“Don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you.” She caressed the wave-shaped caste tattoo on his cheek with the back of her free hand. “But I’m sure any number of foreign spies are ready to seduce Ondinium’s secrets out of you.”
“Oh, good, an ambassadorial perquisite at last.”
Taya raised an eyebrow. “You get plenty of ambassadorial perquisites. Your own suite, all the Mareaux wine you can drink—”
“Do you suppose it would be a faux pas to tell the queen that I prefer beer?”
“Without a doubt.” She winced as he pulled away the last of the bandage. “I hope you’ve been drinking some of her wine.”
“I choke down a glass every night, and then I toss a few more glasses’ worth out the window. I hope I don’t kill the roses.”
“You’ll set back diplomacy a hundred years if the queen finds out.”
Cristof pushed his silver-rimmed glasses up to his forehead as he studied her hand. Then he pulled the glasses back over his eyes and unwrapped her other hand.
“I don’t think these burns will do more than blister,” he said, “but the swelling will make it difficult for you to move your hands for a few days.”
“Can’t we pop the blisters?”
“Our family physician told us never to pop a blister, back when we were boys,” he said, tilting her hand up. “Of course we did it anyway.”
We. Taya gazed at him, feeling a familiar pang. Even though Cristof’s brother had been outcaste and expelled from Ondinium, he still talked about Alister with affection.
“I’ll ask the palace physician what to do,” she promised.
“Good.” Cristof turned her hand over and kissed the back. “In the meantime, my duty is clear.”
“What?”
“I’ll need to wash and dress you while you keep your hands dry.”
“Is that so?” She cocked her head, pretending she hadn’t felt a leap of anticipation at his words. “I thought we’d agreed to respect Mareaux propriety.”
“Attempted assassination negates my obligations to Mareaux propriety.” He nudged her around and began unfastening the delicate buttons on the back of her dress. “Besides, I need the practice.”
“At what?”
“At undressing attractive women. I wouldn’t want to embarrass my country when those spies show up.”
Taya reached around to punch him in the arm, but not hard enough to make him stop.
Chapter Two
“We have detained every member of the ground crew and are holding them for questioning,” said the queen’s chancellor, Lord Pomeroy. “The aerostat’s fin was intentionally sabotaged; the struts show marks of cutting.”
The servants had been banished and the doors locked so that Cristof could sit at the table without his mask. He wore an exalted’s elegant but comfortable day-to-day silk robes over a famulate’s black trousers and white shirt. His black hair, which he’d been growing longer, was pulled back in a ponytail held by a silver clasp. Taya thought her husband looked good, even though his mish-mash of caste fashion made their tailor cringe.
“Unfortunately,” Pomeroy continued, “the field wasn’t being closely guarded and numerous people were present to set up the pavilions and dirigibles, so any number of people could have sabotaged the fin and planted the device.”
“However,” Queen Iancais added, “your lictors and my soldiers both inspected the aerostat last night.”
“I found what was left of the fire-box, but there was little to learn.” Amcathra still wore his muddy, rain-soaked uniform. The queen had been surprised when he’d joined them, but she had simply ordered another place set. “The exalted smelled vitriol when he discarded it, which suggests a chemically based incendiary device. If it were timed, as I suspect, the person who left it had access to the vehicle and the flight timetable.”
“The Festival was arranged last month,” Queen Iancais pointed out. “Our flight time was no secret.”
Cristof glanced at the queen. “Your Highness, could the attack have been directed at you?”
“It is always possible,” she said, after a moment, “but to the best of my knowledge, I’ve done nothing in the last year to invite an attack.”
Except entertain the very first exalted ambassador from the very unpopular Ondinium, Taya thought. She was certain everyone was thinking it. She wished someone would just come out and say it.
“Please,” Lord Pomeroy said, forcing a hearty tone. “Let us set this unpleasant business aside and concentrate on our excellent cassoulet.”
“Of course.” Cristof probed at the dish with a perceptible lack of enthusiasm. Taya pushed over a bowl of peaches. He shot her a grateful look.
She wasn’t eating much, either; it was hard to hold utensils in her swollen and bandaged hands. Besides, Cristof had poured her a large glass of wine to “deaden the pain” while she’d been in the bath, and between the unaccustomed early drinking and his attentive care, she was feeling light-headed and more than a little satiated.
“Tell me, Exalted Forlore,” the queen asked after a few minutes of silence, “are you still interested in touring the aereonautical instrumentation plant this afternoon?”
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it,” Cristof exclaimed, his grey eyes lighting up. “Johannes Bezier’s going to be there, isn’t he?”
“We have arranged it, but how do you intend to talk to him? He isn’t of noble birth….”
Cristof waved the problem away. “Just find us a private room. I have to talk to him; I’ve read all of his articles. I’ve been hoping to meet him ever since I was given this assignment.”
“Won’t it be irregular, an exalted unmasking before a simple scientist?”
“Yes,” Amcathra replied, cutting Cristof off. “Is Mr. Bezier discreet?”
