Clockwork Lies: Iron Wind (Clockwork Heart trilogy)

by Pagliassotti Dru

  “Where’s its engine?”

  “It doesn’t have one.” The stationmaster pointed to a building on the platform where one of the lictors was working. “That’s an air compressing station. We have a giant, steam-powered pump in there and pumps at regular stations down the line. Together they’ll push the railcar through the mountain on a cushion of compressed air. It’s clean, quiet, and much, much faster than a normal locomotive.”

  “This is not quiet,” Amcathra objected, studying the pumping station with perceptible mistrust.

  “Well, the pump makes noise, and it generates some smoke, as well, but once you’re inside the tunnel, you’ll hardly hear a thing except the wheels on the track.”

  “Is it safe?” Taya asked.

  “Absolutely. The atmospheric railway was designed for exactly this sort of thing— moving exalteds through Ondinium swiftly and secretly. I don’t need to tell you that this is all top secret, of course. On penalty of death.”

  Taya nodded. For Ondinium to have kept such a major railway system secret for so many years, the punishment had to be death. The stationmaster and lictors must have passed a battery of loyalty tests before earning their clearance to work on it.

  Her eyes rose again to the carved walls of the chamber. She had never heard that the Ondinium Empire had dug train tunnels through the mountains.

  “Of course,” the stationmaster continued, heading back to the rail-cart to unbuckle her husband’s stretcher, “the three of you were given a need-to-know clearance, but you won’t be permitted to discuss this with anyone else, either.”

  “Do these… these air trains run underneath the whole range?” Taya asked, moving over to help him. She wished Cristof were awake to hear all this. He’d be fascinated. Did any of these tunnels run beneath the capital proper? Maybe that explained how the vast, floating Great Engine had been constructed inside a hollow mountain.

  “It’s an atmospheric railway,” the stationmaster corrected her. “And I don’t know how far the system extends. That’s confidential, too.”

  He and one of the lictors carried Cristof into the strange-looking carriage. Taya had to take off her armature to fit into the short, narrow doorway. She set it to one side, letting the wings float as she looked around.

  The carriage was narrower than a regular train car, both walls lined with long, leather-padded, high-backed seats with projecting wings that curved around either side of each passenger’s head. Cabinets beneath the seats provided storage for luggage they didn’t have. Metal doors were set in both ends of the carriage, and the front door bore a framed sign. Amcathra hobbled past the two men and the stretcher to read it.

  “What is it?” Taya asked.

  “Emergency instructions for exiting the vehicle.”

  “I thought you said it was safe!” she exclaimed.

  “It is, it is,” the stationmaster assured her. “But there’s always a small chance that we’ll lose vacuum or air pressure along the line. Shouldn’t happen — we test the lines twice a year — but an earthquake or even normal subsidence could crack the pneumatic tubes, or the timing on the relay pumping stations could be thrown off.”

  “An earthquake…?” A vision of the dark, cramped tunnel collapsing on them made Taya’s mouth grow dry.

  “Unlikely in the extreme, I assure you.” The stationmaster cocked his head. “I guess it’s true, what they say about icarii being afraid of enclosed spaces.”

  “I’m not afraid. I just don’t like the idea of an earthquake trapping me in the middle of a mountain.”

  “On my honor, Icarus, this is safer than a regular railway. This train can’t derail and it can’t hit another train. It’s going to pass straight through the mountain and shoot you out the other side, right into Overlook. You’ll be there before you know it.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she muttered, already feeling the weight of the mountain pushing down on her.

  The lictors secured Cristof’s stretcher to the floor with a complicated array of straps and bade Amcathra and Taya goodbye.

  “Strap in; the initial take-off is quite a jolt,” the stationmaster said, gesturing to the straps that hung from the tops of the chairs. “I recommend you keep your belt on for the entire ride. The route is steep, and you might get hurt if you aren’t secured.”

