"Taya? Taya?"
She groaned and opened her eyes. She was surrounded by noise and motion.
"Don't move." She felt the hard leather of a harness shift under her cheek and realized she was propped against Cristof's shoulder. Her arms were still encased in wings and spread out in front of her. "Are you all right?"
"We should get her out of that armature." Alister's voice, a little farther away.
"Does anything hurt?" Cristof sounded worried. Fingers stroked her cheek. "Don't move. You may have broken something."
"I'm all right." Taya tried to push herself up, swinging an arm around. Metal feathers scraped against metal, and she realized they were still on the megagear. The Engine loomed above and below them, its clattering and chugging forcing them all to raise their voices to be heard. She glanced at Cristof and saw the pallor in his cheeks as he studied her. The cut on his jaw was still bleeding. The fall had made the blood streak up the side of his cheek.
She couldn't have been unconscious for more than a few seconds, then.
She tried to pull her leg under her and a fresh streak of pain ran through her calf. Involuntary tears sprang to her eyes.
"What?" Cristof's hand tightened on her shoulder. "What hurts?"
"My leg."
"Where you were shot? Or someplace new?"
She pushed herself up again. "Shot."
"Give her room, Cris," Alister said, sounding annoyed. "She doesn't need you hovering over her."
"Move slowly," Cristof directed her, ignoring his brother. Still, he backed away.
Her primaries were bent. She looked at them with dismay, flexing her arm and rolling her shoulders, testing to see how much damage her body had sustained.
"Be careful. You rolled when you fell." Cristof frowned. "Nothing's sprained? Broken?"
"No." But her arms and shoulders ached, and she gasped as she stretched them over her head to lock the wings upright. Both Cristof and Alister grabbed a wing to help. Taya grimaced as she twisted her arms out of the struts. "I think I pulled some muscles."
"You're lucky it wasn't any worse." Alister flexed the crooked feathers. "I don't think these are going to work anymore, Cris."
"Don't touch my wings!" Taya glowered up at him. Alister dropped his hands.
"We're going to have to cooperate to get off this gear," he pointed out, mildly.
Taya gave him a hard look.
"You should tie him up," she said, to Cristof.
"I should, but he won't sit still for it."
"And chasing me across the gears would be dangerous," Alister pointed out. "This time we wouldn't have our brave icarus to save us."
"Then I'll—" Taya started to stand, but both brothers protested. Cristof dropped back to his knees and pressed his hands against her shoulders.
"Wait," he insisted. "You can't fly anywhere with bent feathers, and you need to rest and let us bandage that bullet wound before it gets any worse."
"You two are obsessed about wounds, aren't you?" she griped, but she settled back down again. Part of her was glad that she didn't have to prove herself yet. She felt weak and nauseous, although she didn't want to let Alister see her vulnerability.
"We still have a few things in common," Alister said. "Cris, hand me your knife."
"No." Cristof pulled the utility knife off his harness and shifted his weight. "I'm sorry, Taya, but either you need to take off the suit, or I'll have to cut the leg open."
Taya made a face. "Cut it open. But one of you owes me a new flight suit."
"I'll see you get it, my swan," Alister promised. Taya didn't miss the annoyance that crossed Cristof's face.
"Stop calling me yours," she snapped, as Cristof lifted the leather by the bloodstained bullet hole and slit it open.
Alister looked offended, but she saw Cristof's lips quirk in a small smile as he worked. Blood seeped through the cut on his face.
"You're still bleeding," she said. He dabbed his face with his flight suit sleeve, wincing.
"It won't kill me. There." He stood. "Let Alister look at it. I want to see if I can repair your armature. I don't think he'll hurt you."
"Of course I won't!" Alister took his brother's place. Taya gave him a dark look as Cristof pulled out his small repair kit and stood behind her. She could feel the vibrations through her armature as he shifted her wing feathers.
Alister shrugged off his two outer robes. "This may hurt," he cautioned, taking her leg in one hand and wiping away the blood with one of his robes. Taya tensed.
"When Cris and I were boys," he said as he worked, "one of the estates in Primus was being remodeled, and the family had moved out while the work was being done. The two of us decided to explore it. Of course it was dangerous, and of course I got hurt. I was climbing over a pile of scrap wood and fell. I gashed my arm. We bandaged it up and left and didn't tell anyone, because we were afraid we'd get into trouble for trespassing."
Taya flinched as Alister probed the wound, his fingers around her calf.
"Unfortunately, the cut began to fester and I grew feverish, and it wasn't long before our servants noticed the blood on my sheets and found the torn robe hidden under my bed. Our parents called in the family physician, who did everything but scour the wound out with a bristle brush. He lectured us about dirt and infection and amputation and basically put the fear of the Forge into us. And after he left, our parents lectured us all over again. We were both in tears by the end of the day. We honestly thought my arm was going to be cut off."
Cristof laughed once, startling her. Taya glanced up. Had she ever heard him laugh with real amusement before? This seemed like a strange time for it.
"The wound healed, of course, but it left a scar, and neither of us ever forgot the lesson." Alister lifted his arm and pulled up his sleeve. The scar was old and pale against his dark copper skin, but long and uneven.
Taya discarded the few uncharitable comments that leaped to mind and just nodded.
"I'm afraid this is going to leave a scar, too," he said.
"How bad is it?" Cristof asked. Taya looked up at him again. He was removing one of the intact primaries from his own broken wings.
"Not as bad as it could have been," Alister replied. "It looks like the bullet went straight through the muscle. You were lucky, my swan."
"I told you to stop that. I wouldn't have been shot, if it weren't for you."
Alister's jaw twitched.
"You'll need a physician's attention. Cris, if you'll give me your knife, I can cut up one of my robes for bandages."
"I don't trust you with a knife, so stop asking."
"You don't think I'd attack you, do you?"
"Yes," Cristof said. "Right now, I think you're capable of anything."
