Clockwork Heart (24 page)

“Wait.” Taya laid a hand on Cristof's arm as they reached the stairs to Alister's office. “Look at that.”

Dirt was scattered over one of the steps. Cristof picked it up and crumbled it between his gloved fingers. Then he looked at the thick soles of his boots and behind them.

“We've left a track, too. Do you think it's from one of the icarii who helped evacuate the place?”

“I don't think so. Other icarii would have flown straight to the dock, where there's no dirt.”

“Tower employees arrive by wireferry, which docks directly inside the tower.” he mused. “So who was outside?” He pulled off his gloves and jammed them into his belt, then unbuttoned the bulkiest pouch around his hip and pulled out his needler.

Taya made a face. “I'm really glad that didn't shoot me in the leg while we were flying.”
Or kissing
.

“It has a safety.” He tilted the barrel down and flipped a stiff switch by the trigger.

“Well, don't shoot any innocent lictor who stayed here to guard the place.”

“I'll be careful.” He stepped in front of her and headed up the stairs, muttering to himself whenever his metal feathers scraped the walls. He wasn't used to thinking in terms of wings yet. Taya followed, maneuvering more deftly.

The door to Alister's office was unlocked. Cristof pushed it open, looked inside, then let them both enter.

“It looks pretty much—” Taya stopped as her eyes fell on an empty patch on the floor. “Something's missing.”

“A box?” Cristof leaned over the small rectangular area. “No dust on the floor. Whatever was here was taken recently. Can you remember what it was?”

Taya walked over and studied the books and papers surrounding the empty spot. To her chagrin, she couldn't conjure up a clear mental image of what had been there when she'd last visited the office. Most of her attention had been on Alister. “Let's see. Here's a collection of Council minutes, two books on Si'sier economic theory, a book on, uh, reptiles of the Donweyr Waste? Wait, they're all written by people with C-names. So the box was probably a C, too. Clockwork Heart.”

Cristof turned, looking around. “Would he leave it out?”

“Well, P is for plaster and program.” Taya moved to Abatha Cardium's plaster bust and stopped in front of a cabinet that matched the one in Alister's office. The lock on this one hung loose, too. She swung open the doors.

Row upon row of neatly labeled boxes contained large tin cards. They removed the lid of each box, double-checking the numbers stamped into the tin punch cards.

Cristof rocked back on his heels. “I don't see it in here, so it probably
was
on the floor. So someone's taken it. And this version would be the one formatted for the Great Engine.”

“If someone's got it, he can disable the Engine's security.” Taya bit her lip, trying to remember everything the programmers had told them. “But whoever's got it will need the Labyrinth Code to run Clockwork Heart the very first time, right? Could Alister have kept a copy here that might be missing?”

“It wasn't his program to copy.” Cristof looked grim. “I thought those twenty-five cards Pins had were the first to be stolen. But remember what Emelie said about technicians not noticing if the whole backup program were stolen? What if those cards were the last twenty-five? What if the thief already had seventy-five percent of the program?”

“Then … once he found out from Pins that the last twenty-five cards had been confiscated, he'd realize that his plan had been uncovered.” Taya's eyes widened. “Maybe that's why he killed her. And it meant the only copy of Labyrinth Code left was the master. There was no way he could get access to it unless he could get everyone out of the Tower.”

“So the explosion might not have been about Alister or Caster at all,” Cristof said, looking pained. “It might have simply been a convenient way to isolate the Tower.”

Taya rose with the lantern. “How do we get to the Great Engine?”

Cristof reached down to pick up the needler.

“The access doors are through the Council chamber,” he said, standing. “Let's go.”

Chapter Thirteen

The Council chamber was a wide, circular room dominated by a huge oak table in its center. The walls were paneled, each panel depicting a great moment in Ondinium's history.

Two of the panels had been pushed aside, revealing a broad metal sliding door. It, too, had been opened, just wide enough to allow a person to pass through.

“I guess that's it.” Taya circled the table and set down the lantern. “Although whoever went through here wasn't wearing wings.” She leaned against the edge of the door, then yelped as it moved, nearly sending her sprawling. She straightened up, studying it. “Must have ondium counterweights.”

“Be careful.” Cristof joined her. “If there are any Torn Cards in there—”

“They'll be planting bombs, not running programs.”

“Let's hope there are no more bombs involved.” He picked up the lantern and looked down the dark tunnel. “I don't want to lose you, too.”

Taya glanced at him. He was still frowning into the darkness. Feeling daring, she wrapped a hand around his shoulder harness and tugged him down, kissing his cheek.

His copper skin flushed.

“What…” he pushed up his glasses. “What was that for?”

“For saying something sweet for a change.”

“I— oh.” He looked disconcerted. “I hadn't intended to be sweet.”

Taya rolled her eyes. “That doesn't surprise me.”

“Last night I was a slagging pain in your tailset.”

“That's why you need to work harder on sweet.” She took the lantern. “Come on, let's go find your Torn Cards.”

The tunnel to the Great Engine was wide enough for two people without wings to walk abreast, although they had to walk in single file and lock their wings into tight position. After twenty feet they came to another door, also metal and also ajar.