  Taya scowled as he waved and left, and then moved over to snap her wings’ keel around one of the extra sets of straps. The last thing she needed was for her armature to bounce around the car, suffering more damage.

  A warning whistle sounded. Amcathra took a seat on one side of the car, at Cristof’s feet, and Taya sat on the other side, at Cristof’s head. Both of them puzzled over the network of straps and buckles. The train rolled forward and stopped again. Taya swallowed hard and swiftly fastened herself in.

  “Do you know anything about atmospheric railways?” she asked the lictor. Amcathra grunted, buckling the straps that ran across his lap and shoulders and taking a firm grip on his crude cane. His face was impassive, but Taya couldn’t help but notice that his knuckles were white.

  That was not reassuring.

  The train jerked forward, throwing them both against their harnesses, and abruptly plunged downward.

  Taya closed her eyes and bit back a scream.

  Chapter Eleven

  Terror can only be sustained for a short period of time. Despite the car’s disconcerting habit of making abrupt shifts and stomach-dislodging drops, Taya’s heart gradually began to beat more regularly. She warily loosened the buckles and clips holding her in place and leaned over to check on Cristof. He’d been securely wrapped in blankets and strapped between the chairs, and his breathing remained deep and steady. Deeper and steadier than hers, that was for certain.

  “I think I prefer normal trains,” she declared, sitting back up and re-tightening her straps. Her palms were damp with nervous sweat.

  “I agree,” Amcathra said. Taya couldn’t tell for certain in the unsteady light of the gimbal-mounted lanterns, but she thought the lieutenant looked paler than usual.

  Maybe Demicans, like icarii, were also more comfortable in open spaces.

  The pneumatic train was quieter than a regular train, though. Sometimes she heard a distant rumble that she supposed was another pumping station, but for the most part the only sound was the metallic rattle of the wheels on the tracks and the creaking of the leather straps fastened across their waist and shoulders. When they arrived in Overlook — she fished out Cristof’s heavy gold pocket watch and snapped it open — when they arrived in Overlook in another hour and a half, she’d have to look more closely at the train. She wanted to be able to describe it to Cristof when he woke up. A subterranean method of crossing mountains would appeal to him.

  She put the pocket watch back and wondered if she should have brought a book.

  The train lurched again, making her stomach tighten.

  Maybe not.

  “Lieutenant….” She considered asking about Rikard, but then she cringed from the thought. How did you ask a man if he might have shot his own nephew in the dark? “Tell me a little about yourself.”

  His reluctance was visible.

  “How did you and Cristof meet?” she pressed, fearing that otherwise they’d sit in an awkward silence for the rest of the ride. “How long have you known each other?”

  “We met six years ago,” Amcathra said, looking down with a hooded gaze. “I was working for Captain Scarios when the exalted decided to involve himself in one of our investigations. The captain instructed me to keep him away. It was more difficult than I had anticipated.”

  “Didn’t he have a license to work with the lictors?”

  “He turned out to be persistent and occasionally useful. Even a misfit exalted can do things and go places a lictor cannot. Captain Scarios began to call on him for regular assistance. It finally became necessar
y to secure him a special license to avoid a lawsuit.”

  “Why? What kind of lawsuit?”

  “The exalted was caught breaking and entering.”

  “Where? What happened?”

  “I do not think he would appreciate my revealing his more embarrassing moments to his wife.”

  “Well, what are friends for?”

  Amcathra hesitated. The train took another short, steep dip and Taya flinched.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, as it straightened out again. “If you don’t want to tell me, I understand. I’m just talking because I’m nervous.”

  “I am aware of that.” Amcathra paused again. “My parents came from Demicus to find work.”

  Taya nodded, puzzled. Rikard had told her as much.

  “My family still practices many of the old traditions,” he added.

  Taya waited a moment, then ventured, in Demican, “I don’t understand.”

  “While a man is alive, he should tell his own stories. It is only after a man is dead and his spirit has moved on that my people will freely tell stories about him.”

