Clockwork Secrets

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Clockwork Secrets Page 8

by Dru Pagliassotti


  “Will only lictors be accepted, do you think, or other castes, too?” Taya asked. Her hair stood on end and she looked around, puzzled.

  Pitio’s reply was cut off in a burst of light and clap of thunder. The entire ship shuddered. Taya fell to her knees, felt Jager catch her arms, and clutched the lictor with raw fear as she smelled ozone and burning flesh. The ship’s engine stopped.

  “Lady, what was that?” she gasped. The ceiling lamps were swinging wildly, and one had burst, spilling burning oil on the floor.

  “I don’t know!” Jager replied, looking as confused as Taya.

  “Lightning strike,” Lucanus croaked, pushing himself up. “Somebody put out that fire!”

  Taya forced herself to release Jager’s arms. A voice was screaming over the rain’s incessant pounding. She scrambled to her feet and turned toward the ladder.

  “You can’t—” Jager bit off her words as she saw Taya’s expression. “Be careful.”

  On the top deck, rain blew into Taya’s face and the wind threw her to one side. Her fingers brushed one of the safety lines and she grabbed it, wiping her face and squinting through the storm. Hurricane lanterns had been set up along the rails and beside the primary and secondary helms. She turned toward the primary helm and the sound of screaming.

  “Back to stations!” Amcathra roared. “Mister Seius, check the engine. Miss Icilius, you have primary.”

  Taya heard shouted acknowledgments through the thunder and the pounding rain. The lictor at the secondary helm grabbed the safety lines and pulled herself forward. Another lictor slipped past Taya and scrambled down the stairs, on his way to the engine deck.

  “I’ll take secondary, Captain,” a familiar voice said. Amcathra turned, rain streaming down his face as he frowned at the professor.

  “I need you with me, Dautry.”

  “Mister Lucanus can read the compass, sir.”

  Amcathra’s hesitation lasted only a second. His eyes swept the deck and landed on Taya. “Icarus, bring me Sergeant Lucanus.”

  “Yes, sir!” she replied. She was halfway down the ladder before she realized what she’d said.

  “Lucanus!” she shouted. “Captain Amcathra needs you to navigate.”

  The lictor looked dismayed as he grabbed his coat.

  “Did something happen to the prof?”

  “No— she’s taking the secondary helm.”

  Lucanus swept past her, thrusting his arms into his sleeves as he reached the deck, and Taya followed. While he headed forward, she grabbed the safety lines and worked her way back to where Dautry had strapped herself in. The professor was wiping rain off her helm’s glass-covered instrument panel. Her long brown hair had fallen out of its usual strict coiffure and whipped around her face as she leaned over the panel, trying to read it in the light of a madly swinging lamp.

  “Where are your glasses?” Taya shouted, grabbing the strap ring by the helm.

  “I can’t see through them!” Dautry looked up. “Read the numbers aloud while I listen for orders.”

  Taya dutifully shouted out the readings, pausing periodically to wipe the glass. The Firebrand kept bobbing and turning, its ondium wings and rudder powerless in the storm’s strong winds. Rain struck them like pellets and worked its way beneath Taya’s coat and into her flight suit. She flinched as another crack of thunder deafened them. Lightning danced around the ship, making her skin prickle.

  “If you have gloves, wear them,” Dautry warned. “Don’t want to touch metal with your bare hands in a lightning storm.”

  Taya hastily yanked out her leather gloves, pulling them over her wet hands with some effort. Her eyes dropped to the wooden duckboards that kept their feet off the metal deck.

  “Is that what happened up front?”

  “Lightning strike.” Dautry tapped the instrument panel and their discussion was momentarily suspended while Taya read the numbers again. “Mister Page was killed at once— I think the other two are alive. Keep your wings folded!”

  Taya swallowed and nodded. She’d heard horror stories of icarii felled by lightning. Couriers stayed grounded in a storm, but military support and search-and-rescue teams sometimes flew through inclement weather.

