Clockwork Heart (8 page)

Taya fell silent. They walked through the Markets, past the University and up to the topmost point of Secundus and Cliff Road, which led to the icarus eyries, training fields, and flight docks. It wasn't an easy climb, and Taya longed for her wings.

“I've never had any reason to be in this part of the city before,” Cristof said at last, as they paused to rest. He looked up at the tall houses built along the narrow, steep streets. “Who repairs the clocks here?”

“I don't know.”

“I'll leave my card at the eyrie, then.”

Taya looked at him, trying to decide if he were joking. She couldn't tell. She'd like to think that he was; that he might be making an effort to get along with her. But … she just couldn't tell.

They started walking again. Cristof unbuttoned his coat, letting it flap around his long legs. The air was cold, but the afternoon sun beat down on Cliff Road and its steep incline was making both of them sweat.

The neighborhood was primarily inhabited by icarii, their families, and the businesses that catered to them. The air was clean; there were no factories here to pump soot into the air, and coal smoke and wood ash were swept away by the strong winds that blew past the cliff. Hawks roosted in some of the highest rooftops, welcomed as good luck despite their tendency to prey on the local cats and dogs. Occasionally an icarus flew overhead toward the docks, metal wings flashing.

Three Alcides was one of a number of the barracks-like eyries that catered to unmarried icarii. Taya waved and greeted her friends as they drew near.

“Hey, Taya!” One of the icarii gestured to her from the eyrie porch, then paused to stare at Cristof, his jaw falling open. Then he collected himself and bowed, dragging his eyes from the exalted's bare face. When he straightened, he kept his gaze averted. “Uh, you got another message. It's on Gwen's desk.”

“Thanks.” She opened the door and stepped aside for Cristof. The exalted's cold glower was back in place, and he kept his face down as he stepped inside.

“You didn't have to come,” she whispered, giving him a concerned look. He ignored her, his grey eyes falling at once on the long-case clock that stood against the foyer wall, ticking loudly.

“You said you'd see a physician,” he reminded her. He set his bag down next to the clock.

“Just a moment.” She stepped through the doorway into the salon, where Gwen Icarus, the eyrie's landlady, kept her business desk.

“Oh, good. I have a letter for you, Taya,” the woman said. She dug out a heavy parchment square and handed it over. Taya turned it. This one was sealed in wax, too, but it wasn't as ornate as the Octavus invitation.

“I asked a clockwright to look at our clock and find out why it's losing time,” she said, raising her eyes. “He said he wouldn't charge anything just to see what's wrong.”

Gwen scowled. “Can he be trusted?” She hoisted herself out of her chair. After she'd retired from flying, she'd put on a few pounds, although she had as much muscle as she had mass.

“Yes.” Taya leaned forward, touching the woman's arm and dropping her voice to a whisper. “He's an outcaste exalted, so don't be surprised.”

“An outcaste!” The landlady's eyes widened. “For the Lady's sake, Taya, what are you thinking, bringing an outcaste into my house? I run a—”

Taya tightened her grip. “An outcaste
exalted
! Exalted Cristof Forlore, and he's doing us a favor. His brother's a decatur.”

Gwen snorted. “You're flying awful high, Icarus.”

“Not in his case,” Taya said wryly, thinking of Cristof's basement workshop. “But he's touchy, so be diplomatic.”

“Diplomacy's your job, not mine,” Gwen said. “Now let go. I won't throw him out on his ear, but you know the rules — no strangers in the eyrie without an escort. Lady knows what this place would be like if I let you lot have free run of the place.”

Taya sighed, trailing after the larger woman.

“What are you doing?” Gwen shrieked as she walked into the foyer.

Cristof had taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeves, and he was kneeling in front of the clock as he unhooked its pendulum. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to his work.

“I can't figure out what's wrong unless I check the mechanism.”

“I'm not going to pay you to put together what you've taken apart!”

“I'm not going to ask you to.” Cristof laid the pendulum on the wooden floor and turned. He gave Taya a sharp look. “Don't you have someplace to go?”

“All right! Can I leave you alone here?” Taya was worried about Gwen. The landlady was staring at Cristof's castemark, her eyes wide despite Taya's warning. Gwen was a kind, motherly woman, but she wasn't very subtle.

“I expect so.” Cristof glanced at the letter in her hand. “You'll see a physician before you deliver that, I trust.”

“This letter is for me.” Taya lifted it, admiring the seal, and then turned it over. Her name was written across the front:
Taya Icarus
, in a firm, flowing script.

Cristof climbed to his feet and reached out to tilt the edge of the envelope up. His scowl darkened.

“What is it?” she asked.

“That's the Forlore seal.”

“Oh!” Taya took another look at it, then broke open the letter.