Alister rocked back on his heels, stone-faced. "You're going to have to trust me eventually. Taya shouldn't fly with a hurt leg, and you'll only get yourself killed if you try it in her armature. I'm the only one here who can get help now."
"More likely you'll get one of the lictors’ rifles and come back to finish us off," Taya retorted. "I can fly well enough to get out of here. Flying's mostly arms and hips, anyway."
"Landing isn't. And what will you do when you get to the top of the Engine Room? Do you plan to limp all the way up the stairs to the Tower, and then even farther up to the signal flags?" Alister's voice was gentle. "Neither of us wants you to suffer like that. It has to be Cristof or me, and you know how hopeless my brother is in the air."
"Cris, can't you hit him or something?" Taya asked, irritated.
"I am hopeless in the air," Cristof pointed out. He looked down at her, holding a metal feather. "But I'll hit him, if that's what you want. I'm reasonably talented at fisticuffs."
"You can barely see me," Alister scoffed. "And that's another thing. Without your glasses, you'd never be able to maneuver past all the cables running to the Engine."
"Stop it, Alister." Taya felt one of the feathers slide out of her wing, and then Cristof handed it to her as he replaced it. "Neither one of us trusts you, and neither of us is going to let you go free."
"So you'll go get help and leave us down here, alone together?" Alister raised an eyebrow. "Blind as a bat, light as a feather — I could throw Cris between those gears and watch him get crushed to death."
"Don't believe him." Cristof was tightening the screws against her back.
"I don't," she said. A flash of annoyance crossed Alister's face and he stood, walking to the edge of the gear and looking out at the chasm as they rotated.
"Here." Cristof took the feather from her, sliding it into his bundle of broken feathers, and then picked up one of the robes Alister had left behind. With effort, he hacked out a chunk of the heavy silk with his utility knife and packed it between her suit and her wound. "Do you really think you can fly?" he asked, in a low voice.
"I'll do what I have to do. We can't let him go up there on his own."
Cris combed his dark hair with his fingers, leaving it standing on end. "We could
I don't trust him not to escape, but he'd probably send out a distress flag before abandoning us. He has that much honor."
"Do you want him to get away?" Taya searched Cristof's angular face. His eyes narrowed, but she knew his irritation wasn't directed at her. He was irritated with himself.
"Part of me does. If he hadn't killed anyone… if he hadn't killed Caster…" His jaw tightened. "I can put on your armature and fly up. It doesn't matter if it's not a good fit or if I can't see well. All I have to do is get up to the nearest catwalk, and then I can find stairs, or a lift. You don't need to go."
Taya's leg hurt too much for her to muster a smile, but she gripped his hand briefly, reassuringly.
"I know. But I'll be all right, and it'll be faster." She glanced over his shoulder at Alister. "You know, before all this, he kept pestering me to bring him a pair of wings. I bet if I had, he would have kept them and gotten up here a lot faster after the accident."
Cristof nodded and straightened, walking around her to begin working on the wings again. Each bent feather he removed was bundled with his broken armature, the whole thing kept from floating away by the safety line tied to his harness.
"What happened when you fell?" she asked, after a moment. "I was afraid you were going to float to the bottom of the mountain."
"I hit a crosswire and hung on for dear life."
Her lips curved at his sour, self-deprecating tone. It seemed like something reassuringly familiar in this whole bizarre situation.
"Then what happened?"
"I sat there and panicked for a while. It seems I do panic, under the right circumstances. Then I screwed up enough courage to start moving. I was closer to the Engine than to the walls, so that's the way I went. I was hoping to find a platform, but there wasn't anything there. I could see one above me, though, and the Engine didn't look too hard to climb, so that's what I did. All that ondium you put into my suit helped. When I got to the next catwalk, I bundled up my wings and began unscrewing every counterweight attached to the catwalk floor that I could find. At first I thought I could make myself light enough to float back up to you and Alister, but then I realized that if I did that, I wouldn't be able to control my ascent, so I just counterweighted myself enough for an easy climb."
"That was smart," Taya said, looking over her shoulder. Her strained muscles twinged, and she winced and rolled her shoulders, looking forward once more.
"I have moments of lucidity," he said, dryly. "When I'm not falling to my death."
"I wanted to go after you, but Alister wouldn't let me."
"I know."
"I feel bad about it. You came after me when you heard shooting."
"That was not one of my moments of lucidity."
She laughed, remembering his awkward plummet.
"It was brave, Cristof. It was really brave."
He made an impatient sound and stepped back. "All right, I think we're done. Unless the mechanism itself took damage, you should be able to fly in that."
Taya lifted a hand, and Cristof helped her to her feet. She stood, favoring her injured leg, and brushed his blood-smeared face. She wanted to kiss him again, but not here, not with Alister so close. Instead she looked into his eyes, hoping he could read her impulse. "Thank you."
He shrugged, looking down at his suit and pulling open a pocket. "We'd better give you more counterweight. It'll make walking up the stairs easier, and I need to be heavier so Alister can't throw me around."
"You don't really think he'll fight you when I'm gone, do you?" Taya took the metal bars from him and began sliding them into her suit pockets and harness slots.
"He might, but—"
"Ready to fly?" Alister interrupted, striding back. He picked up his discarded robes, looking unperturbed by the missing fabric, and slid them over his shoulders. "I still think this is unwise, Cris."
Cristof waited until Taya signaled that she was light enough, then turned to his brother. "You have less faith in Taya than I do."
"Maybe I just care more."
"Are you going to be all right with him?" Taya asked, looking from one to the other.
"If you leave, there will be nobody to stop me from killing him and calling you a traitor," Alister warned her.
"He's not going to kill me, Taya. Go."
Taya delayed another moment, but she knew she had no choice. She had to trust that Cristof knew what he was doing, just as he trusted her. Pushing back her misgivings, she limped to the edge of the gear. Alister started to move toward her, but Cristof stepped between them, his utility knife in his hand.
