Clockwork Heart (18 page)

The programmers looked at each other with a long-suffering air.

Taya reached out and touched one of the cards. For all she knew, there was a little bit of Alister in them. That made her feel better, thinking that his work would live on until his next rebirth.

“If you ran these twenty-five cards through an analytical engine, would they do anything?” Cristof pursued.

“No,” Kyle said. “That's your short answer. Your long answer would require specifying which engine you're talking about. People use ‘analytical engine' to refer to a number of different calculating machines, but there are only five true analytical engines in Ondinium: the Great Engine, this University engine, the engine in the Bank of Ondinium, the engine in the Council building — and that one's old, hardly more than a difference engine — and the prototype down the hall. But you couldn't feed these cards into anything but the Great Engine — they're too big for any other machine. So if you're worried someone was smuggling them out to run them on some kind of private engine, don't. It's impossible.”

“What about reading the cards themselves?” Cristof picked one up, looking blankly at its perforations. “How many people in the city can do that?”

“Maybe twenty of us.”

“Are any of you twenty inclined to sell the Labyrinth Code to another nation?”

“And lose our job security? Not to mention our citizenship and our eyes?” Lars made a face. “We're not idiots. We remember what happened to Decatur Neuillan.”

“Besides, Cabiel's the only other country with advanced analytical engines, and they use a completely different assembly language,” Kyle added. “There aren't any foreign nations that could run Labyrinth Code on their own engines, even if the cards fit.”

“But a country like Alzana could use this code to sneak in and mis-program our Engine,” Cristof speculated.

The programmers looked at each other.

“You know, Exalted, people call the Great Engine the ‘Heart of Ondinium,' but it's really not that important to our day-to-day survival,” Lars said, politely. “Slagging up some of the programs would be inconvenient, and it might cause problems over the long run, but if Alzana really wanted to cripple Ondinium, it just has to blow up our refineries or poison our water reservoirs. This little bit of code doesn't make much difference in the grand scheme of things.”

Cristof was undeterred. “What about the Torn Cards? Could they use it?”

“The Torn Cards want to destroy the Great Engine,” Isobel said. “They wouldn't bother with a program; they'd just drop a few bombs between its gears.”

“I see. Thank you.” Cristof gathered the cards back up. “If you think of anything that might help us figure out who … who killed my brother, would you please let me know?”

“We'll do that,” Kyle promised.

“What now?” Taya asked as they walked back down the marble steps to the campus plaza. The autumn wind whipped dry leaves across the walkway. “Do you think that bomb was meant for Alister?”

“It's a possibility. But Caster's still the more likely target.”

“When can we investigate him?”

“Not tonight.” Cristof paused, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his coat front before putting them back on. “Tomorrow I'll visit Viera.”

“Can I come?”

He looked at her, clearly not enchanted by the idea.

“I want to,” Taya insisted. “It would be rude if I didn't offer my condolences.”

“Oh, all right,” he said gracelessly.

“Thank you.” Taya took the lead this time, heading for the University flight dock. “When are you going to see her?”

“No earlier than noon. You won't have any problem getting off work?”

“Not if I tell them I'm assisting an exalted. Everyone will be on search and repair, anyway, so schedules will be flexible.” She frowned, not looking forward to seeing the wreckage again. “I'll meet you at noon. Where?”

“In front of her estate.”

“All right.” She reached the dock, a metal tower that rose over the rooftops of the University buildings.

“…Fly safely.”

“I will.” She swung herself up onto the rung ladder and began to climb, turning her face toward the moon.

Chapter Ten

When she arrived at Estate Octavus the next day, Taya removed her armature in the foyer and left it with the servants. A few minutes later she was glad she had, because Viera turned from embracing Cristof to throw her arms around Taya's shoulders.

“I'm glad you came,” the exalted said, fiercely.

“I'm so sorry.” Taya hugged her back, surprised but flattered. “How's Ariq?”

“He's quiet. I'm afraid he's just starting to understand what this means.” Viera stepped back, smoothing the front of her layered robes. Her strong features looked careworn. “Do you know who did it yet?”

“No, but we're looking into it,” Cristof said. “I'll have some answers soon, I promise.”

“Do they—” Viera stopped. “Who was the target? Alister or Caster? Do they know?”

“Not yet.” Cristof took her arm and led her to a chair. Both he and Taya sat as soon as Viera was settled. “I've found one or two reasons why someone might want to kill Alister, but it's still possible that Caster was the target, or that this was just a random act of terrorism. It's too soon to tell.”

Viera nodded, folding her hands in her lap.

“Would you be willing to answer some questions?” Cristof studied her. “I realize it's difficult, but—”

“Of course I will,” Viera replied, cutting him off. “I spent all night trying to figure out why someone would want to kill my husband. The only thing I can think of is that it must have been Council business. Something political and dangerous.”

