Chapter 38 Zaria #2
For a moment, she was simply awestruck. Had she seen this necklace first, Zaria thought, she would never have believed the replica to be genuine.
It was still beautiful, to be sure, but it lacked the breathtaking quality of the real thing.
The gold filigree was impossibly intricate, the lines and whorls perfect in a way that defied comprehension.
The chain was more delicate. The tiny diamonds surrounding the carmot stone reflected the light more evenly. And the carmot itself…
Well. Holding it made Zaria feel alive. As if every ounce of energy she’d used to create primateria over the course of her life had suddenly come flooding back in a single surge.
It was nothing like the weak pulse she’d felt from the replica that had made her certain of its magical quality—this was something else.
Something she didn’t quite know how to describe.
Something that felt not only of magic, but of power.
The two, Zaria realized now, were not necessarily one and the same.
She flung the necklace over her head so that the pendant settled against her sternum.
Then, jaw set and muscles shaking, she began her descent of the fountain.
Despite the slippery crystal, it was easier to move with the flow of water than against it, and Zaria dropped to a crouch in the basin of the second tier, holding tight to the rim.
Peering over the edge sent apprehension jolting through her—not least because she could hardly make out the floor through the aleuite smoke—but the way forward was clear.
She was going to have to jump.
With Kane there to hoist her up, the fountain hadn’t seemed quite so tall before, but from this position, Zaria felt very high up indeed.
She flung one leg over the side of the basin, then the other, wincing as she seated herself on the narrow edge.
Part of her feared that breaking her ankles upon landing was a distinct possibility, but there wasn’t much to be done for it now.
She couldn’t very well perch up here, sodden and shivering, until Kane returned. Assuming he returned at all, that was.
She blew a heavy breath into the strip of fabric covering her mouth, then leapt into the water below.
The first tier of the fountain wasn’t very deep, and she landed in the basin with a splash, the force of it sending pain lancing through her heels up into her legs.
She collapsed forward into the water, her skirts billowing out around her as she performed a mental scan of her body.
Relief shot through her. She was fine. Uncomfortable, to be sure, but unharmed.
Collecting her heavy skirts in both hands, Zaria stepped out of the fountain.
Now that she was farther removed from the rushing water, she could hear the distant yells of Price’s officers, no doubt still searching for Aurora in the dark Exhibition. They wouldn’t find her mother—of that, Zaria was sure. Not without help, anyway.
Clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering, she made her way over to the ruined alchemological device.
Its channeling having been interrupted, the beams of light no longer stretched overhead, but the core of solanum within the shattered orb still pulsed steadily.
Zaria stared at it a moment, thinking. Despite her face covering, she didn’t have long until she succumbed to the aleuite smoke, though it was already beginning to dissipate.
Truth be told, she wasn’t at all certain her plan would work, but she had to try.
She reached into the wreckage of the orb and grabbed one of the larger pieces.
It was still intact enough that there was a considerable curve to the glass, and she used it to scoop out as much of the molten-like solanum as she could, squinting against the light emanating from the chemical compound.
Then, careful not to let any spill from her makeshift evaporating dish, she hurried over to the stairs in the northern end of the transept.
The aleuite smoke was less dense here, and Zaria ought to have been able to breathe more easily, but each inhale caught in her chest as she climbed, trying not to spill the solanum.
It was the first time she’d ventured to the upper level of the Crystal Palace, and she found herself surrounded by swaths of delicate silk and other luxury fabrics.
Their rich colors were muted in the darkness, and they hung between the displays like great partitions, both concealing and frustrating her.
As a result, she couldn’t see much to either the left or right, but straight ahead of her was a railing over which the entirety of the dark Exhibition was visible below.
From this vantage point, and away from the cloud of aleuite smoke, the size of the building shocked Zaria anew.
It was another stunned beat before she recalibrated.
She had no idea how long it should have taken Kane to run to the American exhibits and back.
Her throat tightened as another round of distant shouts emanated from the lower level of the building, and she set the dish of solanum on the ground to free it from her trembling grasp.
“There you are.”
A harsh whisper sounded from behind her, and Zaria spun to see Kane limping up the steps. His cheeks were flushed, his face drawn, but he was holding a Colt revolver in his right hand. Relief barreled into Zaria like something physical.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded even as he winced. “I was running, as per your suggestion. Not the easiest thing to do when you’re still recovering from an alchemological dart to the torso.”
