tattle you went to the coffee house； if you wanted merce； to the Exchange。 Here； only miracles。 Here； only the rising of the spirit。 And； yes； love； if it was pertinent （which it was； so often）； and sometimes bloodletting。 But never the prosaic； never the trivial。 Here the man who brought the strangest tale was the most wele。 Here every excess was celebrated if it brought visions； and every vision analyzed for the hints it held to the nature of the Everlasting。
He lifted the candle and； holding it high； began to walk through the house。 The rooms…there were many…were badly dilapidated； the boards creaking under his feet； weakened by rot and worm； the walls mapping continents of damp。 But the present didn't insist upon him for long。 By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs； memory was lighting candles everywhere； their luminescence spilling through the dining room door and from the rooms above。 It was a generous light； clothing naked walls； putting lush carpets underfoot； and setting fine furniture on their pile。 Though the debaters here might have aspired to pure spirit； they were not averse to forting the flesh while still cursed with it。 Who would have guessed； seeing the modest facade of the house from the street； that the interior would be so finely furnished and ornamented？ And seeing these glories appear； he heard the voices of those who'd wallowed in that luxury。 Laughter first； then vociferous argument from somebody at the top of the stairs。 He couldn't see the debaters yet…perhaps his mind； which he'd instructed in caution； was holding the flood back…but he could put names to both of them； sight unseen。 One was Horace Tyrwhitt； the other Isaac Abelove。 And the laughter？ That was Joshua Godolphin； of course。 He had a laugh like the Devil's laugh； full and throaty。
〃e on； then；〃 Gentle said aloud to the memories。 〃I'm ready to see your faces。〃
And as he spoke； they came： Tyrwhitt on the stairs； overdressed and overpowdered； as ever； keeping his distance from Abelove in case the magpie his pursuer was nursing flew free。
〃It's bad luck；〃 Tyrwhitt was protesting。 〃Birds in the house are bad luck！〃
〃Luck's for fishermen and gamblers；〃 Abelove replied。
〃One of these days you'll turn a phrase worth remembering；〃 Tyrwhitt replied。 〃Just get the thing out before I wring its neck。〃 He turned towards Gentle。 〃Tell him； Sartori。〃
Gentle was shocked to see the memory's eyes fix so acutely upon him。 〃It does no harm；〃 he found himself replying。 〃It's one of God's creatures。〃
At which point the bird rose flapping from Abelove's grasp； emptying its bowels as it did so on the man's wig and face； which brought a hoot of laughter from Tyrwhitt。
〃Now don't wipe it off；〃 he told Abelove as the magpie fluttered away。 〃It's good luck。〃
The sound of his laughter brought Joshua Godolphin； imperious as ever； out of the dining room。 〃What's the row？〃
Abelove was already clattering after the bird； his calls merely alarming it more。 It fluttered around the hallway in panic； cawing as it went。
〃Open the damned door！〃 Godolphin said。 〃Let the bloody thing out！〃
〃And spoil the sport？〃 Tyrwhitt said。
〃If everyone would but calm their voices；〃 Abelove said； 〃it would settle。〃
〃Why did you bring it in？〃 Joshua wanted to know。
〃It was sitting on the step；〃 Abelove replied。 〃I thought it was injured。〃
〃It looks quite well to me；〃 Godolphin said； and turned his face； ruddied with brandy； towards Gentle。 〃Maestro；〃 he said； inclining his head a little。 〃I'm afraid we began dinner without you。 e in。 Leave these bird brains to play。〃
Gentle was crossing to the dining room when there was a thud behind him； and he turned to see the bird dropping to the floor beneath one of the windows； where it had struck the glass。 Abelove let out a little moan； and Tyrwhitt's laughter ceased。
〃There now！〃 he said。 〃You killed the thing！〃
〃Not me！〃 Abelove said。
〃You want to resurrect it？〃 Joshua murmured to Gentle； his tone conspiratorial。
〃With a broken neck and wings？〃 Gentle mourned。 〃That wouldn't be very kind。〃
〃But amusing；〃 Godolphin replied with mischief in his puffy eyes。
〃I think not；〃 Gentle aid； and saw his distaste wipe the humor off Joshua's face。 He's a little afraid of me； Gentle thought； the power in me makes him nervous。
Joshua headed into the dining room； and Gentle was about to step through the door after him when a young man…eighteen at most； with a plain； long face and chorister's curls…came to his side。
〃Maestro？〃 he said。
