Clockwork Lies: Iron Wind (Clockwork Heart trilogy)

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Clockwork Lies: Iron Wind (Clockwork Heart trilogy) Page 25

by Pagliassotti Dru


  Taya locked her wings in close and climbed up on the crates, crouching in a dark corner. Her hands shook from a combination of excitement and nerves.

  On the other side of the car, Cristof checked his pistol and holstered it. He, too, crouched on top of a stack of crates, keeping as close to the wall as he could.

  Metal clanked as the padlock on their boxcar door was removed. With a thunderous boom, it was rolled to one side and fresh cold air filled the car. Taya shivered, startled to realize how comparatively warm their little enclosed space had been. Light played over the sides of the crates. Every loose wisp of straw and crooked nail stood out to her eyes, but whoever was checking them didn’t seem to notice.

  “You got the delivery order?” somebody asked.

  “D/O’s right here.”

  “We need everything unloaded before five.”

  “No problem. It’ll be off by four.”

  The speakers and the light moved away, and Taya heard them unlocking the next car. She edged forward, blinking to readjust her eyes to the dark. Cristof slid down the stack of crates, edged up to the open door, and peered out. He held up a hand. She heard the men talking again. Then a third door rolled open.

  He waved her down and she dropped to the boxcar floor.

  “Out and to the left,” he whispered, his breath hanging like a cloud in the chilly night air. He reached for his needle gun. “You first.”

  Taya glanced outside. The railway workers were looking inside a freight car further down the track. She slipped out of the boxcar onto a platform bristling with block-and-tackle arrangements and scrambled to the left, away from the workers. A gap between the boxcar and the switcher locomotive offered a hiding place, although the tips of her wings scraped its sides. Snow crunched under her feet. She crouched and scooped up a handful to eat. The sensation of cold water trickling down her throat was exquisite, despite the snow’s ashen, chemical flavor.

  This part of the freight yard was dark, except for the lanterns held by the workers. Farther away, she saw brighter lights— the front of the yard or the main terminal. The moon gave off a dim glow through the thick clouds that hung overhead. Dirty black snow was piled everywhere, rutted by wagon tracks and footsteps. An icy breeze blew across the yard, carrying the scent of smoke, oil, and hot metal.

  Cristof emerged from under the car, brushing snow off the front of his coat, and looked around. Taya pointed to a line of freight cars on the next track over, dark and abandoned-looking beneath the horizontal arm of a goods-yard crane. They dashed across the open space, keeping the AME cars between themselves and the workers.

  Then, with two sets of cars between them and the yard crew, they huddled down.

  “Wait here and keep an eye on the crates,” Cristof whispered, putting his pack on the ground and massaging his left arm. “I’ll figure out where we are.”

  “Are you all right?” she asked. He dropped his hand.

  “Slept badly.”

  “I can—”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Buy us some dinner while you’re out,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.

  “I will.” He touched her wings with a strained smile and headed off toward the brighter lights.

  Taya frowned at his back. The last couple of days couldn’t have been good for him— exertion, cold, hunger, sleeping in the rough. As soon as she had a chance, she would insist he pull off his shirt and let her see what was under his bandages. Maybe Kovolo had a hospital.

  White flakes drifted down from the sky. She broke an icicle off the freight car and sucked on it, pretending it was food.

  The freight handlers arrived, pulling hand trucks and laughing at something one of them had said. Their voices sounded oddly flattened, as if absorbed by the snowy night. They were mostly big men, although Taya spotted two women among them, nearly as muscular and tall as the men. Most of the workers had light-colored hair and square features; Demican or Demican-descended.

  Taya waited tensely as the workers started unloading the boxcar they’d been in. Maybe it was the darkness or the late hour, but none of them noticed anything, and soon the once-opened crates were at the bottom of the stack.

  Half an hour later, Cristof rejoined her, his hat and coat powdered with fresh snow. He held three small, covered tin pails.

  “The workers’ lunches,” he whispered. “I didn’t dare go into the main station, so I stole them from a bench on the other side of the yard.”

  Taya pulled open one of the lids and dug inside. Bread, a chunk of hard cheese, a pickled pig’s foot. Her mouth watered as she broke the bread and handed half to her husband. For a moment they forgot all about watching the freight, tearing the cheese into chunks and sharing bites of the pig’s foot.

  The food was gone in a matter of minutes. Taya’s stomach growled for more, but Cristof was already tucking the contents of the other two pails into his backpack. She supposed he was being wise, even though she’d happily devour it all right now.

  “I hope they aren’t taking those crates very far,” she breathed, dropping the bone and gristle back into the stolen pail. “I’m dying for a cup of tea.”

  “They’re probably taking them to the nearest AME warehouse.” Cristof pulled out his leather wallet, fished out three coins, and dropped one into each empty pail.

  “That’s going to raise some questions.”

  “I’m only a thief by necessity.”

  “Well, you’ve just paid for a month’s worth of pigs’ feet.”

  He nodded, unconcerned.

  The workers left the cargo stacked on the platforms, and the AME freight cars were hauled away. Taya checked her watch. They’d finished before four as promised. The Kovolo freight yard was nothing if not efficient.

