“Innocent people have nothing to hide,” Amcathra replied, holding his rifle muzzle-down as he gazed out over the city. “If I had searched my lictors’ possessions more closely in Mareaux, much trouble might have been avoided.”
“You could have confined your search to the bundles that were vulnerable to outside tampering. Or were you afraid my undergarments might be explosive?”
“I have assured myself they are not.”
Taya shot the lictor a glance, wondering if he were deliberately provoking the professor. Dautry looked similarly uncertain, her eyes narrowing as she split her attention between the argument and the demands of navigation.
“And what about your own weapon? Are you an exception to Ondinium’s law?”
“Not in this case.” The lictor unloaded the magazine and released the compressed gas from the cylinder.
“Wait!” Taya protested. “I thought one of the reasons you were coming with us was because we couldn’t use a gun.”
“I can use a rifle,” Professor Dautry objected. “I used to hunt quail with my brother.”
“I mean, you and I are forbidden to use guns, and Cristof shouldn’t use one until his arm heals.”
“I understand why I might be forbidden to carry a rifle in Ondinium,” Dautry said, puzzled, “but why are you?”
“Icarii aren’t allowed to carry firearms. We’re not even supposed to touch them.”
“Ah… it’s part of your infamous ban against airborne weapons,” Dautry said with comprehension. “I thought all those papers I had to sign for this flight were because I’m from Mareaux, but it’s really because Ondinium suffers from a deep, institutionalized fear of attack, isn’t it?”
Taya bridled.
“Ondinium is not afraid of being attacked,” Amcathra said before she could reply. “It is afraid of being defeated.”
Cristof cleared his throat.
“It’s afraid of being destroyed,” he corrected. “As it nearly was in the Last War. I presume you know our history, Professor Dautry.”
“Everybody knows about the fall of the Ondinium Empire, but those were ancient times, Exalted.”
Cristof nodded. He’d stationed himself with his back to the open air and kept his eyes fixed on their faces.
“Ancient but not forgotten. The Empire was forced to retreat to the most defensible territory in its possession. Ondinium is completely landlocked here. No rivers run from one side of the country to the other or from the border to the capital, which protects us from a naval attack. And the capital is surrounded by steep mountains with narrow passes, so invading infantry or cavalry would have to be willing to suffer an extraordinarily high casualty rate before they could have any hope of defeating us.”
“But an invading aerial force….” Dautry said, nodding.
“Exactly. It was an aerial force that nearly destroyed the capital despite all its other precautions. So one of the Council’s first actions during the Virtuous Reclamation was to forbid the export of ondium and the manufacture of aircraft such as this. We believe combatants should face each other on equal terms; it’s the only way to keep war from becoming slaughter. Attacking helpless victims from above is morally indefensible, so we prohibit the creation of aerostats and we forbid icarii to bear arms.”
“And yet, here we are,” the professor said, gesturing.
“And yet here we are,” Cristof agreed, declining to glance in the direction of her hands. “The Council can control technological development within its own borders, but it can’t control what happens in other countries. Hot air balloons didn’t worry us, but load-carrying dirigibles are a significant threat.”
Taya rested her forearms on the gondola’s edge and gazed at the sooty, smoke-covered streets, factories, and wireferry towers that slowly passed below them. If a terrorist group like the Torn Cards were to drop its bombs on the city from this height….
It was a sobering thought.
“And what will Ondinium do if it decides Mareaux’s dirigibles endanger its safety?” Dautry asked, sounding uneasy.
“Reconsider its defenses,” Amcathra replied.
“It wouldn’t start manufacturing dirigibles of its own?”
“Never,” Cristof said, firmly. “The prohibition against airborne weaponry has existed for centuries. Airborne vehicles of war are abhorrent to our culture.”
“I suspect, Exalted, that if Ondinium truly felt its safety were in danger, it would find some way to reconcile itself to its abhorrence,” Dautry replied. “Human nature is very adaptable.”
Taya decided the conversation was entering dangerous territory and touched the professor’s arm, pointing over the side.
“Have you been to Oporphyr Tower, where the Council sits?” she asked. Of course Dautry hadn’t been permitted there, but her reply gave Taya an opening to point out the city’s major features. Cristof, still attempting to conceal his fear of heights, buried his nose in one of his new journals while Dautry and Amcathra listened to Taya’s tour.
They passed the northern gates and the ring of factories, warehouses, and storage yards that covered the snow-laden foothills. The temperature plummeted, and all four pulled on hats and scarves. Dautry and Cristof amused themselves for some time checking the aerostat’s instrumentation and comparing their results with those of other documented flights. Taya wondered how long it would take before Cristof thought to mount some of those dials and meters onto her armature, and whether she’d be able to stop him.
“There.” Amcathra pointed a black-gloved finger toward a valley beyond the pass. A glittering blue-and-white lake filled most of it, its banks cluttered with sawmills and reservoirs. “That is Menoth Lake, Professor.”
“It’s very pretty,” Dautry said, politely.
“It is named after the lictor who commanded a fort on that site. The fort stood on a cliff overlooking the surrounding hills before it was blown into a crater by an ondium-hulled aerostat.”
