Clockwork Secrets

by Dru Pagliassotti

  “Thank you.” Taya pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees. Liliana gave her arm a quick, comforting pat.

  “You know, we thought he’d died once before, back in Ondinium. It turned out he’d faked his death to commit a crime. Now I keep thinking, ‘what if he faked this death, too?’ But I don’t think he did. He was wounded; I saw the blood. And he was blind, and he’d twisted his ankle. There’s no way he could have escaped….” A lump rose in her throat.

  “You never know,” Liliana said, straining to sound encouraging.

  “I do not wish to seem insensitive, but I think it is better to avoid clinging to false hope,” Jinian said, gently. “However, it is appropriate to honor him for his heroism— for holding back enemy soldiers in an ancient war machine, blind and alone, in order to protect his loved ones and his nation.”

  Taya nodded, blinking back tears.

  “He said he was trying to redeem himself before he died,” she said, her voice shaking.

  “I’m sure the Mother of Earth and the Father of Sky will honor all the truths he held in his heart,” Liliana said, comfortingly.

  Taya wasn’t sure what truths, if any, had ever been held in Alister’s heart, but she certainly couldn’t find it in her own to loathe him anymore. She sighed and held out her cup for Jinian to refill. The three of them gradually brought each other up to date.

  “Did Captain Amcathra leave again?” she asked, when the conversation lulled. “He’s testing the ship today, isn’t he?”

  “Yes. He stopped by before he left.” Liliana sighed. “I wish I could go outside, too. Decatur Constante won’t let me leave. And she won’t unmask for me, either. Her icarus does all the talking and she just sits there like a statue. It’s creepy. I like working with your husband better, Taya.”

  “Lil— did Amcathra tell you I met your sister?”

  “What?” Liliana’s face lit up. “Pietra?”

  “She’s a colonel now.” Taya described her brief encounter with Pietra Agosti and Fosca Mazzoletti. Liliana squealed and hugged her, then immediately began to worry about her sister’s safety with the murderous Mazzoletti at her side.

  “I’m not sure Lady Mazzoletti will dare do anything now,” Taya said. “I mean, she’ll be the first person the colonel’s staff interrogates if anything happens to the colonel.”

  “Do you think I could talk to her? Pietra, I mean?”

  “I suggested it to Decatur Constante. We’ll see what she decides.”

  After they’d finished the tea she checked on Cristof. He was still asleep, so she took a tour through the camp with her two friends. Lucanus and one of the helmswomen, Strand, had survived, although Strand had suffered a broken leg in the crash. She was in good spirits, though, and both Firebrands were relieved that Taya was alive and well. By the time Taya returned, carrying breakfast, Cristof was up and cleaning a rifle in front of the tent. The bottle of whiskey that Keman had left there remained unopened.

  “I brought you something to eat.” Taya set down the crate lid she was using as a tray and sat beside him. He tugged down his scarf to kiss her. He looked tired, and his pale gray eyes were shadowed with sorrow.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Try to eat something, anyway.” She offered him a bowl of stew. It wasn’t her idea of breakfast, but she supposed fresh eggs and bacon might be asking too much of an army camp. “Take a few mouthfuls, at least, for strength.”

  He ran a rag through the barrel of the rifle and set the parts aside, wiping his hands on his trousers before taking the bowl.

  “You’re not going to use that rifle on anyone in particular, are you?” she asked. He looked up at her over the edges of his spectacles.

  “No, nobody in particular.”

  He resumed cleaning his weapon once they’d finished eating. Taya returned the dishes.

  “How is the exalted doing?” Keman asked, catching up with her as she left the mess tent. He was out of armature and, like her, wore a golden feather pinned to his lapel.

  “He’s up, and he ate a little.”

  “That’s good.” The icarus smiled and made a polite bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Keman, military corps, on long-term assignment to Decatur Evadare Constante.”

  “I’m Taya,” she said, returning the bow. “Diplomatic corps, on long-term assignment to Exalted Cristof Forlore.”

  “Of course you are. You’re the caste’s most famous icarus, Taya. Or maybe the most infamous, right now.”

