“The truth should sound convincing.” She looked at the suitcase sitting on the dirty platform next to him. “Although I hope I haven’t put a crimp in your plan to defect.”
“Defect?” He followed her gaze down at the case. “Is that what you thought I was doing?”
“Well, defect or ask me to run away with you.” Taya grinned as the inspector’s concern gave way to a startled laugh.
“I’m sorry, Mis— Icarus. But my wife wouldn’t approve.”
“My husband wouldn’t, either. So where are you going?”
He met her eyes.
“No war?”
“No war.”
“No plans to invade?”
“I swear by the Lady, I don’t know about any plans to invade Mareaux, and my husband and I would be the first to protest if anyone suggested it.”
“All right. I’m going to trust you, Icarus. Please don’t let me down.”
Taya raised her hand as though she were taking her annual loyalty oath.
“I won’t.”
He gestured to the suitcase. “Those are Guisnard’s books. My men searched them and didn’t find anything suspicious, and Guisnard’s employer wrote that he was willing to give them to the exalted as a gift. I have to confess, I’m uneasy about handing them over. If they contain some kind of secret plan to overthrow my country, I’ll never forgive myself. But if they don’t… I hope the ambassador will consider them a gesture of goodwill under these strained circumstances.”
Taya’s heart leaped.
“Inspector, you’ve just made Cri— the ambassador’s day.”
And hers, too. Cristof had paced back and forth across his suite for an hour last night, frustrated about missing a message from his brother. She hadn’t been looking forward to dealing with his bad mood during the twenty-hour ride back to the border.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing.” Gifford looked at the train. “I’ll carry the case to your car. It’s heavy.”
“That’s all right; we can take care of it.” Taya waved to Rikard, who was keeping an eye on them through the half-open window.
“Really, I don’t mind—”
“No,” Rikard said in Ondinan, blocking Gifford. He slung his rifle across his back. “I need to inspect it, first.”
“It’s— oh, of course.” Gifford stepped back.
“I’m sorry, Inspector,” Taya said as Rikard unsnapped the suitcase latches and opened the lid. “The exalted’s lictors take his security very seriously, especially now.”
At the head of the platform, the brass band fell silent and Taya heard applause. She glanced over and saw that the ambassadors were starting to drift away, no doubt eager to return to the palace for a proper breakfast.
Rikard finished flipping through the last book, ran his hands over the top, bottom, and sides of the suitcase, and then re-stacked the books and closed the lid.
“It looks safe. Where do you want it?”
“I think the exalted would like to read during the long ride,” Taya said. She turned to Gifford as Rikard picked up the case. “Thank you very much, Chief Inspector. If you can wait here a few minutes, I’ll bring the exalted over so you can tell him what you brought. He won’t be able to thank you in person, but I know he’ll be pleased.”
“No, that’s all right; don’t disturb him. I’d rather keep this informal, just in case I am making a mistake.” Gifford looked rueful. “Besides, I’d only end up talking to you again.”
She held out her hand. “Well, we won’t forget your assistance.”
“Have a good trip, Taya Icarus,” he said, shaking her hand.
“Thank you, Chief Inspector Gifford.” She watched as the thin man turned and walked off, working his way through the crowds toward the front building.
A whistle blew, and porters began calling out to the passengers to move aboard. Cristof and Amcathra were walking toward her, Cristof’s ivory mask dulled by the moist ash in the air. The two other lictors jogged down the platform, their rifles slung across their backs.
“Everything’s secure, sir,” one reported as Amcathra stopped and let Taya take Cristof’s arm. “No sign of trouble.”
“Good.” Amcathra turned to Taya. “Who was that?”
“The chief inspector.” Taya glanced at Cristof. “Let’s talk inside.”
The hems of her skirts and Cristof’s outer robe were soaked and muddy by the time they got into the diplomatic car. Macerain, Trichas, and Corundel were already aboard and had taken seats around a small table covered with farewell gifts of flowers and fruit baskets. Jayce and the other staff members were rummaging through their bags, opening books and pulling out packs of cards.
Their Mareaux guest, Professor Cora Dautry, stood as Cristof entered.
“Exalted,” she said politely, glancing from the featureless mask to Taya. “I wasn’t sure if I should travel in here….”
“That’s fine,” Taya said as the doors were closed behind them. She shook the professor’s hand. “I hope you won’t be offended, but we have to dispense with some formalities when we traveling together so closely.”
“Er, of course….” Dautry looked confused.
Rikard and the two other lictors stationed themselves at the front and back of the car while Amcathra drew heavy velvet curtains across the windows. Taya unfastened Cristof’s mask and helped her husband out of his ornate wig and public robe. She handed both to Jayce, who looked with dismay at the soot that stained them.
“I’m glad that’s over,” Cristof sighed, rubbing his face and then leaning forward to kiss her. “Home at last.”
“In about twenty hours.” She handed him his spectacles. He put them on and looked around, tugging at his multiple layers of inner robes.
“Jayce has your regular clothes back there,” she said, pointing to the curtained facilities at the end of the car.
