The Council chamber was a wide, circular room dominated by a huge oak table in its center. The walls were paneled, each panel bearing a neatly executed oil painting depicting one of the great moments in Ondinium's history.
Two of the panels had been pushed aside, revealing a broad metal sliding door. It, too, had been opened, just wide enough to allow a person to pass through.
"I guess that's it." Taya circled the table and set down the lantern. "Although whoever went through here wasn't wearing wings." She leaned against the edge of the door, then yelped as it moved easily, nearly sending her sprawling. She straightened up, studying it. "Must have ondium counterweights."
"Be careful." Cristof joined her. "If there are any Torn Cards in there—"
"They'll be planting bombs, not running programs," she reminded him.
"Let's hope there are no more bombs involved." He picked up the lantern and looked down the dark tunnel. "I don't want to lose you, too."
Taya glanced at him. He was still frowning into the darkness. Feeling daring, she wrapped a hand around his shoulder harness and tugged him down, kissing his cheek.
His copper skin flushed as he glanced at her.
"What…" he pushed up his glasses. "What was that for?"
"For saying something sweet for a change."
"I — oh." He looked disconcerted. "I hadn't intended to be sweet."
Taya rolled her eyes. "That doesn't surprise me."
"Last night I was a slagging pain in your tailset."
"That's why you need to work harder on sweet." She took the lantern from him. "Come on, let's go find your Torn Cards."
The tunnel to the Great Engine was wide enough for two people without wings to walk abreast and almost as tall as a normal room, which meant they had to walk in single file and lock their wings into tight position — only head-high, but with the joint sharply angled forward over their shoulders and their primaries jutting backward an arm's length behind them. After twenty feet they came to another door, also metal and also ajar.
Cristof eased it wider, needlegun pointing inside. After a moment he stepped through, waving Taya after him.
The momentary playfulness that had affected her in the Council chamber had passed, and now Taya found herself growing tense. A deep, rhythmic rumbling vibrated through the air, tickling the thick soles of her flight boots and trembling through her wing feathers. The sound of the Great Engine, she guessed, her palms sweating.
They came to a third open door. A sign on it declared,
Oporphyr Council Analytical Engine: Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point.
Cristof stepped through, pistol out.
Beyond it, stairs spiraled downward into the center of the mountain. The air was still and warm, and when Taya put a hand on the walls, she felt the stone shivering beneath her fingertips.
Cristof locked his wings into high position for the stairs, scowling at the inconvenience as he juggled his needlegun from hand to hand. Taya, better accustomed to the inconveniences of an armature, followed suit.
The rumbling grew stronger as they descended, finally becoming audible as a constant mechanical thumping. The sound came from the steam engines that powered the Great Engine, Taya guessed, although they were much louder than those that powered the analytical engine in the University basement.
The stairs ended in a short hallway and another door.
Oporphyr Council Analytical Engine. All visitors must be accompanied by Security.
Cristof gave it a push. Pale light spilled into the stairwell and the rumbling, thumping sound increased. The exalted peered through.
Taya turned down the lantern and set it on the stair step.
Satisfied with whatever he saw, Cristof opened the door the rest of the way and twisted, slipping his wings through. Taya slid in after him, then straightened.
The door opened onto a long, wide catwalk that ran in either direction around the hollow core of the mountain. Metal lines coiled around the walkway and stretched across the wall like thick spider webs, feeding banks of lights that gave off a brighter glare than any gas lamp Taya had ever seen. The lights all faced inward, highlighting the huge hollow chamber at the heart of Ondinium Mountain and the gargantuan, floating, constantly moving mechanism that was the Great Engine.
Stunned by its size, Taya stepped up to the iron railing and looked down.
The Engine plunged down as far as she could see, level upon level of moving clockwork. Pistons as tall as trees shifted back and forth. Gears and wheels the size of wagons and mansions spun in midair, locked to each other by the intricacy of their design and the light, narrow wires that held the lighter-than-air components together. Levers as tall as wireferry towers shifted up and down with jarring clicks, and thick cables carried power from the steam engines that chugged on every catwalk. Giant drums the size of Taya's eyrie apartment spun in the center of a weaving, bobbing network of metal arms.
They stood at the very top of the hollow mountain. But even here, at its narrowest point, Taya couldn't see the other side of the catwalk. The chamber was too breathtakingly vast, the Great Engine too colossal.
She didn't know how long she stood there, staring. At last she released the rail and looked around for Cristof.
He was as enraptured by the sight as she, his needlegun dangling from one hand and his eyes wandering over the cables and moving parts. She reached for the gun and he started, his hand tightening on it again.
"That's carbon-filament incandescent lighting," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the clatter. He pointed at the banks of lights. "I've never seen it used outside a technology exhibit. Look — it's powered by the steam engines. No smoke!"
"Come closer and take a better look," she said, waving him over. He shook his head.
"I'm fine."
"After flying all the way to the top of Ondinium, you're still not over your fear of heights?"
"Not in this lifetime." He craned his neck to look through the open railing. "Do you see anyone?"
"No, but it's a long way down." She held out a hand. "Come on and look. I'll hold you steady."
He gritted his teeth, then edged forward, ignoring her hand and standing sideways to the railing.
"Stubborn." She hooked her fingers through a strap on his harness. "See, I've got you."
He grabbed the railing with his free hand and glanced down, his muscles tense. Then his head snapped back and he pushed up his glasses as though afraid of losing them.
"It's impossible to see anything down there," he complained. "It's all hazy."
"Probably smoke from the steam engines, or grease spray from the gears. They must keep the machine oiled somehow." Taya leaned over the rail, heedless of Cristof's flinch. "This space is so big, I'll bet it has own weather patterns. I can feel an updraft." She released Cristof's harness to lean out as far as she could and held her hand palm-down, flat over the chasm. Warm air pushed against it.
"Be careful!"
"Relax. There's plenty of room to fly here. Lots of clearance around the sides of the Engine, and even some around the gears and pistons. I'll bet flying through the Engine isn't much more dangerous than flying through the lines on Tertius." She frowned, studying the mechanism. "Although I wouldn't want to get a feather caught between those gears."
"I'm sure there are stairs." The exalted stepped backward again. "Let's go find them. We need to figure out where the punch cards are fed into the Engine."
"It'll be faster to go straight down." Taya gauged the distance and began unhooking her safety line. "It'll be just like the hop you took to get up to the balcony, but easier. The next catwalk is only twenty, thirty feet below us."
Cristof closed his eyes and sighed.
