Clockwork Heart

by Dru Pagliassotti

  “Just returning the favor.”

  Well, how about that, she thought. He has a sense of humor, after all.

  “You sound better.”

  “Work’s therapeutic.” He turned a page in the file. Taya nodded, looking out the window again. It was too high up for her to see the Octavus’ gardens. All she could see was sky and clouds.

  “Icarus.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I do not have a hidden agenda. Nor do I intend to use you or mislead you with my charm.”

  Despite herself, she smiled. His face was studiously neutral.

  “The day you act charming, I’ll know something is wrong.”

  “Good.”

  Taya watched him as he looked back down at his work. He still reminded her of a crow, his unruly black hair sticking on end and his black greatcoat wrapped around him. Just like a crow. Loud and mocking, but not without a sardonic sense of humor.

  He glanced up and noticed her gazing at him.

  “Have you finished looking through all those papers already?” he asked peevishly, sticking his beak back into the file he was holding.

  They abandoned the office as the sun hung low between the mountains. Back in the Octavus foyer, Taya strapped on her armature.

  “Did you find anything useful?” Viera asked, holding a sleepy Ariq. Subdued voices from the parlor indicated that she had more visitors.

  “A list of his intended votes on upcoming issues and a better understanding of what kind of man he was,” Cristof said. He took her hand and held it. “Caster thought things through very carefully and did his research. I’m impressed.”

  “I wish you had known each other better.” Viera sighed, then leaned forward and kissed his thin cheek. “Good luck, Cris. I’m still annoyed at you, but be careful. Don’t let them take anyone else away from me.”

  “I won’t.” He returned the kiss and stepped back as Viera hugged Taya, Ariq squirming between them.

  “You be careful, too.”

  “I will.” Taya looked down at Ariq. He stared at her, his cheek against his mother’s shoulder. “Bye-bye, Ariq. I’ll see you later.”

  They walked down the estate path to the gate. A cold wind blew as they stepped out into the street, and long shadows stretched across the cobblestones.

  “I told Dispatch I was working with you, so I don’t need to report back,” Taya said, looking up at the red-streaked sky. “What time is it?”

  Cristof glanced at his watch. “A little past four.”

  “I think the bomber was after Alister.” A gust of wind tugged her wings, carrying the faint smell of smoke from the factories far below on Tertius. “There doesn’t seem to be any reason to target Exalted Octavus, but Alister was working on all those important programs. Plus, he knew something was going on, even if he thought you were the one involved. He must have said something to tip off the real spy.”

  “Unfortunately, any proof of that would be up there.” Cristof pointed to the isolated Oporphyr Tower. “Do you know how long it will take to fix the wireferry?”

  “A week or two, if they can beat the first snow. If it snows, it’ll take longer.”

  “Damn.” Cristof stared up at the mountaintop. “That’s where we need to go to search for clues.”

  “I could fly up.”

  Cristof paused, then looked thoughtful.

  “Would you know what to look for?”

  “Anything useful,” she said, deadpan. He made a disgusted sound and looked back up at the mountaintop.

  “It’s too dangerous. We don’t know where the killer’s hiding.”

  “I could take you with me.” She glanced at the low sun. “But not until dawn.”

  Cristof’s expression grew guarded.

  “What do you mean, take me with you?”

  “Flying. You know, Alister kept joking about going flying. He wanted me to bring him some wings and take him aloft. I never did, though.” She thought through the plan aloud. “You’re suspended, so we’ll have to sneak out. We could leave tomorrow, as soon as it gets light. Paulo’s on midnight-to-dawn shift. If we’re lucky, he’ll be dozing and won’t notice that we’re using the dock. First shift starts when the sun crests the mountain, so we could be long gone before anyone else gets there. If we use guest wings, someone might notice, but check-in and check-out are a little chaotic right now. And it’d be safer than taking somebody’s personal wings.”

  “I’d have to wear wings?”

  “I can counterweight you and keep a safety line between us. You wouldn’t be in any danger.” She nodded, satisfied. “I think it would work.”

  “If we’re caught—”

  “If we’re caught, you’re going to use every ounce of influence you can muster to make sure I’m not grounded for the rest of my life. I’m willing to help you, but not at the price of my freedom.”

  Cristof took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he sighed, pushing the frames back into place again.

  “I’m certain that between Viera and me we can keep you safe from prosecution. And I can’t think of any other way we’ll be able to search Alister’s offices in a timely fashion.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking down at the street. “Tomorrow morning?”

  “We’ll kick off the moment you can see your hand in front of your face,” she affirmed.

  “All right.”

  “By the way, what did you do with those punch cards?” Taya asked. “Are we going to take them with us?”

  “I returned them to Lieutenant Amcathra this morning. I’d prefer to have kept them, but they’re safer under lock and key. I’ve also put in a recommendation that the Labyrinth Code be rewritten as soon as possible.”

  “Maybe Kyle’s team could do it.”

  “I suggested them.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “I owed it to Alister.”