  Several minutes later, another set of cars pulled in on the opposite side of the platform. They had enclosed steel sides but no roof. A new set of workers began loading the crates into the wagons.

  “That’s going to be a cold ride,” Taya muttered unhappily.

  “Why don’t I ride, and you follow in the air?” Cristof suggested, packing snow into his canteen. “They can’t be going far.”

  “We don’t know that, and I’m not going to take the chance of losing you.”

  “But—”

  “I’m not strong enough for a long flight,” she said, cutting him off. “If they go more than a few miles, I’ll fall behind.”

  “Just trying to spare you another ride,” he murmured. She nodded, squeezing his arm to show that she wasn’t angry. But there was no way she’d be able to stay aloft for very long, not as tired and weak as she felt.

  Moving the freight to the new cars took another hour. Fearing another uncomfortable journey, Taya took the time to empty her bladder in a dark corner of the yard— a complicated operation that involved removing her armature and flight suit. By the time she rejoined Cristof, the top of each car was covered by a canvas tarpaulin, metal grommets secured to hooks built into the sides of the cars. The workers went on break, complaining in advance about the station’s weak tea as they walked up the platform.

  Taya and Cristof abandoned the lunch pails by the tracks and crept across the yard like burglars. Cristof unhooked the corner of a tarp over the last car and helped Taya inside. After a few tense moments of trying to squeeze through the narrow gap with her armature on, she hastily stripped it off. Together they crammed her wings into the gap between the top of the crates and the taut length of tarp. Taya slipped in, pulling the armature down as close to her as she could and trying to keep the wings from poking the tarp. Cristof joined her, then reached out to fasten the loose tarp back over the hooks.

  “Lieutenant Amcathra will never find us now,” Taya whispered. Cristof squeezed her hand.

  “He’d do the same thing, if he were here.”

  I wish he were here, Taya thought, with a touc
h of guilt. She loved her husband dearly, but she’d feel much safer if the quietly competent and deadly lieutenant were by their side.

  The workers eventually returned, or maybe a new crew arrived. Taya and Cristof remained silent as the tarps were checked one last time and the engine started. A whistle sounded, the brakes were disengaged and the new train began to move.

  Chapter Nineteen

  No light trickled into the car, but the scent of roast chicken filled the tiny space.

  “That smells delicious,” Taya groaned, her stomach growling. Cristof wriggled around next to her, digging into his pack.

  “Take off your gloves.” She yanked them off and reached out, taking the chunk of meat he was holding out for her. “Careful of the ribs.”

  She couldn’t answer— her mouth was full, and it stayed that way until she had sucked all the meat off the bones and licked her fingers clean.

  “Should we just drop the bones, or….?”

  “I’ll throw them outside.” He took hers and she felt a sliver of icy air slip under the tarp as he slid a hand out to discard them.

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Not now. The rest of the food will be all right if it freezes. I didn’t want to eat icy chicken, though.”

  “I’m still hungry.”

  “We need to be careful. We don’t know how long it’ll be until we stop,” Cristof warned.

  “Then pass the canteen,” she said, sighing.

  Afterward, she laid her head down on one of her arms. The crates were hard, her armature was poking her, and the air was freezing. Nevertheless, the steady rocking and rhythmic clattering eventually lulled her to sleep.

  Cristof shook her awake. She sat up, hit her head on the canvas tarp, and ducked flat again, gathering her wits. They’d stopped, although the engine was still rumbling. It was still dark.

  “Should we get out?” she whispered.

  Voices— somebody who sounded authoritative, and two others replying. Taya’s fingers tightened around her armature. If they had to leave quickly, it would be almost impossible for her to carry it in her arms, but she couldn’t leave her wings behind.

  But the train began to move again, making a turn and heading downhill. Taya and the armature slid forward. She threw out a hand to keep from banging against the car wall. The descent continued for a long time before the tracks flattened out and made another turn. Minutes later, the wheels scraped and rattled over something, sending the car shuddering from side to side.

  Beside her, Cristof exclaimed and scrambled to the side, trying in vain to peer out from beneath the tarp without unhooking it.

  “Cris!” she protested. “What’s wrong?”

  “They’re using an automated gauge changer! That’s brilliant— why don’t we have one in Terminal?”

  “A what?”

  “The car has variable-gauge axles. When we passed through the border, the gauge changer forced the wheels to move wider to accommodate the wider Demican tracks. I’ve seen models, but I never realized we’d actually built one.”

  “Doesn’t a gauge changer defeat the whole purpose of having differently gauged tracks? The whole goal is to keep foreign trains from entering Ondinium, isn’t it?”

  “Well… yes. But I think all the tracks along the Demican border are owned by Ondinium corporations, anyway.”

  “It’s still a security breach, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose they thought efficiency was more important than security.” He looked at her and sighed. “I’ll report it, I promise.”

  “If you don’t, I will,” Taya warned him. “Does that mean we’re in Demicus now?”

  “We must be.”

  “I can’t believe I’m stuck in here where I can’t see anything!”

  “I’m sure you’ll have a chance to sightsee later. By the way, what do Demicans eat? Bear?”

