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“A group of magicians who came in on one of the earlier trains decided to have a bit of fun when they arrived,” he said, shaking his head. “One transformed the locomotive into a team of winged horses, which levitated the cars as they pulled into the station. Another animated the benches in the station and had them lurch about, knocking people over, and made the turnstiles into hideous mouths that bit you as you went through. As you can imagine, this created some hysteria among their fellow travellers. Several people were trampled as they fled, and the northbound line had to be shut down. It sounds like the work of Valérie’s followers.”

“Her followers?” Élise repeated.

Yannick winced. “Yes—Valérie has more than a hundred of them. She calls them her apprentices, but really they’re just glorified hangers-on. Wherever Valérie goes, they follow, and most have as little respect for the law, or really common decency, as Valérie herself. They live like the aristocrats of old, for pleasure and their own amusement, doing just as they please. Did you hear about the scene in Pamplona last year? Those bulls turned into minotaurs? Those were her magicians at work.”

“Wonderful,” I murmured. My pounding headache had returned. “Just wonderful! And now they’re here. Because of Havelock.”

“He isn’t—” Yannick began, but as if there were some enchantment in the name itself, there came another colossal squelch, nearly identical to the one last night.

“Câlisse!” Élise swore, covering her ears. Yannick started backwards and slipped on a patch of ice.

“Why does magic have to be so loud?” I exclaimed. “We’ll have the police at our door again.”

“I doubt it,” Yannick said, picking himself up. “It seemed as if all the officers in the city had been called to the train station. I’m not sure they have the time to investigate noise complaints at the moment.”

Hand trembling slightly, I pulled the door open again. And there was the shelter, returned to its rightful place, flagstones and lofty ceilings and ridiculous oven and all.

The shelter, and everyone in it. The cats were yowling in outrage, and an elderly woman stood gawping by the counter. I recognized her as Thérèse, one of our regular donors and occasional volunteers, who seemed frozen in place, a blank look upon her face. I saw no sign of Mina, which meant she must have stepped out for her break.

“Oh no,” I murmured, but Élise surprised me by springing immediately into action.

“Damn construction noise!” she said, taking Thérèse by the arm and gently shepherding her towards the door. “They’re repairing the sewers on this street, I heard. Lovely to see you, Thérèse, but we need to close early today—it’s a lot of work, opening a new location!”

On and on she chattered, until she and Thérèse reached the door. The woman spoke not one word, only stared at Élise in dull shock, then at the altered streetscape without. Bidding her a warm goodbye, Élise shut the door behind her and turned the lock.

“Well done,” I said, unsure if I wanted to laugh or cry. Never have I been so grateful for Élise’s gift of deception. “But you’ve overlooked one minor detail.”

“I’m aware of that.” Élise leaned against the door. Her eyes had a glazed look, but otherwise she appeared ominously calm. “If you can come up with a reasonable explanation for the shelter relocating itself to the other side of the city, and then moving back again, have at it. At least she’s gone.”

Yannick was paying us no attention. He’d gone to the rear of the shop, calling Havelock’s name.

“He’s not here,” he said unhappily. “He must have returned to the Rivenwood after he put the shop back—or perhaps he’s at the other shop.”

He made as if to depart, but Élise stepped deftly into his path. “Oh, no you don’t. We’ve not had anywhere near enough answers from you.”

“Why would Havelock be at the other shelter?” I demanded. “Isn’t it a void now, like this place was?”

“Hein?” He gave me a puzzled look that I found more than a little absurd. “Of course not. He only moved this shop, not the one in Rue Sainte-Sophie. So, naturally, the Rue Sainte-Sophie shop has now assumed its former appearance.”

“Naturally,” I said; Yannick seemed not to notice the sarcasm.

“You should stay here,” he said. “Valérie can’t get in if Havelock has fixed the wards, but that won’t stop her from accosting you in the street if she thinks you mean something to Havelock.”

“I mean nothing to him,” I said with certainty. “And Havelock claims he doesn’t have the book she wants.”

“Yes, and she clearly doesn’t believe him,” Élise said. “Surely she’ll just keep attacking the shelter, if she’s that desperate to get her hands on this time-travel enchantment. So how do we get rid of her?”

“I don’t know,” Yannick said. He looked pale and more than a little lost. “Valérie wants power. Magicians have no government, no ruling bodies, mostly because there aren’t enough of us. Not that there haven’t been magicians who have tried to set themselves up as emperor or queen or what have you, and force the rest of us to worship them. But they’ve all failed eventually.”

“So that’s it?” I said. “She wants to set herself up as a queen?”

“I don’t know if she’s ever said so explicitly,” he said. “Valérie likes to talk about rights. About freedom. She believes it’s wrong that magicians should have to conceal their powers, as we’ve always done—to ‘make ourselves small,’ as she says, to fit into the world. We were born with the ability to gather magic, and thus we should be free to use it as we will.”

“It’s clever rhetoric,” Élise said thoughtfully. “Yet if I recall correctly, those minotaurs killed ten people.”

“Yes,” Yannick said, looking away. “I really must find Havelock. Now that Valérie has tracked him down, we must come up with—”

“You do that,” I said. “I’m going down to the basement.”