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depot to Akiva’s small house, into which she followed him as he carried her baggage from the car. She laughed, dismayed, as she scanned the cluttered living room in which they stood. “I thought gay men were neat and tidy by instinct. Good lord, Akiva, this place is chaotic! And what on earth is that?”
    Akiva followed the direction of his guest’s stare. “Ah.” He walked to the statue and knelt to the altar he had built before it. She watched as two squat black candles were lit, and then the poet ignited a stick of incense. He did not rise as he spoke to Sarah. “Do you know the work of Bernard Buffet? He was a French painter linked to Expressionism, and illustrated editions of Cocteau’s La Voix Humaine and Lautréamont’s Les Chants de Maldoror. There’s a rather wonderful print he did of Dante, and when I first saw this statue I thought perhaps it was an effigy of the poet in the Buffet tradition, mistaking the spikes atop the dome for an exaggerated laurel wreath. Since then I’ve discovered a rumored legend of a dark god of chaos, who is said to wear a triple crown. Little is known of this supernatural being, although its myths are multitudinous, and its aspects are so varied that it has been said to be a kind of shape-shifter. Artists have often depicted it as a haughty Pharaoh of elder Egypt.”
    Slowly, he rose to his feet and turned to smile at Sarah. “And you now think this is a representation of that deity?”
    Lightly, the poet laughed. “I call it the Nameless Eikon. I burn incense and speak poetry in its honor. But I do not know his name.”
    “‘His’? The attire, as it has been sculpted, seems genderless.”
    “Men in ancient Egypt sometimes wore long clothing far more elaborate than what women wore. I usually address him as male because the chap I purchased him from did so as well, and he seemed to be an authority on the figure. Well, he hinted of the myths that whisper the legend of the thing. And isn’t there something about statues that have their palms facing forward, as this one does? I think I read that somewhere. That strikes me as a compelling gesture, for some reason—as if the thing is waiting for us to kneel before it and kiss the hand that is held aloft. I found it in a local antique shop and purchased it for a goodly sum. It gives the room such a splendid atmosphere, I find.”
    “I hope you’re not being reckless with your inheritance.”
    “No—no; not that two million is a lot these days. And since finding this hidden spot, my wants are inexpensive. I spend most of my fortune on rare first editions. I do a lot of traveling to bookshops around the country. It’s an extremely pleasant existence.”
    She began to move about the room, walking to a tall oak bookcase that did indeed seem crammed with rare old books. “I’d get lonely for the city.”
    “You wouldn’t if you lived here. It’s a fascinating little town. I’m so glad you accepted my invitation.” He walked to where he had set down her luggage and picked up her bags again. “Come on, I’ll show you your room. I almost never sleep in there. I’ve turned the smaller bedroom into a kind of office and library area, and I spend so much of my time there that I’ve installed a little cot.”
    Sarah followed Akiva into a spacious bedroom. She admired the beautiful antique furniture that gave the lie to his statement about spending his fortune mostly on rare books. “This is delightful, it has a fine feminine air about it. You have a woman’s way, my dear.” He grimaced at her, although she ascertained that he was, in part, pleased with her praise. Walking to the window, she gazed out of it and frowned. “The fog has yet to lift.”
    “Have you any appetite? Come on, let’s have a bit of food and wine, and then you can bathe and retire. You look travel-worn.”
    “I can eat a small portion, and a glass of wine would be lovely. I’ll bathe in the morning. That bed looks so damn comfortable that I want