  More orders were relayed from the forecastle, and Dautry concentrated on keeping them stabilized. Electricity arced off the ship’s tall metal tailrudder, sending sparks flying across the ondium deck. Taya regretted her claustrophobia and curiosity— she would have been much happier tucked in her bed right now, ignorant and dry.

  She wasn’t sure how long they’d been working before she noticed that she was able to read the instrument panel more clearly. She looked up, blinking in the still-steady rain. The sky was as dark and cloud-filled as ever. She frowned, dropping her gaze until she spotted the dim light emanating from Dautry’s collar.

  “Professor!” She pointed.

  Dautry looked down, then lifted a chain from around her neck. Fosca Mazzoletti’s abeda crystal glowed with an inner luminescence.

  “What does it mean?” Taya asked, mystified.

  “It means we’re still on course.” Dautry let the crystal drop back into her coat collar. “That is, if your husband’s theory is correct.”

  “Should we tell Captain Amcathra?”

  “We need to get through this storm first.”

  Getting through the storm took hours. Eventually the lightning stopped, but it was still cloudy and gray when the cook came on deck with mugs of hot tea. The winds were gusty and strong, but the rain no longer pounded as hard as it had. The crew members who’d huddled below during the storm looked haggard as they relieved the lictors who’d worked all night.

  Taya smiled as she saw a tall, thin figure clutching the ropes as he headed for them through the steady drizzle.

  “You were here all night!” Cristof accused as he drew near.

  “I couldn’t sleep, so….”

  “How do you think I would have felt if you’d been lost in the storm while I was fast asleep?”

  Taya’s smile faded.

  “I wasn’t, so why are you worrying about it?”

  “Because I worry about you!” He scowled, looking at her armature. “It doesn’t matter how talented a flier you are— you shouldn’t go aloft in a storm!”

  “I wasn’t aloft. I just wore this… for security.”

  “Security? Metal in a lightning storm? Taya, how can I keep you safe if you insist on putting yourself into danger without me?”

  “I don’t need you to keep me safe!” Taya snapped. Cristof’s head jerked back and he drew in a deep breath, then let it out, slowly. His hand tightened on the safety rope.

  “No, I suppose you don’t,” he said, tonelessly.

  Before Taya could say anything else, Dautry cleared her throat.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Ambassador….” the Mareaux professor unbuckled herself from the helm, “I need to report to the captain.”

  “The beacon started working last night,” Taya said, hoping the news might distract her husband from his hurt feelings.

  “That’s good,” he said, without any apparent interest.

  Dautry hesitated, then reached behind her neck and unclasped the necklace, handing it to him. The crystal still glowed.

  “Perhaps you can tell me more about how this is supposed to work,” she said. “Will the light change in intensity as we draw closer?”

  “I don’t know.” Despite himself, Cristof took the crystal with his free hand, nudging up his glasses as he inspected it more closely. Taya breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he fell into step next to the professor, one hand on the safety rope and the other holding the crystal. Taya trailed behind, glad to be forgotten for a change.

  They found Amcathra with his back to the rain, finishing his cup of tea.

  “How are you, Janos?” Cristof asked.

/>   Amcathra handed his cup to the lictor closest to him. His pale blue eyes landed on the crystal in Cristof’s hand.

  “I am well, Exalted. I see the beacon is working.”

  “Professor Dautry said it activated a few hours ago. I think that as long as it’s glowing, you’re on the right course to Cabiel. You might want to keep it up here.”

  “I shall have it affixed beside the ship’s compass.” He glanced at Dautry. “Unless you would prefer to keep it?”

  “Putting it next to the compass makes sense. At the moment, I can’t take a sighting or rely on dead reckoning to determine our position, so that light will have to guide us until the storm clears.”

  Amcathra slipped the necklace into his overcoat pocket.

  “Did we weather the storm all right?” Cristof asked.

  “The engine is damaged and we have lost two crew members. Our primary helmsman and one of our engineers were electrocuted when the ship was hit by lightning.”