  She blushed, looking around the cavern, but nobody was paying attention to them. “Do people really think we assassinated Il Re Quintilio?”

  “To be honest, nobody was sure what to think. You and your husband have developed something of a reputation over the last year.”

  “But the real story is being ’graphed back to Ondinium, right?”

  “Yes. The report includes a summary of Princess Agosti’s testimony.”

  “Good. I don’t want my family and friends thinking I’m a murderer.” Her mood darkened. “Even though I have killed some people.”

  “I’m sorry.” Keman drew her aside as a group of lictors brushed past them to enter the mess tent. They began walking through the support-services tents. “Killing isn’t easy even when you’ve been trained for it.”

  “Do you get nightmares, too?”

  “I do. And I’ve known many lictors who’ve had nightmares too, although they don’t like to admit it.”

  “How long have you worked for the military?”

  “Thirty-one years. I joined as soon as I was eligible and spent my first twenty years on regular duty and the rest assigned to House Constante.” He gave her a rueful smile. “I was planning to retire last month.”

  “The decatur wouldn’t let you?”

  “I requested an extension. I didn’t want her distracted by a new icarus while she was on the front line.”

  “That was thoughtful of you.”

  “She’s a good leader. I know some people think she’s cold and conservative, but you have to remember that the safety of the nation rests on her shoulders. She weighs everything she says and does in the context of Ondinium’s long-term survival.”

  “How does she feel about last night’s attack?”

  “It could have gone better,” Keman admitted. “She’s been up since the briefing, working on her next move.”

  “What will that be?”

  “I can’t say. But she wants to send Exalted Forlore back, if your captain can get his ship in the air. Your husband isn’t going to charge out and avenge himself on the Alzanans who collapsed that tunnel on his brother, is he?”

  Taya gave the question serious consideration, thinking about the rifle Cristof had been cleaning.

  “I don’t think so,” she said at last. “Although he’d probably enjoy killing some Alzanans if he got the chance.”

  “Let’s make sure he doesn’t.” Keman gave her an avuncular pat on the back as they reached the lines of sleeping tents. “Go keep him company. I’ll see that you’re notified if anything important happens.”

  The morning passed slowly and the lictors gave the exalted as much privacy as they could in such tight quarters. It was a little after noon by Taya’s watch when they were invited back to the decatur’s tent. Captain Amcathra stood beside it.

  “How did it fly?” Taya inquired.

  “Adequately.” He inclined his head toward the tent. “When you are finished with the decatur we will discuss our departure.”

  Decatur Constante and Keman were waiting inside. The decatur was unmasked.

  “Two reports have come in,” Constante said, looking grim. “We have a reply from Council, but also, the Formidable has departed camp.”

  “Which way did it go?” Cristof demanded.

  “Over the border. Toward the capital.”


  “Lady help us,” Taya whispered. They must have loaded the serpentfire cannon.

  Constante handed Cristof a strip of paper. Taya leaned over his arm to read it.

  destroy weapons hold border peace optional do not risk royal witness return ambassador reinforcements coming

  “Would setting up a meeting between Liliana and her sister be a risk?” Taya asked.

  “The meeting would have to be private,” Constante said, glancing at Keman. “A public meeting would be too dangerous for both of them.”

  “Because Lady Mazzoletti might have them assassinated?” Cristof nodded. “Right. Put some snipers in the bushes and call it an Ondinium double-cross. She’d get rid of two more Agostis that way. Then there’d only be a fourteen-year-old boy between her and the throne.”

  “You said Queen Agosti seemed reasonable.” Constante looked at Taya. “Would she call off this war if her sister convinced her we didn’t kill her family?”

  “I think so,” Taya said. “At least, I’m sure she’d turn her vendetta on the Mazzolettis and their allies, and it’s unlikely she’d want to pursue a foreign war while simultaneously fighting a civil one.”

  Constante tapped her fingers on the desk, her eyes narrowed as she gazed into the distance. “Perhaps you’re right, Keman. Perhaps we do need to extract her.”

