’ll need the patronage of someone important—I thought Ludovico might... Anyway, I suppose you will have to do.” Ginevra was terrible at flattery.

“Monna, that is not in my control. The guild decides its own members.”

“Are you saying the guild doesn’t value a recommendation from the office of the Holy Inquisitor?” (She was better at insults.)

“It’s just, this is a highly unorthodox request...” he spluttered.

Ginevra shrugged. “These are unorthodox times. And I should think, judging by the emptiness of your streets and the stink of the air, that perhaps the good doctors of Florence should not turn up their noses at offered help. No matter where it comes from.”

“Fine, then. This deal is in my favor, anyhow, as it will never come to pass. If you recover our relics, I will request your admittance and provide requisite funding to the Guild of Doctors, Apothecaries, and Grocers, which they will decline, as neither your father nor your grandfather was a member. Now. Is that all?”

“Yes. That is all. Plus expenses. And it must all be in writing.” The obstacle of patronage was not a surprise to her, but never mind. She would sort that bit out later.

“Very well, then,” said the inquisitor. “But it shall also be put in writing that while engaged in my services, you will not perform any doctoring, and that you must appear at my place of residence to report on progress at intervals of no longer than three days, the first meeting being on July the tenth. You will note my generosity in giving you the rest of today to recover from your journey. Any deviation voids our agreement, and you will face immediate criminal charges for violating your exile.”

Ginevra nodded curtly.

“Then we are in agreement. Giuseppe, come here.” The inquisitor wrote up the terms, and he and Ginevra signed their names, with the servant acting as witness.

Then the inquisitor gave her a modest sum for incidentals. He also gave her the first small bottle found in San Filippo’s reliquary, and a list he had drawn of the robbed churches and the dates the thefts were first noticed.

Ginevra examined the parchment: it was decorated with massive borders of flowers, rats, the crest of the city, and what looked like a procession of saints walking along the bottom of the page.