“Your wings will not fit,” the lictor pointed out when she raised an eyebrow.
“Let us see to that.” Xu explained the problem to one of the drivers, a muscular young man in a loose tunic and short pants that showed off his thick calves. He bowed and began dismantling his quadracycle’s cab.
“Oh, don’t do that!” Taya protested.
“It is no trouble,” Xu assured her.
Taya felt bad as she watched the colorful, jingling panels stacked up on the seat of the last vehicle. “I could have followed in the air….”
“It is very hot for such exertion, and you do not know where we are going. Please do not worry about it. May I ride with you? I enjoy describing the sights to newcomers.”
Taya thanked her and they took their seats in the now-open vehicle. Behind them, Liliana sat next to the other female justiciar, Tu Jinian, a pretty, round-faced woman whose long black hair was bound back in multiple beaded braids. Ra Tafar accompanied Professor Dautry in the last quadracycle. As Taya watched, he pulled out a fan that he flipped open and used to cool himself, then handed to the professor with a smile.
“It is warm here,” Taya admitted. At street level, she felt the oppressive heat much more than she had on the Firebrand or inside the sea tower.
“Temperatures in Cabiel are considerably higher than in Ondinium.” Xu glanced at Taya’s thick leather flight suit. “I suggest adopting our clothing while you are here to make your visit more comfortable.”
“I think the ambassador and I will do that. I’m not sure you’ll convince Captain Amcathra, though.”
“He looks Demican.”
“He’s an Ondinium citizen of Demican descent.”
“The Silver People often find our climate difficult.”
“Demicans?”
Xu smiled. “We call ourselves the Iron People. It requires much less heat to melt silver than iron.”
Taya laughed as the ’cycles started moving, their muscular drivers weaving the vehicles through the stevedores and sailors who thronged the busy Os Cansai wharfs. Many of the people they passed stopped to stare at Taya’s bright ondium wings and Cristof’s blank, mirrorlike mask.
“We do not see many people from Ondinium here,” Xu apologized. “And never an icarus or exalted.”
“It’s all right. We’re used to being stared at. I’m sure we’ll do our own share of gawking during our visit.”
Xu chuckled and leaned forward to point out features of interest in the city.
Taya was particularly struck by Cabiel’s architecture. Ondinium’s buildings were tall, peaked stone structures built to withstand heavy rain and snowstorms. Alzana and Mareaux enjoyed milder climates than Ondinium, but they, too, favored stone in their architecture. Os Cansai’s buildings, by contrast, were plaster-covered brick, and even the shabbier buildings boasted fresh paint over crumbling walls. Most of the roofs were tiled in red clay, but some used yellow and blue tile, as well, laid in variegated stripes or triangles. A few of the larger buildings featured bright red gates, and a few had elegant roofs that swept up at the corners. Instead of Ondinium’s steep, soot-covered streets, Os Cansai’s streets bloomed with trees and bushes, many of them bright with scented blossoms.
The city was filled with people, carts, and ’cycles. Most of the pedestrians were Cabisi, although here and there Taya spotted the lighter complexions of Alzanan, Mareaux, and Tizieri visitors. Almost every Cabisi carried a dagger, and some bore swords and guns. Taya wondered how Cabiel’s justiciars kept the peace in such a heavily armed society. Only lictors were allowed to bear arms in Ondinium.
As they moved into the upscale neighborhoods, the streets widened and the crowd thinned. Taya admired the umbrella-shaded public squares where adults drank tea brewed by gleaming brass machines that hissed and sputtered and let off puffs of steam. Cabisi children chattered and laughed outside their schools, clutching books and wooden pencil cases. At one spot, three workers surrounding a theodolite on a tripod were comparing the view through its lenses to a map in their hands, and in another, a group was repairing a wire that ran into one of the larger buildings.
“Is that for a telegraph?” Taya asked, pointing.
“Yes. Telegraph wires corrode quickly in our salty air,” Xu replied. “We are experimenting with coverings and coatings, but I am not certain it is worth the effort. We have many citizens willing to run messages across the city for a small fee.”
