Taya blinked, a little overwhelmed by his explanation.
“Well, I can see why the Torn Cards might object. Why does the Council care about marriages?”
“Because stable marriages are integral to a stable society.” Alister stood and began to pace. “The Great Engine has made Ondinium the most civilized nation in the world. Every citizen is matched to a job well-suited to his personality and skills, and our factories are fast, safe, and efficient. We can calculate resource supply and demand and make reasonable predictions to avoid shortages and avoid excesses. Now, why shouldn’t we apply the same successful formulae to personal relationships? I don’t want to take the excitement out of romance, but I do want to prevent truly disastrous marriages, the marriages in which wives and babies are abandoned, or beaten … or killed. If Clockwork Heart can prevent even one abusive marriage, then all the time I’ve put into it will be worthwhile.”
Taya stared. She’d never seen Alister so passionate before. Maybe he wasn’t all good looks and flirtation, after all.
“How will you know if it works?”
He took a deep breath.
“It won’t be easy. So far we’ve only run simulations based on past cases. What we intend to do next, if the Council approves the experiment, is start a volunteer program. We will run the couples’ cards and monitor their relationships for a year or two. Then we will compare the experiment’s successes or failures to those of a control group; couples that are not provided with any advice from the Engine.”
“What if the Engine tells you that a marriage won’t work out, but that’s really the person the Lady meant you to be with?”
Alister laughed, relaxing.
“Mere mortals can’t defy the Lady of the Forge. If a marriage is meant to be, it’ll be, regardless of Clockwork Heart’s computational robustness. People can always choose to ignore the program’s findings, if they prefer.”
“Do you really think it’ll work?”
“Yes.” He met her eyes, his chin jutting forward with determination. “I do. I’ve written the best program I can, I’ve tested it every way I can think of, and I believe it will make a difference. It still needs development, but if the Council gives me a chance, in our own lifetime we could see broken hearts and bad marriages become all but nonexistent.”
Taya nodded, although she couldn’t help harboring reservations. How could a machine possibly predict the vagaries of the human heart?
“Anyway,” Alister said, leaning against the table, “you understand why it’s causing so much debate. Clockwork Heart is a complicated, time-consuming program to run, and it’s going to take a long time before the city sees any benefits from it. A number of decaturs aren’t convinced it’s important enough to pursue. Caster felt that way at first, but I showed him the data I’ve collected on the long-term economic impact of broken marriages and abandoned children, and he finally changed his mind. The simple fact is, strong marriages lead to strong societies. Caster agreed to approve the experiment and review our data after a year.”
“So you think the Torn Cards found out he’d changed his mind?”
“It’s possible. They wouldn’t like this program. They don’t like anything about the Great Engine.” Alister sounded scornful. “If they thought Caster was slipping from their agenda, they might try to kill him to keep the other decaturs from following his lead.”
“But how would they know that he decided to change his vote? Or about this vote at all?”
“That’s a good question. I don’t know how many people he has talked to about this.”
“He’d only tell another decatur, right?”
“Any of his clerks might know, or a guard may have overheard him talking about the vote. If he discussed it with Viera, his house servants might know. Mind you, I’m not trying to blame terrorism on the lower castes, but it wouldn’t make any sense for another exalted to betray Council business to the Torn Cards. We were born into this caste to protect Ondinium, not destroy it. And destroying the Great Engine is tantamount to destroying the city.”
“But what if…” Taya faltered.
“What if?” he urged.
“Last night, at the party, I heard some men talking, and they mentioned Pins. They were talking to an exalted.”
Alister fixed his gaze on her.
“Who?”
“I didn’t want to say anything, because I didn’t know if something bad was going on.” She felt miserable. “But now that Pins is dead… maybe one of the men I saw killed her. I don’t know. I could be wrong. But I have to report my suspicions, don’t I?”
“Yes. I think you do. Tell me, Taya, and I promise I will conduct a quiet investigation and keep your name out of it. Nothing will come back to haunt you if you’ve made a mistake.”
“I hope I’m wrong. Really, I do.” She took a deep breath and steeled herself. “Because they were talking to your brother.”
“Cris?”
“He sounded like he was in charge.” She didn’t want to mention the night the refinery had blown up or the wireferry map she’d found in Cristof’s shop. She’d had her suspicions then, but Cristof had explained everything. But now … Pins was dead. She’d witnessed Cristof receiving the package and heard him mention Pins’ name. This was something she couldn’t keep to herself.
She described exactly what she’d seen and heard at the dance.
“I’m sorry,” she finished, feeling terrible. “Maybe it’s just coincidence.”
Alister stood still, his handsome face as blank as the ivory mask on the floor.
“I didn’t think it would be my brother.”
“I don’t know if it was! It might be a coincidence. He’s probably got a good explanation for everything.”
“I knew he was angry when he left, but I didn’t think he would do anything this rash. Clock repair made sense. But to spend years pretending to be something he isn’t…”
“You think he’s involved, then?”
