I’m getting used this, she thought, fleetingly and with regret.
“Drop your legs,” she shouted as she took them into another ascent. After a heartbeat or two, Cristof complied. “Are you all right?”
“Can we land now?”
She spotted Number Three a little below and behind her.
“Get ready,” she said, swinging them around toward the empty gun platform on top.
It was a mess, but at least she kept her wings high as they stumbled and fell together. She landed with her knees on either side of her husband’s waist, straining to keep her weight off his bandaged ribs and arm. He sagged, dropping his hands to the wooden platform and letting his head fall back. The noise of the dirigible’s engine throbbed around them, regular and reassuring.
“Thank you,” he said, closing his eyes. “That was utterly terrifying.”
She slid her arms free and braced one gloved hand on the platform, unsnapping the clips that bound them. Then she unhooked his vest.
“Wait.” He grabbed it, opening his eyes again. “We’re not on the ground yet.”
“I know. I want to see your injuries.” Brushing his hands aside, she unbuttoned his coat and pulled it open. “Oh, Cris….”
Fresh blood stained his shirt, seeping through the bandages. She started to lift his collar when he grabbed her hand.
“Don’t.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the flesh between her glove and sleeve cuff. “There’s nothing we can do about it now.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Excruciatingly.”
“You’re always so stoic,” she joked, fighting back a lump in her throat. She needed to get him someplace safe.
“I’m afraid you married a clockwright, not a hero.”
“Not true.” She slid off and helped him sit up. “You disabled two ships. This is the last one.”
He looked up from re-fastening his harness, blinking.
The sky around them was empty.
They stood and leaned on the platform rail. Number Five was still descending, trailing black smoke, and burning trees in the valley behind them spoke to the fates of Numbers One and Two. Number Four, of course, was far behind them.
Cristof put his hand in his pocket and withdrew it, empty.
“Do you have any weapons left?”
“My utility knife.”
“My needler went down on the first ship.” He scowled. “And so did my new loupe-piece.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I should have put it into my pocket.”
“You were distracted.”
“Especially after you went through so much effort to bring it to me.” He sounded chagrined.
“You still have your watch, don’t you?”
“No— the Alzanans took it.”
Taya felt a superstitious chill. “I hope we can get it back.”
“It’s probably down there someplace, in pieces.”
Metal hinges creaked and Taya froze.
“You are really the most frightfully irritating people,” Gaio Mazzoletti said from behind them. “Just how often do you have to be killed before you stay dead, Ambassador?”
Cristof looked at her, his lips tightening, and slowly turned.
“So, Lord Mazzoletti,” he said, his voice steady. “Have you finally decided to get your own hands dirty?”
Taya turned with him, frantically weighing and discarding escape possibilities as she watched Gaio Mazzoletti climb out of the access hatch. His eyes were on Cristof but his pistol was trained on her. He brushed some nonexistent dust off his captain’s coat and stepped onto the platform, pressing his gun barrel against her temple.
“Well, your own people have certainly proven inept,” he replied. “But you’ll notice I’m not threatening your life.”
“I noticed.” Cristof’s voice was tight with anger. Taya fought to keep her own expression neutral, for his sake.
“Then you’ll be so kind as to take three steps back. Where’s the rest of your team? Or are you all that’s left?”
Cristof gave him a withering look.
“Not going to answer? Then I’ll assume you’re alone, since my crew hasn’t reported seeing any other icarii. What a loyal little wife you have, Ambassador, coming to rescue you all by herself.”
Taya’s hand twitched toward her counterweight belt.
“No moving, please, or I will paint the ship with your brains.”
She froze.
“Don’t.” Cristof’s voice was tight. Taya wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to Gaio.
“You have put me in a difficult situation, Ambassador. I have a choice between continuing on by myself or turning back to face a court martial.”
“You might survive a court martial.”
