Clockwork Heart (20 page)

Her anger at his lies was fading. She stepped back to look at the other paintings. They could have belonged to a complete stranger.

I didn't know him
, she thought with resignation.
I'm sorry he's gone, but I wonder if I would have liked him, once I'd figured out who he was?

Maybe not.

She turned and started. Cristof stood at the end of the hall, his pale eyes fixed on her. He'd taken off his greatcoat, and his dark suit blended in with the hall's shadows.

“I got tired of sitting in the parlor,” she stammered.

“You look pensive.”

“I was just looking at this painting.” She gestured to the icarii. “The artist did a good job.”

“I didn't mean to leave you for so long. The staff had questions.”

“What will happen to them now?”

“They can stay here until I decide what to do with the house.” He walked forward. “Alister's office is upstairs. Are you done with your drink?”

“Yes.” She followed him as several clocks began to toll, all at the same time. Five in the afternoon. “Did you take care of Alister's clocks?”

“Usually.” He glanced back as he started up a flight of stairs. “Is your landlady going to fix hers?”

“I don't know.”

“If she doesn't, you should buy an accurate clock for yourself.”

“Clocks are too expensive for an icarus.”

“I thought you earned a reasonable salary.”

“I do all right, considering the Council takes care of my food and housing and provides me with a uniform and armature. But a clock would be a luxury. There are plenty of public clocks I can look at.”

“Are you saving your money for something important?”

The question surprised her. It seemed intrusive, although she didn't have any reason not to answer. “Retirement, I guess. I don't know. I don't need much to be happy. Just a few friends, my wings, and the sky.”

“That sounds like a good way to live.”

“It is. Although seeing the way you exalteds live makes me feel a little deprived.” She looked around. “My room is going to seem awfully bare when I go back to it.”

“I have nothing for you to envy.”

She remembered his austere living quarters. “You don't have to live like that. Don't you like paintings, or comfortable chairs, or nice furniture?”

“I live on Tertius. I don't need luxuries my neighbors can't afford.”

“But why not move to Secundus and be more comfortable?”

“Maybe I'm like an icarus. I don't need much to be happy.”

“Are you? Happy?”

His shoulder twitched, and he turned as he reached the top of the stairs. Late afternoon light from one of the second-story windows painted a bright bar across his face.

“I was happier before my brother died.”

“I'm sorry.” She touched his sleeve as she joined him. “I mean, are you satisfied with the way you live? Don't you ever feel left out, seeing all the things Alister and Viera own?”

“I chose to walk away.” Looking ill at ease, he disengaged his arm and pushed up his glasses. “Alister's office is the door behind you. I'm sure it's a mess.”

She opened the door and gave a sad laugh. Cristof had guessed correctly. Alister had incorporated his floor filing system at home as well as in the Tower. She picked her way inside, setting her wine glass on a bookshelf.

“I can't believe he got anything done like this.”

“Somehow he managed.” Cristof followed her inside. “I assume he learned how to read this mess the same way he learned how to read the holes on a punch card.”

“He joked about it, the first time I met him.”

“He joked about a lot of things.” Cristof looked around, his expression unreadable. “I'll go through his desk. I think the important part of this disarray will be in the glass-fronted cabinet over there, where he kept his programs. Why don't you start there?”

Taya nodded and squeezed around a pile of books to get to the cabinet. She reached for the door, then paused.

“Is the cabinet supposed to be locked?”

“Oh, of course. Do you need me to pry it open?” Cristof reached for his pocket, then frowned. “I have a small repair kit in my coat downstairs. It has a screwdriver.”

“No, the door's unlocked. That's why I asked.” Taya swung it aside, revealing shelves full of long, labeled boxes. Unlike the rest of his filing system, this one was obviously alphabetical. Three boxes were missing from the “C” section. Marks in the dust on the shelves indicated that they had been removed recently.

“There's a program missing. Clockwork Heart, I'll bet.”