Alister seemed to shake himself. “No. No. I don’t think he is. I need to talk to him. He’s family, Taya. Our parents are dead, and we’re all we have left. It must be a misunderstanding. Or perhaps he doesn’t realize what’s he’s gotten himself into. Cris can become so focused on his work that he doesn’t always notice what other people are doing around him. He could be an innocent dupe. And if he’s not innocent…” Alister looked away, gazing at the clock on his table. “Then I’ll tell the lictors. And, Taya—”
“What?”
“Stay away from him.” Alister met her eyes. “He knows you overheard him last night. If Cris is involved with the Torn Cards, then you could be in danger. I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s one thing I could never forgive.”
Taya felt guilty for the warm feeling that filled her.
“I’ll avoid him,” she promised.
“Good.” He pushed himself away from the table and took her hand. For a change, his fingers were cold, and she thought she felt them trembling. “Thank you for telling me, and thank you for letting me deal with this myself. Cris and I have our differences, but he means a great deal to me.” He paused. “As do you.”
The warm feeling intensified. Taya stepped back to try to defuse the moment, but Alister wouldn’t release her.
“Why do you keep backing away from me?” he asked, holding her hand captive.
She swallowed.
“You’re an exalted,” she said, unsteadily. “We’re…” She gestured around them with her free hand, trying to indicate the office, the whole situation.
“I know things are confusing right now. But they won’t always be like this.” He moved closer, pulling her in. All at once her flight leathers felt too constricting, the harness straps too tight. Her heart hammered and she laid her free hand flat on his chest, meaning to hold him away. She faltered, feel
ing the hardness beneath his robes. Then she mustered her thoughts and pushed, stepping backward again.
“Not now,” she said, struggling to maintain her dignity. “You’re upset.”
“Yes, I am,” Alister agreed, releasing her. “So?”
Taya squared her shoulders. “It just — it doesn’t feel right. I might be getting your brother into trouble. You should be angry at me!”
“I’m not. I’m grateful for your warning.” The decatur studied her. Taya flattered herself that he looked disappointed that she’d pushed him away. She certainly was.
But she also knew she was right. To share a first kiss, now, after that kind of news— she didn’t want the moment to be tainted by anything bad that might happen afterward.
“Talk to Cristof first,” she pleaded.
Alister sighed, turning and looking out the window again. “Perhaps that’s wisest, under the circumstances.”
“Thank you.” She felt a pang of regret as she gazed at his strong profile and watched the morning light gleam in the jewels and gold that caught back his long hair and brightened his neck and hands. The wave tattoo was dark against his cheek. A muscle there tightened as he stood, lost in his own thoughts.
“I do wish you had brought me a pair of skydancing wings, instead of this news.”
“I’m sorry.” Taya took another step backward. “Will you send me a message when you know more?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Fly safely, Taya Swan.”
“I will. You be careful, too, Exalted.”
Chapter Eight
She hadn’t lied, and she wasn’t breaking her promise. She was going to avoid Cristof.
Just not his shop.
She picked up another set of messages from Dispatch and spent an hour and a half delivering them. Then she hid by Cristof’s shop and waited until he left on a service call.
Locks in Tertius were notoriously poor, and although he had two on the door, neither posed much challenge. She jimmied them open with her utility knife, grateful that his shop door was hard to see from the street. He would notice, of course, but this was Tertius; break-ins happened all the time.
The dimly lit shop was still filled with whirring and clicking timepieces. Taya went straight to Cristof’s desk, searching his papers.
The surface was covered with correspondence and diagrams for clockwork mechanisms. Nothing looked suspicious. She turned to the drawers, hoping to find a torn punch card, maybe, or a half-constructed bomb. Instead, all she found were tools and broken clockwork.
The filing cabinet contained bills, receipts, and work orders. Cristof’s filing system was as orderly as his brother’s was chaotic. Even his handwriting was neat, each letter tiny and precise. He’d told the truth about getting most of his commissions from Secundus and Primus.
She stepped through the curtains into his living quarters. Shelves of books; a wardrobe; a small, neatly made bed. Bare walls, bare floor— the room was bleak in its simplicity.
She opened his wardrobe and grimaced. Black, black, and black. A spot of brilliance squashed in the back caught her eye. She pushed aside the dark suits and coats, eager to discover what extravagant vice Cristof had concealed in the back of his armoire.
“Oh.” She stared.
It was an exalted’s public robe, wrinkled and musty-smelling. Its gems were dull in the dim light, and its gold-and-silver embroidery dark with age. An ivory mask hung by silk cords from the robe’s hangar. Taya touched the mask’s dusty surface.
The outfit reeked of old secrets and strong emotion. Of something hidden and tainted that Cristof couldn’t quite bring himself to discard.
Of guilt, maybe.
She let the rest of the suits fall back into place and closed the wardrobe door. So far she hadn’t found anything to warrant breaking in. On the one hand, she was relieved. Alister would be happy if his brother turned out to be innocent. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help but hope she’d find something that would excuse her ugly suspicions. If Cristof didn’t have anything to hide, she was going to owe him a very humble apology.
