“Weapon!” Poesy laughed. “Weapons only destroy, my dear. Instruments, however, both destroy and create. That’s what makes them so powerful. The holy grail, Pandora’s box, the genie’s lamp; all were sources of etherea. If you look, really look, history is full of instruments that make the unreal real, that call forth power from nothing.” She toyed with a stray pearl caught in the hair around her temple. “These instruments are called looms for their ability to weave new worlds from the imaginations of mortals. I have spent my whole existence hunting them down, one by one, to ensure they are not abused.”

Poesy had said the reveries were a local phenomenon. A new one. Kane put the pieces together one by one.

“And that’s why you’re here? You think there’s a loom hidden in East Amity?”

Pleased, Poesy dipped her cup at Kane.

“Yes. The loom, by the scale of its power. A crown-shaped instrument I believe you’ve summoned once already. Tell me about it, Mr. Montgomery.”

“You think…” Kane fought the spinning vacancy spreading through his body. He vaguely remembered the Others telling him he had been searching for a source of power—a loom, maybe—and he had found a deadly crown. The actual symbol of power. But it was gone, cast away into the river or something. “I don’t know where it is, if that’s what you think. I don’t know how to get it back.”

Poesy exhaled, blowing curls of steam toward Kane. “Perhaps you don’t know now, but think, Mr. Montgomery: What do you find yourself so suddenly without?”

The answer rose up through Kane like a bubble breaking calm water. “My memories.”

Poesy’s eyes glinted. “How inconvenient. Memories interest me, you know. In a way, you explored the very memory of this town through Maxine Osman, who spent her life perfecting its rendering.” Poesy shrugged. “Her world must have been lovely. I wonder what you saw, and I wonder what you learned. But mostly, I wonder what must a person discover to make them dangerous enough to be hurt in the way you have been hurt. What power is deserving of such a thorough and vicious suppression?” She shrugged again, her downcast eyes sliding up to meet his. “A loom seems like just the inspiration for that caliber of evil, and we only know one person with the means.”

Kane’s breath halted as his hand traced the raised flesh of his burns. He had found the loom, and then he had been betrayed. It had to have been Adeline. Adeline was the one who had dug into his head and scooped out his memories. She said she’d done it to save him. Ursula and Elliot had agreed. Did they know, or had she brainwashed them, too?

A raw helplessness opened in Kane. It was hard to hold Poesy’s gaze with tears in his eyes. “What do I do?”