Clockwork Lies: Iron Wind (Clockwork Heart trilogy) Read online

  The armature had been repaired and oiled by the Overlook eyrie, and even though it pressed against bruises and stiff muscles, Taya relaxed for what felt like the first time in days. Cold air numbed her nose as she flew over Safira’s busy streets, crowded with citizens and foreigners. Uncurtained windows and streetlights provided her with plenty of illumination, and Safira didn’t have the high-standing towers and suspended cables that posed such a threat in the capital.

  Within minutes she shot past the town’s outskirts. From Safira, a well-maintained road led through the next twenty-five miles of steep foothills to Ondinium’s Great Gates.

  Unfamiliar air currents and breezes forced Taya to concentrate. She wasn’t accustomed to nightflights, and even with the lictor’s assurance that no manufactory towers or stray cables crossed the approved flight corridor, her eyes automatically scanned the horizon, checking for obstacles as she sped over the winding road. Lights glowed from the windows of the guard stations that were set up every five miles. Once she saw a lictor standing outside his station who looked up and waved. She rocked her wings back and forth and kept going. After a moment, she realized she was smiling, and with that realization, the smile faded.

  Yes, it felt good to be back in the air again. And to be home again, for that matter. But Cristof was two days away in the Overlook hospital, and until he was well, she couldn’t remain happy.

  Several miles later, she entered the sprawl of manufactories that covered Tertius with a haze of foul-smelling smoke and ash. Even in this cold weather, the familiar, choking scent of coal smoke lingered in the air. Had it gotten worse, or was she just unaccustomed to it after spending so much time in Mareaux? The air there had been fresh and clear.

  The Great Gates of Ondinium weren’t real gates anymore, since the city’s industries had long since sprawled past Ondinium’s ancient protective walls to create a labyrinth of high-walled manufactories and storage yards. However, the Gates marked the formal entry point into the capital, where travelers queued up to show identification before being allowed inside. Regular lictor patrols did their best to keep undocumented visitors out of the city’s lowest sector, Tertius, with a limited degree of success. Entrance into the city’s two higher sectors, Secondus and Primus, was more difficult— there, the city walls and gates remained intact and were consistently monitored and reinforced.

  Taya dropped lower as the Gates’ vast stone and iron frontage came into view, prepared to land if challenged. But the relay signal must have come through; she was given a “clear to pass” flag by the lictor on top of the wall. She wing-saluted and entered the city.

  Close attention became necessary as she worked her way up the steep and endless urban sprawl that covered the mountain, its airspace broken by clocktowers and smokestacks and wireferry cabling. City-maintained streetlights lit the main thoroughfares, and hand-held lanterns bobbed through lesser streets. The lights helped her keep her mental map of the city aligned with the dark reality below her.

  She flew past Tertius into the better-ordered Secundus, where the University towers beckoned. Kyle Deuse and his programming team worked there. She was tempted to stop to see if they were working late and give them Alister’s cards, but the decatur had demanded her immediate presence, and she didn’t dare disobey.

  Cristof kept assuring her that the Council wouldn’t ground an exalted’s wife, but Taya wasn’t so certain. Her husband might be exalted, but he was also a caste renegade and a traitor’s brother; Taya was afraid that if either of them caused trouble, the Council’s reaction would be swift and ruthless.

  So she bypassed the University and continued to Primus, where exalteds’ estates perched like eagles’ nests on the top of a cliff. House Forlore’s estate was there, and so was House Constante’s, about a half-mile away.

  Taya slowed, circled, and backbeat to an awkward, slippery stop in the icy street. The lictor at the Constante gate straightened but didn’t reach for his weapon.

  “Name?”

  “Taya Icarus,” she said, locking her wings high and sliding her arms free. She was exhausted. It had been too long since she’d flown regularly.

  “The decatur’s expecting you.”

  “Thanks.” She pulled her goggles down around her neck and peeled off her leather helmet. Icy air chilled the sweat on her face as she ran her fingers through her hair. Pointless, she decided. After a fifty-hour train ride and a half-hour flight, she had no prayer of looking presentable.

