man. “It’s fixed.” Katya stopped and stared at him. The man glanced around, as confused as she was but much more enthusiastic. He toggled a few levers and swiped his finger over a hole where a bolt might have been. “It’s been fixed?” Katya called to him. The man nodded and tested the sturdiness of a vertical pipe. “The valve’s working. I’ll have the rest of it fortified by tomorrow.” Katya doubled her pace, avoiding eye contact with the game runner as she passed his stall. He explained the rules to his customers as if he had never left the booth, as if he understood nothing more complicated than its game. She swept straight across to the food stall and the opening at its back. She grabbed Magdalene’s arm, making the light change jump in her hand. Magdalene barely held her composure. “What are you doing?” she asked. “We have to talk.” Katya pulled on her arm. “We’re very busy.” Magdalene managed to pass the change to the first person in line. Katya forced a wide smile for the customers. “We’ll be right back.” Katya dragged Magdalene out of the stall. Irina cussed loudly under her breath in Russian, but Katya moved on, steering Magdalene past the harmonica-playing contest on the side stage to the vibrating end of the El. Its cars whizzed down the track above them, curving back the same direction they’d come from. “You’re going to get us fired,” Magdalene insisted. Katya stuck her head close to Magdalene’s. “The game runner just fixed the Beast.” “What?” “The Beast. Steam pressure broke a valve or something. Maintenance wasn’t sure he could fix it. He was gone for one minute, and I swear, the game runner fixed it before he got back.” “Who are we talking about?” Katya hesitated. “I don’t know his name. He’s the one everyone calls the Mick.” “I don’t know his name, either,” Magdalene admitted regretfully. “I thought you knew everybody.” “Not him. Nobody knows him.” Katya pulled back a few inches to look Magdalene in the eye. “Everybody knows one thing: he’s a game runner. That’s all. How can he fix the Beast when maintenance can’t?” “Maybe he had access to the notebook you found. He could’ve stolen it from Mr. Warden and thrown it out when he was done.” “Everybody’s a crook around here.” Katya folded her arms and recalled the only clear memory she had of the game runner, watching him chase down the bear-stealing boy. He seemed too gentle and conscientious to steal Mr. Warden’s private papers and leave them in a garbage bin. “What do you think he could’ve gained by learning about the rides? Do you think he’d rather work with them than the games?” “I don’t know. Mr. Warden seems more the type to take what he wants.” “He hasn’t taken me,” Katya grumbled. Magdalene grabbed hold of Katya’s arm, shocking her with the firm, sudden grasp. “Who would know these machines better than anybody?” Katya searched her face, too dumbfounded to pull away. “Mr. Warden.” “Not a name. Who?” “The person who invented the carnival.” “What if that person wasn’t Mr. Warden?” Katya pointed halfway across the carnival to the game stall. “You think that haggard man who spends his nights talking people into spending their hard-earned money to try to win stuffed toys and trinkets invented this carnival?” Magdalene raised a hand in defeat. “Then you tell me how he knew what to do.” Katya remained silent, trying to find another explanation. “I think he started the notebook, and it ended up in Mr. Warden’s hands one way or another. Mr. Warden built the carnival, knowing it wasn’t his. It explains why there are two kinds of marks in that book. The original pencil, and Mr. Warden’s fountain pen.” “Why would the game runner come here?” “How could he stay away? If he imagined all this, of course he’d be here. He might’ve sent those death threats to