Clockwork Heart (35 page)

“What else?”

He shifted.

“I agreed to give them all of the work Alister was keeping at home, instead of handing it over to the newspapers with an exclusive interview.”

“You would have done that? I don't believe it.”

“I also promised to donate the remainder of Alister's inheritance to the Council coffers. I didn't want it anyway.”

Taya narrowed her eyes. He still wasn't looking at her.

“And what else, Cris?”

He sighed and pulled off his glasses, pinching the arch of his nose.

“They need me to dress like an exalted again. But it won't be as bad as before.”

“You said you wouldn't!”

“Don't get angry until I—”

“You promised you wouldn't go back!” Gwen's warnings came back to haunt her. “You told me you were never going to wear a mask again.”

He looked at her, his spectacles dangling from one hand. He seemed strangely vulnerable without any glass and silver between his eyes and her gaze.

“I had a choice between keeping my promise to you and saving my brother's life,” he said, quietly. “I did my best to respect both. I don't know if you'll approve of the deal I made, but it's not—”

“Exalted? Icarus?” Captain Scarios interrupted them. Cristof gave her a long look, then slid his glasses back on.

“Not all the stereotypes about exalteds are true, either,” he said, stiffly.

Taya hesitated, then nodded, once. Fair enough.

“You're going to tell me everything,” she warned him. He adjusted his frames and picked up her other crutch as she limped past.

Alister was waiting for them in a chair. His public robes were draped around him and his blank ivory exalted's mask hid his face. The robes were heavy with jewels and embroidery, their hems folded on the floor and draped over his lap to hide his hands and feet. His mask was a smooth ivory disk with slits for the eyes and a wave mark shining on one cheek in inlaid gold.

She'd never seen Alister in his public robes before; but then, she'd never seen him in front of strangers, either. Neither Amcathra nor Scarios were permitted to see an exalted unmasked.

“Alister.” Cristof stepped forward, then dropped his eyes. “I talked to the Council. They've agreed to reduce your sentence to Neuillan's, in exchange for your assistance.” He dragged his gaze up and held out both hands, palms up. “The paperwork's already in the captain's hands. But if you agree, you'll forgo your right to trial. You'll be automatically accepting blinding and exile from caste and city. Starting now.”

For a long minute the figure in the chair didn't move, and Taya wondered if it were even real. Maybe Alister had managed to set up a mannequin and escape. But then, at last, the exalted's arms rose, his hands still covered by draped material. Embroidered hems touched the sides of the mask and lifted it away.

To Taya, the gesture only seemed full of melancholy, but both Scarios and Amcathra leaned forward. She glanced at them and was taken aback by the awed, almost guilty fascination on their faces as they stared at the exalted's naked face.

Alister set the mask into Cristof's waiting hands. His cheeks were flushed with the humiliation of unmasking in front of a lower caste. For the first time in her life, Taya understood how privileged she was to be an icarus. For her, this forbidden sight was a matter of course.

“It's better than dying,” Cristof murmured, holding the mask. The two brothers were staring at each other, Cristof with pity and Alister with shame.

“It looked easier when you did it.”

“It wasn't. But you'll survive, just like I did.”

“What did they make you give up, to save my life?”

“Nothing that was mine to begin with.”

Taya wanted to object, but she ground her teeth and stayed silent.
Will you trust me a little longer?
he'd asked. All right. She'd give him a chance to explain before she got angry about it.

Before she let anyone else know how angry she was about it, she amended.

Scarios cleared his throat, an oddly polite interruption for the brusque man. Alister tensed, not looking at the lictor.

“Your part of the deal is to spill everything you know about who stole the engine,” the captain reminded him.

“Has anyone been arrested yet?” Alister asked, his voice and bearing taut. He'd dropped his hands in his lap, his robe still covering them.

“Kyle's missing,” Taya said. His green eyes flickered up and registered her wings, and she thought some of the tension in his face eased. “Do you think he was working with the thieves, or kidnapped by them?”