“Right. Sorry about that.”
“Did you get the source?”
Zaria nodded, procuring the necklace from the collar of her dress. Kane looked visibly relieved.
“Good. Is this the part where you tell me why, exactly, you need this specific gun?”
“I didn’t,” she said. “I just needed a gun, and I knew from passing the American displays that the Colt revolvers were about the right size.”
Kane frowned. “The right size for what? Zaria, the inspector is going to want Aurora Vaughan for questioning. If you’re planning to shoot her—”
“I’m not,” she assured him, managing to refrain from asking why in the world he had thought that her plan. “Take out the cartridges, would you?”
Brow still furrowed, he did as she asked, then handed them over. Zaria folded herself onto the ground, using her mother’s knife to pry the bullet out of a single cartridge.
“What are you doing?” Kane demanded, watching in rapt confusion as she dumped the gunpowder unceremoniously onto the ground.
Zaria didn’t answer. Holding her breath in an attempt to steady her hands, she picked up the dish of solanum and tipped it into the cartridge instead. Kane reared back from the overwhelming brightness.
“What is that?”
Without glancing up, she said, “Solanum. It acts something like an eternal flame. If you combine it with another alchemological substance called calmactium, you can bolster its existing properties. Make the reaction more intense, so to speak.”
Kane pressed a hand more firmly against his ribs as he watched her work. “And by chance did you bring this calmactium with you today?”
“No. My mother dumped a bunch of it into the fountain, though. It’s used in the creation of the alchemological Magnum Opus.”
“Were you able to get some of it back out?”
Zaria shook her head. “Calmactium is water-soluble.” Before Kane could question her yet again, she passed him the cartridge. “Hold this.”
He accepted it, crouching down beside her as she grabbed a handful of her damp skirts. Then she began to wring out the fabric, letting the fountain water drip messily into the cartridge’s tiny opening where it mixed with the solanum.
“Oh,” Kane breathed, realizing what she was doing. “What’s supposed to happen when you fire it, then?”
“That’s what I need to work out,” Zaria said. “And that’s where the magic comes in.”
In any other instance, she would have lit a flame and gathered a tiny pinch of soulsteel.
She would have taken a knife to the fleshy part of her thumb and let a few drops of blood fall languidly into the fire.
Then, closing her eyes, she would have retreated deep into herself, pulled a thread of her own life force out by the root, and used it to create primateria.
This time, she didn’t do any of that.
This time, she reached for the necklace at her throat.
The sensations were familiar. A plummeting.
A turning inward to a place unnameable. A jolt like a skipped heartbeat.
But when the pulling came, Zaria didn’t feel it within herself.
She felt it in the heated pulse of the carmot beneath her fingertips.
This was what it was to have a primateria source, she realized—an unending well of energy.
She refocused her attention, pushing her excitement down.
She needed to think about what she wanted the source’s magic to do.
Needed to picture it in unblemished detail.
She saw how the solanum interacted with the calmactium, and in turn how the inner mechanism of the Colt revolver would propel the reaction outward into space.
Alchemology—magic—was all about intention.
Zaria had always been good at that: Knowing what she wanted to happen.
Seeing it play out in her mind, then willing it into existence.
She heard Kane’s sharp intake of breath and opened her eyes to see…
light. It seemed to stream from the necklace and solidify in a circular motion, almost like it was condensing in on itself.
And then suddenly she was holding it: primateria.
It sat in the palm of her hand, delicate and crimson and glowing, as though it had been there all along.
“How?” was all she could manage, blinking down at the tiny sphere in awe.
Kane looked equally bewildered. He shook his head, speechless for once.
Zaria couldn’t help it—she laughed. A single, sharp sound, edged in giddiness. Her father had truly done it. His primateria source worked. She’d created magic, and it hadn’t taken a single thing from her.
After brushing her hands against the front of her dress to dry them, she refit the cartridge back into the revolver, ignoring the five other bullets still littering the floor.
Then she loaded the primateria in alongside it, rose to her feet, and walked over to the very edge of the balcony.
Kane followed, his gaze expectant. Trusting.
“I hope this works,” Zaria whispered, staring out over what she could see of the shadowy Exhibition.
Kane lifted his chin. “It will.”
She pulled the trigger, and a brilliant streak of pure light exploded into the air.