She turned to his books. Clockwork, programming, foreign customs, explosives, religion, genealogies and armatures … and weapons, poisons, and anatomy. Her suspicions renewed, Taya found the wireferry map and opened it. Cristof’s neat notes indicated the time and distance from station to station. Other numbers were marked, too; notations about damage and repairs.
At the very bottom she pulled out a small bundle of letters and official documents. She crouched and paged through them, handling the old paper with care.
Coroner’s Report: Emeline Forlore, Exalted. The notes were taken in Cristof’s small, neat handwriting. She skimmed the medical jargon. Several words stood out. Lacerations. Perforation. Fracture. Hemorrhage.
Emeline Forlore had been thirty-seven when she’d died.
Taya somberly set the report down and moved on to letters signed by Viera, dated twenty-five years ago and written in wide, childish script. Don’t worry, Father says everything will be all right. Give Alister kisses for me. Three more weeks!!! I can hardly wait to see you again. We are painting two rooms for you, you will love them.
A small, clipped obituary. Emeline and Tadeus Forlore. No cause of death given. Survived by sons Cristof, 12, and Alister, 10.
A tabloid-sized page from The Keyhole Peeper. Taya had never heard of it before. It was typeset on yellowing paper and dated around the time of Viera’s letters.
Exalted Murder/Suicide Cover-Up?
She started reading the article when the shop burst into clamorous noise. She shrieked, then clapped a hand over her mouth. The clocks were chiming the hour.
Lady! She folded the article and jammed the bundle back where she’d found it. She’d lost track of time, and she had nothing to show for it except a list of suspicious books, an inconclusive map, and some sad family secrets. She hurried back through the shop, cracking the door open to peer out.
The edge hit Cristof in the face. He swore and recoiled, one hand over his nose. She stared at him, shocked.
“You!” He drew his hand away from his nose and looked at it. Blood ran over his fingertips. “Did you do this?” He pointed a crimson-stained finger at the jimmy marks in his door frame.
“No. I found the door that way, so I came in,” Taya lied, her heart pounding. “Since I didn’t see you inside, I was just about to—”
“Give me your knife.”
“What?”
He wiped a fresh trickle of blood from under his nose and held out his stained hand.
“Give me your knife. The one on your harness.”
“Why?” She stepped back, alarmed.
“Because I’m going to match the blade to these marks,” he said, glaring at her. “And if they look alike, I’m going to arrest you for breaking and entering.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She drew herself up. “I came in to see if you were all right! Someone might have left you hurt. Or tied up.”
“Did you leave me any presents?”
“Presents?” Taya was taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. The kinds of presents that start fires,” he growled. “Or maybe just a mutilated punch card.”
“Punch card? If there are any mutilated punch cards in here, they’re yours!” she snapped, flushing. “Maybe the lictors will find them tucked inside one of your books about explosives and poison!”
“You did break in!” Cristof crowed, triumphantly.
“I—”
A low, distant boom made them both stop and look up.
An orange glow burned briefly on the side of the mountain far above them, just visible through the sooty haze in the air.
“Lady help us.” Cristof sounded shaken, his face still turned upward. “What have you
done?”
Wailing sirens began to sound across the city, calling an emergency.
His face lost color.
“I think it’s the ferry to Oporphyr Tower.”
“Oh, no.” Taya turned and ran, sliding her arms into her wings. The diispira nearly swept her into a neighboring building, but a few strong beats of her wings raised her above the roofs and chimneys of Tertius.
She kicked down her tailset and swept aloft, shooting between towers and wires with reckless speed as she headed toward the wreckage.
Signalers were already taking their stations on the towers on Primus, the wind whipping their hair and clothes around them. Their semaphores transmitted instructions to the icarii about approach patterns and duties.
Wireferry down. Search and rescue. Damage report. Maintenance escort.
Taya tilted and flew toward the other silver-winged searchers who circled the cliffs and rocks that jutted between Yeovil’s peak and the top level of Primus. Up on the tower, response flags flapped in the strong winds, confirming the message below.
Wireferry down. Passengers aboard.
Thick cables hung limp against the cliff, swaying in the wind. Two wireferry towers were bent. The cliff face had been blackened by the explosion. Wreckage was strewn across the rocks.
Taya felt sick, dropping closer to the ground. One of the other icarii wing-signaled to her. Cassi.
They teamed up and fell into a crisscross search pattern. Around them other icarii were doing the same, while another team soared around the damaged ferry tower, then swooped back to report its findings to the workers below. Down on the icarus docks, harnesses were being prepared to lift signalers and engineers to the damaged parts of the wireferry. Other icarii would soon start evacuating the Tower. With the wireferry broken, the only way up or down the peak was going to be by wing.
A shrill whistle announced a find.
The air above the mountainside was a swirling silver mass of icarii. Taya joined the circle, swooping low enough to see for herself.
Clockwork Heart Page 14
