The daughter of the Old Palace’s housekeeper? Well, that was interesting, if it was true. “I thank you for your time,” said Ariosto. He stood up.
“Well, where’s my pay?”
“If it turns out that your information is useful, you will be paid.”
In his indignation, Ranciere temporarily forgot that he was talking to an assassin. “No, hang on. I know your type. Winkle out valuable information and then go cheapskate. I was all upfront, told you what I know. I should be paid.”
“If what you have told me is useful, you will be paid,” Ariosto repeated coldly. “If it turns out that you have wasted my time, there will be another kind of payment.”
The implied threat penetrated even the alcoholic fog of Ranciere’s brain. He smiled obsequiously, bobbing his bald head up and down in a parody of a bow. “Of course, Your Honor,” he said. “Of course.”
Ariosto didn’t deign to answer. He stared at Ranciere until the man shuffled out of his office, and then clapped his hands. A subordinate appeared instantly, as if he had materialized out of the murky air. Ariosto gave him Pip’s address, and told him to search the apartment and to keep a watch.
“And also check the Crosseyes,” he said. “Find out if a certain young person called Oni is there. If our information is correct, she lives in the Cresy building in Ink Street. Find her, arrest her, and search her domicile.”
“ALL OF YOU, TURNING UP AT THE SAME TIME . . .” Amina said. “You came to me tonight, as if you were called. That means something. Everything is connected.”
“You’re wise, Ma,” said Oni, in a low voice. “That’s why people come to you.”
“Maybe. I have to be wise now. But it’s hard to be wise when you’re looking in corners and at shadows and the right thing isn’t clear. And I have to be wise for me and for you. If Georgie disappeared while she was visiting me, do you think the palace wouldn’t think that I did it? Do you think that the king wouldn’t have me thrown into his torture dungeons? And he wouldn’t stop at me. They’d arrest you too, Oni.”
Georgette flushed and bit her lip. She hadn’t thought about that, although she knew how vengeful her father could be. He was known for punishing whole families. Once he had ordered an entire village to be burned down. It had been unfair to ask Amina to help her. But there was no one else . . .
“And then there’s you two”— Amina looked at Pip and El —“running from assassins, which means that the cardinal himself wants what you have.”
“Lamir?” Georgette looked at Pip and El with surprise. “Why would the cardinal be after them?”
Pip bridled. “Just because we don’t have fancy clothes with fancy lace, it doesn’t mean we’re unimportant,” he said. “I suppose you think —”
“Pip, stop it,” said Oni. “The last thing we need is to squabble.”
“But she said —”
“I know what she said. She can’t help being a princess, any more than you can help being a pea-brain.”
“I was only saying,” muttered Pip.
“Cardinal Lamir despises people like me with a mortal hatred,” said Amina. “And that makes helping Georgie dangerous.”
There was a short silence, and then El, who had been gnawing her fingernails, looked up shyly. “People like you?” she repeated. “Does that mean you’re a witch, Amina?”
“I craft magic, yes. I have the knowledge, yes. Witch is not my word. And I was taught different things from the witches in Clarel.”
“So what should we do?” El’s voice was pitched high and breathless. “I thought maybe you could take that . . . horrible thing and make it go away.”
“I can’t do that. It’s something that can’t be undone.”
“But what is it?” said Pip. “I found it, and maybe some assassin is going to slit my throat because of it, like poor old Ollie, and I’d kind of like to know why.”
“If any of you will be quiet long enough for me speak, I’ll tell you.” Amina paused, a shadow of sadness crossing her face. “El is right: it is a terrible thing. You call it the Heart, Pip, and you’re right; it is a heart. Maybe you guessed, maybe it told you so itself. The heart of a little boy. A boy who died in such mortal terror that his soul has never found rest, beneath this green earth or above it.”
El shuddered. “I knew it. I knew it was an evil thing.”
“No child is evil,” said Amina. “But evil was done to him.” She paused, frowning. “There are many tales about this Heart. A lot of people think it’s just a story. I never did, because my grandmother told me how it was made, and what for, and she knew the person who made it. But we all thought it had been lost.”
“So it really is magic?” said Pip. “I was sure it was. The nobles called it a treasure. I thought maybe it was a spell for making money.”
Amina laughed out loud at that. “If only it was that simple! But yes, I suppose you could call it a spell. Or maybe a spell-breaker. It was made many years ago, when things in Clarel started turning from bad to worse. But the woman who made it never had the chance to use it.”
Georgette was frowning. “I don’t understand. What’s this Heart, whatever it is, got to do with me?”
“Not everything is about you, Georgie,” said Oni.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Georgette said, flushing again. “It’s just that Amina said before that everything is connected. And I don’t see how . . .”
“Patience, Georgie,” said Amina. She looked at Pip. “Show her the Heart, Pip.”
Once again, Pip took out the Heart. For some reason he felt less reluctant this time. Maybe it was the candles, which seemed to hold