"I don't like sounding like a coward, Taya. And there really aren't many things in the world that scare me. But I don't like heights, and I would prefer to avoid them as much as possible." He sounded pained.
"It's all right." Taya gave him a sympathetic look. "I don't think you're a coward, not after forcing yourself into a first flight. I've got a phobia, too — I don't like crowds. If I'm stuck in a real shoulder-to-shoulder press, I get faint. Cassi has to drag me down to the Markets each winter to do my Ladysday shopping."
He opened his eyes, looking down at her.
"I don't like crowds, either," he said.
"This won't be so bad. I'll hook our two safety lines together. We'll drape the lines over this railing and use them to guide our descent. Remember, with all the ondium you're wearing, you're going to float even if you lose your grip on the ropes. We'll climb to the next catwalk, I'll shake the lines loose while you hunt for the punch card whatchamacallit, and if it's not there, we'll do it again."
"Tray. The punch cards are fed into a tray."
"Does it look like the one on the University engine?"
"I don't know." He sighed, his apprehension obvious. Taya tentatively reached out to pat his shoulder, trying to reassure him.
It was strange. Alister had made her feel warm and admired, but he'd never made her feel needed. He'd paid her plenty of compliments, but she'd never felt like she offered him anything he couldn't get from someone else.
Cristof, on the other hand, had never tried to impress her and had never hesitated to acknowledge that she could do things he couldn't. He just stepped aside and let her work.
Taya liked the fact that he didn't try to make himself seem perfect. He was defensive and sarcastic and not very handsome, but he trusted her, and that made a big difference.
Still, I'd better fly carefully,
she thought, studying his sharp face.
We're both negotiating a lot of obstruction currents right now.
"The tray must be connected directly to the Engine," he said after a minute, looking down through the grillwork under their feet. "I'll bet there's at least one level where a catwalk extends out to the machine itself. That'll be where the technicians feed in the program."
"Then we'll keep descending, level by level, until we see it," Taya said, lifting her hand. "Let's hope it's not on the other side of the mountain, though."
Cristof turned and contemplated the machinery-filled abyss.
"Obviously," he said, after a moment, "flying is the most efficient solution." He paused, and she saw him brace himself. "How long do you think it would take to make a circuit of the entire Engine?"
"I can't even begin to guess." She leaned over the railing again, scanning the horizon. "I'd have to spiral. Fifteen minutes? Twenty? It depends on how close the catwalk is, and what the air currents are like."
"Can you guide me down again?"
"Here?" She straightened, surprised that he'd suggest it. "No. Rappelling is one thing, but flying in a completely new airspace, next to so many parts and cables — I'd need to pay attention to what I was doing. Guiding you would distract me too much. I'll tell you what. I'll take the first flight down by myself, and when I find the tray, I'll come back to tell you. Then we can decide how to get there."
"I have no intention of letting you go down there alone. There could be a killer in here."
"If I see anyone, I'll head back up."
"Investigation is my job, not yours."
"And while we stand here arguing about it, someone could be running Clockwork Heart through the Great Engine."
Cristof's jaw tightened. Then he jerked one shoulder, turning away.
"All right." He pinched the bridge of his nose, under his glasses. "Be careful."
Taya nodded and climbed on top of the wrought-iron catwalk railing. The metal trembled from side to side beneath her boots and she swayed. Cristof stepped forward, steadying her, his eyes averted from the chasm as he grabbed her harness and held her in place. Taya slipped her arms into her wings and unlocked them. The exalted ducked as a wing swept over his head.
"Sorry."
His fingers tightened for a moment on her harness straps.
"Let go," she ordered. He released her and jumped backward as she kicked off from the railing.
Taya let herself drop until she was well under the first catwalk, then spread her wings and flapped hard, tilting to keep her body parallel to the inner curve of the mountainside.
The air was warm and filled with unpredictable thermals and currents caused by the steam engines and incandescent lights, spinning drums and coiling springs, thumping pistons and clicking levers. The Engine's constant movement at the edge of her vision kept drawing her attention away from the air currents until she bobbled and her awareness snapped back to maintaining her balance.
Taya concentrated. She was used to flying through cables and towers — that was a given, in the closely developed cityscape of Ondinium — but usually the only movement around her was the slow coast of a wireferry, the quick dart of a bird, or the lazy glide of another icarus. Flying next to the Engine required a very different set of skills.
She was glad she hadn't brought Cristof with her.
Thinking of him, she swept in a circle in the empty space between the catwalked mountain wall and the moving immensity of the Engine and looked up.
He was leaning over the catwalk, his wings glinting over his back as he watched her.
He looked down
, she thought, pleased, and tilted her wings in salute before starting a slow, spiraling descent around the Engine. He didn't wave back. He probably had a death grip on the iron railing.
She flew around the Great Engine of Ondinium, marveling again at its complexity. She'd learned in school that it had taken fifty years to build, and engineers had been tinkering with it ever since, expanding, adapting, and experimenting. As the Engine had grown, so had the chamber in which it was housed. Whenever one of the mountain's ondium mines had been tapped out, the tunnels had been destroyed, their leavings cast into new gears and their stone hauled away to build the houses, mansions, bridges and statues that had turned the surface of Ondinium Mountain into the most densely populated city in the world.
The air shuddered with the Engine's heat and vibrations, and air currents danced and broke against each other as gears turned and pistons pumped. Cables suspended by ondium counterweights criss-crossed the empty space around the vast Engine, carrying power and oil and she couldn't guess what else. Every few levels she saw steam engines built on top of massive platforms, chugging away to power the bright lights and giant machine. Some of the catwalks were lined with the same kind of huge iron cylinders she saw spinning in the machine, wrapped in blankets and strapped to the walls with thick cables.
No wonder they call it the heart of Ondinium
, she thought, soaring across the miles of space that surrounded it. Her own heart seemed to pump in time to pounding beat, and her wingtips trembled whenever she flew too close to one of its oversized mechanisms.
Every catwalk she passed was empty, but as she circled the inner circumference of Ondinium Mountain, she saw offices built into the walls and opening out onto the metal walkways. She wondered if the chamber's emptiness were normal or if the Engine had been abandoned only because of the wireferry explosion.
Cristof was right, though. There had to be another way into the chamber. Those giant gears and mainsprings would never fit through the hall and stairwell they'd taken.
It probably was a state secret.
At last she spotted a crosswalk running perpendicular to the catwalk, stretching out across the empty space to end in a small platform beside the Great Engine. Taya caught a thermal current and let herself rise higher again, squinting down at it.
