Clockwork Secrets

by Dru Pagliassotti

  He sighed.

  “I agree to go to Alzana as the Council’s representative,” he said, straightening up and addressing the decaturs. “Taya will go with me.” He turned to Agosti. “Your sister can stay in our estate while we’re gone. Our dedicates will take good care of her.”

  Agosti gave him a long look, then inclined her head.

  “I regret that Lady Mazzoletti’s conspiracy ended in your lictors’ deaths, Ambassador,” she said. “But to the best of my knowledge, the rest of your staff is still being held in prison. As a gesture of goodwill, I will arrange for their freedom as soon as we arrive.”

  Taya gripped Cristof’s hand, a lump in her throat.

  “Thank you,” Cristof said, squeezing her hand. “My wife and I would deeply appreciate that.”

  The discussion went on for hours, but Taya finally excused herself and reclaimed her armature. She needed to reassure her father and sister that she was alive and well, and she wanted to tell Cassi that Jayce might still be alive.

  Days later, the war’s toll on Ondinium was still being calculated. Five separate serpentfire conflagration zones had devasted the land around the capital, and the Safira rail terminus had been utterly annihilated. The inferno over Secundus had consumed hundreds of homes and offices and took twenty-four hours to bring under control. Rescue teams were still calculating the human losses. Oporphyr Tower was gone and the top of Ondinium mountain had collapsed in on itself. Rocks periodically tumbled down onto Primus as the cliffs shuddered and shifted under the pressure. The Great Engine had been gutted by the explosive eruption, along with the offices and data archives that had surrounded it. Taya’s programmer friends predicted that the vast amount of information that had been lost would be sending shudders through Ondinium’s social and economic infrastructures for years to come.

  It had taken two days for the three absent decaturs to return to Ondinium. Constante had assumed leadership of the Council with enviable ease and swiftly arranged the signing of an Alzanan-Ondinium Armistice. The Demican sheytatangri weren’t included in the armistice, but they sullenly agreed to meet with their clan elders in a new ating. Several ornithopters were dispatched to bring all of the previous ating members together in the capital. Taya was glad to see that the icarus Nayan seemed to have sobered up under his new responsibilities, and she was delighted to introduce Cristof to Edvin Talus, who had accompanied his mother, an elder, on the trip. They soon had an invitation to visit the clan the next time they returned to Demicus. Taya hoped they could accept the invitation soon. She still hadn’t given up her hope of seeing a white bear.

  In the end, the sheytatangri and the clans who had joined it agreed to a peaceful return to Demicus, although quite a bit of the loot they’d scavenged during the invasion vanished across the border with them. The ating’s Ondinium facilitators stoically looked the other way.

  Jinian and Lucanus had successfully crippled the Indomitable before Agosti’s signal to stand down had been received, and for nearly twenty-four hours they had held its engine gondola while Captain Fiore and the surviving crew waited for further orders. At last they accepted the captain’s offer to disembark over a neutral zone and returned to Ondinium. Jinian declared her challenge satisfactorily resolved and Lucanus returned to duty. Jinian joined Liliana in the Forlore estate as a guest while Cristof, Taya, and Colonel Agosti returned to Alzana.

  Captain Amcathra had been unhappy about being left behind, but he had been in no shape to follow them. To his great displeasure, Cristof and Taya had been quick to sing his praises to anyone who’d listen, and the Ondinium press jumped at the chance to laud the Demican-descended ornithopter captain who’d rescued an exalted from Alzana’s capital, fought aerial battles over four nations, and delivered an enemy queen to the Council. Ondinium needed a hero to defuse the social tensions that had arisen during the war, and the wounded Captain Amcathra and his loyal Mareaux navigator — the first foreigner to be formally confirmed as a warrant officer in Ondinium’s new aerial force — were made to order.

  When Taya and Cristof arrived at the Alzanan palace, they found six members of their diplomatic staff waiting for them, thin but clean and well-dressed.

