For the next hour or so, Enrique tried to avoid brooding altogether by triple-checking the state of various artifacts, and yet the same question kept cropping up in his thoughts.
Howdidhe plan to find his way?
Dream Laila had suggested searching for the thing that filledhim with light, but what did that mean? Traveling out into the world? Taking up a new hobby?
It was around then that Enrique heard soft footfalls behind him. He turned to find that a young boy, about ten years old, had found his way into the hallway and was now poking the wings of the golden half-human, half-birdkinnarastatue.
“Donottouch that!” said Enrique, striding over to him.
The boy, a rather serious-looking child with pale skin and a mop of icy-blond hair, stared defiantly back at Enrique. “Why not?”
Enrique opened his mouth, then closed it. For some reason, the boy reminded him of Zofia, golden and stubborn. And his curiosity reminded Enrique, oddly enough, of himself. He knew there were plenty of wonders to be found on L’Eden’s premises. To venture into this particular gallery meant that the boy had first chosen to spend time in the library instead of outside on a bright, early spring day.
Enrique nearly winced to remember the trouble he had gotten into when he’d been this boy’s age.
“You’re lucky I don’t have atsinela,” he muttered.
The boy frowned. “A what?”
“Never mind,” said Enrique, sighing.
The boy scowled, and Enrique remembered making a similar expression whenever he anticipated that someone was about to yell at him. He had hated being scolded and much preferred when someone would explain something to him instead.
“Do you know how old this statue is?” Enrique asked, pointing at the goldkinnari.
The boy shook his head.
“At least seven thousand years old.”
The boy’s eyes widened. Why did children have such wide eyes?Enrique could not explain why he continued. “Would you… like to hold it?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically.
“Very well,” said Enrique. He drew a spare pair of gloves from his pocket. “It’sveryimportant when we handle such objects to treat them with the utmost respect. You are holding a piece of time, and you must be precious with it.”
Solemnly, the boy drew on the gloves. He gasped a little when Enrique lowered the statue into his hands.
“This is called akinnari,” he said, “a half-human, half-bird creature. They were thought to be guardian spirits who watched over humans in times of danger. Rather like angels.”
The boy’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “There’s more than just angels?”
Enrique was rather stunned. He had braced himself to be refuted on the spot, or to be on the receiving end of a sneering response that angels could not possibly look like the golden statue in the boy’s hands. But children were different. For all their small stature, they seemed far more willing to accept the expansiveness of the world, whereas adults seemed to lose that gift with age.
Enrique found himself wanting to show the boy other objects merely to experience his reaction to them. “Would you like to see canopic jars? They used to hold the organs of Egyptian royalty!”
The boy gave a small gasp.
Uh-oh.
“Wait, I—”
But it was too late. The boy had run down the hall, disappearing through the doorway. Enrique tried to ignore the sharp sting he felt as he turned away. He thought that would be the last he’d see of the boy, but a few minutes later, he heard a rush of approachingfootsteps. He turned slowly to find at least a dozen children staring up at him. At the front, the blond-haired boy looked out of breath and excited.
“We want to see the canpopic jars!”
“It’scanopic,” corrected Enrique automatically.
He looked at the sea of shining, expectant faces. Even his best audience had never looked so enraptured.
