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“If I’m to provide cover for this ridiculous operation you two are running,” I said, “and, furthermore, if my life and my cats are to be endangered by the quarrels of magicians, I deserve compensation.”

“You—” Yannick looked at Havelock, seeming lost. Havelock eyed me warily, waiting.

“We’d only have to enchant two or three cats,” I said, clasping my hands together in front of myself, as I often did when excited. “Just enough to add fuel to the rumours and get people through our doors. After that, the demand will drive itself.”

“And when they realize most of your cats aren’t actually magic?” Havelock said.

I waved a hand. “Some will convince themselves otherwise. For most, it won’t matter in the end; it’s near impossible to own a cat without falling in love with it. Don’t you see? If we can get the people in this city used to taking care of cats, to seeing them as companions more than beasts, we could put an end to the street cat population. That means an end to cats freezing to death in winter, to suffering injury and illness alone and uncared for. To say nothing of the benefits they offer their owners!” I made myself stop, as I could feel myself beginning to tremble with excitement.

“That’s a lot of sentimentality to bear in one go,” Havelock said. “All right, Mme. Pangloss, you have devised a plot to foist your moggies onto more unsuspecting citizens, but why should I help you? It’s my magic you’re proposing to use in your experiment, and you understand by now where it comes from.”

His tone didn’t change in any perceptible way, but again I caught a glimpse of the flickering shadow that at times seemed to overlay him. A sliver of cold pierced my determination, but I forged on nevertheless.

“Because I’ve already offered to help you find Vortigern’s book,” I said. “Trust me when I say that my organizational skills are more than competent. I’ve spent the last five years as the executive director of an exceptionally demanding charity. I’ll make short work of that mess down in the basement.” This was perhaps overstating my confidence in dealing with Havelock’s shop, but I doubted anyone could make a better attempt than I.

“If memory serves, you offered to ransack my workshop, steal Vortigern’s book, and give it to my sister.” He paused to rub the sides of his nose, then added, sounding congested, “Can you not remove that creature?”

“Here, Banshee,” I said, kneeling and putting my hand out. She trotted obediently to my side, and I picked her up.

Yannick’s gaze had been shifting from Havelock to me and back again, growing ever more astonished. “Then you do have Vortigern’s Artefact? Why on earth did you keep telling me there was no way?”

“There isn’t,” Havelock said at the same moment I exclaimed, “Yannick believes you have it too?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Yannick said. “Only Havelock keeps such poor records that I’ve always thought it was possible. He refuses to organize anything. You’d think he’s been hoping Valérie would simply go away.”

“I didn’t—” Havelock began, then stopped. When he continued, I had the sense that he’d shuttered some part of himself. “I didn’t think Valérie would go this far.”

“It wouldn’t take much magic to enchant a cat,” Yannick said, considering the problem thoughtfully. “Assuming you’re thinking about a simple charm. Living things can be used as Artefacts, but they rarely are, because they can’t hold much magic—no more than two-layer spells—and the magic leaches out within a few days. What were you thinking?”

“I can’t believe you’re entertaining this,” Havelock said.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But apparently one of our clients is convinced his new cat cured his insomnia.”

“A simple sleep charm would certainly be doable,” Yannick said, nodding. “Or perhaps a charm for stress relief, or equanimity? Better for it to be something vague and based in subjective experience. The spell would have to be activated before the cat left the shop, and again, it would only be a temporary effect.”

“I’m afraid I’m failing to understand the advantages of either end of this silly bargain,” Havelock said.

“The advantage is that Valérie will leave you alone if we can find and destroy that Artefact,” Yannick said. “She will leave you and this city in peace. Which is what you want, surely.”

I didn’t understand the question in his voice, nor the sharp look Havelock gave him. There was a storm of emotion in his gaze, too much for me to parse.

“Were you responsible for the apocalypse?” Élise said.

Havelock looked at her. He’d shuttered himself again, but imperfectly; his face was still flushed. The irritation Élise had roused, though, was easy to read. Yannick was permitted to scold him, and for some reason, so was I. Élise was not.

“Yes,” he said. Clearly he thought that would be enough, that Élise would be cowed or taken aback, as any sensible person would.

Havelock, though, didn’t know Élise. Her expression didn’t change as she said, “Prove it.”

“What are you doing?” I muttered to her. She didn’t look at me.

“Prove it,” Havelock repeated. He didn’t look awkward anymore. He looked, I realized, like the creature of shadow and flame in all but physicality, as if his human appearance was a thin guise overlaying something else, and again I remembered what he had said about how magicians brought the Rivenwood back with them. It didn’t seem like Havelock looking out from his eyes, but that other presence I had glimpsed before.

“What a thought,” Yannick said with a forced sort of laugh. “I think one apocalypse was enough.”

“Why?” Havelock said.

Élise gave a slight shrug. “I want to know how trustworthy you are.”