Owen made his way along the back edge of the carnival as Jacks had taught him to do so many weeks ago. Was it weeks or months now? he wondered. He was startled to find he had no idea. There was no way of keeping track in the spirit world. Not when he could barely tell day from night or how long they lasted. How many days had he lost with brother here? How many stories had been taken away from Ethan? How many bad pick-up attempts and crass jokes and basketball games had he missed with his friends? He stubbed his foot on a tent stake and cursed as his toes throbbed. Focus, he told himself. The time didn't matter at the moment.

He was on his way to the carousel. He didn't have a plan in mind really, other than to comb the ride for any clues to the first part of Zabaria's damn riddle. "The answer to the past is held within the carousel." He hoped it was more literal than she led them to believe and that he could solve it on it own. With Lira going rogue and none of the veterans of the carnival willing to talk with him, he was flying nearly blind. And he didn't have the slightest idea of what to look for.

Lira's new desire to work on her own was troubling and hurt more than he cared to admit. So much for being in this together, he thought. But he couldn't sit around twiddling his thumbs while she was doing whatever it was she was doing. He needed to act now, even if it was on his own, because otherwise he would sink.

Owen made it to the green-and-gold tent that was across from the carousel and peered cautiously around the flap. The carnival was nearly empty. Only a few spirits wandered about, moving from stalls to rides without much urgency or care. The lights were low, meaning the carnival would soon shut down. Owen had debated with himself at length about when would be best to inspect the old merry-go-round: during Flow when the carnival was busy and he was more likely to blend in, or Ebb when there were fewer spirits about to be curious as to what he was doing. He had chosen the latter after recalling Lira's story of the spirit who had attacked her when she first tried to walk the fairground alone. Not to mention, this was the time he would usually be walking to Genzel's and would be passing the carousel anyway.

Now, as he approached the ride, he realized he hadn't been here since the night he followed Lira and watched her play. How long ago it seemed now.

The ride stood empty, the horses currently out to pasture behind Genzel's house. Owen realized for the first time that it was the only ride he had never seen a spirit on. He walked casually up to the wooden platform, hoping it would look like he was just admiring it.

As he strode around it, he was again struck by its beauty. The gilded poles and crenellated top gleamed in the dull light and even the old, worn down wood seemed to shine with an impregnable resilience against time. He stepped up to the platform, remembering how he had done so without hesitation the night he was taken. For a moment, he let himself wish it would begin to turn and take him away from all of this. When the ride remained firmly in place, Owen sighed and set to work.

First, he inspected the poles that were regularly interspersed along the ride, checking their stability, feeling along their grooves for defects or inscriptions. When that yielded nothing, he turned to the floor, looking to see if the wood or grain changed at any point, letting his hands run over it to check for trapdoors or loose boards. Nothing. He found the same with the ceiling although he wasn't tall enough to check for hidden hatches.

Next, he turned to the body of the machine itself. It was adorned with gilded, oblong mirrors that caught the light from the bulbs on the crown of the ride and threw it back out into the evening, making the whole thing glow. In between the mirrors where whorls of random designs in reds, golds, and dark blue, their only purpose seeming to be aesthetic in nature. Owen squinted, trying to decipher a pattern or hidden message, but all he saw was a colorful design on a carnival ride meant for children. The only thing that gave him pause was when he pressed his palm against the panel and realized they weren't just painted on; they were carved. Like tiny figureheads carved into the body of a great ship, he trailed his fingers along them, feeling the grooves and divots and marveling at how long it must have taken someone to do this. He continued to walk along the ride, grasping at straws that maybe the three-dimensional carvings were like braille and he could read something with his fingertips. But he was left just as empty-handed as before. He didn't even have splinters to show for his careful inspection; the carvings were almost unnervingly perfect and smooth as though they had been recently sanded down.

The last thing he did was check each mirror to see if the frames concealed doors or the glass gave way like it did in the funhouse. When he had done everything he could think of, he stepped back and let go a frustrated sigh of defeat. He gripped one of the outer poles and tried to quell the desire to kick one of the mirrors knowing it probably wouldn't give him the satisfaction of shattering anyway. As he scanned the ride one last time for anything he might have missed, a voice spoke up behind him.

"What are you doing?"

Owen jumped, his foot slipping off the edge of the platform. The only thing that prevented him from falling on his ass was his hand still wrapped around the pole. He stepped down and turned to see Jacks watching him. The young boy's arms crossed and his face settled into a suspicious frown.

"You scared the crap out of me," Owen complained, making a show of straightening his clothes to buy himself time.

He wasn't deterred. "What are you doing?"

Owen spotted the horse-keeper's whip poking out from beneath his crossed arms. "The new horses are almost ready and Genzel wants me to familiarize myself with the carousel before I finish the final paint job and add them to the ride. Kinda like how he made you teach me about the horses before he let me carve." He rolled his eyes for effect. "He has some weird training techniques."

Jacks' jaw remained set. "Seemed like you were looking for something."

Owen's heart skipped a beat. How long had the boy been watching him for? He shook his head in what he hoped was a resigned sort of way. "Just following Genzel's orders. Honestly, I took longer than I needed to so I could have an excuse to be late. He's been working me like a dog since he's been out of commission. I guess that shouldn't surprise me though."

Jacks' gaze flicked to the carousel and back to Owen. His whip began tapping a soft beat against his ribcage. "If you don't want to tell me that's fine," he said. "Just be glad it was me who saw you and not Bebinn."