Cristof joined her. “Maybe his team took it. It could be the copy they were running last night.”

“How would they have gotten it?”

“I'll check with Mitta.” They both stood shoulder-to-shoulder, reading the labels on the other boxes.

“Well, at least he didn't keep the Labyrinth program in here,” Taya said.

“I doubt he owns a copy.” Cristof closed the cabinet door and glanced at the lock. “It wasn't forced. Either he took it or his team did. Maybe he was still tinkering with it down at the lab, since it was coming up for vote in Council.”

They continued the search, each settling down with a separate stack of papers. Several times Taya looked up from her seat on the floor and caught Cristof staring at nothing, his thin face tight and miserable. She didn't say anything, and after a few minutes he always started working again, rubbing his eyes.

The sight saddened her. Even though his irascibility was exasperating, she couldn't help but respect the way he kept pushing forward. It would have been easier for him to give up and grieve.

“Work's therapeutic.”

If only he weren't so stubborn about hiding his feelings.

She sighed.

“What's wrong?” Cristof turned, his face almost invisible in the shadows that stretched across the room. Taya realized she'd been straining to see the papers in front of her for the last ten minutes or so. The sun had set below the mountains.

“It's dark.”

“Oh.” He rummaged through the desk for matches and lit a gas lamp on the wall. “Better?”

“Yes.” She studied the shadows that hollowed out his cheeks and eyes. “How are you doing?”

“I haven't found anything that seems relevant.”

“That's not what I meant.”

He hesitated, then shrugged.

“I told you I wasn't going to burst into tears.”

“I wouldn't think any less of you if you did.”

“It's not going to happen.” His voice brooked no disagreement. She stretched out and stared up at the ceiling. The leather of her flight suit creaked as she folded her arms under her head.

“Don't you ever relax that iron grip you keep on yourself?”

“I'll relax it when this is over.”

She lifted her head to glance at him. He sat rigidly in his chair.

“Sure you will.” She sighed again. “I'm sorry. I'm just thinking out loud. If I start getting annoying, just tell me.”

“You're long past ‘start.'”

She dropped her head and smiled at the ceiling. If he could be sarcastic, he couldn't be too bad off.

“I'm starving. Can we take a break for dinner?”

“I plan to avoid eating until after our flight tomorrow, but don't let me stop you.”

“You should eat
something
. You don't want to get light-headed out there.”

“I don't think that's avoidable, and I'd rather not get sick, as well.”

“I told you, I'll take care of you.” She propped herself back up on her elbows. “Anyway, come to dinner with me. Even if you're not hungry, it'll be better than sitting here alone. Then we can go ask Kyle if he took Alister's copy of Clockwork Heart.”

“Now you're my voice
and
my counselor?” He stood, casting dark, narrow shadows against the opposite wall.

“Sure,” she said, holding out a hand. “I don't know what it's like for exalteds, but among icarii, after you've eaten, argued, and cried together, you're friends.”

He looked at her hand, then drew back.

“Then perhaps we should avoid sharing a meal,” he said, turning away.

“What?” Taya gaped. “What in the Lady's name does that mean? An exalted can't be friends with an icarus?”

“That's not it at all.”

“Then what?” she demanded.

“I'm not Alister.” His voice was cold and dispassionate. “I don't need a friend who only tolerates me because I'm the last link to her lover.”

Taya scrambled to her feet.

“Is that what you think I'm doing?”

“It's obvious.”

“Well, you're wrong. First of all, Alister and I never even kissed, so we're hardly lovers, and second of all, you're no link to him at all. Alister might have lied to me, but he was never rude.” Taya jerked around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door as she left.

“He told me you were lovers!” Cristof shouted, behind her. She ignored him and clattered down the stairs.

Like him? Pity him? What in the Lady's name was I thinking?
She grabbed her armature. She'd made a heroic effort to be diplomatic, even to be friendly, but she wasn't going to be a masochist about it.

