Clockwork Heart (23 page)

“Oh, Lady…” His voice dropped into the steady murmur of a prayer and she felt him tensing beneath her again.

“Breathe. Long, deep, slow breaths. You're safe. Keep your eyes forward so you can see where we're going.”

She was getting tired, maneuvering for them both, but she kept them rising until she felt his sides and back begin to relax. She found an updraft and leaned them into it. For a second she felt him resist, and then he caught himself, letting her take the lead. She touched her head to his to speak.

“Are you okay now?”

“No.”

“Unlock your wings, stretch them out, and lock them into glide.”

He straightened his arms and she shifted her weight, pressing her collarbone against his shoulders so that their wings matched up. The metal bars of their armatures clicked as their forearms tapped each other. Ondium feathers rattled in the wind.

They began to soar, arm to arm, cheek to cheek. Taya drew in a deep breath, her heart leaping at the sight of the city wheeling below them, the brightening morning sky, and the craggy mountain cliffs glowing gold in the dawn.

“Beautiful!” she cried out, delighted. “Isn't it beautiful?”

He didn't answer. Taya sighed. Some people had no appreciation for nature. Maybe he'd enjoy it better after a few more lessons.

She squeezed her legs to get his attention.

“Do you feel me against you?” she asked.

“I— er, yes.”

“I'm going to give you a quick flying lesson. Relax and let me guide you through it.”

She felt, rather than heard, him clear his throat.

“Do I still have to keep my eyes open?”

“Yes.” She maneuvered awkwardly, then managed to kick down her own tailfeathers. She tucked her legs into the tailset and stretched out flat against him. He was tall enough that the match wasn't perfect, but it would do. She rested on top of him, leg to leg, arm to arm, stomach to back, cheek to cheek.

“Okay, we're going into a right turn. The right wing's going down, and the left wing's going up. Left wing downstrokes harder. Feel me move, and move with me.”

His breath caught as she pushed his right arm down with hers, letting herself tilt in the wind. They were moving more slowly than she liked, but the city's thermal updraft and the extra ondium counterweights in his suit kept them from stalling.

“Good! I want you to keep your legs straight for now. If you were alone, you'd bend your left knee when you turned. Wing, tail, and tilt. That's how we steer. But just concentrate on using your wings.”

They soared into a long circle, cold air whistling against their faces, the industrial mass of the city sprawling out beneath them. Cristof's body was warm and stable beneath hers, and pale light gleamed against his metal wings. Taya lifted her arms, feeling his shoulders move beneath her as she guided him.

“Good,” she said, as they rose on the thermal. “That's it. Fast downstroke, even and hard.”

Metal feathers beat against the air, lifting them higher. She arched her back, lifting their tails to give them more upturn. Then she evened them out again in another long circle and showed him how to make a left turn. They wheeled next to a dark cliff, then out into the pale sky again. Taya smiled, feeling Cristof's body moving comfortably against hers at last. It felt good not to be fighting him anymore.

“Do you think you've got it?” she asked.

“I think so,” he said. He sounded a little out of breath.

“Are you remembering to breathe?”

“Sometimes.”

“Work on it. I'm going to lengthen the line between us. I'll be right above you, but you'll have to keep yourself up without my help.”

“Wait! Don't!”

“I have to. We can't land together. Our wings will tangle.”

“Not yet. I'm not ready.”

“Sure you are. Keep your eyes open. Breathe.”

“No — Taya — don't. Stay there!” She heard genuine fear in his voice. His wings tilted and she pulled hers back to keep them from tangling.

“Don't flap! I'm still here. Come on, let's get some height together.”

For a minute they flew in silence, rising higher up the cliff face. Oporphyr Tower gleamed in the first rays of sunlight, silhouetted against the clear sky. Taya sensed the morning winds increasing. When the sun rose over the mountain, the
diispira
would kick up and their landing would become much more difficult.