Giving them one last look, Taya slid her arms into her wings and tested them. Everything opened and closed correctly. She crouched, flinching with pain, and kicked off.
Strained muscles and her wounded leg made her flight awkward and slow. She caught thermals and glided as often as she could. She was worried about what Alister and Cristof were doing, but she didn't dare push herself into a faster flight.
She had almost reached the top of the Engine Room when she saw two other icarii sweeping back and forth across the face of the Engine.
She tilted her wings to acknowledge them and made an effort to fly up to the topmost catwalk. There she let herself collide with the rail, sliding one arm loose to grab it and clamber over. She fell to the floor, whimpering. Tears of pain streaked her face and she shrugged out of her wings to wipe them away.
The two icarii landed next to her, locking their wings and pulling off their flight goggles.
"What the hell are you doing?" Pyke demanded.
"The lictors are looking for you," Cassi added, looking worried.
Taya sat on the catwalk, her back to the wall, and watched as lictors and icarii worked around her. After she'd told them what had happened, Pyke had flown down to stand guard over the two exalteds and Cassi had gone back upstairs to get help. Now Taya was under arrest, although other than confiscating her wings and making sure she wasn't going to die of blood loss, the lictors were ignoring her.
Being ignored gave her time to think, and her thoughts were haunted by the lictor she'd kicked over the railing. William.
She'd killed an innocent man. No matter how often she reminded herself that it was an accident and that he would have shot Cristof if she hadn't, she couldn't make it feel right. She'd killed a man, and Cristof had killed another, and the thought made her stomach churn.
Within an hour both exalteds were brought back up in rescue harnesses and the lictors’ bodies were retrieved. Alister had drawn his ivory mask back over his face and was exercising his exalted's right to remain mute in public. Cristof had shown the lictors his identification papers and insisted a physician be called to tend to Taya's wound. He'd paused long enough to grab her hand and squeeze it before the lictors had hustled him off. As always, his hands had been cold.
The lictors took them all back to the Tower and put them in separate rooms. Taya gave her statement while a physician cleaned her wound and called for a pair of crutches. The questioning took a long time, and then Lt. Janos Amcathra walked in and she had to tell the whole story over again, searching his impassive Demican face for some sign that he believed her.
Several more hours passed. At last she was allowed to leave, given her wings and escorted by military icarii back to the lictor station on Primus. This time she didn't have to wait in a cell; she sat in a room and read a copy of her statement, then signed it. After a warning that she was grounded until further notice, she was released, wingless.
Cassi and Pyke were waiting for her outside the station.
"We found your note pretty much just as the warning was going out that there'd been an unauthorized flight," Cassi explained, as they walked down the street. "By the time we got to the launch docks, it was complete chaos. The lictors had heard about the flight and were telling us there was a suspected terrorist loose, and someone pointed out that your armature was missing, and there was a huge argument over whether or not you were a terrorist or if you'd just been kidnapped by one."
"We volunteered for one of the search parties and broke away as soon as we could," Pyke chimed in, as they stopped at the hack station. "We knew from your note that you'd gone to the Tower, so we searched it and found the tunnel to the Engine."
"We knew you weren't a terrorist," Cassi said. "Pyke, will you get us a coach?"
"Sure."
"Ask for Gregor," Taya said, sitting on a bench and setting her crutches next to her. She felt exhausted, emotionally and physically. Pyke nodded and turned to talk to the hackmaster.
"I wish we'd gotten there faster," Cassi said, looking at Taya's torn and bloodstained flight suit. "Did that decatur shoot you?"
"No. It was one of the lictors. It was a mistake. He didn't know who I was." Taya shivered, her guilt over the senseless deaths returning. "He's dead now. Cristof and I killed them both. They were innocent. They didn't know Alister was a criminal."
Cassi put an arm over her shoulders. "It's okay."
"It's not okay."
"You didn't have any choice."
Taya shrugged despondently. Wasn't there always a choice? Maybe she could have put herself between the lictor and Cristof, or —
"Taya, don't eat yourself up over it. You were in danger and you did what you had to do. Nobody's going to blame you for it."
"Their families will."
Cassi hugged her, not answering. After a moment, Taya sighed.
"Do you know if Alister and Cristof are under arrest?"
"Nobody is telling us anything. We want the whole story from you as soon as we get home."
"Deal," Taya agreed, closing her eyes.
When they got back to the Eyrie, Taya assured the rest of the tenants that she wasn't a terrorist and then headed straight to her room. Cassi and Pyke spent the afternoon with her, bringing up food and talking about what had happened. Pyke left a few times to pick up the broadsheets that were starting to hit the streets, their ink wet and their type poorly set. Large headlines marched across the page, comprised of equal amounts of rumor and guesswork. Taya's father, her sister Katerin, and her new brother-in-law Tomas all came to visit toward nightfall, looking concerned and bringing her the best wishes of her childhood friends on Tertius. She hugged them, grateful for her family's support.
Cristof never showed up.
At last Gwen chased all the visitors away and locked the eyrie up for the night.
Taya fell into a restless sleep, awakening throughout the night to the sound of Cristof's watch steadily ticking on her bed stand.
She felt calmer the next morning, sitting at a breakfast table with her second cup of black tea and a stack of newspapers. The rest of the eyrie had gone to work, and only the famulate staff was left, washing dishes and chattering in the kitchen. Taya had been reading for hours.
The printers must have been up all night. The stories were closer to the truth this morning, and Taya read them all. Nobody had fabricated quotes for her this time. In fact, only the
Courier Regnant bothered to mention her name. The rest of the papers referred to her as only as "an icarus."
Alister and Cristof received the bulk of the coverage. Alister's educational and political background was covered at length, and any hope Cristof might have had of continuing to work undercover was dashed by the papers’ scandalized accounts of the exalted who'd scorned his caste to serve the military.