  Taya smiled. She could only see his silhouette, but she could imagine his expression.

  “They eat what we eat, mostly. Chicken, goat, pig. The northern clans keep reindeer, but I don’t know if they eat them or not. Do we have to talk about food? I’m still hungry.”

  “Sorry.”

  She wished she could see where they were going. But logic told her that, this close to the border, the countryside wouldn’t look much different from Ondinium, anyway.

  “Does your map show anything past the Demican border?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “How far do corporate trains run into Demicus?”

  “It can’t be more than a couple of miles. I suppose some lines might go several miles in to accommodate logging, but most wouldn’t need to do more than parallel the border.”

  Taya tried to relax. With luck, they’d be out soon.

  By the time the train slowed, however, they had traveled close to four hours. Dim light filtered through the canvas tarpaulin, and the air was still cold enough for their breath to make little white clouds. Cristof pulled off a glove and checked his watch.

  “Eleven-forty-five.”

  “Broad daylight,” she said, dismayed.

  The train jolted and rolled forward. They were plunged into relative darkness, and the sound of the engine changed. When the train stopped again, she heard a loud hissing of released steam as the engine was shut down. Voices rose around them, then faded. Taya heard a thundering, rolling sound and the crash of metal on metal. Then, silence.

  She twisted and looked at her husband, barely able to make out his face in the dim light. He laid a finger on his lips. They waited. All they could hear was the ticking of cooling metal.

  Cristof slid a hand out and unhooked a corner of the tarp, looking out.

  “Clear,” he breathed. In moments, both of them were on the platform. Taya hastily stepped into her armature and locked her wings high while Cristof fastened the tarp. They ran across a wooden floor covered with piles of melting snow and ducked behind a long row of barrels by the wall.

  Only then did they stop to look around.

  The wooden train shed was covered by a steeply angled metal roof. The track ran through both ends of the building, each blocked by wide, rolling metal doors to protect the locomotive and its cargo from inclement weather. The battered wooden platform on either side of the track was covered with machinery designed to move freight. Doors on the opposite side of the shed were sized to accommodate either human passage or the movement of large loads. Dim sunlight filtered through long, narrow windows set high in the wooden wall. Wind rattled the glass in their panes. The bottom half of each window was covered by packed snow that had collected on the exterior, and the interior glass was darkened by soot. The result was a gray, unfriendly illumination.

  Cristof pointed and they crept over to one of the human-sized doors opposite. He inched it open, his free hand clutching his needle gun.

  The door revealed another, much larger building, so large that it took Taya’s breath away.

  The first thing she saw were the aerostats— giant dirigibles so tall and vast that they looked like some artist’s manic hallucination. A galvanic jolt of fear made her skin crawl. The dirigibles’ inflated envelopes were forbiddingly long, cylindrical metallic balloons that resembled silver thunderclouds bound to the earth by heavy cables and iron rings. Each of the monstrous machines was at least five times as long as the little Mareaux aerostat they’d crashed in Echelles.

  When at last Taya was able to drag her eyes away from the giant aerostats, she marveled at the bizarrely constructed wooden walls of the building, each criss-crossed by metal support beams that arched up in a gentle curve to a series of catwalks high above. But then her gaze moved inexorably back down from the catwalks to the incredible, frightening aerostats again.

  At last she registered the sky-blue, rampant Alzanan gryphons painted on each silver envelope’s side, right above a big black number.


  Her fingers tightened on Cristof’s shoulder. He flinched, then blinked and eased the door shut.

  “Lady help us,” he whispered, reaching up to clasp her hand.

  “We need to get out of here.” Taya tugged him to one side, toward the stacks of crates by one of the larger freight doors. They ducked in the narrow gap, Taya lowering her wings to keep them hidden. “We need to warn the Council.”

  “You’ll have to fly back to Kovolo.”

  “I don’t even know where Kovolo is!”

  “Follow the tracks.” He pointed to one of the doors. “We entered there. The rails will lead you back to the border.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll hide in the forest.”

  Taya was loathe to leave him in enemy territory. Still, with luck, she could reach Kovolo before nightfall. Then, she promised herself, she’d return with food and equipment.

  “All right. Wait here.” The train shed was still empty, so she jogged to the small door beside the great sliding metal entrance. She cracked it open and looked outside.

  Icy snow stung her cheek. She didn’t see anyone, so she opened it a little wider, squinting as she looked up.

  “The wind’s too strong to fly,” she reported when she rejoined Cristof. “I can’t leave until the storm’s over.”

  “Then we need someplace safe to hide before they come back to unload.”

  “We could go outside and look around,” she suggested. Cristof nodded, still gripping his needle gun.

  They emerged outside next to the train tracks, which continued forward into the camp. The massive hangar loomed to their right, taller and longer than the train shed. Taya squinted through the wind-driven snow to their left, peering past the next two buildings. The train shed was on the end of a small narrow encampment nestled in a high valley. She could make out a mass of dark, wooded mountainsides in the distance, their timberlines swiftly giving way to sheer cliff faces.

  Somewhere beyond those cliffs lay Ondinium, placidly unaware of the threat on its doorstep.

 

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