  “Extract her!” Taya exclaimed.

  “To a private conference,” Keman elaborated. “Without Lady Mazzoletti knowing.”

  Cristof frowned. “That won’t be easy, now that the camp’s on alert.”

  “Give me a rescue harness and I could do it,” the icarus replied with confidence.

  Taya understood his plan at once. “Not by yourself!”

  “It would have to be a nightflight, of course, but I’ve made hundreds of them. I’ve even carried out one or two extractions in the past.”

  “Alone?” Cristof inquired.

  “Well— no.”

  “Right. You’ll need backup. Someone who can carry a gun. But since you can only carry one person at a time….” Cristof suddenly scowled and snapped his mouth shut.

  “Then you’d need two icarii to carry two people!” Taya said, understanding. “I could carry a lictor.”

  “No! We just got you out of that camp— you are not going back in again.”

  “But Keman can’t do it alone.” She looked from her husband to the decatur, then back again. “If it works and Colonel Agosti believes her sister, we could end this war tomorrow.”

  “Besides, you don’t have an armature,” Cristof said with finality.

  Taya looked at Keman, who shook his head. No spares.

  Someone cleared his throat outside. Taya froze, then turned and pushed aside the double flaps.

  “Captain?”

  Amcathra studiously gazed into the distance.

  “It occurs to me that in our previous conversation I may have neglected to mention that your armature was locked securely in the Firebrand’s hold. It suffered some damage in the crash, but the decatur’s engineers were able to repair it. I could have your flight suit and wings delivered here by nightfall, should you happen to have any need of them.”

  Taya’s heart leaped. Amcathra took a guarded step back.

  “Icarus….”

  Taya checked her impulsive advance, beamed at him, and bounced back into the tent.

  “Cris! Amcathra fixed my—”

  “Wings, yes, I heard,” Cristof said, vexed. He raised his voice. “It’s taboo to eavesdrop on exalteds, lictor.”

  “It wasn’t his fault,” Taya defended him. “We’re in a tent.”

  “Extracting Colonel Agosti could be construed as an act of aggression, of course,” Decatur Constante said, apparently deciding to ignore the episode with as much dignity as possible. “If she does not believe her sister’s story, we will have no choice but to hold her.”

  “But then Ondinium would have Alzana’s queen and princess in captivity,” Keman pointed out. “All the Mazzolettis would have left would be a pawn.”

  “Unless Lady Mazzoletti kills the boy and crowns herself.” Cristof folded his arms over his chest. “For the record, I object to either of our icarii entering the enemy camp.”

  “But as Taya said, we could bring in a lictor that way,” Keman pointed out. “The chances of our success would be much higher.”

  “We were just driven back by the Alzanan troops a few hours ago. Twelve, no, thirteen people died and four were wounded, and one of the dead was my brother.” Cristof looked at Taya, his face pale. “You aren’t going to do this to me, are you?”

  Taya’s enthusiasm for the plan sputtered out like a wet fuse. With a rush of contrition, she reached out and took his hand.

  “Cris….”

  “Perhaps this plan needs more work,” Keman said softly.

  “This is war, Exalted Forlore,” Constante snapped. Cristof straightened, his expression hardening. “I understand why you don’t want to put your wife at risk, but you must put your personal feelings aside and let the icarus do her duty.”

  “I don’t want to hear anything from you about the two of us doing our duty,” Cristof retorted, flushing with anger. “Taya and I did our duty when we ventured into that Alzanan snake pit to buy you time to uncrate your war machines, and we’ve been running for our lives ever since. We’ve done more than our share of duty over the whole last slagging year, and I am sick and tired of losing everything I care about to it!”

  “This is war. People die,” Constante shot back. “Do you think those eight hundred and seventy-four Ondiniums in Glasgar weren’t doing their duty? Or those twelve lictors last night, or even your outcaste brother, criminal though he was?”

  “Cris!” Taya grabbed her husband’s arm to keep him from lunging at the woman in his fury. Keman stepped protectively in front of the decatur. Taya’s fingers dug into Cristof’s sleeve. “Don’t! Please— don’t.”