The queen blinked. “I’m afraid I don’t know him personally. Lord Pomeroy?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“As long as nobody else sees me, propriety will be satisfied,” Cristof said, impatiently. “It’s not as though—”
“The exalted wishes to make a special exception to honor Mister Bezier,” Taya interrupted before her husband could blurt out something offensive. Technically, every foreigner was outcaste, which meant that no foreigner should ever see an exalted’s naked face— royalty or otherwise. It was Cristof’s scandalous disregard for his caste taboos that made him a perfect ambassador— but it also kept Taya and Amcathra on their toes ensuring that his diplomatic pretense of “honoring” foreign nobility by unmasking before them was maintained.
“As you know,” she added, “engineers and scientists are highly esteemed in Ondinium. Their caste standing is quite high in our country.”
“Well, if you’re certain it’s acceptable….”
“The exalted has the utmost respect for Mareaux’s top scientists.”
“The exalted can speak for himself when he’s not wearing a mask,” Cristof muttered.
“Although it’s usually better if he doesn’t,” Taya retorted. The queen lifted a handkerchief to her lips as if hiding a smile.
“Does that mean you’ve decided to come, after all?” Cristof asked, oblivious to the queen’s reaction.
Taya wrinkled her nose. The thought of spending hours gazing at obscure scientific instrumentation and listening to technological doublespeak made her eyes glaze. She should accompany him, as his official translator, to ask all the questions he couldn’t, but….
She looked at Amcathra, who inclined his head.
“I will attend him this afternoon, Icarus. The tour interests me, as well.”
“Oh, Taya, has my physician seen your injuries yet?” Iancais inquired.
“He, ah, knocked on the door while I was bathing, so I asked him to return after lunch,” Taya said, looking down at her plate and fighting a blush.
Actually, she hadn’t been bathing. But she hadn’t been clothed, either.
“Be sure to see him,” the queen advised. “And, Exalted Forlore, we can provide you and your lictor with a translator, if you like.”
“With your leave, Your Highness,” Taya ventured, “after I’ve seen your physician, I’d like to go shopping in Echelles. I promised to pick up some gifts for our friends in Ondinium, and I haven’t had any time to get away before now.”
“Do you require a guide?” the queen asked, her face lighting up. Taya suspected she was imagining the exalted’s representative picking up expensive Mareaux fashions and wine to show off in Ondinium. She wondered what the queen would think if she saw the list her friends had given to her— programming manuals from Cabiel, political tracts from Tizier, and a raunchy romance series that Cassie had ordered her to purchase in Mareaux after Ondinium’s censors had determined it unfit for import.
Sometimes Taya wished for friends who’d be happy with a bottle of wine and a new hat.
“I should be fine by myself, your highness.”
“Rikard will accompany you,” Amcathra stated.
“But—”
“Taya— please.” Cristof laid a hand over her wrist. “Take Rikard. Just to be safe.”
She sighed. “All right.” She supposed if her husband could put up with wearing robes and a mask all day, she could put up with an armed guard for a few hours.
It would be more of a trial for Rikard than for her, anyway.
“I’ll give you the names of my favorite shops,” the queen said, sounding pleased.
* * *
The rain had become a steady, depressing drizzle by the time the palace physician finished inspecting and re-bandaging her hands. Taya decided to leave her wings locked up in the suite. Flying in the rain was no fun, and neither was cleaning, drying, and oiling an armature. She pulled on her warm flight leathers, a heavy wool coat and hat, and headed out into the rain with Rikard.
Amcathra referred to Rikard as his nephew, but Demicans used the terms “niece,” “nephew,” “aunt,” and “uncle” for any consanguineous relation beyond the immediate household, as well as for friends, lovers, friends of family members, and even fellow clan members, so Taya wasn’t sure what their real relationship was. But like Amcathra, Rikard was comfortable with silence. After a few attempts to draw him out, Taya gave up, walking through Echelles’ narrow cobblestone streets without conversation.
Light glowed through the rain-streaked window of the bookstore she wanted and saw. She stepped inside, setting a bell jangling.
“Good day,” the shopkeeper sang out as she looked up from her account-book. Her blue eyes flickered to the lictor behind Taya, then back again, confused. “May I help you?”
“Yes, please,” Taya replied in Mareaux, taking off her coat and hat and draping them on the coat rack by the entrance. Water pooled across the tiled floor. “I’m looking for some specialized books, and I may need your help finding them.”
“Oh! You’re from Ondinium?”
Several of the other customers looked up, their eyes immediately drawn to Rikard’s severe black uniform and black lictor’s stripe. At least, Taya thought with relief, his long overcoat hid the air pistol holstered at his waist.
“Yes.” Taya walked up to the desk, fumbling for the Mareaux-style calling cards she’d had printed for her visit. She handed one over, holding it in her unbandaged fingertips. “I’m Taya Icarus. I’m with the ambassador’s party.”
“An icarus!” The shopkeeper looked relieved as she set the card down and stood. “I’m so sorry— I recognized your accent, but I didn’t see a castemark, so I wasn’t sure what to think.”
“It can be confusing in Ondinium, too, when we’re not wearing our wings.” Taya was wearing her icarus-feather lapel pin, of course, but nobody in Mareaux knew what it meant. “I understand you specialize in books on science and technology?”
