Clockwork Lies: Iron Wind (Clockwork Heart trilogy)

by Pagliassotti Dru

  “I don’t know how much higher the Council’s scrutiny can go unless you come to live with us.” Cristof sighed. “I refuse to wear a mask, my brother’s a traitor, and I married out of caste. Do they really think I’m any more of a security risk now than before?”

  “In the past, the Council considered your wife a positive, if caste-inappropriate, influence on you.” Amcathra met Taya’s eyes. “However, now that she has carried and used weapons, I fear that evaluation will change.”

  “You gave me those weapons!” Taya protested.

  “I do not disapprove of your actions.”

  “But you knew the Council would disapprove?”

  “Could you have rescued the exalted without them?”

  Taya scowled. Amcathra waited a moment, then turned back to her husband.

  “It is, however, my sincere hope that their increased security will not require me to live with you, as your wife exhibits an inexplicable penchant for spontaneously hugging me.”

  “What?” Taya gave the lictor a startled look. Amcathra and Cristof stared at each other a long moment, and then Cristof’s lips started to twitch. Captain Amcathra tilted his head and Cristof exploded into laughter.

  “That is not funny,” Taya scolded, blushing. “What in the Lady’s name are you laughing about?”

  “I’m sorry.” Cristof tilted up his glasses and wiped his eyes. “Nothing. Ouch, Janos, that hurts.” He touched his side and made a face.

  Taya scowled. “You aren’t laughing at me, are you?”

  “No, no— at us. I mean, which one of us is worst-suited for marriage. Janos or me. When you and I got married, I told Janos he won.”

  “I apologize for your husband’s sense of humor,” Amcathra said. “He is under the influence of painkillers.”

  “I think you both have a rotten sense of humor,” she muttered, giving them a dark look. “And there’s nothing wrong with hugging a friend!”

  “Setting aside the question of our future living arrangements,” Amcathra said mildly, “it is important that you understand that everyone who knows of these ships is under a suspended death sentence. A slip of the tongue or the wrong word at the wrong time will result in summary execution.”

  “How long have you known about them?” Taya asked.

  “I was recruited into aerial service after I finished my thesis on Captain Menoth.”

  “Longer than I’ve known you, then,” Cristof observed. “So that’s why you were sent with us to Mareaux— to study their aerostats.”

  “My familiarity with airborne vehicles of war was one reason for my transfer to your delegation. My familiarity with you was another. The Council is under the impression that you are more likely to reveal any disloyal sentiments to me than to a stranger.”

  “I’m discontented, not disloyal.”

  “I want to know more about these ships,” Taya demanded. “How often do you fly them? How many people know about them?”

  “Members of the aerial service have regular military duties in Ondinium but are excused for a two-week training course each year, which is when we refresh our flight skills. Until yesterday we have never been called out for active duty. I do not know how many of us there are in Ondinium, and I prefer not to speculate.”

  “How did you get this command?”

  “I was in Glasgar and my senior officers were not.”

  “Did you know you were going to command one of these ships before or after you sent me to rescue Cris?”

  “Before.” He met her narrowed gaze, his blue eyes candid. “I was ordered to abandon my mission to Kovolo and report to the nearest ornithopter hangar as soon as my train stopped in Glasgar. However, when I learned of your presence and the exalted’s capture, I knew I would have to help you rescue him before I could report with a clear conscience.”

  “So you armed me and sent me away, knowing you’d be coming after me.”

  “I hoped to come after you, Icarus. I still had to travel to the hangar, bring the ship aloft, and locate the invaders. I am pleased to have arrived in time to be of assistance.”

  “I wish I’d known you were coming. Maybe things would have worked out differently.” She wondered if she’d have dropped the bomb, if she’d known help was on the way. Or let Cristof take the ship single-handed. “And in the end you ended up rescuing me, instead. This is the second time you’ve saved my life.”

  “Several of us shot Lord Mazzoletti. I do not know whose bullet killed him.”