Brave and beautiful Taya Icarus:

Although I know Viera has already arranged to thank you for your rescue, I would enjoy a chance to demonstrate my own gratitude for the assistance you've provided to my family. I will send a driver by your eyrie tonight to see if you may be available at eight; if so, he will bring you to Rhodanthe's on Primus, where we can meet for dinner. If you have other business tonight, then I shall dine alone and hope that your duties bring you to Oporphyr Tower on the morrow.

Respectfully yours,

Alister Forlore

Taya glanced at the clock, now stopped at 2:10, and swallowed, her cheeks burning.

“It's from Alister, of course,” Cristof said, his voice flat.

“Yes.” She bit her lip. “He wants to have dinner tonight.” She held out the letter, feeling like she had to prove it.

“Of course he does.” The exalted's hand hovered over the note, and then he took it, pushing up his glasses as he read.

“But why?” She looked up.

“You've piqued his interest.” Cristof handed the letter back. “You still have time to see a doctor before you go.”

Taya flushed. She knew what he was thinking. Icarii had a reputation for moving as easily from lover to lover as they did from sector to sector. But before she could say anything, Gwen broke in.

“What's this about a doctor?”

“I got cut last night.” Taya folded the letter back up. “Exalted Forlore thinks I should have it looked at by a professional.”

“Exalted Forlore is my brother,” Cristof corrected her. He knelt in front of the clock again. “Master Clockwright will do, if you insist on being formal.”

“Whatever you wish, Master Clockwright.” Taya jammed the letter into her pocket. “I'm going. Please don't wait for my return.”

“I didn't plan to.”

Taya shook her head and left the eyrie.

Of course Cristof wouldn't approve of his brother seeing an icarus— icarii were hardly better than whores, in some people's eyes. But an outcaste should know better than to believe in stereotypes.

Dinner with Alister Forlore. The thought of the decatur's handsome face and bright green eyes was tempting, but Taya knew she'd be a fool to accept. Alister probably assumed the same thing as his brother. Even if he were an unusually polite exalted, it wouldn't mean that he didn't have expectations, and … and, well, what on earth would she wear to a restaurant on Primus, anyway?

No, all things considered, it would be best if she turned Alister's servant away tonight. She would meet the decatur at the Octavus party under safely reputable conditions, and then she'd see what happened.

Chapter Five

The physician cleaned and bandaged her cut, warned her not to rescue anyone from a wireferry accident for a week or two, and sent her on her way. Taya hurried back to the eyrie and felt a curious twinge of disappointment to find the clock back in one piece and Cristof gone.

“Taya!” Gwen shouted for her as she turned to head up the stairs, and Taya spun, changing direction to enter the parlor.

“What?”

“Your outcaste left. He gave me an estimate and took off looking like he'd been drinking vinegar.” The landlady sniffed. “So, you got an invitation to dinner from an exalted?”

“Yes.” Taya dropped into an overstuffed chair. “The cousin of the woman I rescued yesterday. He wants to thank me.”

“And the outcaste disapproves?”

“His name is Cristof Forlore, and he's the exalted's brother.”

“Oh.” Gwen's eyebrows rose. “It's a family affair, is it?”

“It's not any kind of affair at all,” Taya objected, nettled. “He doesn't approve of me, and I don't want to cause any trouble between him and his brother.”

“Who is a decatur.”

“Decatur Alister Forlore.”

Gwen looked impressed. “Well, if a decatur is asking you to dinner to thank you for saving his cousin's life, you can hardly say no. Is he well-mannered? Do you like him?”

“I only talked to him once, but he was very charming.” Taya sighed. And dangerously good-looking. “I have to say no, Gwen. He probably has the wrong impression about me— you know how it is. And besides, I don't have anything to wear.”

“Go in your flight suit. That's perfectly acceptable attire for an icarus on business,” Gwen said firmly. Taya wrinkled her nose.

“I don't think he expects this dinner to be business.”

“He said it was to thank you.”

“Yes.” Taya didn't mention the letter's greeting, which was less than businesslike.

“Well, then he can't complain if you wear your flight suit. And if you don't want to give him the wrong impression, a flight suit is more than chaste.”

Taya smiled. That was true. Alister might be disappointed if she showed up in a flight suit instead of a dress, but the few smocks she owned were more suitable for picnics in summer on Secundus than dinner in autumn on Primus. And a flight suit was safely difficult to get out of.

She chewed on her bottom lip.

“But his brother doesn't approve…”

“His brother's a freak.”

“He is not!”

“He's an exalted who walks around barefaced and dresses like a famulate. Taya, dear, he's a freak. And an ill-tempered freak, at that.”

“He's not so grouchy when you get to know him.” Taya wasn't sure why she was defending the bad-tempered clockwright. Gwen was right. Still … she felt a little sorry for him. It couldn't be easy, living the life of an outcaste.

