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“May it be so, God willing,” Lucia said. “That’s the thing to think about, not my stupid husband. Blessings upon the Virgin for sending you, dearest Ginevra, to—uh, why did you come into my home?”

Ginevra didn’t really know how to explain it herself. “Well, I was summoned here by the bishop, from Genoa, to catch the thief who has been stealing relics and switching them for bottles.”

Lucia frowned. “I have heard of the missing relics. But I thought the saints abandoned the city because we’re all such awful sinners. The bishop really asked you to help?”

“Not directly, I suppose, but his nephew who was once my...friend wrote to me on his behalf. And this morning, I spoke with the inquisitor, Fra Michele di Lapo. He gave me a contract that validates my being here. Here, you can see the documents. I do not lie.”

Lucia looked skeptically at the cramped writing and large seals presented to her.

“Well, it all seems very official...” She read a bit of the letter. “Ludovico Acciaiuoli is your friend?”

“Was. He died before I arrived.” Ginevra winced at her own statement, as if she had just uttered the curse that made an awful thing permanent. “Did you know him?”

“Just a bit, his wife is a friend of mine, though—do you know if she lives?”

She shook her head “no,” and felt a fool for mourning somebody else’s husband.

“And so... I’m sorry, but still, why you? All the way from Genoa?”

“Because,” Ginevra said, forcing herself to focus on the present conversation, to hold in her grief a little longer yet, “they know I will not get sick. That I can go investigate the places where other men fear to go. And now, you could, too, if you like?” She said the last bit hopefully, timidly.

“Me???” said Lucia, sitting up too quickly, making her head spin. She lay back down in the pillows. “How strange my life has become.”

“I’m sorry. Let us stop here, you need more rest.”

“No, it’s just... I’m not sure how helpful I can be. If you wanted money, or a place to stay...”

“A place to stay, I would not refuse.”

“To that you are most welcome. I will be glad of the company.”

Ginevra felt a little wave of happiness. It had been years since anyone was glad of her company, besides of course Piero.

“As to your other task,” Lucia continued, “it does not seem right for we two women to interfere.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but my education has only been in the realm of ladies’ business. This seems a very complicated and delicate matter, more than women can comprehend.”

“Trust me, Lucia, if there were any man for the job, they would have taken him. But you will see when you go outside again, there are no men for any job at all. So we can decide for ourselves what we may do and what we may not.”

Lucia was terrified and intrigued by this statement. No one had ever trusted her with anything more important than party planning.

“But aren’t you afraid? The thief might not even be a man but a demon.” She thought for a moment. “Or, maybe it’s like others say, and the relics can only be found by the right person.”

“How do you mean?” asked Ginevra.

“Well, you know, like San Marco in Venice.”

Ginevra looked at her blankly.

“I thought everyone knew that story. The relics of San Marco that went missing? No? Well—they disappeared. For years. Nobody could find them until their bishop prayed in just the right way and then—a miracle! They tumbled right out of a column and into his arms, in front of all the most important people in the city. So maybe our relics are just waiting for that. For somebody worthy enough, and then they will return.” Lucia stopped speaking, out of breath.

Ginevra leaned over and wiped beads of sweat that formed on Lucia’s brow. “Hush, hush. You’re still weak from thirst and hunger. Open your mouth, I’ll help you.”

Ginevra thought about what Lucia had just said as she spooned honey-water into her mouth. “Or perhaps it is simple,” she said, tipping the last of the drink into Lucia’s mouth, “the thief steals only for earthly profit.”

“No, no,” said Lucia faintly, still lying down with her eyes closed. “Why not steal the jewels, the gold? And why leave behind those bottles so the crime is obvious?”