“That wasn’t what you hired me for.”
“What do you want here, Taylor? On the grounds that the sooner you’re out of my sight, the better.”
“What can you tell me about the rosewood box, called by some Heart’s Ease?”
She couldn’t resist telling me. She does so love to show off what she knows, and no one knows more about hearts than the Queen of Hearts.
“The box is centuries old, supposedly first put together in pre-Revolutionary France, designed to contain the suffering of a brokenhearted lover. He put it all in the box, so he could be free of it. Hence the name, Heart’s Ease. How very French. Though there are other stories . . . that what the box contains has become something else, down the centuries. Something . . . darker.
Hungrier. Making the box the perfect container for all kinds of magical and significant hearts. Which is why the box has had so many other names. Heartbreaker, the Hungry Heart, the Dark Heart; you pays your money, and you believes what you chooses. Far as I know, no one’s dared open the box for years. Any collector with two working brain cells to bang together stays well clear of it.
“Now: Buy something, or get lost.”
I nodded politely and moved away from her stall as quickly as possible without actually running. I’d gotten everything I needed from Betty, but I was still going to need a little specialized help if I was to find Gideon Brooks, his traveling house, and the rosewood box. So I concentrated and raised my special gift. My inner eye slowly opened, my third eye, my private eye; and I looked round the Market Hall with my raised Sight, searching for what I needed. A key that would unlock a traveling dimensional door. Something blazed up brightly, not too far away, glowing white-hot with mystical significance. I strode quickly down the aisles and finally stopped before a stall that offered nothing but keys, in all shapes and sizes. Skeleton keys to unlock any door, blessed silver keys to reveal hidden secrets, solid iron keys to undo chastity spells. Keys are very old symbols and can undo any number of symbolic magics.
One key stood out among all the ranks and rows of hanging keys, shining very brightly for my inner eye only. A simple brass key, marked with prehuman glyphs. I’d seen its kind before, in certain very restricted books. This was a summoning key, which could not only open any door, but actually bring the door to you. Just what I needed. Unfortunately, the key didn’t have a price tag on it. And in a place like this, that could only mean that if you had to ask the price, you couldn’t afford it. So, I used my gift to find the one moment when the stall-holder’s attention was somewhere else, and I just reached out, took the key, and walked away.
I could always give it back later, when I was finished with it. When I found the time. The stall-holder really should have invested in some half-decent security spells.
I WAS HEADING CASUALLY FOR THE NEAREST EXIT, THE KEY TUCKED SAFELY away in an inside pocket, when Holly Wylde appeared suddenly out of the crowd to block my way. She smiled at me winningly.
“I had a feeling you’d be here. And so you are! Aren’t you glad to see me again?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I do prefer my clients to tell me the truth, whenever possible.”
“I didn’t exactly lie,” she said, pouting. “All right, yes, there’s a lot about the rosewood box I didn’t tell you, but I was pretty sure you’d find that out on your own, once you started looking. I didn’t want to scare you off, after all; and I do so want my heart back! I just don’t know what I’ll do without it.”
I sighed. It was hard to stay mad at her. Though probably worth the effort.
“Why would Gideon Brooks put your heart in such a precious and important box?”
“Because it was the only thing he had that he knew I couldn’t get into,” she said artlessly.
“And all you want is your heart back?” I said. “You don’t care about the priceless and important box?”
“Well,” she said, “if it should happen to fall into our hands, that would be a nice bonus. Wouldn’t it?”
“You’re batting your eyelashes at me again,” I said. “Stop it.”
“Sorry. Force of habit.”
“Other people are looking for the box,” I said, shifting onto what I hoped was safer ground. I told her about Sweetman and Gunboy, and she stamped her little foot and said a few baby swear words.
“The fat man and his toy boy; I knew they were sniffing around, but I didn’t know they were this close. We have to get to Gideon before they do! All they care about is that box. They wouldn’t care about my poor little heart.”
“Sweetman seemed very sure the box holds some famous or important heart,” I said.
“Might do. Who knows?” said Holly, shrugging easily. “Who knows how many hearts have ended up inside that box, down the years? I only care about mine. What are you doing here, anyway? Such a tacky place, all full of tat and kitsch. I can feel my street cred slipping away just for being here.”
“I have acquired a useful little toy that will bring Gideon’s door right to us,” I said.
She squeaked excitedly and did a happy dance right in front of me. “Yes! Yes! I knew you wouldn’t let me down!”
“I tell my clients everything,” I said pointedly. “Are you sure there isn’t something more you should be telling me?”
“I don’t think so,” said Holly Wylde, her wide eyes full of an entirely unconvincing innocence.
WE LEFT THE MARKET HALL TOGETHER, AND I FOUND A REASONABLY CALM and quiet place to raise my gift again. I sent my Sight shooting up out of my head into the night sky, speckled with more stars than the outside world ever dreams of, and then looked down at the Nightside streets turning slowly beneath me. All around I could See the subtle flashes and occasional flareups of magical workings, and the more openly dramatic radiations and detonations of mad scientists at play. Giant wispy forms marched up and down the streets, passing through buildings as though they weren’t even there; just the ancient Awful Folk, going about their unknowable business. All kinds of traffic thundered through the streets, carrying all kinds of goods and people, and never ever stopping. And some buildings just disappeared from view, coming and going, replaced by other buildings following their own inscrutable journeys.