Master Schottel stroked a cat that had appeared from God knew where and was rubbing up against his calves. Then he sat down at the table and linked his fingers over his belly. He examined Reynevan intently, and then for a very, very long time didn’t tear his gaze from Samson Honey-Eater.

“You’re here for the money,” he finally said mournfully. “I must warn you—”

“That business is very slow.” Scharley cut him off unceremoniously. “I know. I’ve heard. Here’s a list I drew up when I grew bored of waiting for you. I need everything on it by tomorrow.”

The cat jumped onto Schottel’s knee and the printmaker stroked it pensively. He read and read. And finally looked up.

“The day after tomorrow. For tomorrow’s Sunday.”

“True, I’d forgotten.” Scharley nodded. “Oh well, we may as well celebrate the holiday. I don’t know when I’ll be in Świdnica again, so it’d be a sin not to visit a few cool cellars and sample this year’s March ale. But the day after tomorrow, maestro, means the day after tomorrow. Monday, not a day later. Understood?”

A nod from Master Schottel showed he did.

“I won’t ask you,” Scharley continued, “about the state of my account, because I neither intend to dissolve the company nor withdraw from it. Just assure me that you’re taking care of it. That you aren’t ignoring the good advice once given to you, or the ideas that could be lucrative for the company. You know of what I speak?”

“I do.” Justus Schottel dug a large key out of his pouch. “And I’ll soon prove to you that I always take your ideas and advice to heart. Master Simon, please remove the sample engravings from the chest and bring them here. The ones from the biblical series.”

Unger quickly did as he was told.

“Here you are.” Schottel spread some sheets of paper on the table. “All my own efforts, I didn’t give them to the apprentices. Some are ready to be printed, others need work. I believe your idea was good and that people will buy our biblical series. There you go, judge for yourself. Gentlemen, if you would.”

They all bent over the table.

“What…?” Reynevan, red-faced, pointed to one of the sheets showing a naked couple in an extremely explicit position and situation. “What is this?”

“Adam and Eve. Isn’t it obvious? Eve’s up against the Tree of Knowledge.”

“Aha.”

“And here, please look.” The woodcarver, full of pride in his work, directed them to another carving. “Moses and Hagar. And here’s Samson and Delilah, and Amnon and Tamar. I did a nice job, didn’t I? And here…”

“ ’Pon my soul… What’s this tangle supposed to be?”

“Jacob, Leah and Rachel.”

“And this…” stammered Reynevan, feeling the blood about to burst from his cheeks.