  “My brother died a hero,” Cristof shouted.

  “He was still a traitor,” Constante spat back. “He killed Caster Octavus, who happened to be an old friend of mine, and he betrayed the Council just to put a breeding program onto the Great Engine!”

  Taya cringed and Cristof pulled away from her grasp, nearly tearing the door flaps off as he strode outside.

  “I’m sorry, Decatur!” Taya spun and dropped to her knees, one palm pressed to her forehead. “I’m sorry— please forgive him. He’s mad with grief—”

  “Get out, Icarus,” Constante grated. Mortified, Taya scrambled to her feet and backed out of the tent, still bowing. Outside, she paused only long enough to give Amcathra a pleading look before she turned and plunged through the camp, looking for her husband.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The night was bitterly cold and the heavy clouds that obscured the stars and moon threatened imminent snowfall. Taya crouched on the edge of the much-altered Firebrand, looking down at the distant lights of A-O Terminal. Her bright silver wings had been painted a dull black, matching Keman’s, and all of her visible skin had been smudged with soot. Cristof stood next to Captain Amcathra and Liliana, holding a rifle and looking grim.

  It had taken hours of heated discussion between her husband, the captain, Keman, and her before they’d finally agreed to the plan, and they’d ended up dragging in Dautry, Liliana, Jinian, and Lucanus to thrash out the details.

  The extraction would be a risky endeavor, and much of it had depended on Liliana’s consent, but she’d finally been persuaded to help. They had one chance to snatch the colonel. If it didn’t work, they would leave the letter that Liliana had written, explaining everything.

  Either way, whether the colonel was on board or remained in Terminal, the Firebrand would head back to Ondinium next and Keman would return to the camp.

  Cristof hadn’t liked the idea of taking Colonel Agosti with them,
but Decatur Constante had brushed off his concern. They had no time to waste— the Formidable was already a day ahead of them, bearing its devastating weapon deeper into Ondinium. Only the slim chance that having Colonel Agosti with them would help them stop the Formidable before it reached the capital made this attempt worth the delay.

  Cristof had also wanted to be the one to venture into camp with them, despite his fear of heights. Amcathra had objected that the exalted was too valuable to lose and had volunteered to go himself. Lucanus had observed that the captain was needed aboard the ship and put himself forward as the best choice. Jinian had pointed out that both were trained aviators and that, since she didn’t know how to fly the ship, she should be the one to go into camp. Dautry had countered that Jinian would be automatically recognized as a foreigner, whereas only she and the two icarii had any chance of passing themselves off as Alzanan in a pinch. After much discussion, and despite Amcathra’s argument that he needed his pilot and navigator in one piece, Dautry had been chosen for the mission. Cristof had later muttered to Taya that it was probably because Decatur Constante considered a Mareaux citizen the most expendable of the group.

  Major Leppala had a map of A-O Terminal as it had looked before the bombing, and they’d located the building where Colonel Agosti had interviewed Taya. According to their prisoners, Agosti bunked on the second floor of the same building.

  “Stop here,” Dautry murmured, lowering her field glasses. The Firebrand was flying high and dark, its new and much smaller engine looted from a mecharachnid. Cristof had cut the power when they’d seen Terminal’s lights on the horizon, and they’d floated in over the city in silence. Now Amcathra and Lucanus threw their shoulders against the manual levers that had been jury-rigged to the wings, sweeping them forward. The ornithopter slowed and came to a standstill.

  Dautry handed Taya the field glasses. Taya found the train station and followed the streets back, getting a fix on the colonel’s building. With a nod, she passed the glasses along to Keman.

  Keman had rigged makeshift loops to Taya’s tailset for Dautry’s feet— unnecessary for an emergency rescue but preferable for “passenger flight,” as he called it. Dautry wore a rescue harness over the Alzanan uniform they’d taken from one of the prisoners, and Keman had wrapped a small counterweight around each of her ankles. She and Taya had practiced flying together most of the day before. The professor wasn’t a natural athlete, but she understood flight. By evening, she and Taya were working reasonably well in tandem.