Clockwork Heart (31 page)

“Lars!” Cristof's voice was sharp. “Stop babbling.”

The programmer's mouth closed and he nodded.

“Now. Why are you looking for Kyle?”

Lars licked his lips. “The prototype engine. It's missing.”

Taya gave Cristof a swift look, and he returned her gaze, his expression grim. She knew they were both thinking the same thing.

“That's the new analytical engine?” she asked, turning her attention back to the programmer. “The one Alister was inspecting?”

“Yes. It's, um—” he gestured, at a loss for words. “It's something brand new. Groundbreaking. I mean, it's only duplicating the functionality of the Great Engine, but to do that on a human scale—”

“When did you find out it was gone?” Cristof cut him off.

“Maybe … two, three hours ago?” Lars sounded uncertain. “I couldn't sleep, not with the news about Alister, so I decided to work. Nobody else was in the lab, but things had been moved, so I thought maybe one of us had curled up to take a nap in one of the other rooms. That happens, sometimes. I went looking and saw scratches and scuff marks, so I knew something wasn't right—”

“Scratches?”

“On the wall. You know how you mark up the walls when you move something big? I saw these long black scrapes and knew something was wrong.”

“How did you know it was the engine?” Cristof pulled on his coat, his grey eyes fixed on Lars' face.

“I looked. There are four rooms down there, and we've got keys to them all. I just started opening doors.” Lars looked ill. “And it's gone. The whole engine. It must have taken all night to dismantle.”

“The team wasn't at the University last night?”

“No.” He shifted from foot to foot. “The news, you know. That Alister was alive but under arrest, that he'd been caught trying to sabotage the Great Engine— we couldn't believe it. We were at PT's, reading every paper as soon as it came out, trying to parse out what had happened. None of us could think about writing code while all those rumors were flying around.”

“PT's?” Taya asked, puzzled.

“The Pickled Thalassonaut. It's a programmer bar,” Lars explained. “Every programmer in the city was there. And then the lictors came in and started asking questions, and they took us down to the station… it was just too much. I don't think a single card got punched in the city yesterday.”

Cristof was scowling.

“You're on suspension,” Taya reminded him. “And you know who they're going to suspect.”

“It couldn't have been Alister. He was in jail last night.”

“Did he really…” Lars looked at Taya.

“Yes. I'm sorry. He confessed.”

“Lady.” He shook his head, looking like a heartbroken bear. “I just can't believe it.”

She patted his arm, watching Cristof. She could sense the gears turning as he tried to think of some way to take the case, but the frustration on his face showed that he wasn't having any luck.

“Everyone on the team had the key to the room?” she asked.

“Yes. Including Alister, of course, and the engineering team in the College of Science and Technology who built the engine. Probably an administrator or two, as well, but you'd need to ask the dean about that.”

“How many of them visited the engine on a regular basis?”

“Just Alister and the chief engineer. They were still testing it. I don't think it had run anything more complex than some simple mathematics programs.”

“How hard is it to dismantle an analytical engine?”

He grimaced.

“If you want to use it again, you have to know exactly what you're doing. You can't just take a piece of complex machinery like that apart with a hammer and a wrench.”

“Who on your team could do it?” Cristof asked, looking up.

Lars took a deep breath.

“Me. Kyle. Emelie. Vic and Izzy aren't mechanics.”

“Have you looked for anyone on the team besides Kyle?”

“No … he's the boss. I wanted to tell him, first. If this… it's bad enough that Alister's in jail. For the team to be implicated in a theft, too…”

Cristof nodded and looked at Taya.

“I'll take Lars to the lictors,” he said, sounding resigned. “You—”

“If I'd wanted to go to the lictors, I would have!” Lars growled. “I need to find Kyle.”

“I don't care what you want,” Cristof shot back. “The city's in the middle of a security crisis. The Great Engine's out of operation, the Tower's all but abandoned, one of our decaturs is in jail, and now our newest analytical engine has been stolen. This is bigger than your team's reputation, Lars.”

The programmer caviled, then muttered and agreed.

“I'll talk to Alister,” Taya volunteered. “I'll ask if he knows anything about this.”

“What makes you— no, never mind.” Cristof looked sour. “All right. I'm going to try to argue my way onto this case. How can I reach you, if our paths don't cross?”

“If it's late, send a message to the eyrie, but I'll try to find you before then.”