  “Can we still handle the ship? Do you need me to do something?”

  “Your continuing assistance as an engineer would be appreciated, Exalted.” Amcathra turned to Dautry. “And although your service as the Firebrand’s navigator has been invaluable, I would like you to continue serving as secondary helm until you can train a replacement.”

  “As if I were a real crew member?” Dautry’s question held a touch of acrimony. “I’m happy to assist the ship in an emergency, Captain, but don’t forget that I’m on the books as a foreign advisor. What I’m permitted to hear and do on the Firebrand is strictly delineated by the agreement I signed, and it doesn’t include serving as one of the ship’s helms.”

  Amcathra promptly turned to Cristof.

  “We are down to sixteen skilled aviators, Exalted, of whom several have been injured. I intend to train the lictors we brought from Alzana, but we are currently undermanned. With your permission, I would like to override the Council’s restrictions and enlist Professor Dautry’s service as a full crew member. I have observed her navigation and piloting skills on numerous occasions, and I find her capable, clear-headed, and calm in a crisis. I believe she would serve admirably.”

  Color rose in the normally composed professor’s cheeks.

  “Permission granted,” Cristof said. “Although I notice that any blame for this decision will fall on me.”

  “I will share the responsibility.”

  “You’d better not. The decaturs are less likely to shoot an exalted.”

  “Perhaps you have not correctly grasped our comparative values in the Council’s eyes.”

  Cristof’s lips twisted upward in a fleeting smile.

  “Perhaps not.” He turned to Dautry, whose correct posture stiffened even further. “Janos is a hard man to impress, so if he vouches for you, I’m sure you’ll do fine… assuming you want the position, of course. I suppose it’ll end up being a lot more work with no more pay.”

  “I would be delighted to accept a full-time position on the Firebrand’s crew,” Dautry said, her color still high. “And while I can’t say I approve of your government, Exalted, I assure you that I will serve this ship to the best of my ability.”

  “Fair enough. I don’t approve of my government most of the time, either.”

  “Then you are relieved, Dautry,” Amcathra said, ignoring Cristof’s comment. “I recommend you get some sleep too, Icarus. We may require your assistance later.”

  The word sleep was enough to trigger a yawn, and Taya nodded, covering her mouth.

  “I will. If you’ll excuse me, Captain?”

  She and Dautry headed below.

  “Taya…”

  “Yes?”

  “Are your husband and Captain Amcathra really putting themselves into danger by appointing me to this position?”

  “No, not shot-for-treason danger. They may have to undergo some more debriefings and loyalty exams when we get back, but your skills are needed, and the decaturs respect Amcathra’s judgment….” she glanced around and lowered her voice, “more than they do Cris’s.”

  “That reminds me. I was given to understand, the last time we traveled together, that Captain Amcathra spies on your husband for the Council. They seem to get along well despite that, though.”

  “They’re old friends. Reporting on Cris is part of Amcathra’s job, but he’s selective about what he sees and hears.”

  “And says,” the professor added, tartly. “So it doesn’t bother you that he’s misrepresented himself in the past— to you, to me, and to others?”

  “Well… I don’t always like what the Council has asked him to do, but I respect the fact that he’s loyal enough to the Council to do it.”

  “I see.” Dautry looked thoughtful. “This must be another cultural difference between Ondinium and Mareaux.”

  “But you just agreed to work for him,” Taya pointed out. “Like Cris said, you’ve impressed him, and that’s not easy to do.”

  “I agreed to work for the Firebrand,” Dautry corrected her. “As for the captain, he still needs to impress me.” She began pulling pins from her hair as she walked away.

  Taya unbuckled her armature, considering the professor’s words. She understood Dautry’s reservations; she had once scolded Cristof for being a spy, too. Honesty was important in a man. But Cristof had chosen to be deceptive on his own, whereas Amcathra was under the Council’s orders….