Cristof eased it wider, needle gun pointing inside. Then he stepped through, waving Taya after him.

The momentary playfulness that had affected her in the Council chamber had passed, and Taya found herself growing tense. A deep, rhythmic rumbling vibrated through the air, tickling the thick soles of her flight boots and trembling through her wing feathers. The sound of the Great Engine, she guessed, her palms sweating.

They came to a third open door. A sign on it declared,
Oporphyr Council Analytical Engine: Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point.

Cristof stepped through, pistol out.

Beyond it, stairs spiraled downward into the center of the mountain. The air was still and warm, and when Taya put a hand on the walls, she felt the stone shivering.

The locked their wings high and descended. The rumbling became a constant mechanical thumping.

The stairs ended in a short hallway and another door.

Oporphyr Council Analytical Engine. All Visitors Must Be Accompanied By Security.

Cristof pushed. Pale light spilled into the stairwell and the rumbling, thumping sound increased. He entered and gave her the all-clear.

The door opened onto a long, wide catwalk that ran in either direction around the hollow core of the mountain. Metal lines coiled around the walkway and stretched across the wall like thick spider webs, feeding banks of lights that gave off a brighter glare than any gas lamp Taya had ever seen. The lights all faced inward, highlighting the huge hollow chamber at the heart of Ondinium Mountain and the gargantuan, floating, constantly moving mechanism that was the Great Engine.

Stunned, Taya stepped up to the iron railing and looked down.

The Engine plunged down as far as she could see; level upon level of moving clockwork. Pistons as tall as trees shifted back and forth. Gears as wide as wagons and wheels the size of mansions spun in midair, locked to each other by the intricacy of their design and the light, narrow wires that bound the lighter-than-air components together. Levers like wireferry towers shifted up and down with jarring clicks, and thick cables carried power from the steam engines that chugged on every catwalk. Gigantic drums spun in the center of a weaving, bobbing network of metal arms.

They stood at the very top of hollow Ondinium mountain. But even here, at its narrowest point, Taya couldn't see the other side of the catwalk. The chamber was too breathtakingly vast, the Great Engine too colossal.

At last she released the rail, set down the useless lantern, and looked for Cristof.

He was enraptured, his needle gun dangling forgotten in one hand as his eyes wandered over the cables and moving parts.

“That's carbon-filament incandescent lighting,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the clatter. “I've never seen it used outside a technology exhibit. Look— it's powered by the steam engines. No smoke!”

“Come closer and look at the Engine,” she said, waving him over. He shook his head.

“I'd rather not.”

“After flying all the way to the top of Ondinium, you're still not over your fear of heights?”

“Not in this lifetime. Do you see anyone?”

“No, but it's a long way down.” She held out a hand. “Come on. I'll hold you steady.”

He gritted his teeth, then edged forward, ignoring her hand.

“Stubborn.” She hooked her fingers through a strap on his harness. “See, I've got you.”

He grabbed the railing with his free hand and glanced down, his muscles tense. Then his head snapped back and he pushed up his glasses as though afraid of losing them.

“It's impossible to see anything down there,” he complained. “It's all hazy.”

“Probably smoke from the steam engines, or grease spray from the gears. Smells like machine oil, doesn't it?” Taya leaned over the rail, heedless of Cristof's flinch. “This space is so big, I'll bet it has own weather patterns. I can feel an updraft.” She released Cristof's harness to lean out, holding her hand palm-down over the chasm. Warm air pushed against it.

“Be careful!”

“Relax. There's plenty of room to fly here. Lots of clearance around the sides of the Engine, and even some around the gears and pistons. I'll bet flying through the Engine isn't much more dangerous than flying through Tertius.” She frowned, studying the mechanism. “Although I wouldn't want to get a feather caught between those gears.”

“I'm sure there are stairs.” The exalted stepped backward. “Let's go find them. We need to figure out where the punch cards are fed into the Engine.”

“It'll be faster to go straight down.” Taya unhooked her safety line. “The next catwalk is only twenty, thirty feet below us.”

Cristof closed his eyes and sighed.

“I don't like sounding like a coward, Taya. There really aren't that many things in the world that scare me. But I don't like heights, and I would prefer to avoid them as often as possible.” He sounded pained.

“I don't think you're a coward, not after forcing yourself into a first flight.” Taya cocked her head. “I've got a phobia, too— I don't like crowds. If I'm stuck in a real shoulder-to-shoulder press, I get faint. Cassi has to drag me down to the Markets each winter to do my Ladysday shopping.”

He opened his eyes, looking down at her.

“I don't like crowds, either,” he said.

“This won't be so bad. I'll hook our safety lines together and drape them over this railing to guide our descent. Remember, with all the ondium you're wearing, you're going to float even if you lose your grip. We'll slide to the next catwalk, I'll shake the lines loose while you hunt for the punch card whatchamacallit, and if it's not there, we'll do it again.”

“Tray. The punch cards are fed into a tray.”

“Does it look like the one on the University engine?”

“I don't know.” He sighed, his apprehension obvious. Taya tentatively reached out to pat his shoulder, trying to reassure him.