“I might survive a visit to your capital. We already know that my ship can stay out of the range of your mortars and cannon, and I have enough ammunition to make short work of any icarii who might attack.”
“You missed us.”
“I must say, we hadn’t realized Ondinium’s taboo against icarii bearing weapons was so flexible. Or is your wife a renegade, like you? What’s the punishment for an icarus who drops a bomb? Death?”
Taya felt sick to her stomach as she saw Cristof look away, his fists clenching.
“Now,” Lord Gaio continued, “the real question is whether it’s worth keeping you two alive anymore. I confess that I’m inclined against it.”
“I’ll do anything you want to keep her safe,” Cristof said, tautly. He raised his head and drew in a sharp, startled breath.
Gaio shoved the barrel harder against Taya’s skull.
“Don’t try anything, Ambassador.”
“No—” Cristof lifted his hands, his voice shaking. “Sorry. It’s just — my side — don’t hurt her.”
“Cris….” Taya wanted to comfort him, but she didn’t dare move.
“I suggest you avoid any abrupt moves if you want to keep your wife alive.”
“All right. All right.” Her husband slowly reached up and pulled off his glasses. His hands trembled as he cleaned them on his scarf and slid them back over his nose. He looked directly at Taya. “Tell me what you want, Lord Mazzoletti. Just don’t hurt her.”
“Are you begging me?”
“Yes. I’m begging you.”
Lord Gaio grunted. “You could have made that a little more satisfying, Ambassador. Where’s that infamous exalted pride I’ve heard so much about?”
Cristof shook his head, still looking shaken. Light flashed from his lenses.
“I don’t have any pride. Ask anyone.”
“Your husband isn’t impressing me, Icarus.”
“He doesn’t need to, Lord Gaio.” Something was wrong, but Taya wasn’t sure what. Cristof’s first reaction, controlled fury, she’d expected. But this sudden trepidation was something different, and she didn’t believe it had anything to do with his wounds.
“What do you want me to do?” Cristof asked, still gazing at Taya. His intense focus reminded her of the times he’d refused to look away from her face in midair. Was that it? Was he suffering an attack of vertigo? Not on top of a dirigible’s broad envelope, surely.
Something flashed in his glasses again. Taya’s eyes widened.
Something was out there, behind them. Something that terrified him.
“Let’s start with the capital’s air defenses,” Gaio said. “Neuillan has already told us everything he knows, so don’t try to lie to me. For each discrepancy between his testimony and yours, your wife will lose a part of her body usually considered important to an icarus.”
“Neuillan was exiled from the capital years ago.” Cristof’s voice was unsteady. “If our descriptions disagree, it won’t be because I’ve lied to you.”
�
�Well, you’ll just have to be convincing, then, won’t you?”
Taya braced herself. She was going to be shot. It didn’t matter whether or not Cristof told the truth. Maiming her would be the fastest way for Lord Gaio to prove he was serious and to break down any residual resistance Cristof might be feeling.
She’d try her hardest not to scream, for Cristof’s sake.
“There—” Cristof faltered. The bright dot in his glasses was growing larger. Taya focused on it, trying to stay calm. “The mountains around the capital are all fortified. I can mark the locations on a map. They’re armed with cannon and mortars. I’ve heard rumors of gas weapons, too, but I don’t think they’d be effective against your ships. I expect the fortresses have been mined to prevent them from falling into enemy hands.”
“You expect?” Lord Gaio moved the barrel of the gun and Taya drew in a sharp breath, waiting for it to touch her elbow.
A shot cracked, and then a second and a third. Cristof tackled her, bearing her backward and throwing an arm over her head. Taya gasped as she hit the platform, her wings rattling and the struts of her armature digging into her back and sides. Was she dead? Her eyes rose over his shoulder, and she saw a giant silver raptor flying through a pale mist of smoke and vapor. Was it a heavenly messenger from the Lady? She stared and waited for the pain and the darkness.
