Clockwork Secrets

by Dru Pagliassotti

  “Those could be aqueducts, coming from the forest,” Amcathra remarked. “I see solar reflectors and copper kettles by the houses.” He raised his binoculars to the forested highlands. “A signal tower on the ridge. Reflectors with some sort of arm arrangement, possibly for flags. I see no sign of cannon or other weaponry, but the forest is thick enough to hide artillery if the residents wished to keep their defenses secret.”

  “Do you have to be so… militant?” Taya asked, lowering her glasses.

  “Yes.” He continued searching the island as they glided by. “Terraced farmland, water carried by pipes. A windmill. Aerial ropeways. The villagers appear to live a low-technology but fuel-efficient lifestyle. Their windmill might power a generator.”

  “We know the Cabisi aren’t primitive; they build analytical engines and weapons.”

  “Apparently they do not build them in this village, Icarus.” He lowered his glasses and turned.

  “Wait! Captain—”

  “Yes?”

  “What about Lieutenant Imbrex?”

  He gave her a blank look. “Are you having a problem with the lieutenant?”

  “No, not at all. I was just wondering— have you worked with her long?”

  His expression shifted and became stony.

  “Lieutenant Imbrex is a fine officer, Icarus, with a promising career ahead of her. If I understand the direction of your question correctly, I must warn you that it is not only offensive, but potentially injurious, as well.”

  “Right.” Taya bit her lip, chagrined. “Sorry. Never mind.”

  He turned and walked off, giving orders to fly past the island. Taya sighed and crossed all the other lictors off her mental list of potential partners for the captain.

  They passed several other islands that day, all part of the spiraling chain of island-states that constituted the sprawling Cabisi Thalassocracy. At the center of the spiral was the largest island, Os Cansai, the maritime empire’s capital. The waters between the islands were full of reefs, clearly visible from above, and Taya understood why the Cabisi had developed beacons to guide sailors through the straits. However, the reefs would provide a strong defense against attacking ships without navigational aids. Sailing ships, anyway. Taya wondered if the Cabisi feared aerial warfare as much as Ondinium. The people they’d encountered so far didn’t seem very alarmed by their ship.

  The Firebrand paused that evening over open water. Taya and Cristof joined the ship’s officers to discuss how to approach the capital. Cabiel had no diplomatic representatives and a very small trading presence in Ondinium. Although the island nation had historically maintained an aloof neutrality from mainland politics, the Firebrands had no way of knowing whether it had established a political alliance with Alzana in recent months.

  “We should give them time to prepare for us,” Taya suggested. “We saw signal towers on the islands, so Os Cansai probably knows we’re coming—”

  “Yes.” Captain Amcathra’s reply cut her short. “We will grapple to the outer edge of the Cabisi reef tonight.” He turned to Cristof. “We have made a new mask for you, Exalted.”

  “Really?” Cristof was unable to completely hide his dismay. “How?”

  “The ship’s armorer converted it from one of our cargo counterweights.” Imbrex reached under her chair to pull out a fabric-wrapped bundle. She carefully unwrapped it and offered it to him.

  It was shaped like a traditional exalted’s mask, a blank oval with two eye slits and a wave-shaped castemark etched over one cheek. However, instead of being made from ivory, it had been hammered out of ondium and polished to a mirrorlike shine. Imbrex turned it over to reveal metal clamps around the eyes and silk cords for tying the mask into place. She pointed to the clamps. “If you take the temples off your spectacles, Exalted, you can fasten the lenses here.”

  “Ondium’s expensive, Janos,” Cristof said, frowning. “If the mask comes loose….”

  “I was unwilling to sacrifice our ammunition casings,” Captain Amcathra said. “Please tie your knots carefully.”

  “May I?” Taya waited for her husband’s nod before she took the mask from Imbrex. Its shape was more curved than normal, with narrow flanges under the chin and at the cheek and temple that would help keep the lighter-than-air ondium from floating off Cristof’s face. She lowered it. “This is well-constructed.”

