Seven for a Secret by Mary Reed, Eric Mayer

supporter of the Blue faction,” came the reply, “hence the color of his glassware. He’s anticipating a great victory for his team when chariot races run regularly again, and plans a celebratory gathering in due course. It was difficult finding sufficient copper for the tint with trade not yet back to normal, but I heard about a man in the quarter who’d received one of the last scrap shipments that arrived in the city before the plague. When I made further inquiries, I learned he had died before he could use it so I was able to purchase a sufficient amount inexpensively from his widow. I only hope my beautiful wares survive the celebrations.”
    In response to John’s questioning look, he added, “You’d be surprised how many baskets of broken glass find their way out of the palace and back into my workshop. I can melt the shards down and reuse them. They’re worth a few nummi to me, so a rich man’s carelessness turns out to be small boon to the servant who has to clean up after him.”
    John gave a thin smile. “I’m certain that’s the case. But I am not here to speak to you about your glassware. I want to question you about your trade in tesserae.”
    Michri looked surprised. “I will be happy to assist as best I can. Are there plans afoot for new mosaics at the palace? Or perhaps our beloved Justinian is contemplating construction of another church? Let me show you some excellent work.” He retrieved a small basket from underneath the bench.
    “I’ve some beautiful gold tesserae here,” he went on. “My assistant has been practicing these past few weeks and has finally mastered the making of them. You see?”
    He plucked up a few and handed them to John. “It took him some time and patience to learn not only how to put gold leaf on a cube but also the method of adding the final coating of glass to stop the gold tarnishing.” He lowered his voice before continuing. “Even so, he grasped the technique a lot faster than I did as a beginner. I fear I am sometimes too harsh with him. It is because I have great hopes for his future.”
    John rolled the cubes around in his palm. They flashed and glittered, finding light even in the gloom.
    Zoe was nothing more than a basketful of such glass.
    No, that wasn’t true. She was also all the conversations he’d had with her over the years and the hours he’d spent staring wordlessly at her, pondering over his wine cup.
    And her model, the woman who had approached him in the square—the dead woman—was certainly special. Flesh and blood was worth more than glass, wasn’t it?
    It had begun to rain harder. He could hear it drumming on the roof. A gust of wind blew rain into the enclosure. Steam rose from the hot earth at the base of the kiln.
    John expressed polite admiration for the tesserae and dropped them back into the basket.
    “If it is to be a large job, I will need some time to prepare,” Michri said. “And for certain colors, I can’t be sure I can obtain the proper ingredients. On the other hand, I still have cakes of glass in certain hues ready to be cut.”
    “It would be a small undertaking. I understand you’ve supplied tesserae for years. Do you recall who created the mosaics in my house? It was about ten years ago. The tax collector Glykos owned the house at the time. I’d like to engage the same artisan for some repair work.”
    Michri’s face wrinkled in thought and then he grinned. “I can assist you, Lord Chamberlain! I remember that job well, small as it was, because it required many of the tesserae to be prepared in a peculiar manner, oddly shaped and painted on one facet. When the mosaic maker insisted that such tesserae could be set into the mortar in such a way as to show different scenes according to the lighting, I was skeptical, but apparently his method works since I hear he’s done several others since.”
    “It does indeed, Michri. The effect is startling. I will arrange for you to visit and see for yourself in the