“Then I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Cristof gave Dautry a distracted nod. “Excuse me, Professor, but I’ll feel better once I’m out of these. By the way, Taya, Lord Pomeroy gave us two crates of wine. I can’t even think about drinking it.”
“I hope you didn’t tell him that.”
“Fortunately, the exalted was masked when he received the news,” Amcathra said, looking down at the old suitcase by the door. “What is this?”
“I’ll tell you when Cristof gets back. Rikard already checked it.” Taya sat across from Dautry. The professor wore a businesslike traveling dress, and wire-rimmed reading glasses hung from a chain around her neck. “It’s good to see you again, Professor.”
“And you, Icarus. I was wondering how traveling with an exalted was going to work. I’m glad to see that we won’t sit in silence for the entire trip.”
“Do you know much about Ondinium customs?”
“I’ve done a great deal of reading in preparation for this trip, and of course I was briefed by the university. But I thought exalteds hid their face from everyone except each other and their household staff.”
“It’s true, but that would make the ambassador’s job a little difficult, as you might imagine.”
The train whistle blew again. They were almost ready to set off.
“Exalted Forlore follows strict covering protocol whenever he can, but sometimes he has to dispense with his mask and robes for practicality’s sake.”
“How do his peers feel about that?”
Taya blinked. Nobody had ever asked that before. She leaned forward, compelling Dautry to do the same.
“Most of them understand the importance of his position,” she murmured. “However, that doesn’t mean they approve of his behavior. You need to understand that most Ondiniums are as uncomfortable seeing an exalted walking around with a naked face as your Mareaux would feel… oh, seeing your queen walk around with naked breasts.”
“I see.” Dautry leaned back in
her chair, smoothing her dark gray skirt. “That’s a… vivid analogy.”
Cristof reappeared in his usual ensemble of white shirt and plain black suit. A whistle blew and the train jerked into motion. He stumbled and grabbed the back of the big leather chair Taya had reserved for him.
“Is there anything to eat?” he asked, sliding into his seat as the rocking became steadier.
“The kitchen will open in an hour,” Amcathra replied, still standing by the door and the suitcase. He gave the case a pointed look, which Taya ignored.
“Cristof, you remember our dirigible pilot Professor Cora Dautry. Professor Dautry, this is Exalted Forlore,” she said.
Reminded of their pretense, Cristof leaned forward and shook the professor’s hand.
“How do you do? I’m sorry we couldn’t speak the first time we met. I’m looking forward to learning more about your work.”
“Thank you, Exalted,” Dautry said, studying his face with curiosity. “I’ll be happy to tell you anything I can.”
“He’ll want to know all about the aerostat’s instrumentation,” Taya warned. “And he’s a gearhead, so when I say all, I mean all.”
“I think I can accommodate you, Exalted,” the professor replied, her green eyes brightening.
“The suitcase,” Amcathra demanded, cutting through Cristof’s reply. All three looked at him. The lictor pushed the case forward with one booted foot. “Icarus?”
Taya rose and picked the case up, made a face, and set it back down again with a grunt. Gifford had been right; it was heavy.
“Chief Inspector Gifford hoped this would make you feel a little kinder toward Mareaux.” She dragged it across the muddy floor to Cristof’s chair and set it flat. Amcathra kept pace with her, although, she noticed, he didn’t offer to help.
“Is it the books?” Cristof’s voice was eager as he crouched next to her, unsnapping the latches and pulling the lid open. “Taya! It’s the books!”
“I know.” She grinned as he started stacking them on the floor. She hadn’t seen him so animated in ages. “I’ll remind you to write a thank-you letter.”
“Excellent, please do,” he muttered absently, picking out Delinquency, Deviance, and Disorder: A Call for the Reformation of the Poor Law and paging through it.
“Do not forget this one,” Amcathra said coolly, leaning over and picking up Dangerous Women: Infamous Murderesses of History. He flipped open the cover and glanced at a few pages. Taya caught a glimpse of lurid engravings featuring bared bosoms and wild hair before the lictor snapped it shut again. “I am sure you will find it intellectually stimulating.”
Cristof held out a hand and Amcathra handed the volume over, his blue eyes narrow.
“Thank you, Janos. Feel free to pick something out for yourself.” Cristof tucked the two volumes under his arm and rose. “Taya, Professor, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to relax for a while. Ceremonies wear me out.”
“Of course, Exalted,” Dautry said, looking curiously at them. “I brought a book of my own.”
“Then I’ll just put these away, shall I?” Taya asked, glowering at Cristof’s back as he moved to a seat by the window.
Lieutenant Amcathra nodded and strode back to his chair by the door.
For a moment Taya was tempted to leave the books to slide around the dirty floor every time the train went around a bend or up a hill. Then she sighed and put them back into the suitcase, snapping it shut.
Somebody in the delegation had to be the responsible one.
* * *
A few hours later she looked up from the third book in Cassie’s romance series, sighed, and moved over to sit next to Cristof. Her husband had hooked his spectacles in the collar of his shirt and held Delinquency, Deviance, and Disorder a few inches from his nose, his brow furrowed as he read.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked, pitching her voice to avoid being overheard. She didn’t have to try too hard; the poker game in the back of the car was getting rowdy.