  “Our armorer does decorative metalwork as a hobby,” Imbrex said, looking pleased. “He was honored to create an exalted’s mask.”

  “I’ll thank him tomorrow.” Cristof made no move to take it, so Taya wrapped the mask up and slid it under her chair, settling it against the underside of her seat. “I suppose if I have to wear a mask, I’ll also have to have to wear a robe….”

  “We are in the process of constructing one from the limited material on board,” Amcathra said. “It will not be up to your usual sartorial standards.”

  Cristof waved away the comment, his expression shadowed. Jayce had set those standards.

  “After we make repairs, how long will it take to fly back to Ondinium?”

  “Perhaps five days to reach the tip of Mareaux,” Amcathra said. “If the headwinds are not too strong, another week to ten days to Ondinium.”

  Taya calculated. They’d been attacked almost a week ago. Assuming a week in Os Cansai, and another two to get back to Ondinium… a month would have passed since the king’s murder.

  “Could we make better time if we took the train from Mareaux?” she asked.

  “You might cross Mareaux faster,” Lieutenant Imbrex said dubiously, “but you’d lose time once you got to the border station, and it wouldn’t be nearly as safe.”

  “I never thought I’d say this,” Cristof muttered, “but I do prefer an ornithopter to a train.”

  Taya reached out and squeezed her husband’s hand.

  “What about dropping off the principessa?” she pursued. “Are we going to leave her in Mareaux or take her to Ondinium?”

  She’d expected Amcathra to immediately vote for Ondinium, but he remained studiously neutral, watching Cristof.

  “You think the Council will try to use her as a bargaining chip, don’t you?” Cristof asked at last.

  “I have said nothing of the sort.”

  “No, of course not.” Cristof rubbed his forehead. “Liliana came with us in good faith, and she’s our most valuable defense against Alzana’s accusations. Taking advantage of her vulnerability would be diplomatically disastrous.”

  “The Council may believe that the time for diplomacy has passed.”

  “It probably never thought diplomacy was a realistic option in the first place.” Cristof dropped his hands. “Could we drop her off in Echelles? Queen Iancais would take good care of her.”

  “Echelles would be a convenient place to refuel and reprovision.”

  “Then we’ll do it,” Cristof said, with finality. Taya looked from him to the lictor, wondering if the two men really believed that Liliana would let them decide her fate so easily.

  * * *

  Warm rain pattered over the Firebrand as it approached Os Cansai. The abeda beacon maintained a calm, steady glow as the reefs opened below them. The number of ships in the water increased, and Pitio identified canoes, pirogues, ngalawas, and feluccas for Taya. She called Cristof over to look at a large ship powered by a steam engine and paddlewheels, its deck piled high with barrels and crates and caged livestock. He studied it with interest but kept a death grip on the Firebrand’s railing.

  The Cabisi ships were painted in bright, primary hues. Sailors crowded onto their decks, shielding their eyes from the drizzle as they gazed at the ornithopter above them, its hawkish wings tilted like metal sails and a silver-and-black flag hanging beneath its sealed gundeck. The Firebrand’s engines had been lit in anticipation of docking maneuvers and smoke trickled from the chimneys under the win
gs. Taya cheerfully waved at the sailors, looking forward to landing and meeting the Cabisi face-to-face at last.

  With the ship moving lazily through the drizzle, the Firebrands had plenty of time to observe their destination. The island’s harbor was guarded by high, fortified sea walls that protected the busy port within. Watchtowers along the walls flew long carmine banners that displayed a stylized shark, the official emblem of the Cabisi empire.

  Moored atop one of the watchtowers floated an Alzanan dirigible.

  “Oh, scrap,” Taya breathed, lowering her field glasses and wiping droplets of rain off the lenses. She looked up to the forecastle and saw Captain Amcathra standing next to the Firebrand’s starboard wing mount, also studying the ship.

  Taya handed the glasses to her husband, who stepped away from the rail before taking them with both hands.

  “It’s got the Alzanan gryphon on it,” she said. “And a ‘10’ painted on the prow. Does that mean they have ten ships?”