“Icarus?” The servant appeared, hesitating. Taya snapped the keel shut over her chest and began running straps through buckles.

“Tell the exalted I'll meet him at the dock gate at dawn,” she snapped. She heard Cristof descending the staircase. She gave her shoulder straps a yank, eager to be gone.

“What about the University?” Cristof asked, standing in the hallway facing her. His voice was tight. “I thought we were going to talk to the programmers.”

“Talk to them yourself.” She fixed the last of her buckles and gave him a withering look. “You don't need me to be your voice, your counselor, or your friend. So I'll give you exactly what you want, Exalted. Nothing.”

Cristof gestured to the servant to go. The wide-eyed dedicate darted away.

“It's clear I didn't have all the facts. I spoke poorly.”

“Yeah, you've got a real knack for that.” She turned and pushed the doors open. “Dawn. By the dock gates. And only because I said I would.”

“Taya, wait!”

“Forget it, Exalted. You're not the only one in the world whose pride can be wounded.” She headed down the steps, relieved to feel the crisp, cold autumn air on her face and the familiar brush of wind against her arching wings.

After tomorrow, I'm through
. Reaching the front gate, she pushed it open.
Pyke was right— exalteds are nothing but trouble. I'll take him to the tower for Viera's sake, but that's all. I've got real work to do.

The wide Primus street was empty. Lights glowed in the windows of the neighboring estates, and the moon was bright overhead. She slid her arms into the uplifted wings and shrugged to unlock them, spreading them wide.

“Taya! Wait!”

She turned. Cristof was hurrying out the gate, his greatcoat askew.

Taya stepped away, turning her face into the wind.

“Stay out of my way,” she warned him, fanning her metal feathers wide. He ducked beneath them.

“Would you listen to me, please?”

“I've got nothing to say to you.”

“Please!”

She gazed up at the stars, then lowered her wings, berating herself for being a weak-willed fool. She fixed Cristof with a steely eye as he stumbled to a halt in front of her.

“You've got ten seconds.”

He grabbed her forearm, which was encased in protective ondium struts. “I'm sorry— Alister told me you were lovers. I thought it was true.”

“We already know he was a liar.” She tried to shake him off, but his grip tightened.

“I shouldn't have criticized you. I'm sorry. I'm the one who sees my brother, every time I look at you.”

“Why?” Taya regarded him with suspicion. His pale eyes were wide behind his glasses.

“Do you have any idea what you looked like, dancing together?”

“It was just a dance.”

“You looked—” his voice cracked. “You looked happy. You looked like a couple. That was the last time I ever talked to him. The night I saw you dancing together.”

“Oh, Lady.” Taya's shoulders sagged. Metal feathers clanked against the cobblestones.

“After— I wanted to talk to you about what you'd overheard, but you were on the dance floor and Alister was bragging about how you were going to spend the night with him, so I gave up. I knew you'd been seeing him before the party, and when you were together it was so obvious that you admired him—” he stopped, clutching the ondium struts as if to physically hold her in place. “Every time I look at you, I feel guilty because he died and I didn't. And I can't replace him for you.”

“Of course you can't.” Taya suddenly felt tired.
I should have left without listening to him. Being angry is better than being depressed.
“There's nothing to replace.”

“You loved him.”

“No, I didn't. I liked him, and I thought it might turn into love, but after everything I've found out, I'm glad it didn't. I don't know. Maybe it
is
better to be rude. You piss me off, but you don't lie to me.”

“Only by omission.” Cristof looked down at his white fingers. “It's been making me sick, envying my dead brother. I'm sorry.”

Envying
? Taya gave him a searching look. The exalted hunched his shoulders, a picture of sharp angles and shadows, and lifted his hands from her armature.

“Don't worry about tomorrow, Icarus. I'll find some other way up to the tower. Maybe Amcathra will let me back in on the investigation if I tell him what I've found so far.”