The table was covered with bottles; simple ones of clear glass, intricately cut coloured specimens, tall ceramic vase-like vessels and those that had been patiently and ornately painted. Each one contained an ointment or perfume of some kind or another, for their owner was an avid collector of strange scents. Her eye was drawn to a little round white ball of a bottle, daintily drawn with bells and bows, its gold top sending out a warm and persistent burnished glow. She picked it up gingerly, unscrewing the top to unleash a wind of myrrh and benzoin. The resin percolated the air and her nose twitched with delight.
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