Two more shots rang out, and she saw black-clad shapes on top of the bird, holding rifles.
Lord Gaio crumpled, his chest a mass of blood.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The bird-shaped vessel was crafted out of priceless ondium plates, with motionless wings that extended horizontally on either side of the hull. It wasn’t a dirigible— no balloons of any sort held it up. Nothing held it up. It simply floated in the sky, slender and deadly, its gleaming metal hull engraved with curling, geometric patterns that looked like stylized feathers, or waves, or perhaps wind currents made visible. The ship’s streamlined prow was a featureless silver oval broken only by two curving glass windows, not unlike a raked-back exalted’s mask. Its giant metal wings resembled an icarus’, connected to the hull by a complicated system of gears and flywheels and pistons.
As Taya watched, the ship continued its stately glide forward, revealing gunnery ports hanging open in its metal underbelly and a crimson flag streaming beneath its sharp prow. The flag displayed gold stars against a blood-red field.
“Cris….”
“Don’t.” He raised a hand and placed it over her eyes. “Don’t look.”
“What is it?”
“An ornithopter. An imperial ornithopter.”
“I thought Ondinium destroyed all its ornithopters in the Virtuous Reclamation.”
“So did I.”
“But—”
“Don’t look at it. We shouldn’t be seeing it.”
She reached up and gently lifted his wrist.
“Cris.” She met his eyes, seeing the fear in them and knowing that it was for her. “We can’t pretend it’s not there.”
“I think it would be better for us if we did.”
The ancient ship’s shadow fell over them, and she finally heard its engines over Number Three’s. The great silver wings moved, ondium feathers rasping shut with a spinning of giant gear trains. Pistons shifted and the wings swept backward, slowing the vehicle.
“They know we’ve seen them.”
“Taya….” Cristof helped her up and grabbed Gaio Mazzoletti’s gun, keeping his eyes averted from the ship. His jaw was tight. “Neither of us are cleared to see that ship. And you know what the Oporphyr Council must have done to keep a secret this big for so long.”
She took his free hand and gently squeezed it.
“I didn’t go through all this just to lose you to a bunch of paranoid bureaucrats,” she said, firmly. “We’ll deal with the Council together.”
His fingers tightened around hers, but he still looked apprehensive.
The mist surrounding the ancient ship thickened, vaporous tendrils curling around the stern like the designs etched into its ondium hull. Taya guessed that effect was caused by a combination of smoke, steam, and condensation rising from hot metal at a freezing altitude. It gave the ship an unearthly appearance.
A rope arced over the raptor’s silver rail and uncoiled. Taya released Cristof to grab it and lash the end around the gunnery platform rail. Seconds later, a lictor slid through the vapor and landed next to them. He adjusted the rifle slung over his shoulder and shot Lord Gaio’s corpse a cursory glance before turning to them.
“Exalted. I am pleased that you still live.”
“Janos—” Cristof’s astonished greeting was interrupted as Taya threw her arms around the lictor, not caring if her armature bruised him or her welcome embarrassed him.
“I thought you were dead!” she exclaimed, finally voicing the fear that had been haunting her ever since she’d seen Glasgar reduced to rubble. “Oh, Lady, I was so afraid you were dead!”
“As you can see, Icarus,” the lictor said with effort, attempting to extricate himself, “I am quite alive.”
“How did you get away from the bombs? Why are you on an ornithopter? What happened?”
“Exalted…”
“Taya, give him a chance to breathe.” Cristof laid a hand on her arm, even though he looked as delighted to see his old friend as she was. “You’re making me jealous.”
“Hush.” She let her husband tug her away, although she clung to Amcathra’s sleeve. “Are we going to be all right, Lieutenant?”
“If you will allow us to secure this ship, I will do what I can to ensure your well-being.” Slipping his arm out of her grasp, he turned and waved to the crew. More lines fell.