  The lictor unlocked the gate and swung it open.

  “Straight through, knock on the front door.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ten minutes later she stood in Decatur Evadare Constante’s warm, firelit study, her armature left in the hallway and her cold face thawing. A servant brought in a pitcher of water and a glass, and Taya drank as the decatur opened a leather portfolio and uncapped a bottle of ink.

  “Thank you, Exalted.” Taya set the glass down.

  “Sit down, Icarus— you must be exhausted.” Constante gestured to a chair and Taya gratefully sat. The muscles in her arms, shoulders, and legs had started to twitch and ping from the unaccustomed exercise. “How is Exalted Forlore?”

  Not ‘Cristof,’ Taya noted, and not ‘your husband.’

  “He was hit by a pane of glass when the train derailed. The doctors at Outlook stitched his wounds, but they say he lost a lot of blood. When I left, he was still spending most of the time asleep.” Taya reached into a leg pocket and pulled out the folded report Dr. Placius had sent with her. The ondium counterweights she hadn’t removed from her suit tugged against the fabric. “This is the doctor’s statement.” She handed it over.

  Constante opened it and read, squinting and holding the paper close to her face.

  Taya didn’t know Decatur Constante very well. In her seventies, she was one of the older members of the Council. Her face was creased with wrinkles and her hair was even shorter than Taya’s, mostly white with a few lingering streaks of gray. She would wear a wig in public; most exalteds did, once they started going gray. It would be unthinkable for an exalted to show signs of aging to the lower castes.

  Constante was conservative, leaning toward the System Analyst credo— a stance of respectful caution toward the technological advances that drove so much of Ondinium’s progress. She likely disapproved of such things as cross-caste marriages.

  Taya decided to be circumspect.

  The decatur set down the report and looked up. “You must be rather concerned about him.”

  Or maybe she had Constante all wrong.

  “I am, Exalted.”

  “Yet you returned to Ondinium, regardless?”

  “Lieutenant Amcathra and I believe the derailment was another attempt on Cris— the ambassador’s life. I have the lieutenant’s and stationmaster’s reports.” She pulled those folded sheaves of paper out of her other flight suit pockets and handed them to the decatur.

  “Very good.” Constante reached over and pulled a cord. A few moments later, a dedicate appeared in the doorway of her study.

  “Please take the icarus to the kitchen and see she has something to eat and drink,” the decatur directed. “I shall ring for her soon.”

  “Yes, Exalted.”

  Taya rose, aware that she was being dismissed but not certain whether it was an insult or the decatur’s normal manner. She gave a stiff bow, aching all over, and followed the dedicate out.

  Most of House Constante’s staff had retired for the evening, so Taya sat in the kitchen with the dedicate who’d led her there and the sub-chef on night duty. They shared a small meal and a pot of tea. After a few false starts, the conversation landed on the tepid but safe subject of Mareaux. Taya did her best to distract them with observations about a country whose culture revolved around agriculture rather than manufacturing while they did their best to appear interested. Constante’s summons came as a relief to a
ll three.

  “Thank you for delivering these reports, Icarus,” the decatur said briskly, standing by her desk as Taya entered and bowed. “Council will discuss them tomorrow. I assure you that Ondinium takes threats to its ambassadors very seriously. You will remain in the city awaiting our summons. You plan to stay at House Forlore?”

  Where else? Taya wondered with a flash of irritation.

  “Yes, although I have some errands to run tomorrow.”

  “Be certain your staff knows where to find you. The Council has been doing its utmost to contain the information about this crash and the incidents in Mareaux. I would appreciate your discretion, as well. I understand that you may feel obliged to discuss the details with Forlore’s cousin, Viera Octavus. That is acceptable, but please impress upon her the Council’s desire to keep the news out of the press.”

  “Viera understands Council business.”

  “Yes, she does. Good evening, Icarus.”