“Did you study military history, Janos?” Cristof asked, gazing toward the lake as he pulled off his glasses one-handed and made a show of polishing them against his coat front. Taya smiled. He couldn’t see a thing without them.
“I wrote a thesis about Captain Menoth in officer training.”
Taya perked up. Amcathra revealed so little about himself that even this morsel seemed like a major revelation. “Why?”
“I wanted to develop a strategy that would have saved him and the fort. However, after I studied the battle, I realized that his situation was hopeless.” Amcathra looked out at the lake. “The most effective defense against an attack from the air is a defense in the air.”
“Which your country refuses to pursue,” Dautry said, dryly.
“So you understand our concern, Professor,” Cristof said, turning and sliding his glasses back on again. “Unfortunately, it’s a very short technological leap from a research vessel like this to a war ship like the kind that nearly destroyed Ondinium.”
* * *
The air grew even colder as the early winter night fell. Dautry brought the dirigible lower, hanging lanterns over the sides and keeping the maneuvering poles close to hand. They had planned to sleep in shifts, but the bitter chill made sleep impossible. Taya was glad she could press close to Cristof. She pitied Amcathra and the professor, neither of whom seemed inclined to share more than the most unavoidable physical contact with each other.
Hour after miserable hour passed, broken only by flurries of activity when they scraped too close to a tree or had to ease the dirigible around an unexpected outcrop of rock. Around midnight Amcathra passed around a thickly insulated container of lukewarm tea. Taya drank sparingly, preferring to avoid peeing over the side of an aerostat even in the relative privacy of darkness. She passed the container to her husband. Lucky men.
Finally, she spotted a glimmer of light against the horizon.
“There.” Her voice sounded loud in the silence that had fallen over the small group. “Is that Engel?”
Everyone roused. Cristof pulled a spyglass from his bag. The eyepiece clinked against his glasses as he focused.
“It must be. I see a dark line running up to what looks like two or three lanterns, or maybe streetlights— probably the train tracks and platform.”
Each of them studied the lights until they agreed that they were drawing close to the station. Taya checked her watch: 1:48 in the morning.
“Take us east,” Amcathra ordered, extinguishing all but one of the lanterns. The last one he adjusted until only a narrow, focused beam of light streamed from between its shutters. Dautry steered the dirigible away from town and cut the engines.
They began their descent quietly and cautiously. Amcathra held the lantern and whispered terse instructions, a better aerial navigator than Taya would have expected, while she and Cristof leaned out the doors using their poles to guide the aerostat between the trees.
At last they reached a small clearing. Dautry eased the aerostat to a landing. Amcathra and Taya both leaped out, staggered, and hauled the vehicle closer to the trees.
“Thank the Lady.” Cristof stepped down more cautiously and crouched, planting his hands firmly on the snowy ground. “Next time, I’ll steer and the professor can hang out the door.”
“Pretty good flying, Exalted,” Taya said, crouching next to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. He looked up and kissed her, the cold rims of his spectacles making her shiver.
“Remember our first flight?” he asked, his forehead against hers. She grinned and kissed him again.
“Are we fogging up your glasses yet?”
“Naturally.” He straightened them and squinted through the clouded lenses. “And just like last time, we have too much to do to sit here dawdling.”
“Oh, is ‘dawdling’ what you call it now? You’re getting complacent, married man.”
“You are both dawdling,” Amcathra grumbled. He’d spread out their map on a bush and was checking a compass while Professor Dautry sorted through their gear. “Do whatever needs to be done to officially terminate this scientific excursion, Exalted.”
They jotted notes in the trip log and set up the professor’s camp in short order. Dautry would, they’d agreed, remain there until morning. If they had returned by then, they would help her break camp and carry everything to the station; if for any reason they hadn’t, she’d set out for Engel herself and hire laborers to carry everything back for her. Dautry confirmed that she was carrying her identification and flight clearance papers and enough money to cover any foreseeable problems.
“Just tell me again there aren’t any wolves or bears out here,” she said, looking around with a grimace.
“Wild animals seldom approach towns,” Amcathra said as he pumped up and loaded his air rifle again. “Keep your food hanging in the tree until morning, however.”
“I don’t suppose you’d leave me your gun.”
“No.” He slung it over his shoulder. “You have nothing to fear, Professor.”
“We should be back before morning, anyway,” Taya assured her.
“Well, good hunting, or whatever you’re up to.” Dautry ducked into her canvas tent. Taya envied her, wishing she could curl up in a warm sleeping bag, too. Instead, she finished fastening the last buckles on her armature and picked up a lantern.
Chapter Seventeen
Lieutenant Amcathra was, without a doubt, the quietest and fastest of them in the forest. Taya’s short height and small build was ideal for an icarus but left her floundering in the snow and struggling to keep up with the two taller men, and Cristof would never be accused of being naturally athletic.
Taya had hoped that her armature and counterweights would help on the hike, but her wings kept snagging on underbrush and low-hanging tree branches, and stray twigs insinuated themselves with uncanny ease between the leather straps of her armature. Despite the night’s bitter cold, it didn’t take long before she was sweating.
