Page 120 of Night's Reckoning
What was it with the men in her life all having world-weary, insightful servants with charming English accents? Was Ben going to get one in a few years? Or was every vampire in her life slowly turning into Batman?
Tenzin turned off her tablet and packed what she could into the backpack she’d brought on the ship. She would likely be leaving after she searched Johari’s quarters, and she needed to travel light. She left the backpack in the hold and walked up the stairs to Cheng’s office.
He opened the door before she could knock. “Good evening, Cricket.”
“I need to see her room.”
“First you need to see this.” Cheng opened the door and gestured for Tenzin to enter.
Sitting at the desk, Kadek was writing in a notebook. He glanced up, grunted, then went back to work.
“Friendly as ever, I see.” Tenzin walked over to the long table where a bright blue tarp had been laid; a dozen or so plastic buckets sat on top.
“Kadek believes you should not have changed Benjamin.”
“I didn’t change Ben.” Tenzin started looking through the buckets. They contained artifacts. Glass lamps and platters. Porcelain. More glass.
Cheng coughed slightly. “It would be more correct to say he thinks you shouldn’t havehadBen changed.”
Tenzin looked up at Cheng. Then to Kadek, who was glaring. Then back to Cheng. “Is there a reason I am supposed to care what Kadek thinks?”
“Shouldn’t have happened,” Kadek muttered. “Boy didn’t want it.”
“I suppose you could try to kill him,” Tenzin said, looking in one bucket that held what looked like old-fashioned glass floats. They weren’t round; they were flattened and pocked from age and saltwater. “He is more powerful than you, Kadek, and he is only two nights old.” She glanced at Cheng. “He’s more powerful than Cheng too.”
“More powerful than you?” Cheng leaned against the table. “Tell the truth.”
“No.”
Kadek asked, “No, he’s not more powerful than you? Or no, you won’t tell the truth?”
“Either,” Tenzin said. “What are these?”
“They’re boxes,” Cheng said. “This is what I wanted you to see.” He walked over and lifted one glass piece from the bucket, carefully inspecting it and holding it in two hands. “It looks like an ingot, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” The color was brilliant, but the glass was pockmarked from hundreds of years of soaking in seawater.
Cheng twisted the glass, and the two halves split apart, a seam appearing out of nowhere.
“How—?” She gasped. “Oh. Clever, clever.”
He held it up to her. The glass inside the box still shone. “Harun made glass boxes with seams so fine they lasted a thousand years and protected the objects inside.” He walked over to the desk where Kadek sat. “Look.” He placed an object in her hand. “Do you know what that is?”
“Prayer beads? They’re beautiful.” Tenzin turned them in her hand. “They’re wood and lapis lazuli. Beautiful. I can’t determine their origin.”
“The wood is ebony,” Kadek said. “And we found them in one of the boxes.”
Tenzin looked up with wide eyes. “Impossible.”
This was what her father had said.The sword is in an oblong glass case.Now Tenzin understood what she was looking for.
“Look at the inside of this one.” Cheng lifted another from the bucket and handed it to Tenzin.
She looked for a seam but couldn’t see it. But she held the glass in both hands and twisted. With some effort, the glass fell into two pieces with a perfect seam. She held the glass up to the light and saw that the inside of the box was a work of art in itself. The interior was inscribed with flowers and pomegranates, filigreed words from an ancient Syrian poem.
Cheng handed her a necklace made of wrought gold and rubies. “This was inside the box.”
“He sent treasures stored in treasures.” They were so beautiful her heart hurt. “Take pictures and send them to Ben. He has to see this. Also, everything in glass must go to my father. This was the true gift. Everything else was simply filling the boat.”