  “Good evening, Exalted.” Taya bowed again and left, pulling on her armature on the way out of the house. Another brusque dismissal. Was the Council upset with her for some reason? Had she and Cris made a mistake somewhere along the line— in leaving Mareaux early, perhaps, or in sending the mercates home separately? In trusting Rikard?

  Lost in thought, she walked through the broad streets back to House Forlore, her wings rattling in the cold breeze.

  “Taya!” Their housekeeper, Mitta, met her at the door and swept her up into a hug. “Taya, how is he?”

  “He’s all right; he’s going to be all right,” Taya said, hugging the tall, angular woman back. Mitta helped her out of her armature with practiced ease. “How did you—” She spotted the other two armatures floating in a corner a moment before she finished the question.

  “She has friends in high places,” a familiar voice replied. Taya was engulfed in another hug, this time with her two best friends.

  “Cassi! Pyke! How did you know I was back? What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you.” Cassi stepped back and cupped Taya’s face, looking serious. “We heard you were in an accident. You look terrible.”

  “Lady!” Pyke scowled, one hand resting on the metal bars over her shoulder as he studied her. “You’re bruised black and blue.”

  “Is it that bad?” Taya touched her face. She hadn’t looked into a mirror since she’d arrived at the hospital.

  “You look like you were in a bar fight,” Cassi said.

  “And lost,” Pyke added. “Is that all from the crash?”

  “It’s supposed to be a secret.” Taya looked from one expectant face to the other. “The decaturs are trying to keep it contained.”

  “It hasn’t been in the papers, but I’ve got friends who monitor luxographs,” Pyke said. “We were worried about you.”

  “As soon as Pyke heard your train was coming in, we hurried over,” Cassi said, squeezing her hand.

  “You can’t tell anyone about this.”

  “We won’t,” Pyke promised. Taya shot him a look. “Really!”

  “Why don’t you talk in the parlor?” Mitta suggested, catching Taya’s floating armature and slipping it over its stand by the door.

  “You’d better join us, too, Mitta,” Taya said. “You can decide how much to tell the rest of the staff.”

  “Give me a few minutes, then?” Mitta asked.

  Pyke and Cassi already had drinks, but Mitta returned with the hot, spiced wine that Taya always enjoyed after a cold night out. Taya wrapped her fingers around her favorite mug and sank into her favorite chair, her eyes alighting on Cristof’s collection of clocks lining the mantelpiece.

  Home at last.

  She took a deep breath and burst into tears.

  It took her a few minutes to get control of herself again, held tight in Cassi’s arms. Eight minutes, according to the clocks, which would be flawlessly accurate because Cristof had made them.

  But at last she rubbed her eyes, blew her nose, and told the whole story, from the fire on the dirigible to the poisoned wine and fruit to the train wreck. She left out the shootings at the end. She wasn’t ready to talk about Rikard and Lieutenant Amcathra yet.

  “But the exalted will be all right?” Mitta asked, looking anxious.

  Taya gazed at the dregs of her spiced wine.

  “He’ll have a few scars, the doctor said. But they’re taking good care of him.”

  “Well, that’s okay.” Cassi reached over and patted her arm. “Some scars will make that gawky old gearhead look distinguished.”

  Taya gave her friend a half-hearted smile. She didn’t care about the scars. She just wanted to be back in Overlook, watching over her husband while he slept.

  “He needs to come home as soon as he can,” Mitta said. “We’ll take care of him here. An exalted belongs in his House, not out in the wild with a bunch of strangers, isn’t that right?”

  “Lieutenant Amcathra said he’d bring Cris back as soon as he can,” Taya said, reassuring herself as much as Mitta.

  The clocks chimed eleven, filling the first floor with noise. Pyke stood.

  “We’ll, you look beat. We should let you get some sleep.”

  “Wait— who told you I was on that train?” Taya asked.

  “A mutual friend from Inquiry and Liberation,” Pyke said, winking. “He’s been keeping us updated on all the ’graphs about the exalted.”