  “Jayce!” Taya hugged her friend with tears in her eyes. “Oh, Jayce, I was so worried about you!”

  “Lady help us,” Jayce said, returning her embrace, “we thought you were dead, too! Everyone told us you were dead.”

  “When did they let you out?”

  “A week ago.” He swallowed and mustered an unsteady smile for her. “That was when we finally heard the truth.”

  “Did they treat you badly?”

  He looked over her shoulder at the Alzanan entourage and lowered his voice.

  “At first I thought we were going to be killed in our cells. But after the first week or two they left us alone. I heard the prince was protecting us, but I don’t know why.”

  “Silvio Agosti?”

  He nodded, then touched her sleeve. “Taya… they said the fighting reached Ondinium. Is the Great Engine really gone?”

  “A lot of it, although the Council says it’ll be rebuilt bigger and better than ever.” Taya squeezed his arm. “I have letters for you from Cassi and your parents— they’re in my trunk.”

  He smiled and Taya hugged him and the rest of the staff again before rejoining Cristof, who was waiting patiently for her in his new robe and ivory mask.

  A week passed before the official peace negotiations began, a week during which Queen Pietra Agosti presided over Fosca Mazzoletti’s public trial. Much to Taya’s surprise, Lady Mazzoletti confessed to her crimes and named her co-conspirators. Later she learned that Fosca had agreed to cooperate if Liliana dropped her vendetta against the Mazzolettis. As a result, although many of the adult members of the Mazzoletti Family were executed, the younger and more distant Family members remained alive under much reduced circumstances.

  The young principe Silvio was never implicated in the slaughter. He had been lucky enough to escape the initial attack, and Fosca Mazzoletti had decided to keep him alive to garner the nation’s sympathy. What she had not counted on, however, was that the apparently bitter Ondinium exile she’d taken under her wing — the “assassin’s” own estranged brother, Alister Forlore — had given Silvio his older sister’s golden bracelet with the news that she was alive and well and wanted him to keep the Ondinium prisoners safe. The fourteen-year-old had believed Alister and put the prisoners under his personal protection. Taya made a point of thanking him for looking after her staff, and he thanked her in turn for saving his sister’s life.

  Despite this strong start, the peace treaty took more time to hammer out than Taya had expected. Neither Pietra nor Cristof were forgiving souls, and they had years of rancor between the two countries to work through. At last, however, an agreement was reached and signed in a lavish public ceremony. A few days later Taya and Cristof were on a train back to A-O Terminal, their copy of the treaty secured in a metal case locked to Taya’s armature.

  “I’m sorry, Exalted,” Major Leppala said as they stood on the Ondinium side of the city, where their locomotive was taking on water and fuel. “We found your brother’s body inside the mecharachnid under the collapse. I know you would have preferred to be here for the service, but… I thought it would be better to send him onward sooner than later.”

  Cristof nodded, his lips tight. Taya wrapped her arm through his with a pang. Despite everything, she’d harbored the tiniest hope that maybe, just maybe, Alister had faked his death one more time.

  “We gave him a military cremation, with honors. His ashes were spread with everyone else’s.”

  “Thank you. Where….?”

  “Over the ridge.” Major Leppala pointed. “You have time to pay your respects, if you want. It will be another half-hour before your train’s ready to go.”

  Taya accompanied her husband out of the station.
The path to the ridge was marked with a wooden arrow and had been walked often enough to wear the snow and dead grass down to dirt.

  “This isn’t too bad,” she murmured when they reached the top and gazed at the valley below and the mountains beyond. A wooden sign on the ridge bore a long list of names. Alister Forlore’s was inserted alphabetically with the rest, with no title or caste indicator next to it. Taya couldn’t find Florianne’s name anywhere on the sign. She hoped the girl had some kind of marker, somewhere.

  “Well, it’s just me, now,” Cristof said at last, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them with the end of his scarf. “The end of the line.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it.” Taya gave him a sideways look. “Now that you’re retiring and I’m taking a vacation, it’s the perfect time to start a family. You wouldn’t mind staying home to watch a baby or two once I’m back on duty, would you?”