He blinked and focused on her, lowering the book.
“Yes. Although the rest of the book is interesting, too.”
“Any ideas we can use in Ondinium?”
He reached for his spectacles and slid them back on.
“The poor laws in Alzana are different from ours, but the author’s arguments sound very much like arguments I heard in Ondinium from a certain mutual acquaintance.”
Taya’s eyes widened. She plucked the book from his hand, turning it over to look at the author’s name. “That’s not… anyone I know.”
“No, of course not.” He took it back, folding over a page to mark his place. “But the book was printed a few months ago.”
“So….”
“So,” he lowered his voice even more, “I don’t think our mutual friend chose it randomly.”
“But it was published in Alzana.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Scrap.”
“It doesn’t mean he’s living there. He may publish with an Alzanan press, but he’d never work for the Alzanan government.”
Taya wished she were certain of that. “What did he have to say?”
“I don’t know yet. This book contains a very brief message, and the other one contains an even briefer one.” Cristof shot a glance toward Amcathra, who was writing in a black, leather-bound journal— drafting his report to the Oporphyr Council, Taya guessed. “I’ll decipher it later. If it needs a response, I’ll send a letter from Terminal.”
“Give it to me to post. You’re being watched too closely.” Taya picked up Dangerous Women. “How’s this book?”
“Sordid. You should give it to Cassie. It’s the sort of lowbrow literature she enjoys.”
“Hey!” Taya swatted him with the book. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that,” he said with regret.
Rain pounded against the windows as the train made a turn. Taya leaned over her husband to look outside, but between the streaming water and the gray day, she couldn’t see much.
“No sign of the storm letting up,” she observed, leaning back again. “If it keeps pouring like this, I won’t be able to fly while we’re in Terminal, either.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I hate it. What’s the point of being an icarus if I’m grounded?”
“You know, Taya, the rain is going to turn into snow when we get to the high passes.” Cristof tentatively laid his hand over hers. “I’d rather you didn’t go aloft in bad weather.”
“I won’t if there’s sleet or hail. But if it’s just a little snow….”
“You know how swiftly conditions can change at high altitudes.”
“Better than you,” Taya said, a little tartly.
Cristof lifted his hand, gazing at her over the tops of his glasses.
“If you get lost in a snowstorm, the Council will dock the price of your wings from my salary,” he pointed out in a dry voice.
“Plus, you’d have a hard time finding another icarus patient enough to put up with you.”
“Precisely. So I have a vested interest in keeping you safe.”
She handed Dangerous Women back to him.
“I’ll take your concern under consideration, Exalted.”
“Please do, Icarus.”
They opened their books again, content to read side-by-side.
Chapter Eight
Rain continued to scour the train as they headed north, skirting the Corundiel inland sea and climbing up into the foothills.
Amcathra vanished around noon to monitor the preparation of their lunch. Cristof asked him to open a few bottles of Lord Pomeroy’s wine. He and Taya refrained from drinking any, and the rest of the staff made morbid jokes as they toasted each other, but soon the bottles began to empty and the
noise in the back of the car grew louder.
After lunch, Taya listened while Cristof and Professor Dautry discussed aerostats, but she lost interest when the conversation shifted to the difficulty of making accurate measurements in differing temperatures and on unstable platforms. She wandered back to play a few hands of poker. After a string of losses, she excused herself to step out on the rear platform for some fresh air.
Damp, freezing wind wrapped her skirts around her body as she held on to the oak railing. The train had passed through Grimaucourt shortly after noon, and now, just several hours later, the cloudy sky was already as dark as twilight. The pine forest seemed shadowed and ominous as the train clattered through, its trail of smoke streaming in its wake like a banner.
Taya stretched out a hand. The rain was turning into sleet.
Rikard stepped outside, maneuvering around her wind-whipped skirts.
“Are you well, Icarus?”
“It was getting too stuffy and loud in there.”
He nodded, his pale blue eyes checking the car roof and then skimming the tracks before returning to her face. “Eleven more hours.”
“More, if the tracks get icy.” She shivered, wishing for her leather flight suit. “Did you enjoy Mareaux?”
“I was working. And I don’t speak the language.”
“Well, what did you think about the scenery?”
“Mareaux is very flat.”
She laughed. It was true. None of them were used to seeing wide fields and low, sprawling buildings. Ondinium was built on verticals.
“What about the people?”
“They were frightened of me.”
“I suppose they don’t see lictors very often.”
“I wasn’t there to make friends.”
“Maybe on the next trip you can take some time off. You could do some sight-seeing without your uniform.” Although even in civilian clothes, Rikard’s castemark and military bearing would make him stand out. Still, he shouldn’t spend all his time working on behalf of his little sister.
The train turned a corner and the wind blasted them with wet sleet. Taya yelped and Rikard grabbed her.
“Be careful,” he said, his fingers tightening on her shoulder. “You might slip and fall.”
Clockwork Lies: Iron Wind (Clockwork Heart trilogy) Page 10