Cristof nodded and stepped into the street to find a hack. Taya angled herself next to Lars so that his bulky frame blocked off most of the wind.

“So Alister really killed Decatur Octavus?” Lars asked.

“Yes.”

“And that woman?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It's hard to believe.”

Taya glanced at him. “He told me he was glad you ran Clockwork Heart in his honor. He was amused by the results.”

The big man's cheeks colored over his brushy stubble. “Probably some kind of prank he and Kyle hatched up together.”

“Oh, I don't think so.”

Cristof returned. “All right, let's go. Taya, stay off that leg. Take a hack around town. Do you have money for the fare?”

“Enough. Don't worry about me. I'm used to getting around.”

“On wings.” He frowned. “I should have hired that coachman of yours for the day.”

“I'll be all right.”

“If you're certain.” He hesitated, then quickly stepped forward, laying a hand on her shoulder and giving her a fleeting kiss on the cheek. “I'll see you later.”

Taya rested her cheek against his cold fingers. “I hope you get the case.” She turned to Lars, who was giving them a bemused look. “You know, you'll be treated better by Cris than by anyone else. He knows you and your team. Maybe you shouldn't talk freely to anyone but him.”

The programmer scratched his chin with a thoughtful look.

“Yeah, that makes sense. The rest of the team would probably feel the same way.”

“You're devious,” Cristof said to her, with appreciation. Taya leaned on her crutch and winked at him.

Chapter Fifteen

When Decatur Neuillan had been arrested for treason, he'd been held in a special cell on Primus adapted for exalteds. Taya guessed that was where Alister was, too, so she took a hack to the station. Two lictors stood at the station door, each carrying air rifles. The sight of armed guards was unusual enough to suggest that her guess was correct.

“Hi.” She touched the feather-shaped pin on her cloak. “I'm Taya Icarus. Can you tell me who's in charge of Decatur Forlore?”

The lictors' attentiveness transformed into wariness and something else. Dislike?

“Captain Scarios,” one said, coldly. “Ask for him at the desk.”

“Thank you.” She limped to the front desk. Within a few minutes, she was sitting in the captain's office.

Scarios was an older man. Streaks of grey ran through his dark hair, and his black lictor's stripe was softened by age. He looked tired, and Taya suspected that it was the bone-deep weariness that set in after too many years at a thankless job, rather than the result of temporary sleeplessness.

“Some of the caste resent the fact you killed a lictor,” he said, after they'd exchanged the necessary pleasantries. “Those two men had friends at this station.”

Taya lowered her eyes. “I'm sorry, Captain. I feel terrible about it.”

“I expect the investigation will clear you, but there'll be hard feelings, anyway. You should try not to do anything that would cause trouble.”

“Like coming to the station?”

“Right.”

She looked up, searching for anger or resentment in the captain's features, but he just looked worn out.

“I wouldn't be here if it weren't important. I need to talk to Alister — to Decatur Forlore. It's, um, a private matter.”

“A private matter.”

“I need to ask him a few questions. I think he, well, his brother and I….” her voice trailed off. If she brought up the theft, the captain would demand to know why it hadn't been reported. She could tell him Cristof was doing that now, on Secundus, but he'd probably make her wait until he could check it out, and then he'd take over the questioning.

Taya wanted to talk to Alister herself. They had more to discuss than the missing prototype engine.

“His brother. Cristof Forlore?”

“Yes.”

“He defended you last night.”

“Really?”

“He said you took him to the tower under orders — that you didn't know he was suspended.” Scarios gazed at her from beneath hooded eyes. “Interesting thing is, when Alister Forlore started confessing, he defended you, too. He told us how you saved Exalted Octavus and her son, and that you killed William to save the other exalted. He said if it weren't for you, he and his brother would be dead at the bottom of the Engine Room. Made you sound like a real hero.”

“That was … generous of him.”

“I thought so. But he said lots of nice things about his brother, too, so maybe he's just a generous guy.”

“For a killer.”

“Exactly.” The captain kept watching her. “I don't have any reason to keep you from talking to him. But there'll be a lictor nearby to listen in on the conversation. I don't like it when captives and captors get too chatty. Makes me wonder what I'm missing.”

“The only thing you're missing is that Alister's a master manipulator.” Taya met the captain's eyes. “He's being generous because he knows he can't save himself by being rude. But he tried to shoot Cristof in the face, and he would have framed us with murder if he could have gotten away with it.”