  Taya was pleased. Underneath Cristof’s prickly exterior and lack of interpersonal skills, he had a sense of fairness that she was starting to appreciate.

  They fell silent as they walked.

  “How did your work go this morning?” Cristof asked, at last. “Did the search teams find anything new?”

  “No. More metal scraps, but that’s all.” She glanced at him. “Some searchers found a few bones, but they were too old to be … anyone’s. The coroner said they’re probably wild dogs.”

  “Did you see them?”

  “No. I decided to work with the engineers.” Taya swallowed. It took a particular kind of person to work on a body reclamation team. Just the thought of finding something she might recognize made her feel sick. “They think they found part of the bomb.”

  “I’d like to see it.”

  “A team of lictors was examining it.”

  “I wonder if I know any of them?”

  Taya shrugged, looking around. They were turning toward the switchback road that descended to Secundus.

  “Did you find anything at your brother’s house?”

  “The mansion?” Cristof stopped. “The lictors searched it. I was being questioned, and then they pulled me off the case.” He made a sharp turn left instead of taking the road to Secundus. “I’m an idiot. It’s about half a mile away.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  He gazed at her, puzzled.

  “You’re free for the rest of the day, aren’t you?”

  “I just thought it might be too personal for you. Going through your brother’s things.”

  “Oh.” He looked away and gave an abrupt, dismissive shrug. “I have no intention of bursting into tears, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  “Your mask is in place.”

  “I did all my grieving last night.” His voice wa
s hard. “Now all I want to do is give Alister a peaceful rebirth by putting his killer behind bars.”

  Taya walked side-by-side with him, her wings straining against the harness when the winds caught them. She was glad he’d said ‘behind bars’ and not ‘to death.’ At least he wasn’t going to do anything stupid.

  Ondinium would execute the killer, anyway. The city didn’t tolerate murderers.

  That reminded her of her own fight. She glanced down at the cuts on her hand, which were nearly healed.

  “Do you know if the Demican I stabbed is still alive?”

  “So far.”

  “Did they find the Alzanans who were with him?”

  “Not the last I heard. I expect the investigation has been suspended.”

  She mulled over that possibility, then attempted a joke. “Maybe after we’ve borrowed you a set of wings, we can walk around Tertius and try to get mugged. See if we can tempt them out.”

  “As long as we’re walking.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t take you flying down there. Too many towers and wires. Flying up to the Tower will be a lot safer.”

  “Good.” Cristof took a deep breath. “Alister learned how to fly when he was fourteen or fifteen. He said it was the most exhilarating thing he’d ever done. I didn’t pay much attention. He was always getting excited over some new adventure or another. His enthusiasm would last a month or two, and then he’d move on to the next thrill. I imagine that being with you made him want to strap on a pair of wings again.”

  “He could fly?”

  “Yes.” Cristof looked at her. “He didn’t tell you?”

  No. But he’d led her to believe that he knew nothing about flying.

  A lie of omission, Viera would have called it.

  She would have brought Alister a pair of wings, expecting to teach him how to use them, and he would have shown off. To impress her.

  Taya took a deep breath, shaking her head. Just forget about it. It doesn’t matter anymore.

  “But you never learned how?” she asked, forcing herself to sound natural.

  “No.”

  “You’ll do all right. Knowing how armatures work will give you an advantage.”

  “Knowing how armatures work is different from actually using them.”

  “It’s easy. The icarus docks are above all the towers and cables, except the wireferry to the Council building, and we won’t have any problem avoiding the broken lines. The only danger will be the wind, and I’ll help you navigate it.”

  “It’s not the wind that worries me. It’s the distance to the ground.”

  “You aren’t afraid of heights, are you?” Taya teased, glancing at his sharp profile. He was wearing a cross expression again.

  “I’m terrified of them.”

  He said it so tonelessly that she burst into laughter. He shot her a dark look, stopping in the street.

  “I’m sorry! I’m not laughing because you’re afraid,” she apologized. He glared, hunching his shoulders. A gust of wind flapped his coat around him, making him look like a crow with its feathers ruffled. “It’s just that it explains so much. That’s why you keep track of wireferry repairs, isn’t it? I wish you’d told me sooner.” A dry leaf whirled up and stuck to his hair. She reached up and plucked it away.

  “It’s not something I felt comfortable admitting to an icarus.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She let the leaf go, watching it tumble away in another gust. Cristof reached up and irritably brushed at the place where it had been. “If you’re afraid of heights, you shouldn’t go. I can keep you from falling, but if you freeze or panic, you could still get hurt.”

  “I won’t panic.”

  “You never know how you’ll react until you’re up there.”

  “I’ll be fine. I don’t have a choice, so I’ll do it.” Impatience was creeping into his voice.

  “All right. You don’t need to get angry.”

  “I’m not angry.” His voice was taut. “I’m not snapping, shouting, shaking, or lecturing. Nor am I pretending to be anything I am not. In fact, I am being extraordinarily honest. Is that satisfactory, Icarus?”

  “Yes, Exalted.” She sighed. He would get moody again, just when they were starting to have a real conversation. “Is your brother’s house nearby?”