  Taya had no doubt that Amcathra’s was among those that had found their target.

  “Moreover,” the lictor continued, “you must not assume that the Firebrand could have defeated the invaders by itself. We would have been outnumbered and outgunned had you not disabled most of the ships first. Your efforts — yours and the exalted’s — made our victory possible. I will inform the Council of your exemplary work.”

  “But we had to kill so many people….”

  “They would have died in either case. Moreover, if it had come to a ship-to-ship firefight, it is likely that many of my crew would have died, too. Your actions saved Ondinium lives.”

  “I still don’t like it.”

  “That is as it should be. The Council would feel uneasy if an icarus were not only willing to carry weapons but also happy to take lives. It is already uncomfortable with your husband’s enthusiasm for violence. Exalteds are supposed to guide military strategy, not participate in it.”

  “Seems to me like rules are being broken all around us,” Cristof remarked. “You said this ship would be outgunned— does that mean it carries weapons?”

  “Ship-to-ship weapons, Exalted. Not bombs.”

  “The Council’s splitting hairs. It’s still an airborne, weapons-carrying vehicle. We preach to everyone about how enlightened we are because we shun aerial warfare, and yet here we are, building our own aerial army….”

  “We did not build these vehicles, Exalted. These ornithopters are imperial artefacts, manufactured before the Reclamation.”

  “Hairs.”

  “I will not argue the point. I suggest you do not, either.” Amcathra’s gaze strayed out the window, where the mountain peaks were growing larger. “The Council is not in the mood for arguments. You saw our red flag.”

  “The flag of war,” Taya said.

  “Yes. The Council considers this invasion an act of war and is preparing for military action against Alzana. It is likely that these ships will be kept secret and called out again only in the event of another aerial invasion. However— I can imagine alternate scenarios.”

  Cristof frowned.

  “The Council wouldn’t be bold enough to respond with an aerial attack of its own,” he said. “That would be a diplomatic disaster.”

  “It has been two thousand years since the Last War,” Amcathra said. “This invasion makes it clear that Ondinium’s restrictive policies have caused it to fall behind the rest of the world in military innovation. If the Council does not strike back at once, other countries may sense its weakness and ally with Alzana against us.”

  “Demicus is already split,” Taya said, troubled. “They’re going to call an assembly of clans, but I was warned that the vote might go against us.”

  “The sheytatangri can be very influential. And Alzana will offer the clans weapons that Ondinium will not.”

  “But… the Great Engine has always promoted an isolationist policy.”

  “Its advice is only as good as the data it receives. The Council has not been keeping close track of events beyond Ondinium’s borders.”

  “I won’t support taking this war beyond our borders,” Cristof said, scowling. “Especially not into another country’s airspace.”

  “You are not a decatur and you have very little influence over your peers,” Amcathra said, flatly. “You remain in caste at the convenience of
the Council, which has thus far considered you to be slightly more of an asset than a liability. If you oppose the Council, that opinion will shift, and you and the icarus will suffer the consequences.”

  Taya took Cristof’s hand, daunted by the grim picture the lictor was painting.

  “So you’re advising me to shut up and do whatever the Council says,” Cristof said, bitterly.

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe it won’t be that bad,” Taya ventured.

  “We can hope not.” Amcathra stood. “I am required on deck. Please behave circumspectly when we land and score well on your loyalty examinations. I would not wish to have wasted my medicine and bandages, Exalted.”

  “Go.” Cristof scowled at him. Amcathra hesitated, looking at them.

  “My intention is only to keep you safe.”

  “We know. It’s all right.” Taya gave him a sad smile, her hand tightening over Cristof’s. “Thank you.”

  The lictor nodded and shut the door behind him.

  * * *

  Seven days later, Taya sat in a small office in Oporphyr Tower. She and Cristof had been separated and debriefed, then subjected to a battery of written and verbal loyalty examinations. She hadn’t been sure until the bitter end whether she’d pass; for the first time in her life, she’d marked the answers she thought were safe, rather than true.

