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“Indeed. You should count yourselves so. I have been in business for many, many years. People know that when a truly rare and precious object is needed, I’M the one who has it. The fact that the two of you have found yourself here at my doorstep, in the middle of the apocalypse, illustrates my prestige among travelers, and the quality of my clientele.”

“Your logic is as infallible as your reputation,” replied Ginevra. She wished fiercely she could tell him that even the becchini found his business unpalatable.

The apothecary bent down below the counter and brought out a dusty wooden box. He opened the lid; it was filled with dried-out fingers.

He rummaged through it a moment before saying, “Aha, here is the one, it is perfect for you.”

“How do you know that one’s San Sebastiano?” asked Lucia. “They all look the same.”

“A true expert knows his wares, signora. That will be two florins for the reading.”

“Two florins??” the women yelled, for the second time in as many days.

“Does everything in Florence cost two florins?” Ginevra asked, incredulously.

“These days, yes,” he said without skipping a beat. “But in any time this would be a fair price for a reading that resulted in the acquisition of such a prestigious relic.”

Ginevra bit her tongue. “Of course. You are quite correct. Monna Lucia, you’ll hand him the money?”

“And that, of course, is just for the one reading. In order for you each to have your own personal relic—”

“I think the one will do just fine for the two of us. After all, San Sebastiano only had so many fingers. It would be unkind for us to take up two of them,” said Lucia, dropping gold coins into his open palm. If she was without a husband, she couldn’t go spending her whole fortune on dead fingers and burials.

“How magnanimous of you,” he said with slight disappointment.

“So, signore,” asked Ginevra, “if we may impose upon you further, since the shrine of San Zenobio is empty, what other shrines should we pray at in its stead?”

Encouraged by the pieces of gold, he continued: “Here, let me show you a book I have, that can be used by pilgrims to know all the places to visit.” He pulled a cheap-looking volume from behind his counter.

“Here you go. My highest recommended libri indulgarium et reliquarium: The Pious Pilgrim’s Guide to the Most Holy Sites of Florence Including the Best Prayers to Be Said at Them, and Number of Indulgences Granted per Visitor, and Where Best to Stay Nearby to Them.”

“That is a very long title,” said Lucia.

“And what may we find in this glorious treatise?” asked Ginevra.

“It details the most prestigious relics in the city, where they are in the churches, and so forth.” Ginevra reached out her hands eagerly to take a look, but as soon as she reached, he withdrew it. “But now is not the best time to be walking around—you know that miasmas float on every street, even inside churches and monasteries. I’m afraid you will find that our great churches, usually all shiny and carefully tended, will be dark and empty, with saints disappeared, the same as Zenobio.”

“Even still, we at least could see where they should be and surely that will count for something.” She stretched out her hand again and smiled, but he kept the book clutched close to his chest, as if he thought better of bringing it out to show them. Ginevra grew impatient. “I thought the San Sebastiano finger will protect us?”

“Oh, it will, it will. It’s just best not to strain it unnecessarily, you understand?”

“We have traveled a long way, and are intent on visiting the shrines.”

“Perhaps, if you each had your own relic, I would know you were adequately protected. As it stands now, it would be unethical for me to encourage your journey.”

Lucia looked at Ginevra imploringly, but she knew the man was not to be denied his sale.

“Perhaps you have something not quite so glorious as the Sebastiano finger? We must mind our funds carefully.”

“Of course, signora, I am here to serve. The stars tell me that Sebastian will be good for you as well—and I have a piece of skin from the forearm of the same, half the price would likely recommend—”

“A florin is still more than...”

“Then perhaps signora would be interested in toenail clippings belonging to the blessed San Gregorio. I could part with them for a donation of three lire.”

“Fine. The stars said he was good for me, too, did they?”

Lucia pressed three more coins into his palm. “Wonderful. Do the ladies wish me to read it to them?”