The shipping yard fence seemed to rise up from nowhere, a tall, solid wooden wall with the name and logo of Allied Metals & Extraction stenciled every ten feet. The ground around it had been cleared of trees, but snow had blown up hard against the barrier.
“We should move to a side where the snow has not drifted,” Amcathra advised. “Those mounds will not support our weight.”
“I can fly over the wall and scout,” Taya volunteered, ready to shake the snow off her boots. “I don’t see much light coming over the fence.”
“Which means you won’t be able to see any cables or chimneys in your way, either,” Cristof objected.
“You will scout soon, Icarus.” Amcathra stood. “Come.”
He led them around a corner of the fence to a side that was clearer and gestured for them to wait. His lantern was soon a small, flickering light in the woods paralleling the fence.
“How are you feeling?” Taya whispered, watching Cristof wince as he slid his pack off his right shoulder.
“I’d rather be in a warm bed.”
“Maybe you should rest here while Amcathra and I look around.”
“Tch.” He pushed up his glasses. “You need me to figure out what’s being shipped— the two of you wouldn’t know a crank shaft from a cam stack.”
“And that will undoubtedly be the key to the conspiracy.”
“There’s no use searching for prohibited trade goods if you don’t know what they look like. Do we have any more tea?”
“We drank it all while we were setting up camp.”
“Janos is a lousy quartermaster.”
“I’m sure AME has a stove and kettle. Have him brew you up a fresh cup while you rummage through the filing cabinets.”
“There is no gate on this side,” Amcathra reported with satisfaction when he rejoined them. “I did not see any sign of a patrol, either.”
“Then it’s my turn to take a look around.” Taya strode out to the cleared area before the fence. Amcathra and Cristof set their lanterns down along her path as she strapped on her cap and pulled down her goggles.
The air was dead, which meant she needed a running start. She pulled lead weights from her belt until the ondium counterweights were lifting her off her feet. Then she slid her arms into the armature and sprinted.
Unfolding her wings, Taya beat down and forward. Several steps and two hops later she was aloft, beating hard to gain altitude while she kicked down her tailset. She wobbled as she rose over the trees. About three pounds too light, she estimated, turning to ride the wind.
Behind her, the men hooded the lanterns, leaving only the smallest glimmer of light to mark their position. Ahead of her, most of the freight yard was dark, too. A light by the fenceline indicated a gate, and more light glowed from a door in a long, narrow building. It was the shed where the AME’s freight cars were stored, she guessed from the line of tracks that led inside. The company spur would connect to the main railway line, which would be convenient for smugglers. The railway inspectors couldn’t search cars stored in a private railyard.
She circled, looking for a guard. Another building off to the side was lit up, and she could smell the smoke and feel the heat rising from its chimney. Some kind of barracks, she guessed, or maybe the hut where the watchmen stayed warm at night.
Taya ascended high enough to spot her companions’ glint of light. Using it as her beacon, she landed on the inside of the fence, her backbeating raising a small snowstorm that caked her goggles. She pushed them up onto her flight cap and pulled her rescue rope free, missing twice before she managed to get one end over the top of the tall fence.
Within minutes, Amcathra was dropping into the snow in front of her, taking the weight of the landing on his good leg. Cristof awkwardly straddled the top of the fence, holding the sec
ond lantern. The lictor reached up and took it, then stepped aside. Taya winced as her husband swung his other leg over the fence, teetered, and pushed off, his knees buckling when he landed.
She darted forward, but Amcathra was already there, grasping the exalted’s backpack strap to steady him.
“My glasses….” Cristof’s gloved hand patted the snow. Taya saw a glint of silver in the lamplight and grabbed it.
“I’ve got them.”
“Are you all right?” Amcathra hauled the exalted to his feet.
“I’m fine,” Cristof said, irritably. “Let me go. You’re the one who sprained his ankle.” He squinted. “Taya?”
“Here.” She handed him his glasses. “We should have counterweighted you.”
“I said I’m fine.” He rubbed his lenses on the front of his coat, which did nothing to clear them. Frustration darkened his expression. “Scrap!”
“Allow me, Exalted.” Amcathra took the spectacles and dried them on the end of his black, military-issue scarf. “Did you find the office, Icarus?”
“Yes, I think so.” She pointed left. “There’s a door over there, across from the warehouse. If we cut northwest through the train shed, it looks like the main office is at the front of the yard, not too far from the big gate on the tracks.”
Cristof put his glasses back on and picked up his lantern. The narrow beam of light shined off the snow, a pale track between the two buildings on either side of them.
“How many guards are there?” he asked.
“I didn’t see anyone walking around, but I heard voices in the little hut over there,” she pointed southwest, “and there are lights in the train shed.”
“Wait here.” Amcathra left his lantern with them and walked to the train shed door, his dark uniform vanishing in the shadows.
Taya laid a hand on Cristof’s forearm.
“I’m all right,” he snapped, pulling away.
You’re tired and cold and in pain, she thought, trying not to feel stung by his rejection. And it’s making you cranky. But there was nothing either of them could do about it, and pointing it out wasn’t going to improve matters.
Clockwork Lies: Iron Wind (Clockwork Heart trilogy) Page 22