“Well, he's not so important, either. If I were you, I'd worry more about offending a decatur than an outcaste. If you're going to fly with the eagles, dearest, you can't waste your time on the crows.”

Crows. Taya's lips curved up. Cristof did look like a crow, and he certainly squawked like one.

“Then you think I should go?”

“You want to join the diplomat corps, don't you?”

“What— oh.” Taya's voice dropped to a whisper. “Oh!”

Exam scores were only part of the decision-making process. Diplomatic envoys had to work closely with exalteds, so political acumen and personality were also important. Gwen had a point. The corps selection board would be inclined to favor a candidate who had friends on the Oporphyr Council.

“Oh. Oh, Lady,” she groaned, suddenly seeing everything in a new light. “Why did you have to say that?”

“Hmph, some diplomat you'll make! You'd better start thinking like a politician, love. You have a golden opportunity to advance yourself, and there's no shame in making the most of it. You didn't rescue that woman for selfish reasons, and you didn't ask the decatur to invite you out to dinner. But as long he has, it's your duty to accept the Lady's gift and use it!”

Taya squirmed. She'd applied to the corps so she could interact with foreigners, get a taste of their cultures, and maybe even travel outside of Ondinium someday. It was the unusual and exotic that had attracted her to diplomatic work, not the politics and power plays.

“It just seems so … manipulative.”

“Whether or not it's manipulative is up to you. I'm not telling you to accept dinner, sleep with him, and then start pestering him for favors. Just go and do your best to impress him with your good sense and good manners.”

“Yes…” Taya drew in a deep breath. Yes, that was sound advice. “Thank you, Gwen.”

The landlady smiled, pleased with herself.

“A decatur— you're a lucky girl, Taya. Who knows? This could be a turning point.”

Cassi didn't agree that a flight suit was appropriate dinner attire, but after a frenzied survey of the wardrobe of every icarus in the eyrie who was roughly Taya's height and build, she had been forced to agree that it was Taya's best option on such short notice.

“But,” she warned Taya, “if this is what your new life is going to be like, we're going to have to get you a better wardrobe.”

“I'd be perfectly happy spending the rest of my life in this suit,” Taya confessed, looking at herself in Cassi's mirror. They'd gone up to the docks to retrieve it and had spent two hours replacing worn straps and buckles and buffing the well-worn leather to a soft glow. “It's comfortable, practical, and warm.”

“You're not going to catch yourself a man wearing comfortable, practical, and warm,” Cassi said tartly. “About the only thing a flight suit has going for it is that it's tight.”

“Big deal.” Taya scowled at her chest, pressed even flatter than usual by the suit's snug fit. “I look like a boy, just like your nephew said.”

“Well, we could pad you out, but your decatur might be surprised if you suddenly grew breasts.”

Taya smiled. “This is just business. I'm not trying to seduce him.”

“Good thing, if you're wearing
that
.”

Taya sat on the porch stairs at eight, her hands in warm gloves and her collar pulled high. Their hunt through the eyrie for a suitable dress had spread the news of her dinner appointment, and the other icarii had started offering her scandalous advice about “what exalteds want.” Finally, she'd fled outside, preferring to sit in the cold than listen to more jokes.

At last she heard one of the city's small, one-horse hacks rattling down the street. She stood and waved to the famulate driver, who saluted and pulled over to the porch.

“Taya Icarus, is it?” he asked.

“That's me.” She watched as the coachman wrapped the reins around a rail and hopped down to open the door. “Where are we going?”

“Rhodanthe's, on Primus. Fare and tip are already paid.” He smiled pleasantly at her. “Never carried an icarus as a passenger before. Always seems a little strange to see one of you without your wings, don't it?”

Taya slid inside, then leaned forward as the coachman was about to close the door. “What's your name?”

“I'm Gregor, and my mare here is Bolt. We make the city circuit during the day, the two of us, but we can be hired special if you leave a message at any of the hack stations.”

“I'll remember,” she promised. He touched his cap and closed the door. The hack lurched forward.

Riding in a hack, Taya decided after about ten minutes of being jostled back and forth, was considerably more uncomfortable than walking, and a lot less efficient than flying. No wonder only the elderly, infirm, and foreign used them. Most Ondiniums walked. Exalteds used the wireferry, and icarii flew.

That was the proper way of things. Horse-drawn vehicles were just unnatural.

By the time the hack had passed through security and reached the smoother streets of Primus, Taya was thoroughly shaken and disgruntled. She stepped out of the coach with a groan and stretched.

“You all right, then?” Gregor asked.

“No offense, but next time I'll fly.” She looked at the restaurant door. The sign and facade were lit with gas. She'd never been to this address before. “Do you know this place? What's it like?”

