“You and Enrique have been so preoccupied,” said Hypnos. “Meanwhile, I’ve tuned a piano and sang bawdy songs to the shadows. They are a very cold sort of audience. No applause whatsoever.”

Zofia looked around the library. It was a small room with low ceilings, four chairs for sitting, and two long tables. The only illumination came from eight rose-shaped sconces in the joints where the ceiling met the wall. All across the walls stood shelves crowded with books or paintings, statue busts, and maps. On one wall stood a large, gilded mirror. Zofia glanced down at her necklace, but her two remaining Tezcat pendants did not light up, which meant it was probably nothing more than a mirror. On one of the tables stood a teetering stack of papers that could only belong to Enrique. A still-dripping quill lay balanced across an unstoppered jar of ink. Beside it stood a small, ivory bust of a god with two heads, one facing in either direction. Zofia remembered the deity from the graveyard. Janus, he was called. The god of time.

“Good,” said Enrique, walking into the room with Laila on his arm. “We’re all here.”

Laila was oddly still as she settled into a nearby chair. Her brows were pulled down, her mouth looked thin. Zofia recognized that she was concerned.

“What’s the good news, mon cher?” asked Hypnos.

Zofia noticed his voice was a little more high-pitched. He sat up straight, flashing a wide smile at Enrique. Enrique did not acknowledge or return the smile.

“Good … and bad,” said Enrique, strolling forward. He walked to the middle of the room and faced them. “I believe I know where the map to the temple in Poveglia is being kept.”

Laila’s eyes widened. “Where?”

“For a while, I thought it would be here … somewhere … tucked in all these books and research,” said Enrique, gesturing to the library. “It is sensitive information, and so the matriarch might have concealed its whereabouts somewhere on these premises. But now I believe the map is in the possession of House Janus.”

“House Janus?” asked Laila, frowning. “I am not familiar with them.”

“I am,” grumbled Hypnos. He crossed his arms. “Like I said before—if anyone bothered to listen—they are a faction of the Italian Order who throw an exceptional party for Carnevale and have never once invited me—”

“They are renowned,” said Enrique loudly, “for their collection of Forged cartographical and nautical objects, which, according to the documents in this library, take most unusual shapes. For example, many of them are priceless and mind Forged.”

“A mind Forged map?” repeated Laila.

Zofia was familiar with the idea of the art form, but it was a very temporary and dangerous art. The idea that an object could retain the implanted memory of its artist over centuries was a degree of skill that had long been considered lost.

“I don’t know the specifics of its location,” said Enrique. “But I believe that’s where we’ll find it.”