  “You two are going to get yourself arrested.” Taya pulled herself to her feet and groaned. Every part of her body hurt. “I’m glad you came. Do you want to stay over?”

  “Nope; got work tomorrow.” Cassi hopped to her feet and gave Taya another hug. “Now, get some rest and don’t worry about anything. Cabisi for dinner tomorrow? That place by the university?”

  “Sounds great. I might bring Kyle and the rest by, too.”

  “Perfect.”

  They said their farewells and Taya dragged herself upstairs, pulling off her flight suit and collapsing into bed in her underwear. She slid a hand over the empty side of the mattress where Cristof usually laid. Feeling a painful tightness in her chest, she sat up and fished her suit off the floor.

  Cristof’s watch was still ticking in its pocket. She pulled it out, wound it up, and curled under the covers, holding it in one hand.

  It took a while, but the steady ticking eventually lulled her to sleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alister Forlore’s former programming team still worked in one of the sub-basements of Ondinium University’s Science & Technology building, surrounded by walls of clicking and hissing steam-powered analytical engines. Taya descended the stairs expecting to hear the usual voices, but all she heard was machinery. Wondering if she’d beaten the team to the office, she peered inside.

  All four team members were sitting quietly around a cluttered wooden table. Kyle and Lars were punching cards while Victor and Isobel studied a map.

  “Hello?” Taya ventured.

  “Taya!” Isobel straightened and turned. While everyone else was pushing his chair back, she strode up and grasped Taya’s arm. “It’s so good to see you!”

  Before she could answer, Lars shouldered Isobel aside. He grabbed Taya and lifted her, wings and all, into a giant bear hug.

  “Welcome back,” the big man exclaimed, swinging her around and setting her down by the table. His normally cheerful face darkened. “Now, what’s all this about train wrecks and assassination attempts?”

  “Give her a chance to catch her breath,” Kyle chided, reaching past Lars to clasp her hand. “Come sit down, Taya. Cassi and Pyke dropped by last night and told us what happened.”

  “Oh, scrap.” Taya shrugged out of her armature and joined them at the table. “They promised they wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “We already had the basics,” Victor said, leaning forward and clasping
his pale, thin hands on the crumpled map. “We knew there was a train accident and the exalted was injured. We also knew that he was in Overlook hospital and that you were returning to Ondinium by express. Cassi and Pyke simply filled in the details.”

  “That’s all supposed to be confidential.”

  “It still is.”

  Taya made a mental note to tell Lieutenant Amcathra that the lictors had a security problem. “Are you sure? A leak could put Cris into danger again.”

  “If there’s a leak, Taya, it won’t come from us.”

  “Cassi and Pyke said you might be dropping by,” Kyle interrupted. “Is there something we can do for you?”

  “As programmers or otherwise,” Victor added, stressing the last word.

  Taya glanced at the doorway to make sure nobody was walking by. Isobel, noticing, stood to shut and lock the door.

  “Better?”

  “Thank you.” Taya reached into her flight suit to pull out her identification wallet. “Cris does need your help.”

  The programmers leaned closer to hear over the clattering difference engines.

  “This needs to be kept secret,” she said, looking at Victor. “No Council, no lictors, no Cassi and Pyke, and none of your shady I&L friends. Do you understand?”

  Victor’s dark eyes gleamed with interest as he nodded.

  “Is it illegal?” Lars asked, dubiously.

  “No, but it could be politically sensitive.”

  Kyle gave her an easy smile. “Don’t worry. We’ve been cleared for top-secret work ever since your husband got us that job on the bank’s security program. We’re much better at keeping secrets than Cassie and Pyke.”

  “Then again, who isn’t?” Lars added.

  “I hope so.” Taya slid out the punch cards, handing them across the table to Kyle. “Can you run these and tell me what’s on them?”

  All four programmers leaned forward.

  “Standard size.” Kyle rubbed his fingers over the paper. “But it isn’t Ondinium card stock.”