My heart plunged. “So, just to clarify, we are looking for a giant incense burner that was lost over six hundred years ago,” I said, trying not to sound incredulous.
“I would suppose that more than one of these objects existed,” Gaspard responded carefully. “If it was, in fact, an important magical tool in the ancient times, I would guess that several were created. It wasn’t as easy to fly across the globe to a convocation of kindred, but there was communication between widespread revenant cultures. Information did manage to spread globally between revenants.”
An ancient legend about a magical incense burner. That wasn’t exactly what I had hoped for, but at least it was something. Determined not to let my disappointment show, I took my notebook from my bag and jotted down some notes, asking Bran a couple of questions to clarify. Gaspard gave me a curious look.
“I thought my grandfather could follow up on any leads you find with his own resources,” I said.
Gaspard frowned. “Not to disrespect your grandfather, my dear, but I doubt he would be in possession of anything that our extensive library would not already have.”
“Well, I found the copy of Immortal Love in his gallery, which is what led me to finding Bran and his family in the first place,” I countered.
“That is true,” Gaspard conceded, “but I honestly don’t think you should trouble your grandfather with this. With our resources here we should be able to turn up the information needed, if it exists at all.” He waved his hand to indicate the size of the library.
“Why are you reluctant to have me include my grandfather in this research?” I asked him point-blank.
Gaspard umm-ed and ah-ed for a second, and then Jean-Baptiste cut in to save him. “We aren’t used to including humans in our dealings except on a support level,” he said in an apologetic tone. “Maybe that is shortsighted on our part, but our insularity has a purpose: survival. It’s just what we’re used to. This isn’t to say we don’t respect your grandparents and value their trust.”
I nodded. “But now we’re in a race against time to find the information, right?” I stood and tucked my notebook into my bag.
Gaspard nodded.
I grabbed my coat. “So, with your permission, I’ll work with my grandfather to see what we can find.” I began walking out the door, and then turning, gave them a competitive grin and said, “Beat you to it!”
TWENTY
“YOU SAY IT WAS A GIANT THYMIATERION,” PAPY confirmed. “Ancient Greek?” He flipped through an auction catalogue as he launched questions at me. We were ensconced in the back room of his gallery, sitting between life-sized statues of gods and warriors.
“No, Bran said the bardia came from Italy,” I replied, checking my notes.
“Ah, Etruscan then,” Papy said, replacing the catalogue and pulling out another.
“Yes, that’s what he said—Etruscan,” I confirmed. “When Constantinople was under siege, they snuck their treasury out, hid it, and it was later plundered.”
“I wonder what exactly they mean by ‘giant,’” Papy said, opening a two-page spread of ancient objects for me to see. “This is an example of an ancient Etruscan thymiaterion.” He pointed to a picture of a red clay chalice. Its stem was shaped to look like a man who was holding the cup’s bowl on his head.
“They were used to burn incense during religious ceremonies, and were usually only around a foot or two tall. You can find them made in limestone, clay . . .”
“This one was bronze,” I said, showing him the scribbling on my notebook.
Papy thought for a bit. “Something like that would be a major object. Museum quality. I haven’t come across anything like it in my own dealings, but between the world wars there were entire collections of museum-quality objects coming out of the Middle East and being sold on the art market—under quite iffy circumstances. The unacknowledged fact was that they were the product of plundered graves.
“I don’t know if any of these collections involved revenant artifacts . . . if they did, the revenant collectors would have made sure all mention of them were taken out of the public records. But the first place I would start looking is in the auction records from those years.”
“Do you have any?” I asked.
Papy turned and walked to his bookcase, running his finger along the spines of some old books, and then pointed to one. “Let’s see, here is 1918.” He moved down two shelves and stopped at another book. “And here is 1939.”
My jaw dropped open. The section he was pointing to comprised about fifty books. “Are those records by any chance on the internet?”
Papy gave an amused smile and shook his head. “Tell you what. I’ll take the ones in German and leave you the catalogs in English and French.”
We worked all morning and into the afternoon. After a few hours Papy had interrupted my work saying, “You realize, princesse, that we are just working on a hunch. We might not even find anything.”