  “Taya, my family—”

  “I’m not having children with your family; just you. Although I am hoping our children will end up with your looks and my disposition.”

  He gave her a sour look.

  “In other words, you want them to be gawky crows who ignore everything their father tells them and leap off tables and rooftops whenever our backs are turned.”

  She smiled and hooked her arm through his.

  “Exactly, although I also expect them to be able to fix everything they break,” she said, tugging him away from the ridge.

  “You know I don’t like children.”

  “They seem to like you.”

  “My father—”

  “Has nothing to do with this. You’re a better man than he was, and I’m expecting you to pass that along to our children.”

  “I don’t have any choice in this, do I?”

  “Well, you do, but I don’t think you’ll enjoy abstinence.” She grinned at his resigned expression.

  “All right. One.”

  “Two. I distinctly heard you say ‘their’ father.”

  They debated numbers all the way back to the train.

  * * *

  “Congratulations,” Captain Amcathra said. He was still using a crutch, but his ribs had healed and the bruises and cuts that had covered his face had faded over the last two months.

  “That is a great honor,” Dautry agreed. Unlike Amcathra, she wasn’t wearing her military uniform, although her conservative garments still gave her a serious mien. She’d been temporarily assigned to the University to teach a course on aviation while she finished the military’s new navigation manual.

  “I didn’t accept.” Cristof refilled their wineglasses. It was just the four of them; Liliana had left the day before with Jinian, who wanted to see Alzana before she returned to Cabiel.

  “Why not?” the professor asked. “You would make a good decatur, Exalted. The Council needs more free-thinkers like you.”

  “Thank you, but Taya and I have other plans, and I’ve never been interested in serving on the Council. You may have noticed that I’m not very comfortable with rules.”

  Amcathra gave Cristof a stern look. “I think you should reconsider, Exalted. The most efficient way to change the Council will be to do so from inside.”

  “I agree, which is why I nominated you for the position.”

  Amcathra blinked. “I am a lictor.”

  “As it happens, nothing prohibits a lictor from serving on the Council. Nobody’s ever suggested it before, but I couldn’t find any bylaw that specifically forbade it.”

  “I’m sure your imperial ancestors would riot at the thought,” Dautry commented.

  “Probably.” Cristof kept his eyes on Amcathra. “You’d need to take the usual Tower oaths about seeing an exalted’s bare face, and you’d probably have to endure your share of prejudice, but your practical experience and public popularity make you a good choice. The Council is suffering from a public relations crisis, and you’re a national hero. You’re exactly the kind of man the Council needs as its representative now that I’m retiring, and not even the most conservative decatur could question your loyalty to the nation.”

  Amcathra’s pale complexion flushed. “The Council would never accept me.”

  “It’s already accepted you, Janos. The decaturs wanted to make the offer in a formal session, but I insisted they let me do it in private so you wouldn’t feel obliged to accept.” Cristof gave him a crooked smile. “But I hope you do. It would be a significant new direction in Ondinium’s governance, and it would put a man I trust to make the right decisions exactly where the country needs him.”

  “Please say yes,” Taya pleaded, fixing her eyes on the lictor. “Decatur Constante’s going to retire soon. You’d be the perfect man to take her position as head of national defense and security.”

  “Ondinium would never trust anyone but an exalted in that position.”

  “You already know Ondinium’s military secrets,” Cristof argued, “and unlike any of the other decaturs, you have years of real experience in the military.”

  “Most of my service has been in civic defense—”

  “Except for when you’ve been the most successful aerial commander in the nation,” Cristof said, dismissively. “Your practical experience surpasses that of everyone else on the Council, including the candidates for the three other open positions.”

  “But you also have practical experience.”

  “I’m retiring.”

  “He’s promised to settle down, build automata, and father children,” Taya elaborated as Amcathra drew in a breath to argue. The lictor’s eyes widened and he left his protest unspoken.