“If anyone's working with thieves, it would be Emelie,” Alister replied.

“Not Victor Kiernan?” Amcathra sounded surprised.

“Victor's a nonconformist, but he isn't a thief,” the exalted answered, still looking at Taya. She nodded, encouraging him to continue. “But Emelie's always been dissatisfied. She got through University by cutting corners and cheating on tests. She's a good programmer. You can't fake that. But she wants to be rich, and she doesn't want to work for it.”

“You two were lovers.” Taya couldn't help the note of accusation in her voice.

“She thought she could get favors that way.” Alister raised an eyebrow, his green eyes still fixed on her. “It worked until I got tired of her and broke it off.”

“Do you have any proof she's involved?” Scarios interrupted.

“I never said I had any proof. Just suspicions.” He never looked at the captain.

“What about the Alzanans?” Cristof pressed.

“All the data is in my office.” Alister shifted his gaze to his brother. “There's a cabinet with my punch cards inside. At the bottom of Resources and Allotments is an envelope with Neuillan's cards. Anyone on my team should be able to read them without sending them through an engine. They aren't encrypted.”

“Cassi and Pyke can get them,” Taya suggested, looking at Cristof. “And Victor said the team was going to be waiting outside—”

Cristof nodded, already reaching into his pocket. He handed the Forlore estate keys to Amcathra.

“Would you give these to the two icarii outside?”

Amcathra turned and left the room.

“Did the information say anything about a bar down in Slagside?” Taya asked. “One with a red door?”

Alister shot Cristof a look.

“A red door means it was a brothel, not a bar,” Cristof said, looking uncomfortable.

Taya frowned. “Wouldn't a sign be better advertising?”

“Only for the literate,” Alister replied.

“You know, I deliver messages for some of the most prestigious brothels on Secundus. But
they
have signs.”

“I didn't know prostitutes conducted their business by mail,” Cristof muttered, his cheeks flushing.

“There was a brothel listed among Neuillan's contact points,” Alister said. “I remember it because it would have made quite a sight, a covered exalted entering a house of ill repute in Tertius.”

“The Alzanans who tried to steal my wings met there, too.” Taya felt a leap of excitement.

“Emelie wouldn't hide in a brothel,” Alister protested.

“We still don't know she's involved.” Captain Scarios straightened. “You got anything else, Forlore? I was expecting something more useful.”

“She's attracted to power,” Alister said, “so if you find the ringleader in this theft, you'll probably find her, too. She'd stay close to make sure she gets her share of whatever reward has been promised.”

“That it?”

“I said from the beginning that all I had was speculation.”

“Huh. Hardly seems worth your neck. I hope something in those cards of yours pans out.” The captain's gaze was cool. “Since you accepted the plea bargain, I've got the authority to move you to a regular cell. Enjoy your soft bed tonight; it'll be the last time you sleep on it.”

Alister's copper cheeks grayed.

“Do you know when the … the sentence will be carried out?”

“Not yet. You'll get a few days' warning. More than your victims got.”

Taya shifted, biting her lip. She understood Scarios' anger, but she couldn't help but feel sorry for Alister.

“I'll try to visit tomorrow,” Cristof said, awkwardly.

“Good luck.” Alister held his gaze. “Don't let anything happen to our little hawk.”

“I'll do what I can.”

Taya gave them both a disdainful look and limped out the door.

Cristof caught up with her as she stood on the station steps, waiting for Pyke and Cassi. It was dark already. Lars, Victor, and Isobel were inside, talking to Amcathra and Scarios. About Emelie, she presumed. She set her crutch against the wall and leaned against the iron railing.

Cristof stood beside her, close enough for the hem of his greatcoat to brush her legs.

“So, tell me about this deal of yours,” Taya said, after they'd both stood looking at the stars for a long minute.

“There are some benches about half a block down the street. Do you want to walk with me?”

“There's a bench right there.” She nodded to the bench at the bottom of the steps, where Pyke and Cassi had perched.