  “Oh.” Taya drew in a deep breath. She touched the lump Cristof’s watch made in one of her flight suit pockets, feeling it vibrate with each tick. It was oddly comforting to know that the lieutenant held some superstitions, too. “Do you… do you want to talk about Rikard?”

  “His spirit cannot move on until his body has been destroyed.”

  Taya swallowed.

  “Maybe we should have brought a pack of cards,” she said, finally, into the silence.

  He nodded.

  Taya sighed, squirmed, tugged on the straps around her waist and chest, checked her husband, and then folded her arms around herself and leaned back against the seat.

  I wish I could be more like a Demican, she thought. Amcathra seemed perfectly content to sit motionless with his own thoughts. Was he thinking about Rikard? His sister? His niece? Cristof?

  She didn’t want to think about any of those things. If she thought about Rikard, she’d remember those blank blue eyes staring at her in the snow. If she thought about Rikard’s family, she’d imagine them mourning. And if she thought about Cristof, she’d only worry that he wouldn’t recover, that he might be suffering from internal bleeding or some other terrible complication.

  “Stop it,” she muttered aloud, shaking her head to banish the visions. Amcathra glanced at her, then dropped his eyes again, gazing at his scab-covered hands and the top of his crude cane.

  She ground her teeth together and almost welcomed the next lurching turn and drop. At least terror took her mind off despair.

  “I didn’t know Ondinium had tunnels like this,” she said at last, giving up on being Demican. “Did you?”

  “Yes. They are secret and restricted to military use.”

  “They’re imperial?”

  “Yes.” Amcathra hesitated, then seemed to force himself to keep speaking. “Of course the imperial Ondiniums did not use railways.”

  “What did they use them for?”

  He studied her. Taya was afraid he’d fall silent again, but he took a deep breath and replied.

  “The tunnels are said to extend to the ends of the empire. They were probably used to move supplies and troops.”

  “The ends of the empire….”

  “Well beyond Ondinium’s current political borders. They were dug by colonial slaves.”

  “Ondinium kept slaves?”

  “It was one of the reasons for the Last War.”

  Taya fell silent. She’d never read about the empire’s slaves in school. It was, she thought gloomily, yet another of Ondinium’s dark secrets. She wondered if she’d ever learn them all.

  * * *

  Taya jerked awake from a frightening dream, disoriented and panicked when she realized she couldn’t move. She yanked her hands free from the straps and looked around, her eyes wide and her muscles trembling against the train’s harness.

  “The vehicle is slowing,” Amcathra reported.

  “Good.” Her heart still pounding, she leaned over and checked Cristof. Still asleep. She watched until she was certain his chest was moving, then rubbed her face and opened her husband’s watch.

  A little after noon.

  Now she could feel it, too, a subtle difference in the way the straps pressed on her that suggested they were easing to a halt, even though she couldn’t hear the usual scream of brakes being applied to the rails. Then, at last, with an abrupt jerk, the train stopped.

  She looked at Amcathra.

  “I guess we’d better get up?” she asked.

  “Somebody will come.”

  “Are you sure?” She reached for the buckles on her harness just as someone pounded on the side of the car, startling them both. Metal bars moved and the side door was rolled open, ushering in a blast of cool but fresh air.

  “Please stay seated,” the lictor said, climbing into the car and ducking around Taya’s wings. She was middle-aged and sturdy, carrying an air rifle slung over her back. “Everyone all right?”

  “Yes.” Taya craned her neck to see outside, but the angle was wrong.

  “Good. We have to do a little maneuvering to tow this thing to the platform. The braking mechanism isn’t exact, so we like to stop the car well before the end of the tunnel. If you’ll be patient, we’ll have you out of this box in about ten minutes.”

  “Are we in Overlook?”

  “Yes, Icarus. I have a team standing by to take Exalted Forlore and the two of you to the hospital. The Council wants a second opinion on the ambassador’s condition.” The woman leaned out the open door and signaled. A steam engine rumbled as the train shuddered and started to move again.