“We can’t use the telegraph in Ondinium, either. It’s difficult to run lines across the mountain range, and they keep getting knocked down by storms and landslides. And like you said— if telegraphy became common, icarii couriers would be out of work.”
“We justiciars hear many objections to innovations that strip citizens of their jobs.”
“What do you do about it?”
“We usually permit challenges. It is important for the members of each community to determine for themselves which innovations to adopt.”
“But… fighting over whether to adopt a technology…” Taya had a hard time imagining it. “That doesn’t sound very efficient. Wouldn’t it be better for every community to adopt the same technological standards at the same time?”
“At the price of disharmony and unemployment? Does Ondinium’s Council do that? I cannot imagine maintaining a stable, well-run society while simultaneously pushing new technologies forward without the public’s consent.”
“Well, in Ondinium we like new technologies.” She hesitated, though, all too aware of Ondinium’s problems with vandalism, terrorism, and crime— not to mention the uproar that had followed the Council’s most recent responses to the Alzanan invasion. “It’s a balancing act,” she said, weakly, at last.
“In Cabiel, we allow communities to move at their own pace. Our system of challenges permits them to do so.”
“But dueling is so violent!”
“A belief worth holding is a belief worth defending. However, very few challenges end in death. Surrender usually satisfies the combatants.”
“What if one side wins and then somebody else challenges on the same grounds?”
“Nobody linked by blood or marriage to the defeated party may issue a challenge on the same issue, but independent interests are free to repeat a challenge. Sometimes debates go on for years. But usually, after several rounds, people tire of combat and decide to negotiate.”
Taya fell silent. It seemed like a bizarre way to run a country. Maybe Alzanans, with their history of inter-Family feuding, understood it better.
“The air here is very clean,” she said, changing the subject. “Where are your factories?”
“On the edges of the city and on small offshore islands. Zoning laws keep our heavy industry downwind, away from heavily populated areas.”
“I think that’s a good way to handle it.” Taya thought about the dark, gritty ash that covered everything in Tertius. The people who lived there suffered numerous health complaints caused by its constant shroud of smog; Captain Amcathra had a niece with such a problem.
Taya had been lucky enough to pass her Great Examination and leave Tertius to become an icarus.
The ’cycles stopped before a complex of buildings, their drivers panting and mopping their foreheads with checkered and striped cloths. Taya hurried to her husband’s side.
“Are you all right?” she murmured, draping the hem of his long ceremonial robe over the cab’s edge to hide his boots as he descended.
Hot, he signaled, leaning against her.
“Tell me if you need to unmask. I’ll find us someplace private.”
Soon.
The justiciars led them through giant red gates to the Hall of Justice, a long building with an upswept yellow-tiled roof. Taya helped Cristof up its shallow steps, ducked to maneuver her locked wings through its doorway, and sighed with relief as they stepped into its cool, shad
owed interior.
The building’s rafters were painted the same yellow as its roof, but the rest of the interior was surprisingly simple; bare white walls and a polished wooden floor. A gallery running the length of the hall held hundreds of golden statues depicting sweet-faced, androgynous figures holding different objects. Taya identified books, tools, musical instruments, weapons, scientific devices, and fishing equipment before they were ushered past the display into a second room.
Xu led them through a double line of red-robed justiciars while Ra and Tu stayed back. As Taya and Cristof passed, the justiciars bowed, their palms pressed together in front of their hearts. Taya couldn’t return the bow with one arm supporting Cristof, so she kept her eyes forward and hoped she wasn’t being unforgivably rude. She wondered what Amcathra, Dautry, and Liliana were doing behind them. She didn’t dare look around to find out.
“Stand here,” Xu murmured, gesturing to two cushions on a broad, raised dais full of them. Taya turned Cristof around to face the justiciars and saw Tu and Ra close the doors to the chamber.