“Look ahead,” she called out. “We're almost there. Put your face into the wind, lock up your tailset, and spread your wings. Backbeat your wings to slow down. Bend your knees like you're kneeling. If you don't keep them bent, you could break a leg. Head for a wide open space. Lean backward and let your knees hit the ground first and skid. Keep your wings high — you don't want them to touch the ground — and keep backbeating until you slide to a stop.”

He was silent.

“How do I backbeat?”

“I'll show you.” She lifted them higher, then arched her back against his chest, throwing her wings out. Cristof faltered, then followed her lead, leaning against her breast, keeping his arms in contact with hers. She quickly backbeat a few strokes, feeling them start to fall.

“Taya!”

“Trust your metal!” She twisted, wings out, forcing him to move with her. With a powerful downbeat they caught the wind again, pushing back up.

“Oh, Lady.” He had tensed up again, his sides heaving as he breathed heavily. “I don't think I can do this.”

“It's all right. You're doing fine. Just relax and don't think too hard.”

“I always think too hard,” he grated.

“This would be a good time to learn to trust your instincts.”

“Do you have to let go?”

“Yes. I'll still be tied to you, and I'll reel myself back down if I have to. But if I try to land with you, we're both going to crash. There's no way we can synchronize our backbeating well enough to land together, not on your first flight.”

He was silent, but at last she felt him nod.

“Okay. Keep your arms locked into a glide for a minute.”

As soon as they'd steadied into a glide, she locked her wings and pulled one arm free, uncoiling the line that bound them together.

“Remember, I'm right here. I'm not going to let you fall. Do you trust me?” She worked her arm back into the wing.

He nodded again, jerkily.

“Okay. Stay in a glide until I tell you otherwise.” She lifted her wingtips up and let them separate, moving ahead and over him. The safety line slithered down in a long arc between them.

She let the distance between them increase. They drew closer to the mountaintop as the sun rose higher, its bright rim peeking over the cliffs.

“Good! Now, tilt your wings down just a little. A little! Don't flap so hard. We're heading to that bare spot of dirt on the left of the courtyard. See it?”

“Yes.”

Together they flew lower, heading for the council grounds. Cristof still moved too abruptly but, engineer that he was, he'd grasped the mechanics of flying.

Still, landing was the most dangerous part of a flight. Taya prayed he wouldn't panic or mistime his movements. If he broke an arm or leg, their investigation would be over before it began, and he'd never trust her again.

Her own heart began to beat faster as they drew closer to the ground, and she sucked in a deep breath, forcibly calming herself. He'd be fine. He was doing fine.

“Okay, now kick your tailset up out of your way and bend your knees,” she shouted. “Cup your wings and backbeat. Remember, you want to slow down as much as possible! You
will
float!”

She fell in behind him, as far back as the safety line would let her go, and started to slow down, herself.

“Open your wing slots!” she shouted, watching him. “Knees forward! Like you're jumping on a bed!”

Had Cristof ever jumped on a bed? It was hard to imagine.

She kicked her own tailset up. The winds weren't too bad. She could probably make a running landing, but she was afraid that she'd stumble over Cristof. The only thing worse than him breaking an arm would be her breaking one. She could fly for help if he got injured, but she didn't think he'd be able to do the same for her.

“Slow down and lean backward! Lift your arms up!”

His knees hit the ground, their heavy protective pads digging furrows into the dirt as he threw his weight as far back as he could, nearly flat on his back. She breathed a sigh of relief as he skidded to a halt, buoyed by the extra ondium on his harness.

Her own landing was only a little more graceful as she let herself slide in behind him.

“Are you all right?” She locked her wings high and staggered to her feet, wincing as her knees protested. She stripped off her cap, goggles, and gloves.

Cristof's wings had fallen to the ground, and his head was slumped forward as he panted. She walked over and knelt in front of him.

“Hey.” She cupped his cold face in her hands. He was shaking and pale. “You did it. We're here.”

He swallowed and nodded.

“Come on, Exalted. Concentrate on what you're doing. Dragging your wings is bad form. Lift your arms up. Lock your wings upright.”