She also read the names and descriptions of the two lictors who'd died. The papers were fair, at least, describing them as dupes who'd become unwitting casualties during the fight. After a moment, Taya tore out the article and put it into her pants pocket. She wasn't sure how she could atone for killing a man, but she was determined to do something. She'd apologize to his family in person, at the very least, and she'd do more if she could.
Making that decision made her feel better, and she was finally able to set her guilt aside for a while as she read.
A small item in the back of one of the less reputable papers made her stop dead. Taya folded the page over and leaned back in her chair to focus on the story.
One of the journalists had managed to dig up the details of the Forlore murder/suicide, and for the first time Taya had access to a full account. She read it with horrified fascination. The article described the elder Forlore's violent madness and his brutal attacks on his wife and children; attacks that had culminated in the argument that had left his wife dead. He'd killed himself immediately afterward.
The two boys, Alister and Cristof, had been found hiding in the cellar, bruised but alive. They'd been put in a hospital for a while to recover and had then been taken in by their aunt and her husband. The names weren't published, but Taya knew who they were. Viera's family.
She lowered the paper and stared into space, thinking about the different ways the two boys had dealt with their father's abuse.
A familiar voice startled her from her absorption.
"Taya?"
She looked up, her heart leaping. Cristof stood in the dining room doorway, holding a black leather bag.
"Cris!" Taya set the paper face-down and reached for her crutches.
"Wait. Don't get up." He started across the room.
"Now, don't you plan to sit there and talk all day," Gwen said tartly, appearing behind him in the doorway. "I'm paying you to fix my clock, not bother my tenants."
"You won't have to pay me anything, if you'll just leave me alone for a while," Cristof shot back over his shoulder.
"Hmph." Gwen gave Taya a long look, her eyebrows rising. Taya nodded. "All right, clockwright, but you two stay downstairs. I don't allow tenants to bring outsiders to their rooms. This is a boardinghouse, not a brothel."
"Don't be ridiculous." Cristof said over his shoulder, then stopped by the table and looked down at Taya. She was smiling. "What's so amusing?"
"Did you really come here to fix the clock?"
"I found your landlady's service request in my mail last night." He set the bag down. "How are you?"
"Bandaged and grounded. The physicians gave me these awful crutches and some medicine to dull the pain and told me no more crash landings for a month or two."
"But you're going to be well?"
"They said they wouldn't need to amputate."
"That's good. May I join you?"
"Of course. I was hoping you'd come by yesterday. I was worried about you."
He pulled out a chair and sat, giving her a searching look. Taya met it, assessing him in turn.
He'd replaced his lost glasses with an older pair, judging from their battered wire arms. The cut across his jaw had become a narrow, scabbing red line. Other than that, he looked the same as ever, his angular body enclosed once more in a crow-black suit, his ragged hair in disarray from the long walk up to the eyrie.
"They kept me for questioning until midnight," he said, at last. "Alister's in jail. He didn't say anything for hours, and then he began to confess everything."
"I read a little about it."
"He admitted to killing Pins and Caster. He also took the blame for the two lictors. He said they wouldn't have attacked us if he hadn't misled them." Cristof's expression tightened. "There's going to be an inquiry into their deaths."
Taya met his eyes and saw her guilt reflected there. It wasn't reassuring, but she felt better knowing that she wasn't alone.
"What about Viera's wireferry? Did he do that?"
"No. He said it was a coincidence. I have to believe him. It doesn't make any sense for him to work with the Cards."
"Are you sure it was sabotaged by the Cards?"
"They left their usual torn copper punch card close to the vandalized girders."
"What about the bombing that night? The refinery fire?"
"Alister says he didn't have anything to do with that, either." Frustration passed over Cristof's sharp features. "I hate coincidences. Still, it could have been the Torn Cards again. We didn't find a card in the initial search, but it might show up during repairs."
"I'm glad Alister didn't try to kill Viera. That's something, at least."
"Hmm." Cristof's lips tightened.
Taya reached out and took one of his hands. "Are you holding up all right?"
He closed his eyes a moment.
"They'll execute him. The Council won't forgive him for killing a decatur."
"Can he bargain?" Taya thought of Neuillan's blinding and exile and wondered if Alister would consider that any better. But Cristof shook his head, looking troubled.
"I don't see how. The laws are clear."
"I'm sorry."
"So am I." He paused. "Viera isn't. She wants him dead."
Taya nodded. It wasn't hard to imagine how furious Viera must be, finding out her husband had been killed by her cousin, instead of both of them dying in the same tragedy. She searched for something reassuring to say.
"You know, she's still angry and grieving. But she's not heartless. She'll change her mind, in time."
"Maybe. But it won't matter." He drew his hand back. "We talked last night. I thought I owed it to her to tell her what we'd discovered. But she got so angry that I had to leave. I couldn't stand hearing her shouting that she wanted him dead. Even after everything, I don't want him to die. Again."
"Of course you don't," Taya said, quietly. "If you did, you wouldn't be human."
"He tried to kill me."
"I don't think he was thinking straight."
Cristof leaned back in the chair and massaged his forehead. Lines of tension ran vertically down his brow and bracketed his mouth. "I wonder if he's ever thought straight. Sometimes I think there's some kind of poison in our blood. Alister's just like our father. Charming, charismatic, and violent."
Taya bit her lip.
"And the worst part is, it doesn't make any sense," he continued. "He didn't have to kill anyone. Pins didn't know who was buying the Engine cards, and Caster's vote might not have swayed the entire Council. Alister was powerful. He was building up a following among the decaturs. Why couldn't he wait? Even if the vote had gone against him, he would have had years to get his program accepted."
"I don't think his ideas would ever have been accepted," Taya protested. "He thought people could be controlled, like little analytical engines he could program to do whatever he wanted."