  Taya felt a rush of relief when she finally stepped out. Every muscle in her body was stiff, and the train harness had dug into the bruises on her shoulders and hips. She stretched, groaning, and looked around.

  The Overlook platform, too, was inside a low-ceilinged tunnel covered with ancient stone carvings. Two lictors carried Cristof’s stretcher down the steps to a waiting railcart.

  As before, they rode a railcart out of the tunnels, which opened up into a vast wooden warehouse. A horse-drawn carriage waited in its dimly lit interior, and the lictors transferred the still-sleeping Cristof into it. Taya glanced inside with dismay. There wasn’t enough room for her wings.

  “Stay outside,” Lieutenant Amcathra directed. “I will ride with the exalted.”

  She nodded, unhappy about it, and strapped on her armature. Her muscles were stiff again.

  “We’re about twenty minutes away,” the older woman said, climbing up into the driver’s seat. “Do you want to meet us there, Icarus? The hospital roof is clearly marked.”

  “No… no, I’ll stay.” Taya climbed up next to her, fastening her collar. She wasn’t sure she could get aloft, anyway, aching as she was.

  “Do you want to cover the exalted’s face? We don’t have masks, but I brought an extra scarf.” The lictor pulled a rolled bundle from her coat pocket.

  “No. That’s all right. Thank you.”

  “You’d better take it, then. It’s cold out.” The lictor thrust it at her, so Taya accepted it, wrapping the black length of wool over her head and around her ears. Her own scarf and hat had been lost in the wreck.

  Outside, the sky was gray and snowflakes drifted down from the heavy clouds. A fresh coat of snow already covered the ground, making everything around them look fresh and white. The lictors locked the warehouse doors as the carriage started down the road.

  Overlook was a high town, as its name suggested, built along a ridge that commanded a striking view of the surrounding valleys. It wasn’t very large, but it sprawled over a wide area marked by clearings and buildings that dotted the hills and valleys. The surrounding forest was broken up into rectangles of varyi
ng colors— different years of growth that spoke to Ondinium’s careful husbanding of its timber. As the carriage jolted along the rough trail, Taya spotted the train track winding its way through a series of switchbacks, its rails glinting silver whenever the clouds broke. The wind kept the air clear, despite the sawmills around town. An icarus would be able to see for miles out here.

  When they reached the hospital, Cristof’s stretcher was rushed to a private room on the second floor. Taya lurked as close as she could while orderlies unbuckled her husband from the stretcher, pulling the blankets off his chest and lifting his bandaged arm out of the way so that he could be transferred to a bed. Taya ached to see the dark bruises and scratches that stretched over the few parts of his body that weren’t wrapped in bandages.

  “He’s been drugged?” one of the doctors asked, lifting Cristof’s eyelid and checking his pupils.

  “Dr. Marchand gave him morphine.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Right before we left. About three hours ago.”

  “Thank you.” The two doctors continued their examination.

  The lictor who had driven them spoke quietly to Lieutenant Amcathra. Taya dragged herself away long enough to shake the driver’s hand and thank her before she left. Then she stood close to the bed again, struggling against the urge to hold her husband’s hand while they worked.

  “We’re going to take off his bandages and clean him up,” the female physician said at last, straightening. “We’ll replace some of these sutures and sew up one or two of the cuts that Marchand only plastered. Why don’t you let my assistant examine you and get you something to eat?”

  “I’d rather stay.”

  The doctor paused, looking at her, and then held out a hand.

  “I’m Doctor Placius.”

  “Taya Icarus.” She shook.

  “Icarus, Dr. Talevi and I need space and light while we work, and we don’t want to be distracted by observers. I’d like you and the lictor to go outside and get yourselves inspected by our assistants. After they’ve cleared you, you can wait on the other side of the room, quietly, while we work. Is that acceptable?”