We turned a corner and nearly walked into Lord Kalen, who was standing by the entrance to the Snow Pyre. He didn’t look happy to see us. “What are you doing here?”
“Ah—” I had been hoping to sneak in undetected. “We heard—we heard that the Heartforger was staying here.”
“You can’t see him.”
“And why not?”
“He’s busy. Kance is with him.”
I started. The prince is here too?
“You may speak for your cousin,” Fox pointed out calmly, “but I don’t think you speak for the Forger. We’re perfectly willing to wait until their meeting ends if need be.”
“And I’m perfectly willing to bet that you are once again sneaking out of your asha-ka without permission. Should I alert Mistress Parmina to your whereabouts?”
“Good luck.” I managed to say this cheerfully, hiding my worry that he would make good on his threat. “She’s fast asleep at the Valerian. Once her eyes close, a parade marching through her room can’t wake her.”
“Kalen? Is everything all right?” The door to one of the rooms slid open, and Prince Kance peered out. “Lady Tea?”
It was one thing to stand up to Kalen, but it was another thing to have to explain myself to the prince. I faltered again. “Your Majesty, I was—”
“Lady Tea?” I heard someone call out from inside the room. “Is it that Dark asha I keep hearing about? Send her in!”
Kalen scowled but obeyed. Without another word, he ushered us into the room where Prince Kance was. Two others were with him, garbed in black cloaks that hid their faces, and I felt Fox tense up.
Prince Kance smiled at me. “I’m glad we have the opportunity to meet again, Lady Tea. Good evening, Sir Fox.”
“I am s-so sorry,” I stammered. “The last time we met—I was—”
“No apologies are necessary. Lady Mykaela explained everything to me. I’m glad to see you have fully recovered. This is the Heartforger, Lady Tea. We’ve just been talking about you as a matter of fact.”
The shorter of the two robed men took off his hood. He was easily the oldest man I had ever seen, even older than Mistress Parmina. He had a face like a shriveled monkey that had been shorn of all hair, and he did not appear to have any eyebrows at all. He took off the rest of his cloak, and his heartsglass caught my eye. It swung free, a bright, shiny silver.
“Well,” he said, “His Highness here is an old friend, and with his help, I was able to get inside the Willows without the customary fanfare they like to play to announce my presence. Seems you don’t like playing by the rules either, little girl. I was going to send for you anyway, but no time like the present, eh? You’re scrawnier than I thought you would be.”
I gaped at him and then at his companion, who was also removing his cloak. He was a younger boy my age, with sleepy, gray eyes, nearly colorless hair as to appear white, and a silver-colored heartsglass similar to the Forger. He lifted a hand up to smooth his hair back and accidentally knocked off his spectacles. “Sorry,” he apologized to the table. I couldn’t shake off the suspicion that I’d seen him somewhere before.
“They said you despise royalty,” Fox said.
“Not all of them, no. But I hope they believe it. I started the rumors myself.”
“But why?”
The Heartforger coughed and spent several minutes clearing his throat. Kalen looked away, and even Prince Kance looked a little nervous, his heartsglass flicking from red to cornflower blue. Only the Forger’s assistant remained serene, sipping at his tea.
“Circumstances permit me to be more favorable toward the Odalian royal house,” the Heartforger finally said. “They are my patrons of a sort.”
“You were going to send for me?” I managed.
“I make it a point to meet every Dark asha they find. I don’t know how much Lady Mykaela has told you about us, but we share what you might call a mutually beneficial relationship.” He peered up at Fox. “Not every day I get to see a familiar either. Few Dark asha keep them—need strength to have ’em. You don’t feel lightheaded, Tea?”
“I feel fine,” I said.
The younger boy looked interested, hopping up to circle Fox, studying him carefully. Fox bore the scrutiny with quiet good humor.
“She told me that you despised asha too,” I continued.
“We can despise someone and still maintain a mutually beneficial relationship. Mutual beneficence, you see, usually trumps everything else. But I take an exception when it comes to bone witches. It is only fair to have some empathy for a class that is despised even more than your own. This boy here is my assistant and successor, for lack of better options.”
“Hello,” the boy said. “I hope you don’t mind, Mister Fox, but can I examine your chest for a moment?”
“What?”
“It’s where the wound is, isn’t it?”
After a moment’s pause, Fox shrugged and pulled up his shirt, where the savul’s claws had done their work. The boy rubbed his chin. “It’s not healed yet.”
“My body hasn’t been in a condition to heal for a long time,” Fox said.
“You haven’t been blooded yet?”
“What’s that?”
“Is there something wrong with Fox, er…” I remembered belatedly that heartforgers no longer took personal names of their own.
“Call him Junior. Someone has to.” The Forger looked me over. “Your mentor, Lady Mykaela, serves as one of the main suppliers of my craft, and as thanks, I try to get to know her charges better. You are her first and only longstanding apprentice, and so I am forced to make good on my promise.”
The Forger produced a few small bottles from a bag around his waist. They all appeared empty. “Choose one.”
Hesitant, I selected a green one.
“Remove the stopper. Carefully.”
—the sounds of children laughing and at play, the sensation of running through grass—
The Forger’s gnarled fingers closed over mine, shifting the stopper back into place.
“What was that?” I sputtered.
“Happiness.” The Forger tapped at the bottle and took a small sniff to ensure it was sealed again. “At least, how happiness is defined if you’re a young mother with three small children. I collect memories like these in the course of my work.”
“But why?”
“I am called the Heartforger for a reason, girl. To make a heart, you need memories. There are many people who trade them in for a little cash to spare. Try this one—”
Watching a tiny casket lower into the grave, weeping as the first shovelful of dirt is poured into the grave—
“Sadness is a popular commodity to sell,” the Forger said, stoppering the bottle again. “And it is a common ingredient in my work, so fortunately the supply rarely outstrips the demand. People are more willing to forget what makes them sad instead of what makes them happy. But happiness? Happiness pays very well. If it’s a strong enough memory, it comes back over time—several years on average. But few people are willing to part with it, despite the financial compensation. It is not something you can easily put a price on. And then there are certain kinds of memories I require from asha, from those with silver heartsglass. Dark asha are especially strong and potent. That’s where you come in. Will you?”