  Taya’s faith in Ondinium’s moral superiority had been shaken. She’d seen too many of its secrets and learned too much about its disregard for human life to trust it anymore. But she made an effort to conceal her new, bitter wisdom in her interviews and test answers, and she must have succeeded, because at last she’d been permitted to sign the Official Secrets Act and rejoin her husband.

  A lictor entered the room, looked around, and stepped aside. Decatur Constante walked in.

  Taya stood and bowed, her palm on her forehead. Cristof gave the decatur a cool nod.

  “Are you letting us go now?” he inquired, without any pretense of friendship.

  “Soon.” Constante brushed her robes aside and sat down. The wrinkles in her face were deeper than they’d been when Taya had seen her last. “We have a few final issues to clear up. Your Refinery scores were not as high as the Council would like—”

  “That’s the same program that allowed Neuillan, Alister, and Rikard through,” Cristof scoffed. “I’d stop trusting it, if I were you.”

  “Its parameters have been adjusted,” the decatur said, her voice hard. “The fact is, neither of you have a reputation for minding your caste, and you, especially, Forlore, have a criminally tainted bloodline.”

  Cristof looked away.

  “I’ve never claimed otherwise,” he muttered. “You’re the one who insisted I come back to Primus and play your little ambassadorial games.”

  “It was tit for tat, Forlore; don’t pretend otherwise. I know about the bank account you set up for your brother in Mareaux.”

  Taya held her breath, but her husband simply stared at the floor, his jaw clenched.

  “The Council has voted to send you to Alzana. Il Re Quintilio Agosti claims the invasion was an unauthorized use of force by rogue Families and is suing for peace. We don’t believe the invasion was unauthorized, but we do believe Agosti would like to avoid a war now that we’ve been alerted. Your job will be to listen to his lies, demand the most advantageous terms possible, and try to discover how many more ships he has hidden.”

  “But they’ll kill us!” Taya protested.

  “You two seem to be quite capable of defending yourselves, Icarus. We will, of course, send lictors with you. Lieutenant Amcathra has already requested command of your security arrangements, if you are willing to trust him after the incidents in Mareaux.”

  “He’s a lieutenant again?” Cristof asked, raising his eyes to her face.

  “His promotion to captain was temporary, and his behavior in this last affair was only marginally more satisfactory than your own. We did not authorize him to arm an icarus with firearms and explosives.” Constante waved a hand to cut off Taya’s protest. “At any rate, King Agosti is unlikely to condone your assassination if he is genuinely trying to avoid a war.”

  Taya fumed, but she didn’t think there was anything she could say that would change the decatur’s mind. The Council had the upper hand, and short of leaving Ondinium entirely, there was nothing she could do to defy it.

  “What about Demicus?” she asked. “Has there been any news from Nayan about the ating?”

  “We are in the process of sorting out the clan alliances in Demicus,” Constante said, shortly. “The process you set in motion has been placed under others’ guidance. You need not concern yourself with it. Alzana is more important.”

  “But what about Nayan?”

  Constante gave her a stern look.

  “Nayan is who you will become if you do not follow orders, Icarus— an example to others.”

  Taya’s eyes widened. She wondered what the hapless young man had done to deserve his fate.

  “When do we leave?” Cristof asked, quickly.

  “Another week; perhaps two.” Constante glanced at her paper-strewn desk. “We are still running scenarios through the Engine and studying the captured dirigibles. In the interim, you are not to speak to the press or anyone else about what happened.”

  Cristof gave a short nod. “Under penalty of death. Yes, I noticed that paragraph in the Act.”

  “We are releasing you back to your estate. I suggest you brush up on your Alzanan.” Constante rose.

  “Thank you, Exalted,” Taya said stiffly, standing and bowing again. The decatur left, and a lictor led them out.