A small platoon of lictors landed on the ship, each armed to the teeth. Cristof pointed out the access hatch and the rungs on the side of the envelope. The boarding party split up and began its descent.
“Exalted.” An ensign bowed to him, her eyes flickering with embarrassment from Cristof’s bare face. “Captain Amcathra ordered me to take you aboard to our physician. Do you need a bosun’s chair?”
“A what?”
“Do you need to be lifted to the ship, Exalted, or should we raise a ladder for you?”
“Chair,” Taya said, but Cristof gave her a withering look.
“I can climb to the ship, thank you. Did you say Captain Amcathra?”
“Acting captain, Exalted.”
“He’s in charge of that thing?”
The ensign hesitated. “Yes, Exalted. The Firebrand. It isn’t standard protocol for the captain to leave his ship, but he insisted on being the first to board. He said you would expect no less.”
“Of course,” Cristof said, nonplussed. He looked at Taya and gathered himself. “Uh, of course. I entirely support … Captain … Amcathra’s actions.”
The lictor bowed again, uncertainly, and hurried off.
“Do you think he knew Ondinium had these ships all along?” Taya asked.
“He must have, if he’s the acting captain. He must have flown them before.” Cristof looked around. “I suppose there are enough remote passes out here for secret military maneuvers.”
“Then he’s been keeping secrets from you.”
“Apparently.” Cristof gave her a crooked smile. “At least now I’m not so worried about our fate. If he were under orders to kill us, he could have done it before he boarded.”
Taya gave a pensive nod. She didn’t want to doubt Lieutenant — Captain — Amcathra. But he was the same man who’d killed his nephew in the line of duty. If he were forced to make a choice, which would be more important to him: his orders or his friends?
* * *
“It looks like they’re emptying the ship and preparing to march,” she reported to Amcathra, pulling off her goggles. As tired as she was, she hadn’t been able to r
efuse the lictor’s request to locate the grounded Number Five while he secured Number Three. She walked over the Firebrand’s ondium deck to the navigation chart and pointed. “It’s right about here. Be careful, though; they’ve still got a lot of guns.”
“Thank you, Icarus.” Amcathra marked the spot with a pencil. “I will report it.”
“You’re not going after them yourself?”
“No.” He turned. “Mr. Cadra, we are returning to base with the captured ship.”
“Yes, sir.” The lictor saluted and turned, shouting orders.
“Wait. I know you’re busy, but— what’s going to happen to us?” Taya asked as Amcathra rolled the chart. He handed it to one of several young lictors who dogged his footsteps, nodded to Taya, and led her down a short flight of stairs to the cabins.
Cristof was sitting in the mess hall in the prow, looking through the window. He’d been freshly bandaged and given a lictor’s uniform, the coat hanging loosely over his shoulders.
“I don’t feel so nervous on an ornithopter,” he said, turning. Taya tucked an arm into his and kissed his cheek. He’d been dosed with so many painkillers that his pulse probably wouldn’t rise if they threw him overboard. She was glad he was still on his feet, though. “So, are you going to execute us, Janos?”
Amcathra pulled up two light wooden chairs. “We should discuss the matter before we return to base.”
“That’s not the ‘no, of course not’ I was hoping to hear.”
“‘No, of course not,’” Amcathra repeated, dryly. “It is the Oporphyr Council’s job to execute you, not mine.”
“Ah, good. I told Taya we’d be safe in your hands.” Cristof sat, and Taya perched on the chair next to him, hoping the two men were joking. “You’re far too pragmatic to waste medicine and bandages on a man you were about to kill.”
“Yes.” Amcathra’s gaze was steady. “And if it is any comfort to you, I believe your statuses as Ondinium’s only exalted ambassador and his official representative will clear you to this security level, assuming you pass another loyalty examination when you return. However, from now on you will be under a considerably higher level of scrutiny than you have been in the past.”
Clockwork Lies: Iron Wind (Clockwork Heart trilogy) Page 36