  “They know we’re here,” he said, his spectacles tilted high on his forehead as he adjusted the focus on the field glasses. “Someone’s looking back at us through the gondola windows.”

  “They wouldn’t open fire in port, would they? That would be an incredible breach of etiquette.”

  “You’d better warn Janos, then, before he gives any undiplomatic orders.”

  “He wouldn’t do that!”

  “Are you sure?”

  Swearing under her breath, Taya ran forward, dodging the lictors who had stopped in their tracks to stare at the enemy ship.

  “Captain—” she halted at the wing mount.

  “Yes?”

  “It wouldn’t be polite to fire on the Alzanans while we’re in the Cabisi port.”

  “Thank you, Icarus. I had no intention of doing so.”

  She flushed. “Well, it is my job to prevent diplomatic incidents….”

  “It is highly unlikely that the crew aboard that ship has heard about Agosti’s death. Telegraphy does not operate over the ocean.”

  Chastened, Taya returned to find Liliana by Cristof’s side. The principessa was looking at the dirigible with a combination of anticipation and apprehension.

  “Are we going to get into another fight?” she asked.

  “Apparently not.” Taya joined them. “Amcathra doesn’t think they’ve heard about your grandfather’s death yet.”

  The girl gazed at the ship, one hand resting lightly on the Firebrand’s railing. “If the captain is an Agosti ally….”

  “Then you could return to Alzana with him.” Taya nodded. “But you’d have to be very careful once you got back. Fosca Mazzoletti can’t afford to let you live to tell the truth.”

  Liliana nodded, looking pensive as she gazed at her countrymen’s war vessel.

  As they drew closer, Cabisi appeared at the top of one of the watchtowers on the opposite side of the port and began waving flags.

  “They’re using Alzanan signals,” Pitio reported to the captain. “They want us to dock at that tower and they’re asking if we need lines thrown out.”

  “Reply with an affirmative to both,” Amcathra said, turning to Imbrex to give orders. Within minutes, the Firebrand’s steam engines were stoked into action. The giant wings moved and the ship made a wide arc over the busy port. Taya returned to their cabin to dress Cristof in his formal robes.

  “I’d rather hoped I wouldn’t have to do this,” Cristof grumbled, affixing his dismantled spectacles to the ondium mask. Taya pulled his long black hair back into a simple tail tied with an embroidered silk ribbon. It wasn’t anything like the ornate, bejeweled hairstyles he usually wore on official business, but she didn’t know how to create an exalted’s intricate loops and plaits.

  The layers of silk under-robes he’d worn during his escape had been cleaned, but if any Cabisi saw their waterstained and mended hems, Ondinium’s reputation would be ruined. Taya swept the robes over his borrowed boots. They didn’t even have gloves to cover his hands, which would simply have to remain hidden by his long sleeves. His new outer robe had been pieced together out of black lictors’ uniforms, its only color a series of bright bands cut from the ship’s signal flags that ran along its collar and bottom hem.

  Once her husband was dressed, Taya changed into her flight suit and unlocked her wings. They climbed on deck, Cristof holding his long outer robe out of the way and carrying his mask. The Firebrand had maneuvered close to the tower, its wings folding against its hull and its ballast tanks dumping water before crossing the seawall. The light drizzle had stopped, leaving the air humid and warm.

  Taya strapped herself into her armature.

  “Pitio…” Taya gestured to the lictor. “Those colors on Cristof’s robe don’t mean anything, do they?”

  The signaler grinned.

  “Fact is, they spell out Firebrand. Sort of an exalted’s ship uniform, like.” His grin suddenly faded. “That’s all right, isn’t it?”

  “Yes… yes, it’s fine.” A ship’s uniform, rather than an ambassador’s finery; Taya liked the idea. When she turned to tell Cristof, she found Liliana unfolding the robe’s extra-long sleeves over his hands.

  “Spirits are rioting,” Taya muttered.

  “What?” Liliana looked up, puzzled. She had combed out her windblown curls and put on all of her jewelry to brighten up her borrowed dress.

