Clockwork Secrets

by Dru Pagliassotti

“It’s unusual,” Taya commented. “Did she wear it often?”

  “I’ve never seen it before, but I never paid any attention to her jewelry.”

  “It seems a little simple for her.” The design on the brass box looked foreign. Taya’s eye was caught by a ring of coiled copper wire that glittered around the base of the crystal. She held the pendant up to the porthole. The wire entered the crystal, running from the pendant’s base to the crystal’s tip. “Look at that. It almost looks like some kind of… machine!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I saw Fosca Mazzoletti in Mareaux, she dressed to impress— she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something as cheap as copper and brass. Not unless it was a lot more important than it looked.” Taya stood, slipping the pendant into the pocket of her borrowed jacket. “Let’s go see what Cris thinks.”

  They found her husband on deck, craning his neck over the chief engineer’s shoulder, and dragged him away under protest. Taya smiled at the smudge of soot and grease on his cheek and reached up to rub it off.

  “What?” He defensively touched the spot with a grease-covered hand, making it worse.

  “Stop that!” She rubbed his cheek with the cuff of her coat while he fidgeted. “Liliana and I have a question for you.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think this is some kind of Cabisi machine?” She drew out the pendant, then pulled it away as he reached for it. “Clean your hands, first!”

  He wiped his fingers on his borrowed jacket, leaving smears, and took the necklace. Propping his glasses up on his forehead, he squinted as he turned the pendant over, then held it up to the light. An ecstatic smile blossomed on his lips.

  “It’s a machine,” Taya confirmed to Liliana.

  “I think it’s an abeda navigation beacon,” Cristof exclaimed. “I saw an engraving in a physics article last year….”

  “Is it important?”

  “Very. The Cabisi use it to guide ships through the Chain reefs; the beacon draws on the abeda crystals’ entangled morphic—”

  “If it’s a navigation device,” Taya interrupted, “why would Fosca Mazzoletti be wearing it like a necklace?”

  Cristof lowered the pendant and dropped his spectacles back down on his nose. “Maybe she didn’t know what it was. Although didn’t Alister say something about the Alzanans buying weapons from Cabiel?”

  “The Mazzoletti Family owns several trade vessels,” Liliana confirmed.

  Cristof closed his hand around the crystal. “And Gaio was a military captain. They were probably trading with the Cabisi.”

  “Where is Cabiel from here? South of us?”

  “South of Alzana, anyway.” Her husband eyed her over the top of his glasses. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do. You’ve always wanted to see Cabiel.”

  “Well, that is why I joined the diplomatic corps. It wasn’t fair that the Council sent us to Mareaux, instead.”

  “It was more worried about Mareaux’s advances in aerostat technology than in opening relations with a peacefully inclined and extremely remote island empire.”

  “Well, that remote island empire is arming Alzana against us. That’s important military intelligence, don’t you think?” She gave him a speculative look. “Don’t the Cabisi manufacture analytical engines, too?”

  “Very advanced ones. Alister always wanted to study one, but the Council doesn’t allow programmers to travel.” Her husband’s pale gray eyes grew thoughtful and Taya knew she’d won. “It would be useful to know what kind of weapons and other technologies the Alzanans have been purchasing, wouldn’t it?”

  “I’m sure it would be important data for the Great Engine’s calculations,” Taya agreed, forcing herself to look solemn.

  Cristof glanced down at the crystal. “Do you mind if I borrow this?”

  “No.… But remember, it’s evidence linking Fosca Mazzoletti to the assassination. Don’t take it apart!”

  “No, of course not.” He was already turning away, only half-hearing her. Taya rolled her eyes as he headed off in search of Amcathra.

  “Are we going to Cabiel?” Liliana asked, puzzled.

  “If we’re lucky.” Taya pointed at the sun, which was still on the port side of the ship. “We’re drifting south already. If we can save fuel, get to a technologically advanced nation that isn’t at war with us, and find out what the — what the Mazzolettis and their allies are up to — well, it would be hard for Captain Amcathra to reject the plan.”

