The three grabbed their brooms and hustled off, waving to Taya. She waved back and turned to Cristof.
'Mister Clockite?'
His gaze narrowed, then he turned and headed down the steps.
'Jessica has trouble pronouncing her r's,' he muttered.
'I think it's cute, exalted. They don't call you by your title?'
'I get enough titling from the adults around here.' He fumbled with his keys. Taya lifted the bundle from his arm, smelling sausage and pickles. He grunted and unlocked the door, pushing it open and flipping the Closed sign to Open. The jangle of ticking and whirring greeted them as they stepped inside the shop's dim interior.
'What do you want?' he demanded, turning and retrieving his lunch. 'Where are your wings?'
'I'm off duty today.' Taya was suddenly reluctant to ask him about the night before. Cristof's little charade on the steps had made her doubt her suspicions. Loathsome brats, indeed. She went on the offensive, instead. 'Why are you so rude to those children?'
'Because I'm a rude person.' He pushed aside a large schematic, clearing a spot on the table. Then he unwrapped his bundle, pulling back layers of increasingly greasy paper until he revealed the sausage and pickles she'd smelled, and a hunk of pale cheese. Taya's stomach growled. All she'd had for breakfast had been tea. She made a mental note to buy lunch before heading back to the eyrie.
Cristof walked out of the room through the curtains in back.
Taya unbuttoned her coat and looked around. The jeweled birds were back in place, floating on the little pieces of string that tied them to a shelf. The shop shutters were open, but very little light came through the sooty window panes.
She cocked her head to read the schematic Cristof had shoved aside. It looked like a map of the city sectors.
She reached out and tugged it right-side-up.
It was a wireferry map, showing all the lines that ran from sector to sector and up to Oporphyr Tower. Symbols had been jotted all over it in pencil.
She leaned closer, worried. Was one of those marks over the vandalized spot?
Cristof returned with two tin cups and a short, dark bottle. Taya straightened and pulled her hand back. Ignoring her, the exalted broke off the bottle's wax top and set the cups on the table.
'It's a stout,' he said, pouring.
Taya gave him another look, not certain what to make of the implicit offer.
'Thank you,' she said at last. Even an ill-tempered outcaste couldn't object to good manners.
He handed her the drink without a word and poured for himself. She cradled the tin cup between her hands, watching. He had a deft hand with the bottle and knew how to keep the frothy head thin as he poured. She wouldn't have expected any bartending skills from an exalted who'd been raised with servants to bring him the very best wines and liqueurs. But maybe lower-caste tastes came with a lower-caste residence.
He finished pouring and looked up.
'I'm still waiting for you to tell me what you want.' His voice was edgy. 'Unless you have a watch to be repaired, I can't imagine what business we have together.'
'I don't own a watch.' She paused, considering her options. Honesty won out. 'I came to ask you a question about last night.'
'I've already reported the attack to the lictors.' He took a sip of the beer, absently wiping his mouth with his thumb and setting the cup back down. He picked up a small knife, cleaned it on a smudged rag, and began slicing the sausage. 'They said they'd inquire at the hospitals. I'm sure you'll be notified if they find the Demican we injured.'
We.
She was glad he hadn't put all the blame on her.
'Thank you. I talked to them, myself, last night after the fire. But that wasn't the question I was going to ask.'
He cut the pickles in half and began carving off heavy slices of cheese.
'Then ask.'
She set the cup down on the table. 'Why were your hands dirty when you met me?'
The knife paused. He cocked his head and gave her a blank look, his grey eyes puzzled behind his spectacles.
'What?'
'Your hands were dirty when you met me last night. Saved me,' she amended, to give credit where it was due. 'I was wondering why.'
He frowned, setting down his knife and straightening up. She paid attention as he reached for the rag he'd used to clean off the knife and wiped his greasy fingers on it.
'That's a strange question,' he said, watching her. 'Why would you—' He stopped, letting the rag fall to the tabletop. Then he smiled, without humor. 'Oh. I see. You think I may have been setting a bomb.'
Taya took a deep breath, then let it out and lifted her chin.
'It's a fair question. I wouldn't dare ask it of any other exalted, but you shouldn't mind being interrogated by an icarus.'
A twitch of his jaw acknowledged the reference to their argument.
'You know, icarus, if I were a bomber, you'd be in a great deal of danger right now.' Without looking down, he touched the knife with one slender finger.
Taya didn't look down at it, either. If Cristof were going to attack her, he'd do it without any warning. He was just being unpleasant again.
'Are you?'
He sighed and shook his head, lifting his hand away. 'No. But you should be careful how you accuse a man. If you're suspicious of someone, tell the lictors.'
'What about that?' Taya jerked her head toward the wireferry map. 'I find that a little suspicious, too.'
He picked up the map and folded it, his lips tight.
'I was plotting alternate routes to Primus and the tower. I dislike traveling by wireferry at the best of times, and I find the thought especially unpleasant after yesterday.'
Taya frowned. He could be telling the truth, but she thought there was something a little strange in his haste to fold the map.
Cristof set the schematic on a shelf and turned, pushing up his spectacles.
'Now, if the interrogation is over, I have work to do.'
Taya shook her head. 'I'm sorry, exalted, but you still haven't answered my question. Why were your hands dirty last night?'
'Oh, for the Lady's sake!' Now his voice sharpened, giving her a glimpse of the same bad temper he'd showed last night. Oddly, his irritation reassured her. It was an honest emotion, unlike his strained good manners. 'I was realigning the gears on a sector clock. It's been losing time all month, and I finally became impatient with it.'
'You became impatient with something?' Taya struggled not to smile. 'But you're such a self-possessed man, exalted.'
He seemed taken aback for a moment, then glowered at her.
'Why didn't you wash your hands there?' she pressed.
'Clock towers don't come equipped with water pumps. I would have used the Market fountain, but I heard you shouting.'
'Oh.' Not guilty, then. She was surprised by the distinct feeling of relief the thought gave her.
Noticing that his expression was still dark, she flashed him a smile.