“I got the impression he liked you.”

“When I'm useful.”

A female lictor searched Taya and pronounced her safe, then sat down in the special cell's antechamber. Taya walked through the curtain.

Alister was already on his feet, waiting for her.

“Taya. I was surprised when they told me you were coming.” His smile was as warm as ever, although his green eyes flickered to her crutches. “I was afraid you were angry with me.”

“I am, Exalted.” Taya wondered whether to bow or not.
Good manners are always appropriate
. Unable to bend on the crutches, she settled for pressing her palm to her forehead and inclining her head. “I'm here on business.”

He was wearing fresh robes, and his public robe and mask sat on a nearby chair. His jewelry had been confiscated, though, leaving his hands and ears naked. His hair ornaments were gone, too, and with nobody to dress his long hair for him, he'd settled for tying it back with a scarlet ribbon.

She remembered wondering what he'd look like in a more casual setting. She'd imagined him looking like this on some lazy morning, perhaps over a leisurely breakfast.

Not in a cell. Even if the cell was furnished like an exalted's private suite.

“How's your leg?” he asked.

“Good enough. The doctor said it'll heal cleanly.”

“I could have wrung that man's neck when I realized he'd shot you.”

“Really.” She wasn't impressed. “I need to talk to you about the prototype engine.”

“Why?”

“It's part of a new case that's come up.”

“One of Cristof's cases?”

“Maybe.”

“I see.” He inclined his head. “I'll tell you as much as I can, although some information about the engine is confidential.”

“Is the prototype valuable?”

“Of course. All our engines are valuable, but especially the analyticals. They cost a great deal in parts and workmanship, and of course their reverse engineering value to another country would be inestimable.”

“But this prototype is special?”

“It's a significant improvement over the other small engines we've built. The Great Engine is still superior, but that's hardly a fair comparison— we can build much more complicated mechanisms when we're working on that scale. It's bringing that level of functionality down to a human scale that's always been the challenge.” Alister smiled at her. “Why are you asking me questions, instead of Cris? You aren't going to give up your wings to take a lictor's stripe, are you? Or perhaps you plan to give them up for a life of gears and springs?”

Taya shot him a sharp look.

“I'm not going to give up my wings at all. I'd be wearing them now, if it weren't for you.”

“Good. I'll die happy, knowing that you're still my silver-winged hawk.”

“Despite your best efforts.”

“That's not fair. I never wanted to hurt you. If Cris hadn't dragged you into his investigation, you would never have been harmed at all.” Alister raised an eyebrow. “And speaking of Cris, I couldn't help but notice a certain … tenderness … in the way he was treating you yesterday.”

“That's none of your business.”

“When one is facing imminent death, matters of family seem extremely important. It's all right. I approve. In fact, I'm jealous. I never thought my gearhead of an older brother would have enough spirit to steal a woman away from me. I used to tease him about his clockwork heart.”

“Cristof didn't steal me from you. I'm not anybody's to steal, and you were dead. Or you were supposed to be, anyway.”

“If I'd known my death would throw you into each other's arms, I might have changed my plan.”

“To something that didn't involve murder?”

“Maybe.”

“The prototype. Who else knows it exists?”

“Its existence isn't a secret. The details of its construction are, but anybody with an interest in AEs will have heard about the new model. Why? Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Somebody stole it last night.”

She was watching him closely, but all she saw on his face was honest astonishment.

“Stole it? How? When did you find out?”

“We ran into Lars about an hour ago, and he told us it was missing. He went to the University early this morning and it was gone.”

“The whole thing?” Alister looked stunned. “How could somebody steal an entire engine without anyone noticing?”

“That's what we're wondering. Was it as big as the other engines?”

“Yes. It filled the entire room, with power cords running down to the steam engines. They must have dismantled it. Lady, I hope they found someone who knew what he was doing. You said Cris is on the case?”

“Not yet,” Taya admitted. “He was suspended, but he's down on Secundus right now trying to talk his way back onto active duty.”

“That's why you're here.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I'm the thief?”

“No. You had access to the engine while you were free, so you could have taken it then, if you'd wanted to. And having it stolen now won't gain you anything, even if you could have arranged the theft from this cell.”