  “But what about contacting Pietra? Or Silvio?”

  “Repairing the ship is our first priority, but getting you back to Alzana is important,” Taya assured her. “Think of it this way— any information we learn about what your enemies are up to will be useful to your sister, won’t it?”

  The girl slowly nodded, looking unconvinced.

  * * *

  A little later, Taya put on her flight suit and strapped herself into her ondium armature. In Ondinium she flew every day, weather permitting, but she’d been grounded for weeks in Alzana. Now she took a long warm-up flight over the ocean, sweeping under the ornithopter and exulting in the sensation of salt spray on her face. Her underused muscles would ache tomorrow, but being in the air again was worth it.

  “That feels good,” she said, balancing on the edge of the ship’s rail a moment before hopping down to the deck. Liliana reached up to touch her silver-metal wings.

  “You really do fly,” the girl said, her concerns temporarily forgotten. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

  “Not over the ocean. There’s nothing to hit except the ship. Flying around Ondinium Mountain— that’s dangerous. Too many wires and cables.” Taya turned to a crew member. “All right, I’m ready. What do you need?”

  What they needed was for her to lower the ballast hose deep enough under the waves to provide a steady, uninterrupted stream of salt water once the aviators began to pump. If the Firebrand had been flying lower, they would have sent a crew member down on a ladder, but at its current altitude, calling on an icarus made more sense. Taya hooked the end of the wide, rubber-sealed canvas hose to her armature and flew it down to the ocean, feeding it several feet below the surface. When the aviators waved that it was functioning, she returned to deck.

  “Taya!” Cristof gestured to her from a spot well away from the ship’s rail. Taya crossed the deck, pulling off her goggles and gloves.

  “What?”

  “We’re— um, I’m glad to see you back in your wings again,” he interrupted himself. “Did you have a good flight?”

  Taya smiled, acknowledging her husband’s effort. He tried; he really did.

  “It was refreshing, thank you.”

  “We’re going to Cabiel! The Council might not approve, but since the Alzanans have already seen the ship, Janos and I assume it’s more important to make repairs than to stay hidden. Dautry says the prevailing winds are carrying us toward Cabiel anyway, so we’ll conserve fuel, and Janos agrees that it would be strategically useful to learn about the Alzanans’ trade agreements while we’re repairing and refueling.”

  Taya felt her pulse leap with anticipation, although something about what he’d said made her pause.

  “Dautry?”

  “The pilot who took us to Engels. She’s Janos’ navigator.”

  “Really? The Council allowed a foreigner to join the crew?”

  “I suppose. I didn’t ask for details.” He looked disappointed by her reaction. “Going to Cabiel is more interesting, don’t you think?”

  Taya grabbed his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

  “Of course it is! I can’t wait. You know I’ve wanted to visit the Cabisi Islands all my life.”

  He cheered up. “And I’m looking forward to seeing an abeda beacon at work and learning more abo
ut their analytical engines.” He impatiently swept back the strands of his long hair that kept whipping into his face. “I’ll tell Alister all about them in my next letter.”

  “Let’s just hope the Cabisi aren’t as protective of their secrets as the Council.”

  “Well, they’re willing to sell them, aren’t they?” His expression darkened. “The only thing I’m not looking forward to is getting heartburn at every meal.”

  “I’m sure they make some dishes that aren’t spicy.” Taya had dragged Cristof to her favorite Cabisi restaurant several times during the early days of their relationship, but at last he’d begged for mercy, explaining that his digestive system couldn’t take it any more. Taya, by contrast, loved the burn of hot peppers and strong spices.

  “You’re in charge of ordering my food.”

  “As always.” She stretched up to kiss him. “Will this be an official visit, then?”

  “I think it will need to be. I don’t have a mask, though. Or a clean robe.” He fell silent. She wondered if he was also remembering Jayce. The young tailor had always been particular about their clothing. “We’ll have to improvise.”

