Excerpt 5 from the Exclusive Episode of Lazare Donatien’s Adventures

Discover below the promised excerpt from the exclusive episode of Lazare Donatien’s adventures:

Lazare’s Gift

Chapter 5

I returned to the Passage, my late cousin’s shop, the following morning, after a rather sleepless night, I must confess.

Yet, if I had read the man rightly, it was a safe bet that Mr. Roussel would appear at first light. I could hardly afford to be late today.

Sure enough, no sooner had I raised the metal shutter of my establishment than the less-than-charming fellow materialized. I stifled the sigh rising to my lips.

Was it too much to ask to be wrong for once?

Opting for the adage “make the best of a bad bargain,” I retrieved the casket he’d entrusted to me the previous day from its tattered cardboard box and set it on the counter.

— Have you managed to do anything with the lock? my client demanded bluntly, once again dispensing with common courtesies.

If this gentleman wished to persist in playing the boor, I had, in turn, the means to make him see he’d picked the wrong target.

— The casket is as good as new. See for yourself, I replied curtly, my gaze stern.

Momentarily thrown by my response, the man quickly recovered and worked the lock, lifting the lid with an ease that seemed to unsettle him. I’d noticed numerous scratches on the small lock, leaving no doubt that he’d tried to force it open repeatedly.

Of course, the moment Zephirii Zephiro decided to emerge, the lock had freed itself as if by magic. I doubt, however, that sharing this tidbit would have pleased the good Sieur Roussel. I took discreet pleasure—professionalism obliged—in watching his crestfallen face before he silently closed the casket. No treasure awaited within; a bitter disappointment, no doubt.

— You buy antiques, I presume? he asked, struggling to mask his chagrin.

— Indeed, I shot back promptly.

— You’ve had ample time to examine this piece and must have determined its value by now, haven’t you? What price would you offer for this antiquity?

He seemed eager to be rid of his find, and given he’d shown no qualms about damaging such fine craftsmanship, I felt no urge to be more generous than necessary.

— Well, for a walnut-and-copper piece from the Louis XIII era like this one, I’d be willing to offer eleven thousand five hundred francs. The man paused to consider.

— Twelve thousand francs, and it’s yours. I shook my head.

— Eleven thousand seven hundred francs, and that’s my final offer, Mr. Roussel.

— Done, he concluded without further hesitation. Can we finalize this transaction now?

I pulled a form from one of the drawers of the venerable Chinese apothecary cabinet behind me and placed it on the counter.

Thankfully, I’d started by exploring its contents while tidying the shop. Who would have thought I’d need to close a deal so swiftly? Once I’d filled out my section, I had the seller complete the remaining lines, paid him the agreed sum, and let him depart as he’d arrived.

— You are once again the master of your treasure, I declared to the empty air, as the silhouette of the wandering spirit, who hadn’t left my side since yesterday, promptly materialized before me.

— I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Lazare.

— Let’s chalk it up to the luck of crossing paths with a wandering spirit at least once in my life, I replied with a shrug.

— Are we truly so rare?

— Oh, indeed, I laughed, so much so that, despite my gift and the countless specters I’ve encountered, I’d never met one before.

— Have you traveled much?

— Ah… I’ve roamed the world. Most of it with my parents… the rest alone.

— Did your parents settle in another land?

— …They died, caught in the crossfire during the Jammu and Kashmir uprising in 1989.

— I’m deeply sorry. My sincere condolences for your loss, sir.

— It’s been nearly ten years now, but… thank you, my friend. Painful memories aside, now that you’ve reclaimed your treasure, shouldn’t we turn to the next step of our quest, what say you?

My thoughts turned to the Manoir’s library, where countless answers lay in wait, as the thrill of a riddle-hunter crept down my spine.