It was strange. Alister had made her feel warm and admired, but he'd never made her feel needed. He'd paid her plenty of compliments, but she'd never felt like she offered him anything he couldn't get from someone else.

Cristof, on the other hand, never tried to impress her and never hesitated to acknowledge that she could do things he couldn't. He just stepped aside and let her work. He was defensive and sarcastic and not very handsome, but he trusted and relied on her.

Still, I'd better fly carefully,
she thought, studying his sharp face.
We're both negotiating a lot of obstruction currents right now.

“The tray must be connected directly to the Engine,” he said after a minute, looking down through the grillwork under their feet. “I'll bet there's at least one level where a catwalk extends out to the machine itself. That'll be where the technicians feed in the program.”

“Then we'll keep descending, level by level until we see it. Let's hope it's not on the other side of the mountain, though.”

Cristof turned and contemplated the machinery-filled abyss.

“Obviously,” he said with reluctance, “flying is the most efficient solution.” He braced himself. “How long do you think it would take to make a circuit of the entire Engine?”

“I can't even begin to guess.” She leaned over the railing, scanning the horizon. “I'd have to spiral. Fifteen minutes? Twenty? It depends on how close the catwalk is and what the air currents are like.”

“Can you fly me down?”

“Here?” She straightened, surprised. “No. Rappelling is one thing, but flying in a completely new airspace, next to so many moving parts and cables— guiding you would distract me too much. But I'll tell you what; I'll fly down by myself, and when I find the tray, I'll come back to tell you. Then we can decide how to get there.”

“I have no intention of letting you go down there alone. There could be a killer in here.”

“If I see anyone, I'll head back up.”

“Investigation is my job, not yours.”

“And while we stand here arguing, someone could be running Clockwork Heart through the Great Engine.”

Cristof's jaw tightened. Then he jerked one shoulder, turning away.

“All right.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, under his glasses. “Be careful.”

Taya nodded and climbed on top of the wrought-iron catwalk railing. The metal trembled from side to side beneath her boots and she swayed. Cristof stepped forward, steadying her, his eyes averted from the depths as he grabbed her harness and held her in place. Taya slipped her arms into her wings and unlocked them. The exalted ducked as a wing swept over his head.

“Sorry.”

His fingers tightened on her harness straps.

“Let go,” she ordered. He released her and jumped backward as she kicked off from the railing.

Taya let herself drop until she was well under the first catwalk, then spread her wings and flapped hard, tilting to keep her body parallel to the inner curve of the mountain.

The air was warm and filled with unpredictable thermals and currents caused by all the steam engines and incandescent lights, spinning drums and coiling springs, and thumping pistons and clicking levers.

Taya was used to flying through cables and towers, but usually the only movement around her was the slow coast of a wireferry, the quick dart of a bird, or the lazy glide of another icarus. Flying next to the Engine required concentration. Its constant movement at the edge of her vision kept drawing her attention away until she bobbled and her awareness snapped back to riding the air currents.

She was glad she hadn't brought Cristof with her.

Thinking of him, she swept in a circle in the empty space between the mountain wall and the moving immensity of the Engine and looked up.

He was leaning over the catwalk, his wings glinting over his back as he watched her.

He looked down
, she thought, pleased. She tilted her wings in salute. He didn't wave back. He probably had a death grip on the iron railing.

She started a slow, spiraling descent around the Great Engine of Ondinium, marveling again at its complexity. She'd learned in school that it had taken fifty years to build, and engineers had been tinkering with it ever since, expanding, adapting, and experimenting. As the Engine had grown, so had the chamber in which it was housed. Whenever one of the mountain's ondium mines had been tapped out, the tunnels had been destroyed, the leavings cast into new gears and the stone hauled away to build the houses, mansions, bridges and statues that had turned the surface of Ondinium Mountain into the most densely populated city in the world.

Air currents danced and broke against each other as gears turned and pistons pumped. Cables suspended by ondium counterweights crisscrossed the empty space around the vast Engine, carrying power and oil and she couldn't guess what else. Every few levels she saw steam engines built on top of massive platforms chugging away to power the bright lights and giant machine. Some of the catwalks were lined with the same kind of huge iron cylinders she saw spinning in the machine, wrapped in blankets and strapped to the walls with thick cables.

No wonder they call it the heart of Ondinium
, she thought. Her heart seemed to pump in time to the pounding mechanical beat, and her wingtips trembled whenever she flew too close to one of the oversized mechanisms.

Every catwalk she passed was empty, but as she circled the inner circumference of Ondinium Mountain, she saw offices built into the walls and opening out onto the metal walkways. She wondered if the chamber's emptiness were normal or if the Engine had been abandoned only because of the wireferry explosion.

Cristof was right, though. There had to be another way into the chamber. Those giant gears and mainsprings would never fit through the hall and stairwell they'd taken.

It probably
was
a state secret.

At last she spotted a crosswalk running perpendicular to the catwalk, stretching out across the empty space to end in a small platform beside the Great Engine. Taya caught a thermal and rose higher, squinting down at it.