Chapter 25

Perfect. Henri could see they planned on transporting the snow down the mountainside. He wondered how the Italians had perfected the transport of ingredients as precious as snow.

Henri took a deep breath, hoping for a clarifying breath, but the adverse was inhaled. Dizzy, his leg dropped loose in the snow, but his fingers held tight. Breathless, he tried to sound bored. Each of his next words had to be planted with care. He couldn’t seem too interested in the Italian’s haul. Feigning anything other than passing curiosity would raise suspicion. Henri had come too far, to the very steps of heaven, for this.

“Cosimo, are you a merchant of snow?”