Unlike Joshua and the others； these features seemed more familiar to Gentle。 Perhaps there was a certain modernity in the languid lidded gaze and the small； almost effeminate； mouth。 He didn't look that intelligent； in truth； but his words； when they came； were well turned； despite the boy's nervousness。 He barely dared look at Sartori； but with those lids downcast begged the Maestro's indulgence。
〃I wondered； sir； if you had perhaps considered the matter of which we spoke？〃
Gentle was about to ask； What matter？； when his tongue replied； his intellect seizing the memory as the words spilled out。 〃I know how eager you are； Lucius。〃
Lucius Cobbitt was the boy's name。 At seventeen he already had the great works by heart； or at least their theses。 Ambitious and apt at politics； he'd taken Tyrwhitt as a patron （for what services only his bed knew； but it was surely a hanging offense） and had secured himself a place in the house as a menial。 But he wanted more than that； and scarcely an evening went by without his politely plying the Maestro with coy glances and pleas。
〃I'm more than eager； sir；〃 he said。 〃I've studied all the rituals。 I've mapped the In Ovo； from what I've read in Flute's Visions。 They're just beginnings； I know； but I've also copied all the known glyphs； and I have them by heart。〃
He had a little skill as an artist； too： something else they shared； besides ambition and dubious morals。
〃I can help you； Maestro；〃 he was saying。 〃You're going to need somebody beside you on the night。〃
〃I mend you on your discipline； Lucius； but the Reconciliation's a dangerous business。 I can't take the responsibility…〃
〃I'll take that； sir。〃
〃Besides； I have my assistant。〃
The boy's face fell。 〃You do？〃 he said。
〃Certainly。 Pie 'oh' pah。〃
〃You'd trust your life to a familiar？〃
〃Why shouldn't I？〃
〃Well； because。。。 because it's not even human。〃
〃That's why I trust it； Lucius；〃 Gentle said。 〃I'm sorry to disappoint you…〃
〃Could I at least watch； sir？ I'll keep my distance； I swear； I swear。 Everybody else is going to be there。〃
This was true enough。 As the night of the Reconciliation approached； the size of the audience swelled。 His patrons； who'd at first taken their oaths of secrecy very seriously； now sensed triumph and had bee indiscreet。 In hushed and often embarrassed tones they'd admit to having invited a friend or a relation to witness the rites； and who was he； the performer； to forbid his paymasters their moment of reflected glory？ Though he never gave them an easy time when they made these confessions； he didn't much mind。 Admiration charged the blood。 And when the Reconciliation had been achieved； the more tongues there were to say they'd seen it done； and sanctify the doer； the better。
〃I beg you； sir；〃 Lucius was saying。 〃I'll be in your debt forever。〃
Gentle nodded； ruffling the youth's ginger hair。 〃You may watch；〃 he said。
Tears started to the boy's eyes； and he snatched up Gentie's hand； laying his lips to it。 〃I am the luckiest man in England；〃 he said。 〃Thank you； sir； thank you。〃
Quieting the boy's profusions； Gentle left him at the door and stepped through into the dining room。 As he did so he wondered if all these events and conversations had actually dovetailed in this fashion； or whether his memory was collecting fragments from different nights and days； knitting them together so that they appeared seamless。 If the latter was the case…and he guessed it was…then there were probably clues in these scenes to mysteries yet to be unveiled； and he should try to remember their every detail。 But it was difficult。 He was both Gentle and Sartori here； both witness and actor。 It was hard to live the moments when he was also observing them； and harder still to dig for the seam of their significance when their surface gleamed so fetchingly； and when he was the brightest jewel that shone there。 How they had idolized him！ He'd been like a divinity among them； his every belch and fart attended to like a sermon； his cosmological pronouncements…of which he was too fond…greeted with reverence and gratitude； even by the mightiest。
Three of those mighty awaited him in the dining room； gathered at one end of a table； set for four but laden with sufficient food to sate the street for a week。 Joshua was one of the trio； of course。 Roxborough and his long…time foil Oliver McGann were the others； the latter well in his cups； the former； as ever； keeping his counsel； his ascetic features； dominated by the long hook of his nose； always half masked by his hands。 He despised his mouth； Gentle thought； because it betrayed his nature； which despite his incalculable wealth and his pretensions to metaphysics was