She shook her head. “The coppers aren’t letting anyone come too close.”
“They’re probably afraid it’s a weapon of some kind.”
“It’s not.”
“I thought you said you didn’t get a good look.”
Zaria glared, even knowing Kane couldn’t see her face. “I didn’t. But I know what itisn’t, and it’s not a weapon. I would have thought you’d realized that as well.”
A thinning of the crowd allowed him to move to her side. He crossed his arms, staring at the device with a contemplative tilt of his head. “I never get too confident when it comes to alchemology. What’s the light at the center, do you think?”
“I’d guess solanum, but there’s no way of knowing for sure without closer inspection.”
“Move along, now!” The booming, impatient voice of a copper carried over the crowd. The man gestured with a great sweep of his arm, and reluctantly, the loitering patrons began to shuffle away from the device, Zaria and Kane caught up in the current. As they reached one of the columns at the edge of the India exhibit, an arm shot out and grabbed hold of Kane’s, yanking him out of the flow. Zaria was quick to follow, not interested in being chastised a second time.
“There you are,” Fletcher said, letting go of Kane as though just realizing what he’d done. “We ought to have known they’d be keeping people at a distance.”
“I was hoping Zaria might recognize what we’re dealing with,” Kane replied, “but apparently that’s not the case.”
Zaria raised her brows, stepping closer to the column to avoid being jostled. “Any identifying parts of the device will be contained in the metal casing. From what I can see, it’s nothing more than a sort of… light source.” She lifted a shoulder. “Have we considered the possibility that the device doesn’tdoanything? I mean, an eternally burning light is enough to interest people with no knowledge of alchemology. Maybe the Curator simply wanted to cause a stir. Maybe the device has no function other than to intrigue.”
Fletcher appeared to chew that over, but Kane set his jaw. “Of course I’ve considered that possibility. But the Curator left a calling card, which suggests he’s proud of what he created. I doubt he’d be proud of a device with no function.”
“How do you know the Curator is ahe?” Zaria shot back, then faltered. Her attention snapped to a figure visible just over Kane’s shoulder. It was a girl: young, tall, with reddish-blonde hair and a purposeful stride. She stood on the other side of the crystal fountain, the falling water turning her features indistinct, but she was recognizable nonetheless.
Maisie.
Zaria’s heart leapt into her throat, thrumming violently alongside the roaring in her ears. She ducked between Kane and Fletcher.
“I suppose the Curator could be a woman,” Kane was saying. “It’s just that—what the hell are you doing?” A frown settled between his sharp brows as he noticed her odd behavior. At the same time, Fletcher shifted his stance, and Zaria released a hiss through her teeth.
“Don’t move,” she said, positioning herself behind the much-larger boy. “We need to get out of here.”
Kane gave a wry twist of his lips. “Which is it? It’s difficult, you see, to simultaneouslynot moveand alsoget out of here.”
Too late, Zaria realized she wouldn’t be able to explain her reaction. Telling Kane about Maisie would mean telling him about Vaughan, and she certainly wasn’t about to do that. Gaining a hold of herself, she straightened just as Maisie glanced over her shoulder, mouth tight. Her eyes found Zaria’s for the barest fraction of a second. Then the girl was gone, ducking between two men sporting top hats.
Zaria let out a shaky breath. “I thought I saw… the copper I shot. Price Junior.”
It was enough to ease Kane’s and Fletcher’s suspicions—for now. The mention of Price distracted them precisely as she’d hoped it would.
“I highly doubt that,” Kane said sternly. “But just in case, let’s get the hell out of here.”
KANE
Kane couldn’t shake the feeling that visiting the Exhibition had been a waste.
He’d hoped they would be able to glean something from the device. A clue, perhaps, as to the identity of the Curator. Instead, he felt more confused than ever. It was no wonder Cubitt hadn’t had much information to relay; the device wasn’t much to look at. Kane suspected it only drew attention because of that eerie, dully glowing orb, luring patrons over the way an open flame drew moths at night. He kept circling back to Zaria’s suggestion that the device served no purpose but to intrigue. It was possible, he supposed, but it didn’t seem likely.
“Maybe we’re approaching this the wrong way,” said Fletcher, dropping his elbows onto his knees. The three of them sat in Kane’s office as afternoon shifted to evening, attempting to devise their next course of action.
Kane tapped his unlit pipe against the desk. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we were hoping the device would give us information about the Curator, right? Maybe instead of starting there, we ought to start with the Curator themself. There are only so many people who would be able to get into the Exhibition after hours.”
That was true. It didn’t make sense that anyone would be able to sneak into the building with security being none the wiser. Unless…
“Unless they werealready there,” Kane murmured, dropping the pipe. How hadn’t he considered this before? “Who has constant access to the Crystal Palace?”