As the boy made to return to the main throughway, Owen let out a long breath. Jacks had obviously been watching him long enough to know Owen was lying and the familiar claws of guilt snagged on his stomach. He doubted Jacks would give him up to Bebinn or anyone else, and he had promised Lira he wouldn't tell anyone else until they agreed. Then again, Lira had promised they would try to figure this out together and if he was on his own....

"Jacks, wait!" Owen called. He jogged to catch up with the boy, looking around surreptitiously as he did so. Only a couple of spirits lingered now. A woman with a heap of shawls and a set of iridescent wings leaned on the counter of the drink tent, sipping a viscous, bubbling red liquid while staring off in the other direction. What Owen could only describe as a broken man with his limbs and fingers pointing in grotesque and painful directions was hobbling towards the steam tent, so named because it belched out gouts of cloudy air when opened. A third spirit, which looked mostly like an androgynous human except for a variety of different skins sewed all over its body—from here Owen could see fur, scales, and every shade of human pigmentation—was gearing up to throw balls at stacks of glass bottles. Satisfied everyone was occupied, Owen turned back to Jacks. "I was looking for something. I—we found a riddle that might help us."

Jacks' face remained stoic, but the tapping of the whip picked up pace. "So you lied before," he said pointedly.

Owen nodded, knowing he would have had to own up to it sooner or later. "I didn't want to get your hopes up—" Jacks' mouth thinned in disbelief—"and Lira and I agreed not to tell anyone until we knew more."

The whip stopped and Jacks raised his eyebrows. "You don't think she's told Atlas?" he asked.

Owen paused. It seemed unlikely. He felt sure Atlas would've mentioned that to him when she brought up Lira in the kitchen. But maybe that was why Atlas had sought him out, to dissuade him from trying to figure out the riddle. He didn't think she knew, but he couldn't say for sure, and with Lira acting so strange he couldn't very well ask her. Owen shrugged.

"I don't know. Lira hasn't been—herself—these last few days. So it's just me working on it right now."

"And what exactly is it you're working on?"

"A riddle," Owen said again. "Well the first part of it anyway. 'The answer to the past lies within the carousel.'"

Jacks looked at the ride once again, putting the pieces together. "And the rest of it?"

Owen hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He had already broken his promise to Lira by telling Jacks. He wasn't sure he wanted to show all his cards yet. Jacks huffed. "I'm not gunna go shouting it around if that's what your thinking. I want to go home too. Who do you think it was who got you out of this carnival so you could go searching for something in the first place?"

Owen rubbed the back of his neck, momentarily confused. "I thought Genzel..."

"Yes, Genzel was the one who asked Bebinn. But someone else gave him the idea of bringing you and Lira along."

Owen's brow furrowed. He ran backwards through his memories, pieces he didn't realize were missing suddenly clicked into place. "You told him about Zabaria and convinced him it was worth the risk," Owen realized.

Jacks nodded, still staring at the empty carousel. His arms finally uncrossed and hung by his sides. "He didn't like the idea at first. Or you," he added with a sly grin. "He thought you were too hot-headed."

The comment stung and Own bristled before realizing the truth of the carver's words. He chuckled. To be fair, he hadn't like the old man much to begin with either.

"I think you reminded him a lot of himself," said Jacks. He shrugged. "I knew he needed his own reason to bring you along—"

"So you came to me to encourage me to open up to him," finished Owen. He was slightly impressed at how Jacks had orchestrated the whole thing.

The horse-keeper grinned. It was the first time Owen had really seen him smile, and it opened up his whole face. His wide brown eyes were bright as he said, "The secret to horse training is to go slow so you don't spook them."

Owen did a double-take. "Did you just compare me to a horse?"

"Yes," said Jacks.

Owen laughed again, shaking his head. "But why didn't Genzel just take you? You knew about Zabaria and he's known you for years. You wouldn't have had to wait and see if he would decide to take me."

"Genzel said the same thing, but he's been going kelpie hunting without me forever. It would've seemed weird if he suddenly asked Bebinn. You are his assistant and eventually his replacement, so it made sense to have you go. And I also suggested Lira as a—counterbalance—to you."

He surveyed the younger boy for a long moment. "You've thought this all through."

"You learn a lot about a horse by watching it," Jacks said by way of explanation. "You pick up on its traits, habits, temperament, and how it interacts with others." He pointed at Owen. "You listen to Lira because she's been her longer and she's smart. I would guess you also think she's pretty." Owen flushed, but Jacks went on, suddenly serious.  "But you also bring her out of the shell that Bebinn's put her in. Bebinn brought us here because she needs out talents. But she hasn't realized how dangerous it is if we put them together."

When Jacks said "together," Owen flashed once more on the promise Lira had made him the first time they left the carnival. He hoped it was still the case. And the more he thought about what Jacks said, the more he realized how cunning Bebinn really was. She didn't expressly forbid the carnival kids from talking to one another. If she had, it would've prompted them to seek each other out long ago. But between the schedules they kept, their mostly introvertive natures, and the constant reminders that there was no way out, they had been forced into a state where they rarely interacted on their own accord.

Bebinn's carnival relied on all of them doing what they had been brought here to do. The whole thing balanced on a precipice. But what if they upset that balance? Zabaria herself had said they were cogs in a machine. What if they threw a wrench in the gears? The whole thing would come grinding to a stop. Owen looked at Jacks.

"So," the boy said, "about the rest of that riddle."

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Sorry again for the long wait between updates! Life's been a little hectic. But I hope this rather long chapter makes up for it a bit! Thanks as always for stopping by. I'd love to hear any of your thoughts :)