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coin.
    But should she leave it, another would undoubtedly pick it up. Well enough she knew that it had been destined for her. A warm dinner ‘twould buy, and mayhap modest shelter for this night.
    Genevieve looked to one side and the other, as furtively as if she meant to steal boldly from another. Then she darted forward and pounced on the coin, snatching it up and burying it deep in one of her pockets, as though she could not bear to look upon it.
    Well it seemed that the coin burned against her flesh.
    She glanced around again as though seeking witnesses to her deed and clutched her lute protectively to her chest. No one had glimpsed her betrayal of her family, though indeed knowing the truth within her heart might well be punishment enough. Genevieve gathered up her cloak and glanced back to the gates where he had disappeared without a trace. Those gates were closed against the night, which granted Genevieve an idea.
    The stranger could not leave that enclosure this night once the gates were closed. And on the morrow, she would return here at first light, or even before, that she might see him again. Or mayhap the day after. If naught else, he would have to leave the shelter of those walls one day, and Genevieve would be ready.
    No matter that the keeper would not let her pass. She would be here, watching and waiting. He would not pass her again without tasting her retaliation! Well would that one regret the day that Genevieve de Pereille found him in Paris.

Chapter Two
    â€œA h, our Italien returns,” the Master commented with his usual slow smile of welcome.
    The colloquial reference to his trade never failed to make Wolfram cringe inwardly, but he strove to make no sign of his discomfort. The Master might as well have called him an empoisonneur to his face. Much to his annoyance, Wolfram felt his color rise slightly, and felt all too aware of the presence of the esquire who had shown him in.
    Next he would be obliged to travel as an astrologer, and any fool would know his task. Had the Master taken leave of his senses to flaunt Wolfram’s occupation so openly?
    Well it seemed that his encounter with the lutenist had served to make him more sensitive than was his wont. He fidgeted and forced himself to think of other matters.
    The esquire was unfamiliar. Though truly that should have been no surprise. But a month past, another had aided the Master of the Temple. It could be naught else but a strategy to constantly change aides, and ‘twas a wise one at that, for none toiled here long enough to sense any patterns in the Master’s routine. No guest would be recognized or repeat visitors noted by a new assistant. A small safeguard ‘twas to ensure no word of what transpired within these offices filtered to the outside world.
    â€˜Twas eminently logical, and if naught else, the Master was logical beyond compare. Wolfram respected that. Logical men seldom erred, and he slept better knowing the only one who knew his identity was of the same ilk as himself. He shot the Master a telling glance, disliking that he had made such a fundamental slip before that esquire.
    Well it seemed that the Master stifled a smirk.
    Wolfram bowed, then straightened to shake the older man’s proffered hand. The Master flicked a dismissive finger at the esquire. The young man bowed his head and disappeared, discreetly closing the door behind himself. The Master regarded Wolfram with barely concealed amusement.
    â€œSomething troubles you?” he inquired archly.
    Wolfram cocked a brow. “I would not presume to comment on your affairs,” he said stiffly. The Master chuckled, and Wolfram looked to his superior in alarm.
    In but a month, the man had clearly taken leave of his senses.
    â€œDeaf as a post, he is,” the Master confided in a devilish whisper. The Master’s glittering eyes convinced Wolfram both that his thoughts had been read and that the older man spoke the truth. His ears burned with