Was that someone on the platform next to the Engine? Despite the glaring, unnatural light, she found it difficult to discern whether it was a human figure or a trick of the chamber's constantly moving shadows. She tilted her wings and tailset and swept back down again.
The figure turned, and Taya caught a glimpse of a startled, uplifted face.
She gasped and tilted too far. The air broke around her and she tumbled, one wing catching beneath her and twisting.
For a moment the walls and Engine spun and gravity fought ondium for possession of her body. Heart pounding, Taya contorted herself, throwing her arms wide and arching her back. The fall didn't frighten her nearly as much as the intruder — she knew how to deal with gravity and open air. She gave one last half-spin until she was falling face-down again. Then she swept her arms down, hard, feeling metal feathers snap shut against each other to catch air.
Something burned across the back of her left leg and she flinched. Her downsweep checked her fall and propelled her back up. Taya aimed herself at the metal-mesh crosswalk overhead, her eyes fixed on the ondium rods that crisscrossed its bottom and held it suspended. She spread her wings again and felt a welcome push of hot air as excess pressure was released from one of the steam engines far below.
Her calf was starting to hurt. She looked down, but she couldn't see anything beneath the hinged bars that extended from the armature back to her tailset.
She looked back up.
The intruder was crouched on the catwalk, staring down through the meshwork. Amazement and admiration gleamed in his green eyes as he gazed at her.
She hadn't been mistaken.
The intruder was Alister Forlore, complete with embroidered robes, jeweled ornaments, and an ivory mask hanging from his belt.
Their eyes met, and for a moment all Taya could think of was how relieved Cristof would be that his brother was alive. Then she realized what that meant, and a surge of righteous anger swept away her relief.
The decatur looked up, then leaped to his feet, holding out a hand as if to stop something.
Taya craned her neck over her shoulder and saw a lictor standing on the side catwalk, aiming an air rifle at her.
Lady! She swerved, soaring up and to the right to put the crosswalk between her and the gunner.
A series of sharp, metallic pings warned her that the lictor was firing again. Taya had no idea where the bullets had gone — buried, perhaps, in the enormous grinding cliff of gears behind her — but they hadn't hit her.
A crosscable nearly caught her and sweat broke out on her forehead as she swept beneath it. The lictor who'd fired at her lowered the barrel of his rifle to the catwalk floor, unscrewing its used air reservoir.
Out of the corner of her eye, Taya glimpsed a second lictor running along the catwalk, trying to keep abreast of her. He was carrying a rifle, too, but he was moving too fast to aim.
"Stop shooting!" she shouted, furious. "I'm not your enemy!"
Or was she? Were the lictors secret Torn Cards, working for Alister? Or — her heart leaped — could Alister be innocent, somehow snatched from death to protect the Engine?
Another burst of warm air swept up around her. She spread her wings to catch it, letting the thermal pull her up and over the crosswalk, away from the level the shooters were on.
Alister's head was tilted upward, and he held a hand over his eyes to shade them from the bright glare of the incandescent lights as he stared past her.
Taya tilted to see what he was looking at.
"Oh, no!"
Cristof must have heard her shout, because he was plummeting down, a dark winged shape hurtling through the empty space between the mountain and the Engine. He was falling fast, his wing-clad arms spread wide but their ondium feathers slotted open to let the air whistle past their metal edges.
Taya swiftly calculated the angle of attack she'd need to intercept his fall. He was wearing enough ondium that it wouldn't take more than a glancing blow to drive him back toward the catwalks, but she had to hit him without getting their wings tangled together. A conscious icarus who was out of control could help a rescue attempt by locking his wings up, but frightened fliers all too often caught a rescuer's wings in their own.
Then Cristof swept his wings down, awkwardly emulating the strokes she'd taught him. His flightfeathers snapped shut and his descent slowed. Taya held her breath, watching him fumble through the morning's lessons to angle himself toward the crosswalk.
Lady, he was freeflying! Badly, to be sure, but the ondium counterweights she'd packed into his suit were giving him the margin of error he needed to keep himself aloft.
She tilted, trying to catch the last wisp of her dissipating thermal.
Then she saw the second lictor swing his rifle around.
"Cristof!" Taya shouted at the top of her lungs and plunged down, angling herself sideways so that the stretch of her metal wings would be between the gunman and the outcaste. Her leg protested the twist needed to steer with her tailset, but the maneuver worked. The lictor started as she swept past him, and his shots went wild, lead pellets ricocheting off the walls and machinery around them.
She pulled out of the dive and saw Cristof backbeating hard, his feet aimed at the crosswalk where his brother stood. Alister stood motionless, watching his brother with an expression of sheer incredulity.
One of Cristof's heavy boots hit the railing and he hovered there a moment, suspended, teetering.
Taya swooped over him.
Alister reached out and grabbed his brother's keel, yanking him down to safety.
Cristof's soles hit the iron crosswalk. He slipped an arm from the wingstruts and swept it upward, his fist slamming against Alister's chin and snapping the decatur's head back.
Taya turned and saw both lictors running toward the crosswalk to assist Alister. She circled wide, her wings teetering as she lost the current she'd been riding. Then she turned and aimed herself for the top of the crosswalk.
Her timing was almost perfect. She swept over the crosswalk just as the riflemen stepped onto it. They ducked, instinctively throwing their arms over their heads, and one of the air rifle barrels clipped the front edge of her left wing.
The impact tore the weapon from the man's hands and sent it falling into the chasm, but it also threw her off-balance. She spun, struggling to right herself. The Great Engine loomed before her with sickening speed.
Backbeating as wildly as Cristof had a moment before, Taya jerked her ankles from the tailset and lifted her feet in front of her. Her thick boot soles hit one of the Great Engine's giant spinning gears, hard. Her left foot slipped against a slick coating of machine oil, but the other got enough of a grip to push her back, away from the mechanism, as the gears’ teeth ground against each other. She snatched her feet away before they could get trapped. Sweat dripped down her face, running along the edges of her flight goggles.
She fought her way back up again.
Cristof had his needlegun out and pointed at Alister, but in his haste to subdue his brother, he'd forgotten to lock his wings up and out of the way. One of the floating wings had become tangled in the iron railing, trapping him in place.
The lictor who'd lost his rifle drew a knife. With one hand, he grabbed Cristof's trapped wing and yanked on it, trying to distract the exalted while he waited for a chance to use the blade. The other rifleman pressed against the far railing, leaning backward as he tried to aim his weapon at Cristof without risking Alister. Taya swore. She'd missed the lictor who'd replaced his air cylinder.