“What was Caster working on? Did he have any important votes coming up? I know votes are confidential…”

“He told me a lot about his work. Maybe more than he should have, but he liked to ask my advice.” Viera looked at her cousin. “I know he was going to vote against Alister's experimental program. And he was going to vote for an increase in the import tax on luxury items from Si'sier, and for a series of new safety regulations in the textile factories. None of those votes were worth killing him over.”

“Alister told me your husband had changed his mind about the program,” Taya objected.

“Clockwork Heart?”

“Yes.”

“I don't think so. Caster thought the whole idea was preposterous. He said that a machine would never have been able to predict a marriage like ours, and that he wasn't going to discourage anyone else from trying to find what we had.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she took a breath to steady herself.

“I'm sure he was right,” Cristof said, taking her hand. “But you know Alister. He was convinced technology would solve all our problems.”

Viera gave him a weak smile.

“I know. It's so funny that he would write that program after teasing you so much. He trusted machines and spent all his time around people, whereas you trust people and spend all your time around machines.”

“I don't trust people
that
much. They're just as likely to malfunction as a machine.”

Taya was only half-listening, still puzzling over Viera's answer.

“Could he have changed his mind and not told you? Because Alister seemed very certain…”

“Maybe he misunderstood. That could be why they were on the wireferry together,” Cristof suggested.

“They were probably arguing, then,” Viera sighed. “They respected each other's talents but couldn't agree on how to run Ondinium. Our dinners together were always very loud.”

Taya frowned as Emelie's accusations nagged at her memory.

“Do you think he lied to me?” she asked.

“Are you thinking about that programmer?” The lines around Cristof's mouth tightened. “Don't. Alister would have no reason to lie to you about a Council vote.”

“Unless he thought it would impress me,” she ventured. Neither Cristof nor Viera protested, so she hurried on. “He told me he'd shown Exalted Octavus some evidence about what broken marriages did to the economy, and that Octavus had finally seen things his way. That doesn't sound like a misunderstanding, to me. He even said the attack on the wireferry could have been because the Torn Cards were worried that Caster would convince other decaturs to change their votes.”

“Caster didn't change his mind,” Viera said, with confidence. “He would have told me, if he had. Clockwork Heart had become something of a joke between us.”

“Oh.” Taya sank back in her chair, discouraged.

It hadn't bothered her to think that Alister was flirting instead of looking for a serious romance. It hadn't even bothered her very much to think that he might have confided secrets to impress her. But if he'd lied to her— that was completely different.

“Did Caster leave any of his papers here?” Cristof asked as she brooded. “And if so, may I look at them?”

“I would let you, but his papers are confidential,” Viera said with regret. “The lictors are getting a warrant to take all his work away with them, and they wouldn't be happy if I let you go through it first.”

Cristof pulled off his glasses, polishing them and gazing blindly out one window. Taya looked at Viera with confusion. Had she learned of Cristof's suspension already?

Oh.

She didn't know that Cristof worked for the lictors at all.

Oh, Lady
, Taya thought with sudden panic.
What if Cristof was lying to me, too?

But no sooner had the thought crossed her mind than Cristof pushed his glasses back up his nose and reached into his suit jacket.

“I know you won't be happy about this, Vee,” he said, pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it to his cousin. “I had good reasons for not telling you. But those reasons don't matter anymore.”

Viera unfolded the letter and read it, her eyebrows rising when she reached the end.

“Is this why you left Primus?” she demanded, handing the document back. Cristof took it, hesitated, then handed it to Taya.

She knew what it was even before she looked. It was his letter of appointment, confirming that he worked for the Ondinium Civic Police Force.

She read it, anyway. At least this wasn't a lie. She'd seen the lictate's official letterhead and seal dozens of times on other documents.

“No. I began working for the lictors a few years after I left. I would have said something, at least to you and Alister, but the military thought I'd be more useful if nobody knew what I was doing.”

“In other words, they turned you into a spy. A living lie.” Viera's tone was frosty. “That's not a gentleman's profession, Cris.”

“I'm not a gentleman.” An acid note returned to his voice. “And I never lied to you, Viera. I just didn't volunteer the information.”

“A lie of omission is no better than a lie of commission. Apparently all my years of defending your character have been in error.”

Color rose in Cristof's cheeks, darkening the wave-shaped castemarks on his cheeks.

“I've done good work for the lictors. I've helped them catch smugglers, spies— I was one of the people who figured out Neuillan was selling our secrets to Alzana—”

“All of which would be very admirable if it had been done in an honorable manner. But I'm not going to condone you pretending to be something you're not.”

“Like every other exalted in Ondinium?” Cristof snapped, gripping the arms of his chair and half-rising. “Hiding behind masks in order to pretend that they're flawless?”

“Not that again, Cris.”

“It's the same thing!”

“If it's the same thing, then you don't have any right to disdain us, do you? A mask of flesh is no different from a mask of ivory. But what you're doing is worse— at least people can tell when you're wearing a mask of ivory.”

Cristof made a disgusted noise, dropping back into his chair.

“You and the icarus…” he snarled. “Neither of you understands anything.”