“Mixed-caste. I ain't never been inside, but it's popular enough with the dedicates and mercates. I drive up plenty of fare from Secundus for business dinners, don't I? Now, I'm supposed to pick you up again in two and a half hours, and I'll wait here if you ain't out. If you leave before that, any hack will serve, but tell the man at the door about me, won't you? Otherwise I'll be sitting here all night waiting for you, I will.”

“Don't worry.” She smiled. Two and a half hours. Business for real. That relieved some of her concern. “I think I might rather walk back, though.”

“Now, that wouldn't be safe, would it? 'Sides, you'd be chilled to the bone even under all that leather. You wait for me, and I'll pay particular attention you don't get too rattled on the journey back.”

“Fair enough. I'll see you in a few hours, Gregor.”

He touched his cap and lifted the reins. Taya turned to the door.

The maitre d' looked surprised when she walked in. He recognized her flight suit, but he was puzzled as his eyes rose over her shoulders and registered her missing wings.

“I'm Taya,” she said. Beyond one of the doorways was a large dining room filled with well-dressed cardinal caste members eating and laughing together. She was going to look very out of place among them, she thought, her stomach churning. “I'm a guest?”

“Taya Icarus, yes, you're expected,” the man said, at once. “Please follow me.”

To Taya's relief, he took her through another doorway, leading her into a wide, empty hall lined with doors. He opened one and bowed her through, closing it behind her.

The room was small and almost empty, with only three chairs and one low table. Another door stood on the opposite side of the chamber. A liveried servant with a dedicate's caste-mark stood and bowed.

“Taya Icarus?” The uniformed woman waited for her to nod. “Decatur Forlore awaits you.” She opened the second door.

This door revealed a much more lavishly appointed room, and Taya suddenly understood. Of course, an exalted couldn't eat in the main room; not in a mixed-caste restaurant. These rooms had been set aside for private dining, their antechambers keeping exalteds out of the sight of lower-caste guests and restaurant staff.

She stepped inside. Gas lamps on the wall brightened the room, their light reflecting off gilt-edged mirrors and well-polished tables and chairs.

Decatur Forlore was already on his feet, smiling.

“Taya! I feared you wouldn't be able to come. I apologize for the short notice, but I found myself at liberty this evening and hoped to make the best of my unexpected night off.”

“I — I appreciate the invitation, Exalted,” Taya stammered, bowing and pressing her palm to her forehead.

He wasn't masked, of course, but he glittered with gold and jewels, and he wore the traditional three layers of flowing silk robes. Each robe was embroidered in silver and gold thread, and small gemstones glittered on their stiff cuffs and lapels. The exalted's long, shining black hair was swept around his head and held in place by golden combs and emerald-studded chains that reflected his green eyes.

“Sit.” Alister stepped forward to take her arm, leading her to a chair. Taya stiffened at his touch, her gaze flying to his face. He paused. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry, I just—” she stopped, confused.

He laughed and drew her forward, pulling out her chair.

“I was hoping we could avoid standing on caste tonight,” he said. “Frankly, I find it tiresome, and I would like to talk.”

“Of course.” Taya was chagrined. “I'm just used to standing at arm's length from … exalteds.”

“I never keep anyone I admire at arm's length.” Alister gestured to the chair and Taya sat. He picked up a bottle. “May I?”

Taya nodded, remembering what Cristof had said about Alister pouring drinks for her. Color rose in her cheeks.

The exalted was acting like a man who expected an icarus to be available for his evening's pleasure.
No — no, he's not, he's just being polite,
she scolded herself. Wasn't he? How did exalteds act in private, anyway? She didn't have any basis for comparison. Except Cristof. And he didn't count.

Alister finished pouring and handed her a glass. “My servant will order for us and bring in the food. I told her to order a little of everything, so you should find something you like.”

“Do you always have to be this circumspect when you dine out?” Taya asked, as he filled his own glass and sat down. Unlike Cristof, he didn't place himself on the opposite side of the table, but at the end, his chair angled toward her. Gas flames played off the golden ornaments in his clothing and hair.

“No, not always. We could have gone to an exalted-only restaurant, but people would have stared at you, and I was afraid you would find it embarrassing.”

She nodded. “I would have. In fact, I'm — I'm a little nervous about attending Exalted Octavus's party. Am I going to be very out of place? Are any of the exalteds going to mind that I'll be seeing them without their masks?”

“Of course not. You will be our guest of honor, and we're all accustomed to dealing with icarii. I think you're very fortunate to be an icarus. It must be liberating to move freely from Tertius to Primus and never worry about masks and propriety.”

Taya glanced down at her glass. “I worry about propriety all the time, Exalted. When you have to work with all the castes and foreigners, it's hard to remember which rules apply, even after taking the diplomacy exam. Like just now— one of the rules I was taught was never to touch an exalted.”