Then she heard the hissing that signaled a new release of hot air from the steam engines below. Thanking the Lady, she caught the updraft and aimed herself at the crosswalk, starting high and angling down at a forty-five-degree angle. As soon as she was close, she swung herself around into landing position.
The rifleman looked up in time to see her boots slam into his chest. Already off-balance, absorbing her impact was enough to flip the lictor backward over the rail, still clutching his rifle. He screamed as he plummeted.
Taya used the jar of hitting him to backbeat and caught the rail with both feet. A jolt of pain went through her injured leg. She craned her neck, trying to see whether she had any chance of saving the falling man. She hadn't meant —
"Look out!"
She heard Cristof's shout at the same time she felt hands on her wing, yanking it down. She tumbled, her back slamming against the crosswalk. The impact wasn't hard enough to knock the breath out of her — the ondium kept her light — but she was momentarily helpless as the knife-wielding lictor kicked her in the side, right beneath her keel.
Gasping for breath, Taya struggled to free her arms. The lictor leaned over and grabbed her harness straps, his blade flashing. She futilely tried to kick him back.
Over the lictor's shoulder, she saw Cristof swinging his needler around.
The weapon spat, and the sharp tips of long steel pins abruptly protruded from her attacker's throat. Blood spurted as the man clutched his neck. The knife fell from his fingers and slipped through the grillwork into the emptiness below.
Taya freed her arms and wiped the dead lictor's blood off her face, her hands shaking.
"Nice work, Cris," Alister said agreeably, then grabbed his brother with both hands. With a heave, he lifted Cristof by his harness and hauled him over the catwalk rail.
"Wait!" Cristof shouted, his loose wings floating around him. He made a grab at Alister's forearms and missed.
Taya rolled to her feet, her own unlocked wings clattering against the metal railing as they floated upward. She stood just in time to see Alister drop his brother into the depths.
If Cristof shouted, his cry was lost in the roar of the Great Engine and the ugly grating and squealing sound of his metal wings rattling over the guard rail as he fell.
Taya threw herself forward, leaning over the edge of the railing. She had one boot wedged in the grille, ready to jump, when Alister grabbed her around the waist. She twisted, yanking at his wrists.
"Easy, little swan! He'll be all right." Alister picked her up and pivoted, planting her on the small platform next to the Engine. "The worst he'll suffer is a broken arm or leg."
"You bastard!" Taya kicked and ducked. Alister cursed as a floating wingfeather cut his cheek. He shoved her against the Engine.
Taya hit the Engine's ondium panel and turned, putting her back against it. Pain burned up the back of her leg, and her tailset scraped and flexed against the catwalk. She kicked it up behind her. Her wings floated at her sides.
Alister frowned, dabbing a drop of blood from his face.
The hem of his robe was covered in dirt, and a few leaves jutted out from the golden hoops and clasps that were slipping out of his once-ornate hairstyle. Gold glittered on his hands, but his fine manicure had been destroyed.
Taya looked down, through the open mesh floor, and saw the receding mass of metal that she was sure was Cristof and his floating, broken wings. Suddenly her anger was replaced by convulsive shivering, and bile rose in her throat.
"How could you do that?"
"I wouldn't have thrown him over if I didn't think he'd survive," Alister chided her. "You did a fine job of counterweighting him."
"He thought you were dead!"
"Oh." Alister blinked. "That." For a moment he looked ashamed of himself. "Was he upset?"
"Of course he was!" Taya felt the Engine thrumming behind her, rattling her wings. She glanced to one side, looking for an escape route — some way to help Cristof. Alister shifted his weight to stand in front of her.
"I'd really prefer you didn't retrieve him. He's safer down there, where he won't feel obliged to stop me."
Still trembling with reaction, Taya wiped her palms on her pants legs.
"What if he's swept toward a gear? The air currents in here are all over the place."
Alister glanced down, uncertainly. Then he shook his head.
"He'll be fine. And if you rescue him, you'll just keep bothering me and I might have to hurt you."
"He's afraid of heights!"
"I know that." The exalted gazed at her, his green eyes wide. "I was astounded when he leaped down to save you. Or was he simply leaping down to hit me? Hard to say. My brother plays his cards close to the chest."
"He's not the only one," Taya said, bitterly. How far down was it to the floor, anyway? The fall would be slow, because of all the ondium Cristof wore. Was a gradual descent a blessing or a curse for someone who was afraid of heights? "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"Nothing that will harm Ondinium, I assure you." The exalted held out a hand. "My swan queen. I'm sorry. I truly regret any pain I may have caused you or my family."
Taya ignored his hand and slid her arms into her loose wings. Alister tensed. Realizing there was no escaping him for the moment, she simply locked the wings high and pulled her arms free again. She'd have to wait for an opening.
Her calf felt like someone had laid a hot iron across it. She hoped it wouldn't stiffen up before she needed to vault past him.
"What about the pain you caused Pins’ family?" she asked, to distract him. "Her daughter found her body. You're the one who killed her, aren't you?"
Alister made a face.
"She was a criminal. I didn't do anything the lictors wouldn't have done, eventually."
"That's a horrible thing to say." Taya recoiled. "I liked you. I was even thinking about sleeping with you!"
"Really? How flattering." He smiled, stepping closer. "I still like you, Taya Swan. You never fail to impress me. When you came swooping down out of nowhere like a silver bird, you took my breath away. You're an example of everything that's right about Ondinium."
"Is that so?" Taya pulled herself as tall as she could. "Then why are you trying to destroy it?"
"I'm not destroying it. I'm fixing it." He reached out and caressed her cheek. "I'd like to convince you and Cristof not to tell anyone I was here. With your cooperation, nobody will hear about this, and the city will be better off. I'm not going to cause any harm. I'm just going to update a few programs to make everyone's life a little safer and a little more predictable."
She turned her face away. "Clockwork Heart was meant to circumvent security, wasn't it? It was never a marriage program at all."
"Actually, it can do both. All I need to do is switch out a few sets of cards."
"Some marriage program. It matched up Lars and Kyle."
Alister laughed, sounding delighted.
"They ran it on themselves? That's wonderful. I would have loved to have seen Lars’ face when he saw the results. I'd guessed about Kyle, but…."
Taya shoved him in the chest, forcing him to take a step backward.
"They ran it in your memory!" she snapped, her eyes flashing. "They held a wake for you!"