"He was always good at getting his way. But up until now, he'd never done anything to hurt anybody. I thought his ambition meant he was a natural leader. I let him take over the estate because I thought he'd do a better job than I would."
"Don't start blaming yourself," Taya chided him. "You're not responsible for your brother's decisions."
"What if my decisions affected his?"
"You can't start thinking that way. It'll make you go crazy."
"Crazy's already in my blood."
Taya frowned. Cristof needed shaking out of his black mood before it overwhelmed him.
"That's stupid," she snapped. "You're not crazy. You're nothing like Alister. For one thing, you aren't charming, charismatic, or violent."
Cristof's distant gaze snapped back to her. She lifted her chin.
"You're a slagging pain in the tailset and sometimes, very rarely, you show signs of being a little sweet. But you're not crazy."
He stared at her, several expressions warring on his face. At last he settled for a crooked, humorless smile.
"Only very rarely?"
"At best."
"I see." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Forgive me. I'm talking too much about myself. I didn't mean to come here and complain."
Taya leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees.
"I want to help. You know that, right?"
"Yes."
"So I'm not going to let you waste your time being bitter and self-pitying."
"Is that what I'm doing?"
"Pretty close." She dropped a hand on his leg. "Look, you did the right thing. And Alister did, too, by confessing. Now he's going to need you. He's all alone in that cell, facing execution, and he's going to need his older brother to support him. That's all you can do for him now, so if you love him, do it."
Cristof drew in a deep breath and nodded once, his eyes still screwed shut.
"Viera's going to need you, too," Taya continued. "You don't have to agree with her. Just let her be angry and let her know that you're not going to abandon her."
He opened his eyes, giving her a bleak look.
"It would be easier if you were with me. They both like you better than they like me."
"That's not true. But I can be there if you want me." She shrugged. "I'm grounded for two weeks. I'd rather be an exalted's personal assistant than sort mail up at Dispatch."
He put his hand over hers, holding it.
"Do you have to consider it a duty? Wouldn't you do it as a friend?" His voice was strained.
"Of course I would. But let's make it official, anyway. ‘Friend’ won't get me out of stuffing mail bags." She tilted her head, looking at his tense expression. "Thanks for asking, though. You have your moments, exalted."
The lines in his face smoothed, almost imperceptibly. "Am I up to ‘rarely’ yet?"
"No, but I don't expect miracles."
He laughed, once, a gasp that contained less humor than it did relief, but Taya was still glad to hear it.
"Taya Icarus, I don't know why you humor me, but I'm glad you do."
"You'll pay me back." Taya tugged his hand, struggling to her feet. "To start off, you can carry my chair into the foyer. I want to watch the master clockwright at work."
He rose, clinging to her hand, and gave her a wry, grateful smile.
The late morning sun streamed through the foyer's front windows, and Cristof set Taya's chair in a pool of light. She laid her crutches on the floor next to it and sat to watch.
The exalted's deadpan humor returned as he began to work. He explained each step and brought over the dirty clock parts for her to clean and oil. "It's only fair," he pointed out. "I learned your job, so now you can learn mine." Taya made a point of complaining about the messy work just to please him.
Watching Cristof fix the clock gave Taya time to examine him. She enjoyed watching the satisfaction on his face as he replaced a worn spring or polished a gear back up to a dull shine. With his coat off and his sleeves rolled up, only the castemark on his copper cheeks revealed that he was anything other than a regular craftsman. The sharp angles and furrows of his face had become familiar to her now, and the smudge of grease on his nose, where he'd shoved his glasses back up as he worked, amused her.
Taya chewed on her bottom lip, watching his grease-blackened fingers as he deftly reconstructed a gear fitting, and thought about their one kiss next to Oporphyr Tower.
Any other man
, she mused,
would have come in and greeted me with a kiss this morning. Alister would have — but she thrust that thought away. Alister would have, but it wouldn't have meant anything.
Why hadn't Cristof? Was it just his social ineptitude, or was he starting to separate himself from her in anticipation of returning to Primus?
She bit too hard on her lip and winced, straightening up.
He'd better not withdraw. Not when I've just started to like him.
At last he cleaned his hands on the rags in his toolkit, closed the clock case, and wound it up again. Both of them fell silent, listening to its loud ticking as it filled the room. Shortly after noon. The repair had taken two hours. Taya thought it would have taken less time if she hadn't been there distracting him with questions and jokes.
"Oh! I still have your pocket watch," she said, remembering. "It's upstairs."
Cristof glanced at her, then away.
"You can keep it," he said, gruffly. "For now, I mean. Until I find you something better."
"You don't need to do that," she protested. "I mean, now that you've got this clock working again…."
"It's all right. I own plenty of watches."
"I—" she closed her mouth. What was she doing, arguing with him when he was trying to do something nice? Lady, if anything, she should be encouraging him. "Thank you, Cris. I appreciate it."
He knelt on the floor and began packing his toolkit.
"I expect to be up to ‘rarely’ in no time."
"Huh? Oh, you have a hidden agenda, do you?" She laughed. His straight-faced humor always surprised her. "You promised me you didn't."
"There's nothing hidden about it," he replied. "My objective is obvious. I've decided that I'd rather have you describe me as ‘sweet’ than a ‘slagging pain in the tailset.’"
"Really?"
"Well…" he looked up from the bag. "Maybe not in public."
"I might be able to confine myself to saying it in private, if you gave me a reason." Taya met his eyes, and he blushed. He averted his gaze and grabbed a handful of greasy rags, stuffing them into his bag.
Taya stood, grabbed one of the crutches, and limped over to him. She braced a hand on his shoulder and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm sorry," she said, unrepentantly. "I shouldn't tease you."
He glanced up at her, his expression serious.
"No, you shouldn't. I don't have much experience with teasing. I could end up taking you seriously."
Taya felt a jolt as he met and held her gaze. Her fingers curled on his shoulder. She leaned over, braced against him again, and he slid a hand up over her cheek.