Moving slowly, he followed her instructions, then slipped his arms free of the armature and yanked off his cap and goggles. They fell to the ground between his legs. His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated and his glasses askew.

“Easy, now.” Taya smoothed his sweat-dampened hair and adjusted his glasses. “That was good. That was really good.” She leaned forward and hugged him. “Silly crow. I told you that you could fly.”

He stiffened, then grabbed her, pulling her close and clutching her as though his life depended on it.

Taya's heart lurched. She closed her eyes, pulse pounding.

In a minute he's going to let go and make some self-deprecating quip, and everything will be normal again.

Seconds passed. His breathing slowed and his trembling subsided. Taya waited for him to pull away, but instead he rested his forehead against her shoulder, still holding her.

She swallowed. Her fingers curled protectively in the thick, ragged thatch of his black hair, then ran down the sharp angles of his shoulders.

“I still feel like I'm falling,” he said at last, looking up. A gleam of morning sunlight played around the wire rim of his glasses. “I'm afraid to let go.”

She stared into his pale eyes.

“It's all right. You're safe.” Her pulse pounded in her throat. Had anyone ever looked at her so desperately before? She'd wanted a glimpse behind his mask, and now she knew what was back there — a deep, aching loneliness. “There's nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

“If I let go, you might fly away without me,” he said, his voice cracking.

“I won't—”

He leaned forward and kissed her, one gloved hand sliding up into her hair.

Taya stiffened. Then she closed her eyes, letting herself relax. His tentative kiss slowly grew more confident as he realized she wasn't going to pull back.

Some critical part of her pointed out that it was ridiculous to kneel in the dirt kissing an ungracious, ill-tempered outcaste, but the uncertain, eager way his fingers touched her cheeks and the back of her neck made her heart ache.

Poor, awkward crow. So much more determined and honest than his handsome brother had ever been.

Taya laid a hand against his jaw, tasting salt on his lips, and hooked the fingers of her other hand into the harness straps across his back as he pulled her as close as their metal keels would allow. He was so tall it felt like he was folding himself around her. He slid his hand from her hair to the small of her back as their tongues touched and their breath mingled. His kiss and his body seemed to provide the only warmth to be found in the cold mountain air.

For a long minute they held each other, lost in each other's lips, breath, and touch. Then, at last, Cristof pulled back and tugged off his glasses with one hand.

“I can't see,” he said, breathlessly.

She glanced at his steamed lenses and laughed.
There's the self-deprecating quip I was waiting for
, she thought, relieved to be on familiar ground again. Her cheeks were flushed and her nerves were tingling.
And in a moment he'll push me away.

But she felt comfortable kneeling in front of him, his knees flanking hers, their bodies held inches apart by their ondium armatures. More comfortable than she'd ever felt with Alister.

“Keep them off,” she suggested. “You don't need them right now.”

“Lady.” He rubbed his spectacles on his flight suit sleeve and put them back on. His lips tilted in a wry, sad smile. “Don't tempt me. If we keep doing that, we'll never find Alister's program.”

There it was, the gentle push away. She couldn't blame him. He had to be as surprised as she was. But she still felt disappointed as she stood up, stretched her legs, and unsnapped the line between them.

“We'd better get to work then,” she said, forcing a light tone.

Cristof clambered to his feet, picking up his cap and goggles. She saw him tug irritably at the harness straps that ran around his thighs when he thought she wasn't looking, and she felt a little better.

They walked to the tower silently, both lost in their own thoughts.

Taya had never entered Oporphyr Tower from the ground. The front door was locked, and nobody responded to their pounding. She flew up until she found an open icarus dock door on the tower's second floor. She leaned over the balcony and managed to talk Cristof through an ungraceful, flapping hop up to it. He was light enough, with all his extra ondium, for her to grab his harness and haul him.

“You're doing fine,” she assured him. “Better than our fledglings.”

He shot her a sour look.

The building was dark, empty, and cold. They lit a lantern in the icarus dock office and carried it with them, their heavy boots loud on the tile floor.