"That was thoughtful of them." He seemed unperturbed by her violence. "Listen, my swan. We can all be friends again. I'll be found, thrown clear of the wreckage, tonight. You and Cristof will find me. I'll be shaken up, feverish…. "he touched his face ruefully. "Scratched and bruised. You'll be heroes, and everyone will be happy to have me back. Is Cristof in trouble over the bomb?"
"Yes! How did you—"
"I'll clear his name. One of the lictors you've just killed must have tampered with the clock while it was sitting in my office overnight. They were saboteurs, stopped just in time."
"Cristof will never lie for you."
Alister started to speak, then paused.
"Well. Maybe not. I hadn't realized he was working for the lictors until you told me about Pins. That was a real surprise, although it explained a lot. Still, we're family." He looked wistful. "Cris and I have gone through a lot together."
"You just threw him over the railing!"
"Oh, for the Lady's sake, I wouldn't have done it if I'd thought he'd get hurt. I'm sure he'll understand. He loves Ondinium as much as I do, although he shows it differently." He caught her eyes again. "It's convincing you that worries me, my swan. What do I have to do to prove I'm not your enemy?"
Despite the heat, Taya felt ice crawl down her spine. Her calf was starting to throb in time to the Engine's pounding.
Behind Alister, a lone bead of blood dripped down from the rifleman's needle-punctured neck, falling through the crosswalk's grille floor and into the depths. She shuddered.
"I'm not going to lie for you, either."
"I could guarantee you a position in the diplomatic corps."
"I don't want it badly enough to protect a murderer."
"You don't even know what I'm doing. I — did you hear something?"
Taya listened, but all she could hear was the Engine's roar, its vibrations making her wingfeathers jingle.
"No."
"This place. A man can't hear himself think." Alister reached down and picked up a tin punch card that had fallen to the crosswalk floor. Taya tensed to kick him while he was looking down, then flinched as a jolt of pain ran through her calf. The exalted straightened, oblivious to her aborted action. "All I'm doing is setting up a few new permanent subroutines. I'm not stealing any data, and I'm not sabotaging the Engine."
"What kind of subroutines?"
"Iterative simulations. They'll need regular checking and adjustment, which is why I need Heart in place. I can't afford to waste my time guessing the Labyrinth Code every time I need to run some cards."
"You stole the Code."
"I was just borrowing it," Alister corrected her. "I was planning to return it. Unfortunately, losing the last few cards to Cris rendered months of effort completely worthless. That's why I had to do it this way, instead." He sounded proud of himself. "But I replaced all the cards I bought from Pins. Nobody will ever know they'd been stolen. Well, of course they'll know about the twenty-five Cristof got, but we can say the lictor who set the bomb was the same one who was smuggling out the cards. This could be flawless, if you'd just cooperate with me."
Taya looked down at the wire-mesh platform beneath her feet, wondering if she should lie and agree to work with him so she could fly down to find Cristof. She couldn't see any sign of him.
He'll be all right. I counterweighted him well. He might be terrified, but he's safe.
She looked up and took a deep breath.
"What kind of simulations do you want the Engine to run for you?"
"Immigration, crime, breeding… I want to make sure Ondinium stays healthy over the long term. That means making careful choices about whom we allow to become citizens and how the composition of future generations should fall out. The ideal population ratio is ten to five to two to one, plebeian to cardinal to icarus to exalted. But Ondinium's always been open to immigration, and my research indicates that we're starting to accumulate too many plebeians. That's what's causing our higher rates of poverty, violence, and crime."
Taya nodded, reserving judgment. So far he hadn't said anything she hadn't heard before from self-styled social critics.
Alister smiled as if her nod had been an endorsement.
"I plan to run the simulations on a regular schedule to calculate the city's ideal immigration and childbirth rates each year."
"And you couldn't have done that legally?"
"The Council has a strong conservative element when it comes to relying on simulations to inform public policy. Look at the fuss they kicked up over Clockwork Heart, and all it does is ensure stable marriages and healthy, caste-appropriate children. Who could argue with that?"
"I can. A program can't tell you how well a marriage will work or whether a child will be ‘caste-appropriate.’ What does that mean, anyway? I'm completely different from my sister, and you're completely different from Cristof."
"You're being distracted by surface differences. I'm looking at deep, behavioral similarities. Now, I grant you, nothing's guaranteed, but if I can control enough of the variables, Clockwork Heart should be able to reach satisfactory statistical likelihoods." His eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. "Logically matched marriages and rationally directed childbearing programs can help Ondinium raise a stronger and smarter generation of citizens."
"Childbearing programs?" A fresh wave of dizziness overtook her and she leaned on the Engine, trying to collect her thoughts.
"Certainly. Mareaux has been breeding superior horses, cattle, and dogs for centuries, and if a group of uneducated farmers can set up a successful breeding program without an analytical engine…."
"Wait." Taya frowned. "You want to breed people like farm animals? That's insane."
"You're grossly simplifying the matter."
"We're reborn according to the Lady's judgment. You can't breed for caste."
"Yes, yes." He waved a hand. "And there will always be a certain amount of movement between the castes due to the social and environmental variables of individual upbringing. Those issues are too difficult to control, which is why we established the Great Examination to reassign children who are poor fits with their birth caste. But I believe that as a society we can take logical, progressive steps to improve the quality of the bodies into which our spirits are reborn. It's not a matter of breeding better people; it's a matter of breeding stronger castes."
"What if Clockwork Heart recommends a cross-caste marriage? Everyone says they never work out."
"It won't. I built in caste as a selection parameter. After all, the idea is to strengthen desirable caste traits, not dilute them. Consider it social engineering. A rational, civilized world is a blessing to everyone. The Lady gave us intelligence so that we can improve ourselves and work toward the perfect final rebirth."
"And the Lady also gave us the free will to choose who we love." The pain in her leg was growing worse. "What about Viera and Caster? Would Clockwork Heart have let them marry? Would your childbearing program have come up with Ariq?"
"I'm sure it would have."
"Cristof said both of you objected to the marriage." Taya leaned over and felt the back of her leg. Her flight suit had a ragged rip in it, and she felt something damp. She pulled her hand back.
A thin smear of blood. Just what she'd been afraid of.
"We—" Alister's eyes fell to her hand. "You're hurt."
"One of your men shot me."
"I thought they'd missed." Alister stepped forward and knelt, examining her left calf. Taya flinched and braced herself on his shoulder with her left hand. "It looks like a bullet went in and out. You're bleeding into your suit padding. Give me your knife. I want a better look."