  Oporphyr Tower’s halls were empty and echoing as they headed toward the wireferry station. Amcathra waited for them at the wireferry. He stood as they walked in.

  “Exalted. Icarus.”

  “You look as tired as I feel,” Cristof said. “So— Alzana?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  Their escort ushered them inside the wireferry car and closed the door.

  “You know, I’m almost not afraid of these anymore,” Cristof said, sliding to the center of the seat.

  “You shouldn’t be, after everything you’ve been through.” Taya sat next to him. The car jolted and swung as the cables began to move, and Cristof’s scarred cheek twitched. She smiled and took his hand, feeling his cold fingers wrap around hers as he lifted his eyes to contemplate the wireferry’s plain metal roof.

  Taya twisted to take one last look at the government complex behind them, washed crimson in the sunset. Her smile faded as her eyes reached the topmost tower, where Ondinium’s flag snapped in the wind.

  Gold stars on a red field.

  She turned forward, her good mood lost.

  “I have something for you, Exalted,” Amcathra said, shifting in the seat behind them. He held his hand over the seat back. “This was among Gaio Mazzoletti’s possessions.”

  Cristof reached up and the lieutenant dropped a heavy gold watch into his hand.

  “Your watch!” Taya felt a burst of relief. “It’s back!”

  “I am afraid it has been broken.”

  Cristof opened the front and inspected the cracked glass, then turned it and opened the back. His fear of the wireferry was forgotten as he tilted up his glasses and scrutinized the workings.

  “It looks like a problem with the mainspring and a few of the gears. I can fix it at home.” He closed it, beaming. “Thank you, Janos. I’m glad to have it back.”

  “I am pleased to know that the damage can be repaired.”

  Taya took Cristof’s hand again as she gazed out the window at the steep sprawl of the city below. Lights glimmered from windows and shop fronts, street lamps and factory yards. The wireferry hummed above them, and an icarus swept by, one last courier hurrying back to the central office before night
fall.

  Ondinium operated like clockwork, she thought, feeling the weight of Cristof’s watch in their clasped hands. But no matter what Neuillan had said, its citizens weren’t gears to be discarded once they were broken. They were the engineers who kept the vital machine ticking and who fixed it when it broke.

  “The city’s beautiful at night,” she mused. “All those lights in the dark, like our peacetime flag.”

  Cristof risked a quick glance out the window.

  “Enjoy it while you can. We won’t see it again for a while.”

  “The view?”

  “Of course.”

  “We shall see it again, Icarus,” Amcathra said, firmly.

  “You know, I’d prefer it if you called me Taya,” she said. “And may I call you Janos?”

  The lictor folded his arms over his chest.

  “The use of given names too often suggests an inappropriately close relationship.”

  “You let Cris use your name.”

  “Exalteds may do as they wish.”

  “The other Demicans I know use first names with me.”

  “They do not have my responsibilities.”

  “Janos isn’t comfortable with intimacy,” Cristof said. He nudged up his glasses with his free hand. “Of course, I wasn’t, either, until I met you. In fact, given your affectionate habits, maybe you’d better stick to ‘Lieutenant’ and let him stick to ‘Icarus.’ I am a jealous man.”

  Taya rolled her eyes. “So if I find him a girlfriend, you wouldn’t have any reason to be jealous, and he’d feel free to use my name, right?”

  Cristof cocked an eyebrow, then shot an amused glance at the lictor.

  “That seems like a reasonable solution,” he agreed.

  The wireferry clattered to a stop at the Primus station. Taya stood and followed her husband out. Then she turned and leaned on the doorway.

  “So, Lieutenant, is a bubbly Cassi more your style, or a serious Professor Dautry?”

  “Good night, Icarus. Please do not forget that we have a war to fight.” Amcathra leaned forward and slid the wireferry door shut in her face.

  Taya grinned at him through the bars and, with a lighter heart, hurried to catch up to Cristof.