“My neighbors,” Xu said, in Cabisi, “this is the ambassador of Ondinium, Cristof Forlore, an exalted. This is Taya, an icarus. This is Janos Amcathra, a lictor and ship’s captain. This is Cora Dautry, from Mareaux, a ship’s navigator and helmswoman. This is Liliana Agosti, an Alzanan princess. Today they come borne on an ornithopter bearing the markings of the Ondinium Empire. They have the port authority’s permission to stay and conduct their business.”
Taya murmured a translation.
“Please welcome them as our guests,” Xu finished. The justiciars smiled and stepped up, murmuring greetings one by one in Cabisi, Alzanan, Mareaux, or Ondinan. When they finished, each justiciar found a cushion on the dais and stood by it. Taya didn’t know what she was supposed to do.
Unmask, Cristof signaled. Taya hesitated. When they’d visited Mareaux and Alzana, the greeting ceremonies had been long, loud, drawn-out affairs featuring throngs of onlookers, noisy bands, and marching soldiers. Feeling like she’d missed something, she turned up her husband’s long sleeves and stepped behind him to untie and remove his mask.
Cristof ran a hand over his flushed and sweat-dampened brow, then pressed his palms together over his heart and returned the justiciars’ bow. Taya saw a flicker of disapproval cross Amcathra’s expression and felt an echo of it in her own heart. Exalteds hadn’t been granted their blessed rebirths in order to bow to foreigners.
“Thank you very much for your welcome,” Cristof said in Ondinan. Taya translated. “I have read much about your country, and I am honored to be here.”
The justiciars smiled and nodded and settled into their seats without further discussion. Cristof lost no time in sitting down on his own cushion. Taya tugged his robes into place and stood beside him, holding his ondium mask. Was the brief ceremony normal, or was Ondinium being insulted? Nothing in the justiciars’ calm expressions suggested that anything was out of the ordinary.
“Ambassador, your ship flies Ondinium’s peacetime flag,” one of the justiciars said. Taya dismissed her worries and began translating again. “However, we recognize it as a military ornithopter from the height of the ancient Ondinium Empire. Do not Ondinium’s own laws forbid the use of airborne war-vessels?”
“They don’t waste any time, do they?” Cristof muttered before taking a deep breath to answer.
The welcoming ceremony had taken only a few minutes, but the round-circle discussion that followed lasted until dusk. Taya’s only relief came when somebody brought her a stool that allowed her to sit in her armature. The justiciars’ attitudes were friendly and their questions polite, but it didn’t take long for her to realize that the Cabisi feared the Firebrand was the harbinger of a larger military force. By nightfall Cristof and Captain Amcathra had revealed more about the Alzanan invasion and the impending war than they had planned in an attempt to alleviate the justiciars’ concerns. In turn, the justiciars confirmed that Cabisi merchants had sold dirigible plans, electrical engines, and heavy weapons to the Alzanans but assured the ambassador that they would be happy to sell the same technology to Ondinium.
“Then Cabiel hasn’t made any sort of exclusive trade agreement with Alzana?” Cristof pressed.
“The Cabisi Thalassocracy prefers to remain neutral in all affairs relating to the continent,” Ra said. “There is a great deal of land and ocean between your nations and ours.”
“That’s true, but this war has taken to the skies. You may not be isolated for long.”
“We prefer to pursue our scientific and technological development independent of Ondinium’s… influence. We value our independence very highly and intend to defend it against even the most aggressive objectors.”
Cristof raised his hands in a pacifying gesture.
“Ondinium isn’t going to force Cabiel to take a side. But Alzana has done a good job of dividing the clans in Demicus, pitting them against each other and against us. Be careful that they don’t do the same to your island-states.”
“Political alliances are a matter for each community to address individually. However, I think no community will successfully make a pact with a continental nation without first meeting numerous challenges from objectors.”