“I do.” The woman seemed more comfortable now that they were on familiar ground. “What are you looking for? I’d better get the books for you— what happened to your hands?”
So, news of the dirigible accident hadn’t yet spread to the city.
“I grabbed something hot. It was stupid, but I wasn’t thinking.”
The shopkeeper tsked, nodding in sympathy.
Together they located most of the books on Taya’s list, and the shopkeeper directed her to two stores where she’d be able to find the rest. Taya spent another hour walking from shop to shop placing orders to be delivered.
“Oh, look— tea!” Taya stopped in front of a brightly lit window. “Come on, Rikard. Let’s take a break.”
He didn’t protest, so she headed inside and took a table by the window. Rikard hung his dripping black overcoat over the back of his chair and sat down across from her. His pistol and castemark gathered more stares.
“I think I have enough money left for a pot of tea and some sandwiches,” Taya said, spilling what was left of her coins on the table and sorting them out with her fingertips. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes.” Rikard pulled out a black leather wallet. “I can pay for my food.”
“No, no, that’s all right. I have enough.” She grinned, stacking the coins and sliding them to one end of the table. “I can hardly make you pay after I’ve dragged you through the rain for an hour and a half.”
“That’s my job.”
“Still— my treat.”
“Thank you, Icarus.” He tucked his wallet back into his coat.
“You haven’t bought anything?” She paused to order as a server stopped by their table, then turned back to him. “If you want to stop by any stores while we’re out….”
“I prefer to save my money.”
“For something special?”
“My little sister is ill.” Rikard ran a finger over the polished wood of the table. “Uncle Janos and I contribute to her care.”
“Oh.” Taya squirmed. Lieutenant Amcathra had never revealed anything about his private life to her. “I’m so sorry. What happened?”
“The physicians say she was born with weak lungs.”
“You don’t agree?”
“My family lives in Tertius. There was a fire at a zinc galvanizing plant in our neighborhood a month after she was born. Eleven workers died and everybody coughed for months afterward. Most of us recovered. She didn’t.”
“Did the company help? Did it pay for her medical bills?”
“No. It went bankrupt.”
“That’s terrible.” She wondered if there was something she and Cristof could do to help. “What kind of treatment does she get?”
“There isn’t much the doctors can do. She can’t breathe well, so she gets tired easily. And the air’s so dirty in Tertius, she never has a chance to recover. On bad days, she can’t even walk down the street without feeling faint.”
Taya nodded with recognition. She’d grown up in Tertius, too. The air quality depended on the season and where one lived, but the sector was, consistently, polluted by smoke and soot from the manufacturing plants tucked into the foothills.
“Are you saving to move up to Secundus?”
“I’m saving to send her back to Demicus.” Rikard glowered at the table. “She needs clean air. She wouldn’t have gotten sick if she’d grown up in our homeland.”
“I thought you were born in Ondinium.”
He shot her a sharp glance.
“I was.”
“Then you’ve visited Demicus?”
“No. But I know there aren’t any factories there, except where foreigners have settled. Most of our country is untouched. Just fresh air and clean water.”
“Were your parents immigrants?”
“My grandparents. I’m third generation.”
“Me, too, on my father’s side. My mother’s family have
been citizens forever— famulate caste.”
“My mother and father are lictors.”
“Are they related to the lieutenant?”
“My mother is his sister. He’s second-generation, like her.”
“Oh, then you really are the lieutenant’s nephew.”
“Their parents left Demicus together. Most of our clan lives in Ondinium now.”
“Do you have any family left up north?”
“Probably not.” He shifted in his seat. “Most of my people move away from Demicus as fast as they can. Why put in all that effort living free and hunting and gathering under an open sky? It’s much better to work for foreigners so you can live in a house and buy food from strangers.” His voice was bitter.
“If you dislike Ondinium that much, why did you stay in caste? You could have left.”
The young man shrugged, not meeting her eyes.
“Seven’s too young to really understand the choice you’re making. Besides, I can’t take my sister back to Demicus without any money.” He changed the subject. “What about you? Do you have relatives here in Mareaux?”
“I suppose I must, but I don’t know who they are. I think my grandparents wanted a clean break.” Taya reached up and ran a hand across her red hair. “But the bloodline still shows.”
“If you had blue or green eyes, you could pass as a native.”
“I was lucky; I got my mother’s eyes. My sister has mother’s black hair and black eyes; she can almost pass for Ondinium, except for her skin. Her husband’s dark, though, so her children will look like citizens.”
“We don’t look like citizens?”
“You know what I mean.”
“You’d rather look like a pureblood?”
“Of course I would. I got teased all the time when I was a girl.” Taya glanced at her reflection in the window. “I used to sit on the roof each day, trying to get tan, but mostly I just burned. Once I even dyed my hair black. It was awful. The color rubbed off on my clothes and my pillow… and of course I’m short and pale, so nobody ever mistook me for Ondinium, anyway.”
“I was teased once.”
She smiled, examining Rikard’s reflection in the glass.
Clockwork Lies: Iron Wind (Clockwork Heart trilogy) Page 3