She reached up with her right hand and pulled the utility knife off her harness. Alister's back was protected by layers of silk, but his bare neck was vulnerable, draped with loops of long, gold-wrapped black hair.
She steeled herself and pressed the knife blade against Alister's carotid artery.
"Let go of me, Alister."
The decatur's left hand shot out and grabbed her wrist before she could move. He stood, his grip tightening as he forced her arm up and aside, over her left shoulder.
"Taya—"
She jerked herself around, spinning all the way to her left. Her wings screeched over the metal face of the Great Engine, and then the metal feathers sprang free, slapping Alister across the face and chest. He swore and released her, more startled than injured.
She dropped to her left knee, gasping as her wound sent a fresh pulse of pain shooting through her leg, and slashed behind her with the knife.
The blade slammed harmlessly into Alister's leather boots, but the impact was enough to make him hop backward.
"Stop that! You're being foolish!"
She looked down. A square basket of tin Engine cards sat on the platform — Clockwork Heart, she presumed. She shoved it sideways and it hit the metal guardrail.
"No!" Alister dropped to his knees and grabbed the basket.
For a moment they knelt shoulder-to-shoulder, yanking the basket back and forth as the tin cards inside jingled against each other. Then Taya jammed her knife into the side of the basket and sawed the blade down through the woven reeds, ripping out one of the corners.
Slick metal cards poured out of the ragged hole, tumbling down into the chasm.
"Scrap!" Alister grabbed the basket and tore it from her grasp before all of its contents could vanish into the depths. She slashed at his wrist. He slid the basket behind him and sprang to his feet.
Taya tried to do the same. Pain skewered her and she dropped back to her knees, tears stinging her eyes.
"Now look what you've done," Alister growled, reaching down. He snatched the knife from her suddenly weak hand and put it into his jacket pocket. "You're bleeding to death and you're still trying to fight me."
"Nobody bleeds to death from a calf wound," she gasped. She was almost certain she was right, but Lady, she'd never been shot before, and her calf hurt like Forgefire. She looked down through the grillwork.
The incandescent lights flashed off a small mass of moving metal that was crawling up the side of the Great Engine.
She blinked.
"Take off your armature."
She looked up.
"No."
"Take it off or I cut it off." Alister reached down and grabbed her arm. "I need to see that wound, and I can't get a good look with your tailset in the way. If the bullet left any leather or padding under the skin, your leg could get infected."
She looked up at him. His expression was a picture of concern, as if she hadn't just foiled his plan to penetrate the Great Engine.
"Why do you care?"
"You still don't understand, do you? I'm trying to take care of you — you and Cristof both. But you aren't making it easy."
"What about Caster Octavus?" she asked. "Were you taking care of Viera when you killed him?"
"I—" He looked away, distressed. "I'm sorry about that. Caster was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"You murdered him!"
The exalted sank into a crouch, facing her. She pulled her arm back and he let it slip out of his grasp.
"I'd intended to get on the wireferry alone. But at the last minute, Caster hopped on with me, wanting to talk about the Clockwork Heart vote."
"You could have waited."
"No, I couldn't have. The alarm was set, and I couldn't pull the clock open and disarm the bomb while Caster was standing there arguing with me, could I? Besides, it was obvious from what you'd said that Cristof was close to discovering me. I had to do something drastic to knock his investigation off its cables."
"So you framed him for your murder?"
"I left the possibility open. I wired the bomb into the clock in the hope that it would implicate him. I knew if the lictors arrested Cris, it would keep him off my trail. I've always intended to show up again to clear his name."
She swallowed. "But why did you kill Octavus? Couldn't you have taken him prisoner?"
"It was hard enough to climb out of the car on my own. I couldn't have done it carrying another man. I knocked him out, though. He didn't feel any pain."
Taya shuddered, thinking of the body parts in the wreckage.
The body parts….
She looked at Alister again, filled with cold fury. "No. You needed
Caster. If you'd been on the ferry alone, there wouldn't have been any blood found in the wreckage. Everyone would have known you weren't dead."
His green eyes shifted, and in that moment she knew.
He was still lying. Even now he was trying to charm her, trying to convince her that all the deaths in his mad scheme had been accidents.
But he'd known exactly what he'd been doing when he'd gotten on that ferry car with Caster. Not only would Viera's husband provide the gore for the search team, his dissenting vote would be removed from the Council chambers. The decatur's murder had been deliberate.
"You're a monster," she spat. She grabbed the railing with one hand and pulled herself up, ignoring the pain in her leg.
The flash on the side of the Engine caught her eye again. It was closer now. She squinted, then spun, turning her back to it.
She had no idea how he'd managed it, but somehow Cristof was climbing up the shifting, floating, cliff-like face of the Great Engine, his ondium wings strapped in a bundle on his back.
"How did you get out of the car in time?" she demanded.
Alister's expression seemed colder now. He wasn't trying to charm her anymore.
"It's easy to reprogram a wireferry driver. I had it pause at a maintenance tower for a minute, just long enough to swing out and climb down."
"And you hid on the mountain for two days?"
"Hiding from the rescue teams by day and traveling at dusk and dawn." Alister shrugged. "I've done some hiking before, although I hadn't anticipated how cold it would get at night."
"You hiked in your public robes."
"Of course not." He smiled. "I had climbing gear and supplies hidden by the maintenance tower. After Neuillan was arrested, I realized a wise decatur needs to be able to drop out of sight at a moment's notice."
"Emelie said you helped Neuillan avoid the loyalty program." She dredged its name out of her memory. "Refinery. Is that true?"
"She must have been mistaken."
"She seemed pretty certain." Taya gave him a steady look. "You were working with Neuillan, weren't you? Did you know Cristof helped catch him?"
"In his role as a lictor's spy?" Amazingly, Alister seemed as disapproving as Viera had been. "Cris shouldn't have gotten involved. Neuillan took good care of us when we were orphaned. Arresting him was poor thanks."
"Was he really a traitor?"
Cristof sighed. "Yes, I'm afraid he was. But I didn't know. I thought he was an idealist, like me; someone willing to bend the rules for the greater good. I was as shocked as anyone else when his ties to Alzana came to light. But if I'd been the one to find out, I would have tried to reason with him, not arrest him."
"How did you cheat Refinery?"
"I've never cheated it," he said, surprised. "I'm not a traitor. Don't you understand? Everything I've done, I've done for Ondinium."
She felt sick. "Refinery can't identify murderers?"