“Thank you, my hawk. You're right. I didn't have anything to do with it.”

“So, who did?”

Alister clasped his hands in front of his face, gazing over his knuckles into the air.

“I don't know anything for certain,” he said at last. “But I have some very good guesses.” He rested his green eyes on her. “And I'll pass them along to Cristof if the Council agrees to change my sentence from execution to exile.”

Taya shivered. For the first time she heard a raw edge to his voice, a hint of the dread he must be feeling.

“You know…” She stared at him. “Even if they agree to exile you, you'll be blinded and outcaste.”

“I know. I was a witness at Neuillan's exile. But I'm not ready to face the Forge yet. As long as I'm alive, I can try to work off Caster's death. If I'm executed now, I'll face rebirth with his blood on my hands.”

“So are you feeling regret, or just fear?”

“A little of both.”

“They might not agree to make a deal. Murdering a decatur is a lot more serious than selling secrets to the Alzanans.”

“I think I know who arranged the theft, probably for the Alzanans. And I happen to have Neuillan's contact information; a list of all the Alzanan spies he talked to and a list of the passwords he used. It might not be accurate after a year, but it would give the lictors a head start.”

“You have his spy list? Does Cristof know about it?”

“Cris chose to handle Neuillan's legal issues, rather than go through his personal belongings. He's always been more comfortable with the intellectual than the emotional. Take that as a warning, if you like.”

“Why didn't you destroy it?”

“A wise man never destroys information.”

“Neither does a crook, apparently.”

“Please, Taya. Make this deal for me. I don't want the engine to fall into enemy hands. I'm sure we've already lost months of effort troubleshooting and calibrating it.”

“Do you really think the Alzanans are behind this?”

“They would love to use our own technology against us — again. And they can't get an AE any other way.”

Taya slowly nodded. Centuries ago Alzana, then an imperial colony, had led a rebellion against Ondinium using the empire's own ondium boats and liquid fire. Ondinium had prevailed, but only after losing half its population and being driven back to this tiny, mountainous region. The resulting social chaos had led to the fall of the great Ondinium empire, the metamorphosis of its caste system, and years of political upheavals.

Ever since then, Ondinium had refused to sell metals, technology, or weaponry to other countries, and it strictly prohibited the manufacture of ondium craft.

“Is that why Lars is so upset? Politics?”

“I expect he's upset because the team will be suspected of its theft.”

“They were taken in for questioning after you were arrested.”

“They didn't know anything about my plans.”

“You're being very careful to clear everyone's reputation.”

“I don't see any reason to drag anyone else to the headsman. Or to the blinding irons, as the case may be. I'm not a vengeful man. I only want what's best for Ondinium.”

“I'll see what I can do.” She took her crutches and stood. “It might take a while.”

“I'll be here,” Alister said, with rueful humor. Taya nodded and limped out the curtained doorway, deep in thought.

After a quick stop at a mail station to send a note to Cassi, she headed back to the lictors' headquarters on Secundus.

Lars was sitting in the front room, huddled in a corner. His glum expression brightened when she walked in.

“He's in there. There was some shouting at first, but it's been quiet since then,” he said, jerking his head toward the back.

“Are they doing anything about the missing engine?”

“The lieutenant sent out some lictors to secure the building. I guess they'll be grilling the rest of us and the crew that worked on the engine. Did you talk to Alister?”

“He wants to make a deal.”

“Then he knows something.”

“He suspects something.”

“Is he all right?”

“He's worried about his sentence. But he's in good health and he has a comfortable cell.”

“Benefits of being an exalted, I guess.”

“Until he's thrown out of caste.”

Lars fingered the dedicate's spiral over his left cheekbone, looking nervous at the thought. Taya swung her crutches around.

“I'm going to go interrupt,” she said. “Wish me luck.”

She explained her news to the desk sergeant, who checked with the lieutenant and then waved her through. Both Cristof and Lieutenant Amcathra fell silent when she entered.

“You spoke to Exalted Forlore and did not wait for us?” Amcathra demanded, his usually impassive face showing perceptible annoyance.

Taya made a show of tucking her crutch under one arm and pulling out Cristof's pocket watch. She opened it and examined its mother-of-pearl face.

“We talked to Lars almost an hour and a half ago, Lieutenant, but you're still in here wrangling with
this
Exalted Forlore. When did you plan to send somebody to question the other?”