  “A foreigner helping an exalted get dressed violates about a half-dozen historic taboos.” Taya laughed at the girl’s expression. “Not that Cris cares.”

  “I would hate to leave any tradition unshattered,” he said complacently.

  “Just don’t tell the Council.” Taya shook her head as she gazed at him. “Look at you. All in black again.”

  “I prefer it, you know, to all those fancy colors and designs.”

  “Yes, but you look prettier in all those fancy designs.” Taya fitted the metal mask over Cristof’s face as he sputtered, then tied the cords in back. “How’s that?”

  “Not bad.” He tried to adjust the mask with his sleeve-hidden hands. She brushed them aside and fixed it for him. “Digs a little under the chin, but it doesn’t sit as close to my face as a regular mask. Makes it easier to breathe. And I like the fact that it doesn’t weigh anything.”

  “I see it makes it easier for you to speak, too,” Taya said with disapproval. She stepped back and gave his ensemble an evaluating look. His trailing robe was as black as Ondinium’s flag, and his silver mask looked like one of its stars. Its polished, mirrorlike surface reflected her own distorted face back at her.

  “You look… ominous,” she said at last. “Dangerous.”

  “I’ll do my best not to pass out and ruin the effect.”

  “Let me know if you feel faint.” She turned to Liliana. “May I ask you to observe correct etiquette toward the exalted while we’re in front of others, Principessa?”

  “Of course.” The girl hesitated. “What should I do?”

  “Please refer to my husband as the ambassador, or Exalted Forlore. Don’t touch him or approach him while he’s masked. You can speak to him directly, but I’ll answer. Don’t talk to others about what he looks like or mention that you’ve seen his naked face.”

  “All right.” Liliana cocked her head. “Is that how you live in Ondinium? I’d heard exalteds were strange, but you’ve seemed normal so far.”

  Taya sighed. “In Ondinium, nobody out of caste is permitted to see an exalted’s bare skin or hear an exalted’s voice except icarii and certain members of the exalted’s household or office.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re—” Cristof started, beneath his mask. Taya kicked him.

  “Hush. Rant when you’re not masked.” She glanced down to make sure her boot hadn’t left a mark on his dark robe and tugged the drapery straight again.

  “Well, uh
, why doesn’t… Exalted Forlore act like that?”

  “Because he’s eccentric. But just because he’s willing to bare his face to strangers doesn’t mean he’s not an exalted, and when he’s covered, we must treat him traditionally.”

  “I will,” Liliana promised. “But I’m glad my Family doesn’t have to wear masks and robes. It looks uncomfortable.”

  “It is,” Cristof muttered before Taya could stop him.

  The Cabisi dockhands on the tower’s wooden hoarding tossed out heavy cables. The Firebrand had glided in low, so the lictors seized the cables and hauled the ornithopter up and into the makeshift airdock.

  The workers grinned as the silver ship bumped against the open hoarding platform, bounced, and floated a few feet away. Taya only understood about half of their comments as they admired the Firebrand’s gleaming, spiral-etched ondium hull and sleek, predatory shape. She translated what she could for Cristof as they waited.

  Captain Amcathra and Lieutenant Imbrex joined them as soon as the ship was secured. Professor Dautry stood to one side, looking around with lively interest. Several lictors swung open the ship’s gate and slid out the gangplank.

  Five official-looking Cabisi were assembled behind the workers, their expressions more wary than that of the dockhands. They were all tall, with dark skin, brown eyes with epicanthic folds, and thick, curly hair that ranged from black to brown to gray. Two women and one man were dressed in deep red garments and wore multiple rows of beaded, amulet-laden necklaces, bracelets, and anklets. The other two men wore light, multicolored trousers, tunics, and loose coats. They were adorned with less jewelry than their companions but enough to indicate high social status. Taya felt another pang of regret over Cristof’s stark garb. He might not care how he looked, but she liked her husband to outshine his foreign peers. That wouldn’t be easy here.

  All of the Cabisi wore knives at their belts, and the two men in trousers had slender, beautifully etched pistols holstered at their waists, as well.