"It can only calculate someone's likelihood to kill. Certain types of bloodshed are desirable, you know. Lictors need to be able to kill as part of their job. And look at you! You threw a man to his death to protect my brother." Alister's voice softened as Taya twitched with guilt. "But I respect that, just as I respect Cris killing to protect you. It's perfectly rational to defend yourself and your friends. Believe me, if I could have done this without causing any deaths, I would have. If Pins hadn't been giving evidence to the lictors, if Caster had only seen reason, if Cristof hadn't been so close to identifying me…."
Taya ignored his excuses, still brooding over the man she'd thrown over the side of the crosswalk. "Who was he? The man I killed?"
"I'm not sure. William, I think. He thought you were a terrorist, breaking in to stop me from doing my job."
"You mean, he was innocent?" Fresh horror swept over her. "I thought he was your accomplice!"
"He was one of the lictors who stayed behind to guard the Tower. He didn't have any reason to doubt me when I informed him I'd hiked up from Primus to check on the Engine. He and his partner escorted me down here and stood guard while I worked."
Taya felt like she were about to vomit. The man had just been doing his job.
Lady
She began to shake.
Oh, Lady, grant him a swift rebirth and forgive me my sins.
She grasped at a straw. "Why didn't he recognize you? The lictors would have known Exalted Forlore was supposed to have died in the explosion."
"I didn't give them my real name, and they could hardly recognize me from my robes and mask." Alister shrugged. "I was carrying convincing security papers and I wrote down the correct passwords. Lictors are taught to be obedient, bless them."
"They would have figured out the truth eventually." Taya drew in a deep breath. "What were you going to do with them when you were finished? Sooner or later they would have told someone about you, and inquiries would have been made."
"Ah…. "Alister frowned at his chipped nails, then looked up. His face was hard. "Take off your armature, Taya."
"So you can throw me over the side, too?"
"Are you going to make me? So far all of this can be explained away, if you'll agree to cooperate. But if it boils down to my word against yours, I don't need to tell you which one of us will be believed, do I?"
"Cristof will support me."
"It won't be that hard to prove that you're both Torn Cards who came here to destroy the Great Engine after trying to kill me and Caster. You were close to the last wireferry accident. Maybe you were there to make sure it killed the right man and only rescued Viera when it became clear Caster wasn't on the car. And Cris, well, he's already a suspect in the attack. Those two lictors were heroes who rescued me in the middle of the night and then died in an effort to keep me safe from your attack. I can make you a hero or a villain, Taya Swan. Which will it be?"
Taya shifted, rising on her toes and planting her back more firmly against the railing. Pain made her head swim.
"You wouldn't do that to Cristof," she argued. "You might ruin me, but you wouldn't hurt your brother."
"I would rather not hurt either of you." His voice dropped. "Work with me, Taya. We'll retrieve Cris and explain to him that the lictors were forcing me to reprogram the Engine at gunpoint and that all of this has been a misunderstanding. I'll make you both heroes, and then, if you'll let me, I'll prove to you that I'm not such a bad man."
He stepped closer. Taya pushed herself up until she was sitting on the railing, her back to the open chasm. "Don't," she warned.
"Please." Bright light glittered off his golden jewelry and highlighted the tattoos on his face and the smear of blood along his cut cheek. "You know how much I admire you. You said you felt the same way about me. Do you remember our dance? You looked so beautiful in that dress. I wish you'd gone home with me that night. Pins might have stayed alive, if you'd kept me occupied."
For a moment Taya was caught by his emerald gaze, remembering his strong arms holding her as they danced. Then she thought of Caster Octavus and of Pins, and she jerked her gaze away with disgust.
His expression darkened, and he lunged. Taya let herself fall backward, tumbling heels-over-head off the rail.
"Taya!"
She saw Cristof stare at her, wide-eyed, as he held on to the side of the Great Engine, just beneath the crosswalk. Then he looked up at his brother, lifted his arm, and fired his needlegun through the grillwork.
Taya closed her eyes, feeling the air rushing against her face. She reached up and slid her arms into the wings by touch. Without the spinning depths to disorient her, she stretched and unlocked them.
She opened her eyes, waited until her tumbling put her head-up again, and spread her arms.
Air pressure pushed against the feathers. She glanced down. The floor was nowhere in sight and no immediate danger threatened. Warm air whistled past her ears as she kicked the tailset down, hissing as her calf protested. The armature jolted as the tailset created more air resistance.
Groaning, Taya worked her ankles beneath the bar. A kick-tilt and she maneuvered herself belly-down in free fall and took another look beneath her.
So far, so good. None of the chasm-crossing cables or catwalks had caught her. That had been her only concern. Falling backward off a ledge was an icarus game she'd played often as a teenager, dangling from wireferry towers and sitting on cliff tops. The only danger was the unknown.
Now she held her wings at full spread, testing the air and steering herself.
There — the gentle push of a thermal. She swept her arms down and transformed her drop into an ascent.
The thrill of free fall had, at least momentarily, cleared her mind and pushed the pain away. She took advantage of the respite, forcing herself to gain altitude as fast as she could.
Above her, she saw Cristof clinging to the outside of the platform railing. Alister had grabbed the air pistol's barrel and they were struggling for possession of it. Taya swept her arms down again, flying up in the hope of breaking the stalemate.
Alister glanced down, over Cristof's shoulder, and saw her. He redoubled his efforts.
Cristof released the gun and rolled himself over the railing, awkwardly falling to the crosswalk floor. As Taya shot up to the platform, Alister thrust the barrel of the gun into Cristof's face and pulled the trigger.
Taya made a strangled protest, but nothing happened. With an oath, Alister fumbled for the safety.
"Alister!" Taya swooped around to give herself enough height, then twisted and began to backbeat. Alister glanced up at her, then back down at the gun.
Cristof was fumbling in his belt pockets as Alister's thumb snapped the safety back. Alister aimed the weapon just as his brother's hand reemerged.
The outcaste opened his fingers and a five-pound ondium counterweight shot into the air, clipping his brother under the chin. Alister's head rocked backward and a spray of needles stitched the air, one sending a shudder through Taya's wing as it hit an ondium feather.
Taya's heavy boots slammed into Alister's chest and drove him backward, into the Great Engine. The metal punch card tray on the Engine's face snapped off beneath him, and her wounded leg felt like it was on fire.
For a moment she frantically backbeat to keep her balance, and then Cristof ducked between her wings, grabbing the harness straps between her shoulders and steadying her until she got her feet beneath her again.
