All of these thoughts went through my head in the time it took for someone to outbid Mornett, and him to raise his bid in reply.
I sat for a few moments, thinking. Then I drew a deep breath and raised my own paddle.
“I have seven hundred from the lady in the back, do I have seven twenty-five, thank you sir, do I have seven fifty . . .”
This was not the first time I have bid in an auction, but I have never felt so tense. There were about six of us bidding, I think, but Mornett was the only one I really paid attention to. He bid steadily, not seeming to hesitate, but not showing too much eagerness, either. I raised my paddle like an automaton, scarcely listening to the numbers. Living at Stokesley, I’ve had hardly anything to spend money on, and whatever else I might say about him, Gleinleigh is paying me well.
Soon it was only three: myself, Mornett, and a gentleman on the right-hand side of the hall, whom I couldn’t see clearly. The price, I realized with a shock, had climbed above thirteen hundred. Not absurd for a cylinder seal, not if it was a particularly fine piece of work, but a good deal more than I should be spending.
And then Aaron Mornett turned in his seat, flicked his fingers from his brow in a mocking salute—and stopped bidding.
The other man didn’t. I faltered for a moment, then lifted my paddle. What should I do? I had entered this particular auction because Mornett wanted the seal—the only thing he had shown any evidence of wanting so far—and what he had said out in the hall hinted there was a reason. Only, how could he know anything about what I had read in the epic? Did Gleinleigh show him the tablets—not that night, because I would have seen them, but on some other occasion? He could not possibly have read them any more easily than Kudshayn and I have, but he is (damn him) an excellent philologist . . . or was he doing this simply to run me out of money so I would not be able to bid against him when he went after his real target, one of the remaining lots in the auction?
My mind was caught in a sickening spiral. I could not think clearly. I knew I should stop bidding; Simeon hissed in my ear, “Audrey, for God’s sake, what are you doing?” Mornett leaned over to Mrs. Kefford and whispered in her ear, looking concerned. And then the auctioneer said, “I have eighteen hundred and twenty-five guineas from the lady in the back. Do I hear eighteen hundred and fifty?”
An electrical jolt ran over my skin. Eighteen hundred and twenty-five guineas. I could not cover that, not by myself; I would have to ask Papa to help me. And he would want to know how I wound up paying nearly two thousand guineas for a cylinder seal, and I would have no good answer for him.
“Going once,” the auctioneer said. “Going twice.”
Mornett raised his paddle and called out, “Two thousand.”
Murmurs sprang up all over the hall. A stupid impulse almost made me outbid him, but I clenched both hands around my paddle and kept it in my lap.
“I have two thousand,” the auctioneer said, looking from me to the other bidder. Mornett’s jump had discouraged him; no paddle came up in reply, and a moment later, the seal was Mornett’s.
I sat, shaking and sick, while the auction house’s assistants cleared away the seal and brought out a clay sun disc. That was disposed of in quick order, going for the pittance of two hundred guineas, and then I could not take it any longer. Not caring if Mornett noticed, not caring if anyone else chose to whisper, I got up and left the hall.
Diary, I should have gone home. Simeon could take a streetcar back to the Tomphries just as well without me as with. But I stayed out there, breathing the cooler air, until I heard the hall door open and shut behind me and knew without looking that I’d missed my chance to escape.
“Well,” Mornett drawled. “That got unexpectedly exciting.”
“As you intended it to, I’m sure,” I snapped.
He ignored my accusation. “That was rather more than you could cover, I think. Bit rich for my blood, too, if I’m being honest—”
“When are you ever?”
In the momentary silence, I resisted the urge to turn around and look at him. I did not want to see his face. Eventually he said, “I’ll have you know, I had to borrow from Mrs. Kefford to make that bid. For your sake: I didn’t want you to get into trouble.”
That finally made me turn. He was looking disarmingly open and friendly—but I know all too well how easily he can don such an expression. I said scathingly, “Yes, I’m sure that was all for my sake, and not your own ego and greed. I don’t know what game you’re playing, Mr. Mornett, but I have the edges of it now, and I will find my way to the center. And when I do, you will regret ever speaking to me at the Colloquium.”
I do not need some photograph to record his reaction for me, the better to later examine it. It is seared well enough into my memory. He stiffened, mock warmth giving way to sudden chill, and he did not say anything else as I left the auction house.
The only problem is, my declaration was at least half bravado. That he is playing a game, I am absolutely convinced: him, Mrs. Kefford, and Lord Gleinleigh. I think they’re up to something, and it must involve the tablets.
But what do I do now? These bits and pieces I have: are they edges or sections from the middle? It’s like having fragments of an incomplete clay tablet and no way to tell how they should be placed relative to one another. And one fragment I might have had—the cylinder seal—has now been snatched from my fingers. I should have outbid him, and damn the cost.
But no. I flinched, and now I will never
I refuse to admit defeat this easily.
What would Grandmama do?
Not give up, that’s for sure. And not let anything get in her way. Grandmama did not get to where she is, being one of the most famous and respected women in the world, by accepting that anything could stop her. She told the obstacles she was stronger than they were, and then she proved it.
So. If Aaron Mornett wanted that cylinder seal so badly . . .
Then I need to take a look at it.
ARREST #: 09KZ421
Date/Time: 20/06/5662 @ 0220
Officer: Constable Samson Torrell
DEFENDANT
Camherst, Audrey Isabella Mahira Adiaratou
#3 Clarton Square
Falchester, NOC 681
Date of birth: 17/10/5639
Place of birth: Vidwatha
Sex: Female
Age: 23
Height: 167 cm.
Weight: 65 kg.
Body: Slender
Hair: Dark brown, curly
Eyes: Dark brown
Complexion: Medium brown
Appearance
Clothing: Loose trousers and blouse of a dark colour, ankle boots, kerchief over hair
Glasses worn: no
Identifying marks: scar between thumb and first finger of left hand Family/Employment information
Father: Jacob Camherst
Marital status: single
Occupation: Philologist
OFFENSE
Location type: Hotel
Selwright Hotel
#31 Michaeling Street
Falchester NEE 154
Charge: breaking and entering, trespass to land
FALCHESTER POLICE DEPARTMENT
OFFICER’S NARRATIVE REPORT
Reference: #402957
Officer: Samson Torrell
At 2330 hrs on 19065662 I was sent to the Selwright Hotel following a phone report from the manager Mr. Peter Grance of a disturbance in the room of a guest on the third floor. When I arrived I was met by Mr. Grance, who conducted me to his office, where they were holding the alleged defendant and the alleged victim. The defendant was identified to me as Miss Audrey Camherst, and the victim as Mr. Aaron Mornett.