She actually followed him in. Jacopo wasn't sure if he was surprised, relieved, pleased, or disappointed by that. He flung himself in his chair and glared out of the window, as though making sure that nobody else was trespassing on his property. The woman sat in the chair opposite and spread the papers she was holding across the coffee table, before turning to wrestle some more out of the otter's mouth. How the hell she put up with that annoying furry devil, Jacopo had no idea. She seemed altogether too sensible for such a stupid, ridiculous familiar.
His scowl deepened when she asked about his name. Since he'd lost his job with the Divine Scribes several years ago, Jacopo had been used to being called by his surname, Agani. Using his full name on an undercover mission wasn't sensible, just in case someone decided to look him up in Khasekhemwy's records, but changing his name wasn't sensible either. The best lies were the most believable ones, and the most believable things, usually, were the truth. His file had indicated that Shaman had not yet developed a surname culture and suggested he only go by one name, which meant that he had to pick between the more commonly used Agani or his real Christian name, Jacopo. Agani was the obvious option. Only friends used his first name, and he had none of those anymore.
“Jacopo,” he grunted after a minute, surprising himself. He pronounced the J as if it were a Y. “I can read anything you care to put in front of me, as long as it's in Italian, English, Spanish, French, Arabic, or the ancient language.”
First rule undercover missions: never reveal too much about yourself. He wasn't sure what made him say it – something about those pale green eyes, dancing with amusement, made the part of his brain which connected with his mouth stop functioning properly. Jacopo mentally kicked himself. Now she'd probably be wondering how he'd become fluent in so many languages, or worse – ask him. He tried to cover the mistake by holding out his hand to take the paper she was struggling with, hoping that her curiosity about the text exceeded her curiosity about him.
On the upside, what a brilliant opportunity to examine official documents, free of suspicion. Hopefully there'd be something good on one of these. Partly to change the topic, and partly for his own gain, he asked, “you work in the castle?” With his permanently grumpy manner, it sounded more like an aggressive statement than a question. |
