The Fortune Teller(45)

Hayl was a Saracen who came from a village near the Caspian Sea. He loved to boast that he’d traveled most of the world, as far north as Kvenland and as far south as Syene—even down the Nile River in Egypt. The trader enjoyed telling tales, and every item he sold came with a story.

“What are you looking for today?” Hayl asked, still holding the necklace.

“The Book of Optics.” Rinalto’s eyes scanned the shelves.

“Ah, a popular one.” Hayl surveyed his stock. He had already sold several copies on this trip.

Every artist in Italy was buying the book to understand dimensional mastery, “the Del Aspect” as they called it. The Book of Optics demonstrated how to create two-dimensional pictorial representations of three-dimensional space.

“Written by Alhazen, an Arab physicist and mathematician,” Hayl said as he searched his books, “born in Basra, educated in Baghdad, and lived most of his life in Cairo, four hundred years ago!” he bellowed again in his jovial way. “I’m sure I have one left.”

Rinalto smiled, grateful. “I haven’t had a commission in months. I was hoping reading it might help.…” He trailed off, distracted by a young woman on the other side of the aisle. Every young man in the market seemed to be watching her. She was browsing the stalls and holding a petite white-haired dog in her arms.

Rinalto took off his cap.

Hayl looked over at the girl and smiled. “A rose in perfect blossom. Why don’t you go gardening, Rinalto?” He winked.

“Viviana Orsini will never notice me.”

“Bah!” Hayl wrapped up the book. “You’re young with a heart waiting to be broken.”

“She’s from a noble family. And I…” Rinalto motioned to his clothes, which bore stains from paint. He watched Viviana move farther down the aisle. “If I had my own studio, she might. If I had commissions like Ghiberti, her family might consider me a suitor.”

Hayl understood the poor boy’s predicament. “Unrequited love is one of life’s worst afflictions. Trust me, I know.” He picked up the firestone necklace. “I tried to give this necklace to a girl once. She did not accept.”

Rinalto looked over at Hayl, hoping the trader would say more. He sensed there was a story behind the necklace.

Hayl held up the firestones and watched them catch the sunlight. He had not thought of Kalinka in years. Only the necklace knew their history, a story he would never tell.

He placed the jewels high on a shelf where no hand could reach them. Then turned his attention back to Rinalto. “So. How does one get showered with commissions?”

“One piece of art for the right patron.” Rinalto continued to watch Viviana. She was an angelic vision with pouted lips and hair that shone like pale amber.

“One of your miniatures?” Hayl asked.

Despondent, Rinalto shook his head. “Something grander. Like a deck of cards.”

A winter breeze whipped through the market, and Rinalto watched Viviana hand her little dog to her maid so she could put on her gloves. They were a striking red that matched the print of her cape.

How he would love to paint her.

“Ah, I see.” Hayl nodded, understanding. He’d been trading in the peninsula for thirty years and had seen playing cards take root. Noble families had begun commissioning famous artists to create their own decks, a sign of prestige. The cards were crafted with the finest parchment or wood and usually painted with gold.

Over the years Hayl had looked for interesting and unusual cards to bring to Italy and sell for a high price. On his last trip, he traveled as far as the Zagros Mountains, where he found an old trader looking to sell his wares. He ended up buying an unusual deck from the old man, unlike any he had seen before.

“Why are there only twenty-two?” Hayl had asked.

“These are very special,” the old man said, “from the time of the pharaohs. They’ve been in my family for many generations.”

Hayl doubted it, knowing firsthand that traders made up all kinds of stories to sell their goods. Yellow tin and fake gems were often passed off as gold and precious jewels in the markets. He was certain he could make up an even better story and sell the cards to a wealthy nobleman in Milan for a pretty florin.

Hayl didn’t know what made him to do it. Perhaps it was the longing on Rinalto’s face as he watched Viviana, a girl as lovely as his Kalinka long ago. Maybe it was the look in Rinalto’s eyes that said he didn’t believe he would ever obtain his dreams. Or maybe it was because Kalinka’s memory still had yet to fade. Whatever the reason, Hayl pulled out the special deck of cards.

“Perhaps you can gain attention with these,” he said and handed them to Rinalto.

Rinalto took the cards and looked at each one closely. “Magnificent. The paintings…” His finger traced one design. “What kind of game do you play with these?” he wondered, studying the unusual pictures.

“Any game.” Hayl shrugged. “They’re cards.”

Rinalto went to hand them back. “I could never afford them, but thank you.” They were painted with the purest gold, and the parchment was of a quality he had never seen.

“Consider them a gift,” Hayl said. “For bringing me back my necklace.” He folded Rinalto’s hands around the cards. “I too was young and in love once.”