  “We’ll think of something.” Taya’s eyes rose to the horizon, where Cabiel lay, and saw a long, dark line of clouds instead. “Looks like there’s a storm building up. I hope it doesn’t hit us until after the funeral service.”

  “A storm? Is that why Janos is bringing on more ballast? Can’t we fly over it?”

  “We could fly over a little drizzle, maybe, but that looks like a thunderstorm, and thunderclouds are tall. I don’t think we could climb over it without getting sick.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to fly through it without getting sick, either,” Cristof muttered, gazing at the horizon with trepidation. Taya gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze.

  * * *

  After the ballast tanks had been filled and the funeral service was over, the Firebrands took a collective breath and returned to their duties with a renewed sense of purpose. The ship’s wings and demiwings were spread to catch the maximum amount of breeze and the Firebrand leaped forward, racing south with the wind, while Cristof and the engineers studied the damage to the wings’ gear train.

  The wind grew stronger throughout the day, heralding the oncoming storm. At last everyone was ordered to stow their loose belongings and sit down to an early dinner so the cook could secure the galley before it hit.

  Taya took one last walk on deck as the sky grew dark, noting the safety lines set up across the deck and the oiled leather straps buckled to the primary and secondary helms. The crew was screwing together wooden planks in walkways that covered the ondium plating below the safety lines. One of the crew didn’t wear a lictor’s stripe.

  “Professor?”

  Cora Dautry, a Mareaux navigator and aerostat pilot, looked up.

  “Taya Icarus.” She straightened. “How are you? I apologize for not saying hello earlier, but I was busy….”

  “Plotting a course to Cabiel?”

  “Most recently, yes.”

  Taya leaned on the rail. Dautry had traded her conservative skirts for an oilskin coat worn over a plain gray version of a lictor’s uniform. Her long brown hair was still pinned up in a bun, however, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses hung around her neck on a thin silver chain.

  “How did you end up as the Firebrand’s navigator?” Taya asked, curiously. “I know you’re qualified, but the Oporphyr Council doesn’t usually hire foreigners.”

  “It’s Captain Amcathra’s fault,” Dautry said, her expression darkening. “He came to visit me several times after the invasion. At first I thought— well, I didn’t realize I was being interviewed for a job. Apparently he liked what I had to say, though. He convinced your Council that since I have more navigation experience than any Ondinium pilots, I should be attached to his crew. Decatur Constante asked me if I would be interested in working on a top-secret mission involving flight….”

  “And of course you said ‘yes.’”

  “Well, I did have some second thoughts after I saw all the confidentiality agreements, nondisclosure contracts, and state secrets acts they wanted me to sign. Tell me, are you under a death sentence if you talk about this ship to others?”

  “Yes, although I don’t know if it still matters, now that the Alzanans have seen us.… But you still signed up, obviously.”

  “I wanted to see what Ondinium was developing. I assumed the Council was about to throw a great deal of money and man-hours into building its own aerostat program, and I thought it would be exciting to be on the cutting edge of the project.”

  “But instead….”

  “But instead, I discovered that your Council is full of liars and hypocrites. And that Captain Amcathra must have known full well that Ondinium possessed its own aerial fleet when he was lecturing me about his beloved martyr Captain Menoth and the nation’s taboo against aerial warfare.”

  Taya’s eyebrows rose. She’d almost forgotten that long-ago discussion.

  “Then why did you agree to work with him?”

  “I didn’t have any choice after I saw the ship,” Dautry said, sniffing. Then, after a moment, she relented. “I don’t appreciate being interviewed under the guise of friendly conversation, and I’m not happy that your country lied about owning aerial vessels. However, I admit that I find the Firebrand exhilarating, and the Council gave me a generous budget for instrumentation. I’ve been taking copious notes— Ondinium’s navigation manual is deplorably out of date, and I plan to present your Council with a thorough revision once I return.”

  Taya laughed.

  “Has Cris seen your research instruments yet?”

  “The ambassador? I spoke to him earlier about his navigation crystal, but that’s all. I’ve been busy since then.”

