“Any progress?”
Zofia eyed the silver cloth on the table. She was beginning to think that for what Séverin had asked of her, she might not be able to do this entirely inside L’Eden.
“It works like a Tezcat door,” said Zofia. “The actual filaments of it are made of obsidian.”
Laila tilted her head to one side. “Is that why it looks like a mirror?”
Zofia nodded. “But it does more than that.” Zofia rummaged through her toolbox and pulled out a sharp knife.
“Um, Zofia—”
Zofia plunged the knife into the cloth. The cloth didn’t tear. Instead, itbent, as if absorbing the impact of the blade.
Laila swore under her breath. “What in theworld?”
“It repels matter,” said Zofia. “No solid matter can penetrate it.”
Laila dragged her fingers across the surface of it.
“What does Séverin want with it?”
Zofia chewed her lip. She wasn’t sure that she could answer yet because it depended on something back in the dark halls of the Forging exhibition. A place she was not looking forward to exploring once more.
“Have the others found the headquarters of the Fallen House?”
Laila sighed. “No. They think the answer is in an old bone clock. Apparently, it once held the locations of the Fallen House meetings or something. Don’t get me started. Personally, I think we should use the meeting location and just track who goes in and who leaves.”
Zofia thought back to the man who had been lying in wait for her and Enrique. The detection sphere hadn’t revelead his presence, and at the time both exits had been accounted for, which meant he had entered some other way. She hadn’t noticed anything that might have concealed their assailant, but studying the silver cloth made her think perhaps she had missed something.
“That won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“They’re using a different route.”
“That’s impossible,” said Laila. “There’s only the entrance and exit, and both join at the same road.”
Zofia reached for her box of matches and her necklace with the phosphorous pendants, shoving them into the pockets of her black smock. If the theory churning in her mind was right, then she couldn’t waste any more time. After all, Tristan was counting on her.
Zofia was already headed to the door when Laila blocked her.
“Where are you off to?”
“I have to go to the Exposition Universelle. I have to find a way into the Exhibition on Colonial Superstitions. I can climb over walls or stun guards or whatever I have to do—” she said, even as panic started pushing itself through her bloodstream.
“Zofia,” soothed Laila. “Let me help. We can get in and get out, and hopefully no one will be jumping over fences.”
Zofia looked up, confused. “We?”
Laila winked.“Oui.”
“How?”
“You have your talents,” said Laila. “I have mine.”
And then she scrutinized Zofia’s outfit. “But you are not wearing that.”
“Why not?”