“I'd rather discuss this in private.”

“I wouldn't.”

Cristof looked down, and Taya saw that he was still holding his brother's ivory mask. He turned it over once, then slid it into one of his greatcoat's capacious pockets.

“All right.” He looked back up at the sky again. “The Council wanted more than vague promises of information in exchange for Alister's life. I offered them the Forlore estate, but they turned me down. They said I'd be more useful if I took up my role as an exalted again.”

Taya turned to study him. His face was easy to read in the light from the station windows. She thought he'd look guilty or upset, but he only looked determined.

“I told them I wasn't willing to live under the restrictions of caste. I told them everything I told you. And they said that was exactly why I could be useful to them. They need an exalted who will take off his mask in front of foreigners.”

Despite herself, Taya's interest was caught. She grasped the diplomatic implications at once. “You're going to be the caste's public face.”

He nodded, finally risking a glance at her.

“Ondinium has had trouble with other countries because exalteds won't speak to foreigners. Negotiations have to go on between foreign ambassadors and icarii envoys, which is slow, awkward, and apparently offensive. The Council thinks that if they call me a ‘special liaison' instead of a caste pariah, they can smooth over some of the problems they've had in the past. I'd dress up to put on a good show for the foreign ambassadors and dignitaries, but then I'd take off my mask and talk to them face-to-face, instead of doing all my business through icarii.”

“That's smart.” Taya frowned. “Really smart. They didn't just think it up, did they?”

“I doubt it.” He turned to her. His grey eyes were steady. “I imagine the Council's been waiting for any excuse to force my hand. If it weren't in exchange for Alister's life, it would have been for something else.”

Taya gave him a wry smile.

“You'll make a terrible ambassador, Cris.”

“I know. I was hoping you'd help me.”

“I don't think I could stand having you as my boss.”

“We'd be partners. While you were telling me about the diplomatic corps at lunch, I kept thinking that if you joined it, I'd lose you. So when the Council made this offer … if you pass your exams, you could become my spokesperson. The Council likes the idea of its new ambassador making a tour of foreign embassies. So you'd get to see other countries, and I'd have a diplomatic partner I trusted.” He cleared his throat. “Of course, it all depends on whether you could tolerate traveling with me. I know I'm not an easy person to get along with. But you … you seem to manage better than most.”

Taya looked up at him and slowly smiled. “Can you get us assigned to Cabiel?”

“I can ask.” He hesitantly reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “So. Will you forgive for going back on my word?”

“I suppose,” she said, glad that she hadn't let him know how angry she'd been. “As long as you don't make a habit out of it.”

He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, then kissed her.

She slid her hands into his greatcoat and under his suit jacket, letting the flaps of his coat fall around her like great black wings. Cristof's angles felt warm and comfortable. He bent over her, one hand sliding around her waist beneath the metal bars of her armature keel, and the other running up through her curls. Their lips touched again, lingering this time. He pulled her closer.

A shrill whistle interrupted them. Taya looked up and saw Cassi and Pyke both landing in the street, their courier bags full. Pyke glowered at the exalted, but Cassi just locked her wings up and slid her goggles into her hair.

“Making out is easier without the armature,” she advised, climbing the stairs.

“Mind your manners,” Pyke warned, jamming a finger at Cristof as he followed Cassi inside.

Cristof looked at Taya and adjusted his glasses.

“If we'd walked down the street…” he said meaningfully.

“I'd still be wearing my wings.” Taya pulled him down for another quick kiss.

Inside, the station's waiting room had become crowded. Victor, Lars, and Isobel were inspecting Neuillan's cards and scribbling notes. Pyke and Cassi sat backward in their chairs, watching from the side. Scarios was leaning over Victor's shoulder, intent on the programmers' work. Amcathra raised an eyebrow at their return but said nothing.

“You know, if she's a suspect now, shouldn't somebody search Emelie's rooms?” Lars asked, looking up from his notes.