For a moment they gazed at each other, the promise of another kiss trembling between them.
Then, behind them, Gwen cleared her throat.
Taya jumped, nearly stumbling. Cristof half-rose, grabbing her arms to steady her. They both looked over their shoulders, giving the landlady guilty looks.
She eyed them, her beefy arms folded firmly over her chest.
"If you're finished here, Master Clockwright, I'll go get my pocketbook," she said, unmistakably satisfied with herself. "And I'll expect a receipt."
"I really ought to charge you, now," Cristof muttered, making sure Taya was stable before he stood and brushed at the dust on his trousers. He raised his voice, sounding annoyed. "I thought you were going to leave us alone if I repaired your clock for free."
Taya clapped a hand over her mouth, not sure whether to be embarrassed or amused. Amusement won out, and she had to struggle not to laugh as the thick-waisted landlady and skinny exalted glared daggers at each other.
"You said ‘for a while,'" Gwen snapped. "I did leave you alone for a while. But if you think I'm going to let you ravish one of my little girls—"
"Ravish!" His eyes widened with disbelief.
Gwen snorted, irreverently snapping her fingers at him. "The bill?"
Cristof ground his teeth. "I, at least, will keep my end of the bargain. I'm not charging you for this repair."
"Then if you don't have any more business here—"
"He's going to take me to lunch," Taya said, hastily. Then she gave Cristof an uncertain look. Would he mind? Did he have more important things to do? "Weren't you? Or are you busy?"
"Of course we're going to lunch," he said, still glowering.
"Good." She smiled. "Just give me a minute to get my cloak."
"Wait. You can't walk down Cliff Road on crutches."
Gwen snorted. "Send one of the neighborhood boys to hire a hack, you maskless ninny. They'll run messages for a penny or two."
Cristof scowled, then turned and headed outside.
"Have him ask for Gregor and Bolt, if they're available!" Taya shouted. Cristof nodded once, shoving through the door.
As soon it shut behind him, Taya turned on Gwen.
"You enjoyed that," she said, accusingly. Gwen gave her an innocent look, then burst into raucous laughter.
"Oh, I did. You both looked so disappointed! If only you could have seen yourselves! Absolutely priceless!"
Taya tried to resist, but then she started giggling, too, until both of them were reduced to helpless laughter and snorts, glancing at the door to make sure Cristof wasn't going to come back in and find them like that.
"That's not fair," Taya said at last, wiping her eyes. "I like him."
"Clear proof that love is blind," Gwen retorted. "What in the world would a nice girl like you see in that squawking crow?"
"He's brave, and honest, and intelligent—"
" — bony, bad-tempered, poorly dressed, outcaste—"
"Oh, Gwen! He's not perfect, but… the perfect one turned out to be a murderer."
"Hmph." Her landlady sighed. "You know I'm only giving him a hard time because I can. But I worry about you, Taya. You're flying in such dangerous skies, with all these criminals and spies and bombs…."
"It's all over now."
"Is it?" Gwen looked dubious. "And what will you do when that awful decatur is executed and your crow puts on his mask again? It would be one thing if I thought you were just having a fling, but I know you better than that. I don't want you to get your heart broken when reality catches up with you."
"Reality." Taya straightened her shoulders. "I can outfly reality any day."
"Not even the fastest icarus can do that, dear." Gwen sighed. "Well, enjoy yourself while you can, even if it is with an outcaste. And don't forget to take your pain medicine, if you're going to be gone for any amount of time."
Taya nodded, grabbing her other crutch and limping up the stairs.
Cristof's mood had improved by the time they were settled into the hack. The message boy had found Gregor, and the cheerful coachman greeted Taya with enthusiasm and Cristof with respect. They jolted into motion. Cristof steadied his toolbag with one hand, stretching his legs across the narrow gap between their two facing seats.
"Where are we going?" Taya asked. "If you have work to do, I don't mind getting lunch on my own. I didn't mean to invite myself like that."
"No? I thought we'd go to that foreign restaurant you like. The Cabisi place. I didn't eat there the other night, so I thought I should try it today."
She smiled. "You have time?"
"My suspension is still in effect. In fact, this time they took away my lictor's papers to ensure it."
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right. I don't know what I'm going to do after this, anyway." He looked out the window, then flinched and looked back. Taya glanced out and saw that the hack was making its way down Cliff Road, revealing a sweeping vista and long drop. "I'll never be able to work as a spy again."
"You don't sound too upset about it."
He absently tapped his fingers on his toolbag. "I'll find something else to do."
She hesitated, but the opening was there, and she had to take it.
"Will you go up to live like an exalted again?"
"No." His answer was fast and firm. "I can't go back to a mask and robes anymore. Could you go back to working in a factory, after living like an icarus?"
"But that's different. I'd be giving up my freedom if I did that," she protested.
"And I'd be giving up my freedom if I covered myself again. You have no idea. It's not just the public restrictions, although those are bad enough. It's all the other rules and traditions and expectations. No… the Lady made a mistake when she incarnated me as an exalted. I'm not ready for it yet."
"Maybe the Lady wanted you in the caste for a reason," Taya suggested. "To make it more honest, or to shake up the traditions, or something like that. Maybe it's your duty to live like an exalted."
"Do you want me to go back?"
"No!" She looked at him and saw that he was serious, so she became serious, too. "But I want you to do what's right. If you have to go back to help your family, then you should."
"My family doesn't need my help. Not the kind of help that requires me to put on a mask, anyway," he said, forestalling her protest. "Besides, it's too early to think about returning to Primus. We don't even know what's going to happen yet."
Taya glanced at him. It was clear what was going to happen, and they both knew it. But she didn't argue.
"All right." She made an attempt to lighten the mood. "I was wondering what you might look like with long hair and jewels, though."
"Ridiculous."
"I was
"
"I mean, I look ridiculous."