  He tugged up his collar and turned away.

  “It’s right over there.”

  Estate Forlore was identical to the other houses around it; a huge edifice behind an iron gate. Cristof strode toward it as though eager to get away from her.

  Taya drew in a deep lungful of the cold autumn air as Cristof pulled a ring of keys from his pocket.

  “You have a key to Alister’s house?” she asked as he unlocked the gate.

  “It’s my house, too. And I gave Alister the keys to my shop.”

  A woman dressed in mourning opened the door, then stepped back, bowing. Taya recognized the dedicate from her dinner with Alister.

  “Good afternoon, Exalted. We’ve been expecting you.”

  “I should have come by yesterday. I was distracted.” Cristof stepped inside, dropping the keys back into his pocket. “Is Mitta here? I need to talk to her about — arrangements.”

  “Of course.”

  “This is Taya Icarus. See that she’s made comfortable.” He turned to her. “I need a few minutes to talk to Alister’s housekeeper.” He looked wary, as if expecting her to argue with him. But the servant’s black livery and the black cloth draped over the mirrors in the foyer served as stark reminders of why they were there, and Taya just nodded.

  “That’s fine,” she said. She should have guessed that Cristof would be the executor of his brother’s will. “I’ll wait.”

  “Would you prefer to doff your wings, Icarus?” the servant asked as Cristof vanished through a side passage. Taya nodded and left her armature behind in the cloakroom. The servant led her into a parlor where a small fire burned, and she was soon settled in with a glass of warm spiced wine. It might have been pleasant, if she could forget that she was in a dead man’s house.

  Alister’s taste had run to contemporary artists, she saw, studying his paintings. One of the works she recognized from last year’s exhibition at the Ondinium Museum of Fine Art. She’d gone with Cassi and Pyke, but they’d abandoned Pyke after about half an hour of listening to him rail against the ‘anti-aesthetic’ of contemporary art. They’d wanted to enjoy the show, not consider the politics surrounding it.

  Alister’s furnishings looked up-to-date too, which fitted her evolving mental image of him. He decorated the way he lived, she thought, looking around. Always looking for something new. The only thing that didn’t fit his personality was the parlor’s neatness. Alister’s office had been a mess. But he hadn’t had servants in Oporphyr Tower to pick up after him.

  She leaned back in the chair and sighed, cradling the glass between her cold fingers. A long-case clock ticked by the door. Had Cristof taken care of it? Her eyes moved to the mantel. It was bare. Maybe that’s where the clock Cristof repaired would have sat. The clock that had been destroyed along with the wireferry and its two passengers.

  Suddenly restless, Taya stood and left the room, walking down the hall. More paintings hung along the walls. She stopped to study one that depicted two icarii in flight and remembered Alister’s joke about skydancing. He’d pretended he’d never heard of it, but Cristof’s story and this painting proved otherwise. Had he been taught to fly by another icarus girl who’d been flattered by the handsome young exalted? Had he flown with a mask over his face, or, surrounded by icarii, had he dared take it off and hope that nobody on the ground would look up?

  Her anger at his lies was fading. She stepped back to look at the other paintings. They could have belonged to a complete stranger.

  I didn’t
know him, she thought with resignation. I’m sorry he’s gone, but I wonder if I would have liked him, once I’d figured out who he was?

  Maybe not.

  She turned and started. Cristof stood at the end of the hall, his pale eyes fixed on her. He’d taken off his greatcoat, and his dark suit blended in with the hall’s shadows.

  “I got tired of sitting in the parlor,” she stammered.

  “You look pensive.”

  “I was just looking at this painting.” She gestured to the icarii. “The artist did a good job.”

  “I didn’t mean to leave you for so long. The staff had questions.”

  “What will happen to them now?”

  “They can stay here until I decide what to do with the house.” He walked forward. “Alister’s office is upstairs. Are you done with your drink?”

  “Yes.” She followed him as several clocks began to toll, all at the same time. Five in the afternoon. “Did you take care of Alister’s clocks?”

  “Usually.” He glanced back as he started up a flight of stairs. “Is your landlady going to fix hers?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If she doesn’t, you should buy an accurate clock for yourself.”

  “Clocks are too expensive for an icarus.”

  “I thought you earned a reasonable salary.”

  “I do all right, considering the Council takes care of my food and housing and provides me with a uniform and armature. But a clock would be a luxury. There are plenty of public clocks I can look at.”

  “Are you saving your money for something important?”

  The question surprised her. It seemed intrusive, although she didn’t have any reason not to answer. “Retirement, I guess. I don’t know. I don’t need much to be happy. Just a few friends, my wings, and the sky.”

  “That sounds like a good way to live.”

  “It is. Although seeing the way you exalteds live makes me feel a little deprived.” She looked around. “My room is going to seem awfully bare when I go back to it.”

  “I have nothing for you to envy.”

  She remembered his austere living quarters. “You don’t have to live like that. Don’t you like paintings, or comfortable chairs, or nice furniture?”