“I see.” Cristof shifted on his cushion. “Well, I respect your neutrality and cautious approach to the situation. In the meantime, I’d like to get to know your country better and perhaps make contacts for future trade agreements. My captain has already shown an interest in your cannon and may wish to discuss purchases for our ship, and I’m sure Professor Dautry is curious about your charts and navigational instruments. I myself have heard a great deal about Cabisi analytical engines and would like to see one, if I may. I understand they’re very different from the machines we manufacture in Ondinium.”
Ra settled back on his cushion and gave a pleasant nod.
“I expect our engineers look forward to inspecting your ornithopter, as well, and to learning more about your nation’s famous Great Engine.”
“Of course,” Cristof said blithely. Taya shot a glance at Captain Amcathra. The shadow that swept over the lictor’s expression vanished in an instant, but Taya was certain that he was silently preparing a heated lecture on state security to be delivered to her husband later that night. She hoped Cabisi walls were thick.
Chapter Seven
Taya woke up early the next morning and stepped out of their guest bedroom onto a wooden walkway. Xu’s house was built around a central garden full of lush blossoms and brightly feathered birds.
“We should get one of these for the house,” Cristof said, fiddling with his reassembled glasses as he walked out the bedroom door. He stood next to Taya and leaned his elbows on the polished wooden rail. “The garden, I mean.”
“I don’t think these flowers would survive an Ondinium winter.” She tucked a length of his tangled hair over his shoulder. “How did you sleep?”
“The Cabisi seem inventive enough— why haven’t they learned how to build a proper bed frame, instead of throwing a mat on the floor? At least I could stretch out— it’s nice to be in a country full of tall people.”
“Nice for you, maybe. I was going to buy some clothes today, but I suppose I’ll have to have everything hemmed up.” Taya frowned, thinking again of Jayce.
“Do we have any money for clothes shopping?” he asked.
“I’ll have to ask Amcathra.”
Captain Amcathra assured them over breakfast that he had exchanged enough money to cover the ship’s repair and a few modest personal purchases.
“However,” he continued, “you must not leave this compound unmasked, Exalted, and in this heat I would not recommend you engage in extended exercise while covered.”
“I’ll buy whatever you need,” Taya offered as Cristof gave the lictor a grumpy look.
“I’ll go, too,” Professor Dautry said. “I’
d like to look around Os Cansai.”
“Me, too,” Liliana chimed in. “And I can ask about the dirigible.”
“You don’t speak Cabisi, do you?” Cristof asked.
“The Cabisi are reasonably fluent in Mareaux and Alzanan,” Dautry pointed out. “That’s one advantage of avoiding an isolationist policy.”
“Ondinium pursues a protectionist policy,” Captain Amcathra corrected.
“Ondinium regulates and restricts far more than free trade,” Dautry objected. The two were deep in a civil but highly abstract debate over political terminology when Xu joined them.
“May you be safe today,” the justiciar said cheerfully in Ondinan.
“May you be safe today,” Taya replied, echoed by the others. Struck by Dautry’s observation, she added, “How did you learn to speak Ondinan so well, Justiciar Xu?”
“I am a chemist when I am not a justiciar,” she said, sitting. Cristof regarded the justiciar with fresh interest. “Many of the scientific books and articles I read come from Ondinium, so it is necessary to know the language well. It is a rare pleasure to speak it aloud and correct my pronunciation.
“Ambassador,” she continued, “I am arranging a private tour of our most advanced analytical engineering laboratory for you today. However, none of its engineers or programmers are justiciars, so how do I arrange for you to ask questions?”
“If there are only one or two engineers….” Cristof said, glancing at Taya.
“It’s extremely irregular,” she said, “but we could arrange a private, unmasked meeting with the most prestigious of your engineers.”
“Your guides are the laboratory’s leading designer and its top programmer.”
“Are they discreet?” Amcathra pressed.
“Janos….”
“Ensuring that you do not embarrass your caste is part of my responsibility, Exalted.”
“Maybe you should wear a veil,” Liliana suggested. The three Ondiniums gave her blank looks. “Like Tizieri men. It would hide your face, but you could talk through it.”
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