Limping, Taya grabbed the front of Alister's robes and slammed him against the Engine again.
"I hate you!" she shouted. Tears of anger and pain streaked her face. "You make me sick!"
"My gun," Cristof protested. Careless of her own safety, Taya yanked the weapon from Alister's hand and held it over her shoulder. Cristof took it from her.
"Taya." Alister looked at her, stunned. "I'm sorry."
She spat in his face, then stepped back to let Cristof have him. Alister wiped off his cheek, looking hurt.
"What was that for?"
"Trying to kill your brother."
Cristof stepped to one side on the platform, the needlegun held steady.
"You punched me when you'd thought I'd killed my brother," he observed. "Why does Alister get off so lightly?"
"I thought you'd succeeded." Taya was shaking with released tension. "Alister only tried."
"Twice." Cristof turned a hard gaze on their prisoner. He looked as forbidding as he had the first time she'd seen him.
"Don't exaggerate, Cris." Alister's emerald eyes darted back and forth as he took a measure of the situation. "I knew the fall wouldn't hurt you, and I wasn't trying to kill you with the pistol."
"You didn't think shooting me in the face would be fatal?" Cristof was squinting, and Taya realized he wasn't wearing his glasses. He must have lost them in the fall. "You must not have been paying attention earlier. Maybe you were too excited about throwing me into the abyss to see what I did to your lictor?"
"You'd better let me take the gun," Taya said, worried about Cristof's nearsighted aim.
"I'm sorry, Taya, but I don't think you have a cold enough heart to shoot." The tall exalted's voice was flat. "I, on the other hand, am very tempted to run a few needles through your legs right now, Alister."
"And then what would you do?" Alister straightened up and smoothed the front of his embroidered robe. "Are you going to turn me in, Cris? You know what they'll do to me, don't you? Are you really going to let them blind me and flog me out the city gates? After all we've been through together?"
Cristof's needler trembled a moment. Then he shifted his grip and the trembling stopped.
"Blinding is for traitors, Al. You aren't going to be that lucky. Murder carries the death penalty."
"So you'll let me die? That would make you the last Forlore. Will you go back to Primus and take up the mask again? Or you will you let our family line vanish from the ranks of the exalted?"
"I don't see any compelling reason to keep it going. The last two generations have been full of murderers."
"You're as guilty as I am," Alister said, pointing to the lictor's body sprawled on the crosswalk behind them.
"Exactly," Cristof said, evenly. "As I said, no compelling reason."
"Cris, let me tie him up," Taya said, reaching for her safety line and remembering that she'd left it on the catwalk high above. "I need your line."
Cristof pulled the coil off his harness and held it out. She limped forward and took it.
"Our swan's been shot," Alister said, watching them. "Did you notice the blood on her leg? I don't think you should make her walk around on it."
"Shot?" Cristof turned, giving her an alarmed look. "I thought—"
Alister lunged, tackling him. Taken off guard, Cristof staggered and fell to one knee, his needlegun skittering across the grillwork from his hand.
Taya grabbed for the weapon. Its barrel brushed her fingertips as it slipped over the catwalk edge.
The two brothers grappled. Cristof was taller, but Alister was stronger and heavier. The younger brother laughed as Cristof realized his ondium-buoyed harness put him at a distinct disadvantage. For a moment Taya was afraid Alister was going to hoist Cristof up and throw him over the side again, but then Cristof grabbed Alister's neck with both hands, squeezing.
Alister's hand plunged into his jacket pocket and reappeared with Taya's knife.
Taya grabbed the first thing that came to hand, the torn basket of tin punch cards, and leaned over the struggling men. She slammed it down on Alister's head.
The basket split, sending the remaining cards tumbling everywhere. Alister winced and Taya grabbed the back of Cristof's harness, yanking him up and away from his brother. Then her leg gave out and she sagged, darkness swimming before her eyes.
Through the haze, Taya could barely make out Alister recovering and flicking her knife toward his brother. A line of red appeared on Cristof's jaw, jarringly vivid against the spots that floated in front of her eyes. She groped across the catwalk and grabbed a handful of wide tin cards. When Cristof shifted to one side, she hurled them at Alister's face.
The decatur flinched. Cristof shoved him and they hit the metal railing, which shook and bent at the rivets.
Alister's eyes widened as the metal sagged beneath him. He grabbed Cristof at the same time that Cristof's hand closed on his arm. For a moment Cristof held him safe — and then the railing snapped and they both fell over the edge.
Without stopping to think, Taya grabbed the abandoned safety line and rolled off the catwalk after them.
This time she didn't try to put on her wings. Instead, she extended her arms and legs into a dive, the line snapping against her arm as she fell.
The two men were tumbling, gaining speed on the descent. Taya reached for her nearest counterweight pocket and pulled out the ondium bar, releasing it and letting it dart up to the ceiling. Her speed increased as her weight increased.
She had time. They hadn't reached terminal velocity. She yanked another counterweight out and let it go. Then another.
She began to draw closer. She hooked one end of the safety line to her harness and reached out.
Alister and Cristof were clutching each other, their anger forgotten in the horror of the unexpected plunge. Taya's first attempt to clip the rope to Cristof failed. Her second attempt succeeded. The hook snapped onto his belt.
He looked up, his eyes widening.
"It's okay!" she tried to shout, but the words were ripped from her mouth. She began the struggle to re-wing herself. It wasn't easy, with the safety line dangling between them.
At last her arms slid between the struts. She threw her wings out. All three of them jerked, then began to fall again.
She wouldn't be able to carry them, she knew that. She was in the same position Pyke had been during the wireferry rescue. The best she could do was slow and guide their fall. She let the line run taut, then began to angle all three of them toward the Great Engine.
It grew larger and larger as they drew closer, and she searched for an opening. At last she found a landing spot, a makeshift platform created by two huge, flat, ponderously grinding ondium gears. She steered them toward it as they dropped, hoping Cristof and Alister knew enough to brace for impact.
The gears grew larger, each one as wide as Viera's ballroom floor, slowly rotating.
Cristof dropped Alister, who tumbled on the gear and lay motionless. Taya yelped as the two of them bobbed upward with the released weight. Then Cristof snapped the hook off his belt and fell, landing about ten feet away from his brother. One foot slid perilously close to the gear teeth before he yanked it back, scrambling to safety.
Knowing that a graceful landing would be impossible, Taya braced herself, backbeat, and dropped onto the second gear on her knees.
This time the pain was too much to bear.