"Well, somebody needs to do something about your hair. You have to stop cutting it yourself. Even that little sweep girl of yours could do a better job."
"Jessica? She'd cut off my ears."
"She was cute. ‘Clockite.’ I like that."
"She's a pest. I can't get rid of her." He sounded put out. "For some reason my shop fascinates children."
"Well, it's filled with all kinds of fascinating things. Did you show them the flying birds?"
He muttered something. She laughed.
"I don't know why you can't just be nice to them, for a change."
"If I'm nice, they'll come around even more often than they do now, and I'd never get any work done."
"I see. So by that logic, if I decide I don't want you hanging around—"
He gave her an alarmed look, and Taya realized he wasn't confident enough for that kind of teasing. She adjusted her response.
" — then I'll have to suggest something unpleasant, like taking another flight together."
"Yes, that might scare me away."
"Too bad. I liked flying with you." She put on a thoughtful expression. "I liked landing with you even better."
He closed his eyes and sighed. "I don't suppose there's any chance you really mean that."
"You'll never find out if you keep sitting so far away from me."
He swallowed and opened his eyes again.
"I am aware the correct response would be to swing across to sit next to you," he said, sounding pained, "but if I tried, I'd hit my head on the ceiling, or fall on top of you, or do something equally graceless that would embarrass us both."
She laughed. "You're thinking too much again."
"Thinking isn't a habit I'm likely to break."
Taya shook her head, exasperated. A minute later the hack rattled to a halt and Gregor sang out the name of the restaurant.
"Allow me." Cristof unfolded himself first, exiting and setting his toolbag and her crutches onto the cobbles. He helped Taya slide out. The manuever was a little inelegant as she tried to avoid putting too much weight on her wounded leg.
"Are you all right?" he asked, steadying her.
"Just cold." She started to lift her hand to fasten the cloak-clasp around her neck, only to find that he wasn't letting go. "What—"
He cupped her cheek with one hand and kissed her.
Startled, Taya stood frozen a moment. Then she collected herself, wrapped her arms around his neck, and lifted herself up to return the kiss.
She felt him shiver as he lowered his head again, his lips soft as they brushed against hers. Taya closed her eyes, surprised by how content she felt to be held by him as her cloak slipped off her shoulders and passers-by whistled.
When they separated a second time, Taya lifted his glasses from his face. The lenses were steamed opaque.
"That was nice," she murmured, smiling up at him. The autumn wind stirred his hair, and he wore an expression she didn't think she'd ever seen before. She touched his lips with her free hand. "Why, Cris, you're positively handsome when you smile."
Gregor cleared his throat from his driver's bench.
"Maybe you'd like a tour of Secundus, you two?" he asked, fighting to keep a poker face. "Take me a couple hours to make a complete circuit of the sector, most like."
Cristof looked up, blinking as he tried to focus without his glasses.
"Um — not today." His hands slid from Taya's waist. "Here—" He reached into his greatcoat for his pocketbook.
"Oh, you needn't worry yourself about that, exalted." Gregor's eyes crinkled with humor. "I weren't going to charge you anyway, not the city's heroes. You two have a nice lunch, then." He saluted them with his coachman's whip and shook the reins.
"Thank you, Gregor!" Taya shouted, as the hack rattled away. He waved.
When she looked back, Cristof's smile had shifted back to his more familiar mocking expression.
"What?" She faced him and carefully slid his glasses back on.
"You make friends with everyone, don't you?"
"It's better than making enemies."
He nudged the frames back down to the right angle. "Interesting concept."
"By the way, I think you've reached ‘rarely’ now."
"What comes after that?"
"'Sometimes.’"
"A new goal."
He held her closely until he'd settled her into a seat by one of the restaurant windows. Taya set her crutches against the wall, enjoying the attention. Since Cristof didn't know anything about Cabisi food, she suggested a few dishes, which led them into a discussion of her curiosity about foreign lands and the diplomatic corps exams. He listened to her with a grave air, asking probing questions.
They were halfway through their lunch when Taya heard her name called. She twisted in her seat.
Lars stood in the restaurant doorway, looking uneasy. She gestured, and he lumbered past the other diners, shaking his shaggy hair back over his shoulders.
"Taya, I'm glad to see you. I'm looking for Kyle. You haven't seen him, have you?"
"No." Taya set down her spoon, hearing the concern in his voice. "Why?"
"What's wrong?" Cristof asked, his face settling into its usual frown. Lars gave the exalted a startled look, noticing him for the first time, then bowed, palm against forehead.
"You haven't seen him, have you?" the big man asked, plaintively. "He talked to the lictors yesterday about Alister and Clockwork Heart."
Cristof shook his head. "He didn't talk to me. Has something happened?"
"He — the prototype—" Lars grimaced. "We've got a problem, exalted. You're a lictor, right? Or something like that?"
Cristof looked across the table at Taya. "Do you want to wait here?"
"No." She pushed her bowl away and reached for her crutches. "Let's go."
Lars looked relieved, hurrying back out. Taya followed, pulling her fur cloak around her neck and limping after him. Cristof grabbed his toolkit and spoke to one of the servers as they left.
Outside, Lars pulled them into an alley.
"I didn't want to notify the lictors, not until I was sure what happened," he said nervously. "I tried Kyle's flat, but nobody answered, so I thought maybe he'd gone out for lunch, but—"
"Lars!" Cristof's voice was cold. "Stop babbling."
The programmer's mouth closed and he nodded.
"Now. Why are you looking for Kyle?"
Lars licked his lips. "The prototype engine. It's missing."
Taya gave Cristof a swift look, and he returned her gaze, his expression grim. Her first thought was of Alister, and she knew that he was thinking the same thing.
"That's the new analytical engine?" she asked, turning her attention back to the programmer. "The one Alister was inspecting?"