  “Two children,” Cristof said, firmly. “Maximum. I’m hoping she’ll change her mind after one.”

  “I… I am surprised to hear that.” Amcathra looked at Taya. “Congratulations, Icarus. I am sure that was not a battle easily won. I look forward to seeing children in this house.”

  “If you feel like contributing any of your own, Cris says he’ll be happy to babysit,” Taya said, blithely.

  “I never said—”

  “We do not—”

  The two men stopped. Cristof looked startled and Amcathra uncomfortably cleared his throat.

  “There’s a ‘we,’ Janos?” Cristof raised his eyebrows. “Well. Congratulations to you, too. But let me make it clear that Taya has completely misrepresented my stance on babysitting.”

  “You have nothing to fear on that count,” Dautry said calmly.

  “I think,” Amcathra said through grit teeth, “that we were discussing your plans for the future, Exalted, and not mine.”

  “No, I’m certain it was your future we were addressing. What do you think, Dautry? Should Janos become a decatur?”

  “I think somebody needs to keep your Council honest,” Dautry replied, seriously. “And Jani’s knowledge of aerial warfare will be indispensible now that Ondinium’s not the only country with an airborne fleet.”

  Amcathra still looked unconvinced. Taya remembered Jinian’s description of him— competitive, comparative, and ever aware of hierarchy.

  “It won’t be easy to be the first lictor to be made a decatur,” she said, thoughtfully. “You’ll need to constantly prove yourself an equal to the exalteds. But you’d be an inspiring role model for every other caste in Ondinium, and Cris and I would be proud to see our friend serving on the Council.”

  “You’ll end up outranking me, of course, but it’s not like I’ve never worked for you before,” Cristof added wryly.

  Amcathra looked at Dautry, who nodded.

  “Very well,” he said, reluctantly. “I will accept the position if you feel it is that important.”

  Taya cheered and jumped around the table. The lictor stoically endured her hug, looking mildly relieved when she released him to turn and embrace Dautry.

  “Excellen
t. I’ll tell the Council the good news,” Cristof said, shaking his friend’s hand. “I expect you’ll get the formal invitation by tomorrow evening— the Council needs something positive to feed the press.”

  “Please do not assume that your retirement will be permanent, Exalted,” Amcathra said, pushing himself to his feet. Dautry handed him his crutch and the group walked slowly toward the front door. “While I respect your wife’s plans for your future, if we are to rebuild Ondinium and re-establish strong diplomatic ties with the rest of the continent, an exalted ambassador and his envoy will be required.”

  “You’re going to be just as bad as the rest of the decaturs, aren’t you?” Cristof asked as their guests pulled on their coats.

  “Don’t worry, Exalted,” Dautry said. “I’ll make sure political power doesn’t go to his head.”

  Cristof smiled.

  “I’m sure you’ll keep him honest, Professor. And anybody who can get away with calling him ‘Jani’ in public is allowed to call me Cristof,” he said, giving her a quick embrace. She blushed.

  “Then you must call me Cora,” she replied, self-consciously. The small group stepped out onto the front porch and Amcathra paused.

  “Nevertheless, Exalted, I trust that you will make every attempt to father your children soon, so that I may call you both back to service within a reasonable time frame.” He turned to Taya. “Please ensure that your husband does not shirk his duties on that account, Taya Icarus.”

  Taya shot Dautry an exasperated look. “Tell me, has he gotten around to using your first name yet?”

  “Well— occasionally,” Dautry admitted.

  Amcathra leaned on his crutch, his blue eyes narrowed. “Are you going to become any easier to work with once I have been sworn in as a member of the Council, Taya?”

  “I wouldn’t count on it, Jani,” she said brightly. The lictor closed his eyes a moment in weary resignation.

  “I was afraid that might be the case.” He inclined his head and turned, allowing Dautry to steady him as he limped down the steps.

  Taya closed the door behind them, then turned to her husband, grinning.