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shelf and produced two large plates that were hollow and fit together perfectly. To illustrate, he fit them around the clay vase. It was an exact, inverted copy.
    “So you use those to make the metal copy?” Pietro asked.
    “No, but we’re close.” The smith handed Pietro one of the plates, me the other. I thought it interesting how rough the exterior of the plate was so rough and crude while the inside was smooth and burnished. The light hit the surface and I realized that there was an oily film on the interior.
    “What is this substance?”
    “A mixture of oil and a few other ingredients. Those plates are coated to prevent sticking when wax is poured inside. When the wax cools it is removed from the plates, then polished and detailed until it is exactly as the final copy should be.”
    Pietro looked up. “Where is this wax copy?”
    Bartolomeo laughed. “It is no more. For that copy is then encased in many layers of reinforced ceramic, which is then allowed to harden and is then heated. The wax then drains out, leaving a hollow shell where once there was a vase.”
    “And the ceramic shell?”
    “Right this way.” He led us back to the furnace, where next to it sat a large ceramic object that resembled a cocoon with a hole at the top. It was held firmly in place with wooden braces. “Here is the result, the final mold of our vase. Now I’ll show you what happens next.”
    Bartolomeo called to his apprentice, who appeared obediently. The room was plunged in heat as they opened the door to the furnace and carefully removed a large ceramic cup with a pair of sturdy iron tongs. Inside the cup was thick, blazing liquid that bubbled and glowed.
    “Is that silver?”
    “Indeed, Mercurio.” The smith and his apprentice brought the cup over the mold. Delicately they tipped it so that the molten silver trickled into the hole. I stared as the fluid glowed inside the vessel, a reddish light illuminating the recess. When this was finished, Bartolomeo brought the cup back to the hearth and hung the tongs on a nearby rack.
    “How long will that take to cool?” I asked.
    “Not long at all. But there is still much to be done afterwards. Once cooled the mold is broken and the piece is detailed, and smaller pieces that are cast separately may be added. Engravings and other decorations will be added.” He pointed out a number of chisels, files, saws and drills that would be used for the finer details. The range of tools for this purpose was impressive.
    “Then it will be treated and polished until it shines, and finally it will be ready for the buyer to pick it up.”
    “Very fascinating, signore,” I said, marveling at the complexity of the process. “So your specialties include silver and gold as well. What other metals do you work with?”
    “Ah, very good question. You see, just because I’m a goldsmith doesn’t mean I only work with precious metals. I work with bronze, pewter, iron and many other metals and alloys. It really depends on the piece.” The familiar note of pride carried in his voice once more.
    “And what other types of objects do you make here?”
    “Come, I’ll show you.” He brought us into the front of his store, where a number of different types of wares were on display. “I make all kinds of personal objects. You see that I have cups, bowls, salt cellars, utensils of many varieties. I also do small sculpture and medals, and even the occasional large piece. Sadly, many of these things I’m not allowed to sell within the commune due to our dastardly sumptuary laws. You wouldn’t happen to be looking for something in particular, would you? I have a very large selection of rings for a special lady.” His eye glinted, an eager smile flashing across his face.
    I shook my head. “No, just curious is all. You have a fine workshop, Signore Neri. Thank you for the tour and for your time, I’ll leave you to your business.”
    Bartolomeo removed his glove and shook my hand. “Thank you for