The Stage is Set

The Partyn Museum

Crown Jewels Exhibit: Foyer

THERE WERE two more unconscious people outside the entrance to the exhibit. One, another museum guard in their maroon uniform, was slumped against the wall. Their head rested against a stone bust as they slumbered. The other person lay in the middle of the doorway, serving as a rather macabre doorstop.

Zosia carefully stepped over his legs, noting the sharp uniform of the chief’s martial guard. They were a special unit of the police force trained in close-quarters combat. Unfortunately for them, no amount of muscle could stop sleeping gas once it spread through your system.

She took a big step over his chest, careful not to clip his head with her boot, and entered the foyer leading to the exhibit of the crown jewels.

The foyer was dark and windowless. If there had been any crystal lamps—and there should have been, considering that this was where the guard was stationed—they had either been covered or destroyed. The only light was the scant glow from the hallway where Zosia had come from and the hazy silhouette of an open archway on the other side of the foyer.

Zosia blinked quickly, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the increased darkness. The looming shape of display cases gradually became distinguishable. They were arranged in two half circles on both sides of the room. As Zosia stepped forward, she glanced at the closest case. It was hard to make out, but it might have held a dress—perhaps a replication of an Imperial gown back from the days of the Empire. The next case appeared to have stacks of bowls or cups, but it was difficult to be sure.

Zosia’s boot nudged something soft. She was three steps back in a heartbeat, swinging her baton in front of her.

Nothing moved.

Breathing heavily into her mask, Zosia stepped forward again cautiously, nudging the roadblock with the toe of her boot. Upon closer inspection, it was just another unconscious martial guard.

The breath she held eased into a sigh. Zosia made a note to be more careful where she stepped. Mindful of the display cases—which would be excellent for hiding behind, she noted with a spike of anxiety—and the sleeping people scattered about the floor, Zosia made slow progress to the archway.

When she finally reached it, she paused at the threshold. She could already see the row of floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall in the room ahead. As soon as she stepped forward, Zosia would be visible to anyone lurking within the exhibit.

She craned her neck and scanned for movement, looking for anyone who wasn’t face down on the ground. But aside from the occasional pass of a searchlight through the windows, the room appeared still. It was also curiously empty. Unlike the hallway and the foyer, Zosia couldn’t spot a single body on the floor ahead.

She clutched her baton. With a deep inhale of crystal-cleansed air to brace herself, she stepped forward.