Page 14

My face broke into a smile.

“Well,” I said, standing, “how the tables have turned. Time for me to beyourmentor.”

I turned down the lights and opened the shutters. Streetlamps shone along the quay, their lilac glow rippling on the Seine.

“First, you need to learn to see the underworld,” I told him. Arcturus came to stand beside me. “Think of it as a chain. You look for the people at one end, and they’ll lead you all the way up to the other.” I nodded to the street. “Tell me what you see.”

“Denizens.”

“Look harder. Look for outliers.” I pointed out a boy in a peaked cap. “What’s he doing?”

“Waiting for a guardian, perhaps.” When the child blended into the crowd, Arcturus narrowed his eyes. “No. A thief.”

“Good. His mark is the dark-haired woman in the pencil skirt, third in line at the coffee stand.” I watched her. “Not paying attention to her handbag.”

The bag was dusty pink silk, tempting as a cake in a window. The pickpocket snuck up to the owner, who was deep in conversation with the man beside her. With a deft cut, the boy liberated the bag from its strap and melted back into the crowd, leaving his mark none the wiser.

“There.” I had to grin at his nerve. “He’ll be taking that to the kidsman in charge of his gang. Follow him, and we’d get to the next link in the chain and bribe our way up.” I closed the shutters and sat on the sill. “That’s one way.”

“And the other?”

“We go straight to the top. That might be our only option, since neither of us has two pennies to rub together for bribes.”

“Do we not?”

“You’ve got a big pile of money lying around somewhere, have you?”

Arcturus rose and disappeared into his room. When he returned, he placed a brick-sized wad of banknotes on the table.

“You . . . do indeed have a big pile of money lying around somewhere,” I observed.

“The Ranthen would never have sent me abroad without my fair share of our assets.”

Slowly, I leafed through the crisp notes. “Arcturus,” I breathed. “What is this, ten grand?”

“Twelve. It is yours to use as you think best.”

“You’re giving me twelvethousandpounds. Just like that.” I looked between him and the notes. “Have I ever mentioned how deeply I treasure our friendship?”

“Hm. Call it another birthday gift.” He sat. “Perhaps we should begin our search in the Court of Miracles.”

I knew of it. Jaxon had spoken often and fondly of the slums where the outcasts of Paris met.

“All right.” I laid the money down with appropriate reverence. “Where?”

“The largest of the slum districts is north of the river. Or was,” he said, “when I last visited Paris.”

“And we can just walk in.” I was skeptical. “There’s no watchword, no need for someone to vouch for us?”

“I have never tried to enter it myself.”

“Right.” I tapped my fingers on the table. “How long to get there on foot?”

“Perhaps half an hour.”

“All right. We’ll go in the morning, to avoid the night Vigiles. And we’ll be careful,” I added. “I promise.”

“I still do not like this idea, Paige. I wish to make that known.”