Taya decided it was time to practice her diplomacy. “Exalted Octavus, your cousin has been honest with you today because he wants to find the person who killed your husband and his brother. I'm helping him because I care, too. We can disagree about other things and still agree that the killer needs to be found, can't we?”

Viera nodded, her eyes still narrow as she regarded her cousin.

“Yes, but you and I will discuss this matter at greater length in the future, Cris.”

“Agreed.” Cristof's tone was curt. “In the meantime, do I have your permission to see Caster's papers?”

“Before you say yes,” Taya interrupted, “there's something else you should know. Cristof's superiors have suspended him. He says his suspension only applies to investigating his brother's murder and that he's free to investigate a theft from the Oporphyr Tower. Your husband's papers might help him investigate that theft, but they're more likely to help him work on the case he's not supposed to touch.”

Cristof shot her an angry look, his lips tight, but he didn't say anything. Well, he could be as angry as he wanted, she thought, but she didn't intend to lie to Viera Octavus for him — not by commission or omission.

“Were you planning to tell me that?” Viera asked, turning to Cristof. He bared his teeth in a humorless smile.

“I don't have to tell anybody anything anymore,” he said, in a voice like vinegar and honey. “I'll just leave all my talking to the icarus.”

“Perhaps that would be a good idea.” Viera stood. “I'll show you his papers, for the family's sake, but you can't take them away, and I intend to tell the lictors you were here.”

Cristof nodded once, looking grim. They followed her out.

On the way down the hall, Taya caught Cristof's eye and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” he snapped. She decided to let his snide comment about speaking for him pass and asked another question, instead.

“Did your brother lie a lot?”

“I don't know.” He looked away from her. “My brother cared what people thought. That can make a man do stupid things.”

“I don't like it when people have hidden agendas and try to use me to meet them.”

“My agenda isn't hidden.” They followed Viera up a flight of stairs. “I want Alister's killer. I'm letting you work with me because you asked and because if I didn't, you'd only get in my way.”

“You're ‘letting' me work with you because you're too bad-tempered to get information out of anybody on your own,” she retorted. “I don't know why the lictors wanted you. What do you do for them, stab prisoners with the sharp edge of your tongue until they beg for mercy?”

He gave her an amazed look, then turned away again.

“Here.” Viera opened the door to Caster's office. “Keep his things in order, Cris. And leave Taya alone. Right now, I like her more than I like you. Taya, please make sure my cousin doesn't walk off with anything.”

“I will,” Taya said, putting her palm on her forehead and bowing. “Thank you, Exalted.”

“I'm not angry at you.” Viera touched her cheek, then turned. “Come again without him so that we may enjoy a civil conversation together.”

“Thank you,” Taya repeated, as Viera walked back down the stairs. Then she turned. Cristof was already sitting at Caster's desk, his thin face intent as he rummaged through papers. “You're going to apologize to her, right?”

“Of course,” he said, sounding preoccupied.

Taya rolled her eyes and sat down at the desk. “What am I looking for?”

“Anything useful.”

They spent two hours going through Caster Octavus's papers and files, searching for anything that might have led to his death. Taya confirmed from his correspondence that he'd intended to vote against Clockwork Heart.

“Alister did lie,” she sighed, leaning back in Caster's oversized leather chair and pulling her legs up.

Cristof set down the file he was perusing.

“He's dead. Making yourself sick over him won't do you any good.”

“I'm supposed to be a good judge of character. I have to be, if I'm going to be a diplomatic envoy.” She rested her arms on her knees, staring out the window. The autumn sun was already low, although it was only afternoon. “I hate to think a man can just smile at me, and I forget everything I've learned about human nature.”

“You care what people think, too.”

“Not really.” She glanced at him and saw his skeptical look. “All right. Maybe a little. I don't want people to think I'm an idiot, anyway. And I'm feeling pretty idiotic right now.”

“You're not an idiot.” He picked up the file again. “I'll tell you when you're an idiot.”

“Thanks.”

“Just returning the favor.”

Well, how about that,
she thought.
He has a sense of humor, after all.

“You sound better.”

“Work's therapeutic.” He turned a page in the file. Taya nodded, looking out the window again. It was too high up for her to see the Octavus' gardens. All she could see was sky and clouds.

“Icarus.”

“Hmm?”

“I do not have a hidden agenda. Nor do I intend to use you or mislead you with my charm.”

Despite herself, she smiled. His face was studiously neutral.

“The day you act charming, I'll know something is wrong.”

“Good.”

Taya watched him as he looked back down at his work. He still reminded her of a crow, his unruly black hair sticking on end and his black greatcoat wrapped around him. Just like a crow. Loud and mocking, but not without a sardonic sense of humor.

He glanced up and noticed her gazing at him.

“Have you finished looking through all those papers already?” he asked peevishly, sticking his beak back into the file he was holding.

They abandoned the office as the sun hung low between the mountains. Back in the Octavus foyer, Taya strapped on her armature.