"Yes. It's, um—" he gestured, at a loss for words. "It's something brand new. Ground breaking. I mean, it's only duplicating the functionality of the Great Engine, but to do it on a human scale—"
"When did you find out it was gone?" Cristof cut him off.
"Maybe… two, three hours ago?" Lars sounded uncertain. "I couldn't sleep, not with the news about Alister, so I decided to go do some work while I was up. Nobody else was down there, but things had been moved, so I thought maybe one of us had curled up to take a nap in one of the other rooms. That happens, sometimes. I went looking and saw scratches and scuff marks, so I knew something wasn't right—"
"Scratches?"
"On the wall. You know how you mark up the walls when you move something big? I saw these long black scrapes and knew something was wrong."
"How did you know it was the engine?" Cristof was pulling on his coat now, his grey eyes fixed on Lars’ face.
"I looked. There are four rooms down there, and we've got keys to them all. I just started opening doors." Lars looked ill. "And it's gone. The whole engine. It must have taken all night to dismantle."
"The team wasn't at the University last night?"
"No." He shifted from foot to foot. "The news, you know. That Alister was alive but under arrest, that he'd been caught trying to sabotage the Great Engine — we couldn't believe it. We were at PT's, reading every paper as soon as it came out, trying to parse out what had happened. I mean, none of us could concentrate on writing code while all of those rumors were flying around."
"PT's?" Taya asked, puzzled.
"The Pickled Thalassonaut. It's a programmer bar," Lars explained. "Every programmer in the city was there. We were stunned. And then the lictors came in and started asking questions, and they took our team down to the station… it was just too much. I don't think a single card got punched in the city yesterday."
Cristof was scowling.
"You're on suspension," Taya reminded him. "And you know who they're going to suspect."
"It couldn't have been Alister. He was in jail last night."
"Did he really…. "Lars looked at Taya.
"Yes. I'm sorry. He confessed."
"Lady." He shook his head, looking like a heartbroken bear. "I just can't believe it."
She patted his arm, watching Cristof. She could sense the gears turning as he tried to think of some way to take the case, but the frustration on his face showed that he wasn't having any luck.
"Everyone on the team had the key to the room?" she asked.
"Yes. Including Alister, of course, and the engineering team in the College of Science and Technology who built the engine. Probably an administrator or two, as well, but you'd need to ask the dean about that."
"How many of them visited the engine on a regular basis?"
"Just Alister and the chief engineer. They were still testing it. I don't think it had run anything more complex than some simple mathematics programs, just to test the — um, the parts."
She sensed that he was avoiding something. "Is it a secret?"
He looked uncomfortable. "Nothing that would mean much to you, but we signed confidentiality agreements…
"All right." Taya nodded, curious but not inclined to pursue the matter. She was used to carrying secret messages and mysterious packages, and if she ever became a diplomatic envoy, the secrets would only multiply. "How hard is it to dismantle an analytical engine?"
He grimaced.
"If you want to use it again, you have to know exactly what you're doing, and you need an expert to put it back together. You can't just take a piece of complex machinery like that apart with a hammer and a wrench."
"Who on your team could do it?" Cristof asked, looking up.
Lars took a deep breath.
"Me. Kyle. Emelie. Vic and Izzy aren't mechanics."
"Have you tried looking for anyone on the team besides Kyle?"
"No… he's the boss. I wanted to tell him, first. If this… it's bad enough that Alister's in jail. For the team to be implicated in a theft, too…."
Cristof nodded and looked at Taya.
"I'll take Lars to the lictors," he said, sounding resigned. "You—"
"If I'd wanted to go to the lictors, I would have!" Lars growled. "I need to find Kyle."
"I don't care what you want," Cristof shot back. "The city's in the middle of a security crisis. The Great Engine's out of operation, the Tower's all but abandoned, one of our decaturs is in jail, and now our newest analytical engine has been stolen. This is bigger than your team's reputation, Lars."
The programmer caviled a moment, then muttered and agreed.
"I'll go talk to Alister," Taya volunteered. "I'll ask if he knows anything about this."
"What makes you — no, never mind." Cristof looked sour. "All right. I'm going to try to talk my way onto this case. How can I reach you, if our paths don't cross?"
"If it's late, send a message to the eyrie, but I'll try to find you before then."
Cristof ducked back into the restaurant to pay for their aborted meal. Taya angled herself next to Lars so that his bulky frame blocked off most of the wind.
"Did Alister really kill Decatur Octavus?" Lars asked.
"Yes."
"And that woman?"
"Uh-huh."
"It's hard to believe. He always seemed so normal."
"I know."
"You think he's involved in this? The theft?"
Taya thought about it a moment.
"He could be if he thought stealing the prototype would benefit the city."
"But he was in jail last night, so he couldn't have been one of the thieves."
"That's true."
"There are lots of troublemakers in Ondinium."
Taya glanced at him. "He told me he was glad you ran the program in his honor. And he laughed when he heard what it said."
The big man's cheeks colored over his brushy stubble. "Probably some kind of prank he and Kyle hatched up together."
"Oh, I don't think so."
Cristof returned. "All right, let's go. Taya, stay off that leg. Take a hack around town. Do you have money for the fare?"
"Enough. Don't worry about me. I'm used to getting around."
"On wings." He frowned. "I should have hired that coachman of yours for the day."
"I'll be all right."
"If you're certain." He hesitated, then quickly stepped forward, laying a hand on her shoulder and giving her a fleeting kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you later."
Taya rested her cheek against his cold fingers a moment. "I hope you get the case." She turned to Lars, who was giving them a bemused look. "You know, you'll be treated better by Cris than by anyone else. He knows you and your team. Maybe you shouldn't talk freely to any lictor but him."
The programmer closed his mouth, then scratched his chin with a thoughtful look.
"Yeah, that makes sense. The rest of the team would probably feel the same way."
"You're devious," Cristof said to her, with appreciation. Taya leaned on her crutch and winked at him.