  His navigation crystal? Taya let it pass. “You should show him. He adores new scientific instruments. You could probably get him to do most of your measurements without even asking.”

  “Well, perhaps tomorrow.” Dautry looked up as rain began to fall on the metal deck. “Right now my instruments are locked away against the storm.”

  “And Cris is, too, I hope.” Taya turned her face away from a sudden, wet gust of wind. “Time for us to get below.”

  “You go ahead. I’ll be staying up here tonight to keep us on course.”

  * * *

  Rain pounded against the Firebrand’s ondium deck and hull so loudly that Taya couldn’t sleep. Cris had dosed himself with a sleeping draught, but Taya had set her portion aside untouched. She didn’t like being helpless at the best of times, and being helpless in midair would be particularly galling.

  A new sound rumbled through the ship. She rolled over, opening her pocketwatch and waiting for the next flash of lightning. 3:15. She groaned, closing the watch and slipping it back under her pillow.

  Well, there’s no reason to suffer alone when I could suffer in company. She unhooked her safety net and slid out of the top bunk. Cristof snored lightly in the bunk below, wrapped in his blankets and wedged in the back corner.

  He won’t remember any of this when he wakes up. I should have taken that draught, after all.

  Too late, now. Moving quietly, she pulled on her flight suit and boots, grabbed her ship-issue oilskin coat, and slipped out of the cabin.

  Principessa Liliana had taken some of the draught, too. There was no sign of movement from her cabin. Taya walked down the dark, narrow hallway, buttoning up her flight suit and pulling on her coat, until she came to the ship’s ladder. Her armature had been moved up from the storage hold and locked there for her. Now it banged against the wall with each of the Firebrand’s lurches and rolls. Taya steadied it, frowning.

  Next time I’ll secure it better. But for now— she could move her wings into her bunk, but she didn’t want to wake Cristof. He was an admirably brave man in
most respects, but being trapped in a wind-tossed ornithopter in the middle of a thunderstorm wasn’t the sort of situation he would handle well. She preferred to let him sleep through the night.

  Instead, she unlocked the armature and pulled it on over her coat, keeping the wings locked tightly against her sides. The ship gave an abrupt roll to port and she yelped, grabbing the ladder. As the Firebrand righted, she heard shouts from above. She headed up.

  The next deck was where the crew bunked, but none of them were asleep anymore. Several lictors huddled together, talking and laughing, while two — Dayvet and Helvi — vomited into chamberpots. Taya spotted Pitio, the ship’s signaler they’d met on the beach, and made her unsteady way over to him.

  “Icarus!” The aviators made room for her, touching her metal feathers for luck. With all the chairs put away and her armature on, Taya had no choice but to stand, grabbing one of the support beams for stability.

  “You aren’t going flying, are you?” asked Lucanus, a short but sturdy-looking sergeant. “Not in this weather!”

  “No— I’m just keeping my wings from banging against the wall.” Taya hesitated, then gave the group an embarrassed smile. “And I feel safer when I’m wearing them, to tell the truth. No offense.”

  “None taken. If I had wings, I’d be wearing them, too.” Pitio chuckled. “This is the first real storm we’ve weathered, and I’ll be slagged if I like it.”

  Taya staggered but kept her balance as the ship rocked again. “You didn’t run into any storms flying to Alzana?”

  “Just snow,” Lucanus said.

  “We never trained in a storm, either,” Pitio said. “Might recommend it when we get back, though.”

  “The decaturs wouldn’t dare risk a ship like that.” Lucanus patted the deck of the Firebrand with affection. “Not too many of these beauties left.”

  “Could be hundreds, for all we know.” Jager sat cross-legged with the aviation crew, apparently unfazed by the ship’s motion. “It’s you they don’t dare risk. There can’t be many lictors who know how to fly these things, or I would have heard rumors.”

  “There aren’t,” Pitio admitted. “Although I think the Council will have to go public and ramp up its recruiting and training if it wants to keep up with the Alzanans.”