  “Taya.” Her husband’s voice startled her. She turned to find him standing awkwardly behind her, his head nearly touching the low ceiling. “Go to bed. I’ll oil your armature.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’m the one who wore it out in the rain.”

  He jammed his hands into his coat pockets.

  “Fixing machines is the one thing I happen to be good at,” he said, his voice strained. “You might let me do that much for you, at least.”

  “Oh, Cris.” Taya sighed, releasing her armature and letting its wingtips float to the ceiling. “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you up last night. I thought it would be better to let you sleep. But I couldn’t just lie there in my bunk all night. You know how I get in tight spaces— I had to get out of bed and do something.”

  “What if you’d been swept off the deck? Or hit by lightning? I mean, first you run out in the middle of a firefight, and then you wear your armature in an electrical storm — and I can’t follow you! I can’t—”

  “Cris, please.” She stepped forward and touched the tight lines on his face. The scars over his eye and across his castemark were pale against his copper skin. “Stop beating yourself up about being afraid of heights. It’s all right.”

  “It’s not all right when you’re married to an icarus,” he said bitterly.

  “You’ve never hesitated to fly with me when it’s been necessary. Remember the time you jumped down to rescue me inside the Great Engine room, or threw us both off that exploding dirigible?”

  “You’re the one who usually does the rescuing.”

  “Do we need to sit down and make a list?” She ran a thumb over his cheek. “We could write down who’s done what, when, and where. Then we could rank-order each item by frequency and danger level to figure out which one of us has saved the other more often. Would that satisfy your analytical, overactive brain?”

  He gave her a rueful smile and pulled her closer.

  “I just worry about you, love,” he whispered in her ear. “The thought of losing you terrifies me.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against his rain-drenched coat. He winced and she drew back.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Old injuries.” He pulled her close again. “The rain doesn’t agree with them.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know….” No wonder he was so irritable, she thought with a pang of guilt. His arms tightened around her. Then, after a mome
nt, he shifted.

  “Everyone’s gone quiet,” he breathed. “I think we’re being watched.”

  Taya laughed, gently pushing him away. The lictors around them swiftly returned to what they were doing.

  “Look at how much better you’ve gotten at public displays of affection,” she murmured, grabbing the front of his coat and standing on her toes to kiss him. He gave her a crooked grin.

  “I prefer private displays of affection. But you’d need to get some sleep, first.” He pointed toward the stairs. “Go on. I’ll take care of your wings.”

  Chapter Six

  Four days later, the Firebrand’s lookout spotted the first Cabisi island and they ran out Ondinium’s peacetime flag: a black field speckled with silver stars. Even though Ondinium was technically at war, Cristof hoped to avoid any misunderstandings with a nation that might not be abreast of the latest continental news.

  Taya abandoned Liliana and Cristof to their breakfasts and eagerly hung over the ship’s rails, gazing at Cabiel through a pair of borrowed field glasses. The islands were lush and green, and small fishing boats dotted the water around them. The Cabisi working on the ships looked up, shading their eyes as they studied the silver shape glinting in the sky. One boatsman pulled out a spyglass. Taya waved at him. To her delight, he waved back.

  “Should we stop to introduce ourselves?” she asked when Captain Amcathra joined her. The Demican lictor’s fair skin was red with sunburn and his face glistened with sweat. He stubbornly refused to doff his heavy black lictor’s uniform, although he’d allowed the rest of the crew to remove the wool jackets and roll up their shirt sleeves.

  “He is not frightened by our ship,” Amcathra observed, examining the fishermen through his prism binoculars. He shifted and studied the island. Taya followed his lead and saw a small village nestled close to the shore, its wood-and-thatch buildings covered with bright red and yellow patterns. Villagers gathered along the beach, squinting up at the Firebrand. Their skin was darker than Ondinium’s copper or Alzana’s bronze — it was more of a deep, black iron — and they seemed uniformly tall and handsome, with high-boned faces and thick black hair. Taya wondered if the Cabisi shared a common heritage with Ondinium’s exalteds.

 

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