'So you left Primus because you were angry,' Taya summarized, feeling sad. 'Why don't you just say so?'
Cristof tightened his lips, drawing away.
'You think it's trivial.'
'I didn't say that. You lost your parents. I was heartbroken when my mother died. She got the coughing sickness and the doctors couldn't do anything about it. I know a parent's death isn't trivial.'
'It isn't about my parents.' Cristof jerked around and began walking again, leading the way through the university commons. 'I minded my caste for eight years after they died, finishing school and taking care of Alister. But I saw it happening, over and over again. Lies and cover-ups and pretense. Exalteds will do anything to keep from admitting they're as flawed as the lower castes. Finally I decided I'd be more useful repairing clocks than pretending to be perfect. Alister was already here at the University with a shining future ahead of him, so I left.'
'Was your brother angry when you went?'
'Of course he was.' Cristof's expression was blank. 'I wasn't his ideal older brother anymore. But he got over it. Maybe he managed to reclassify me as the ideal exile. I don't know. But he started talking to me again, and he listened when I told him what was wrong with Ondinium. When he was named decatur last year, he told me he was going to make a difference. Lady.' He raked his hand through his short black hair. 'A marriage program. Some difference.'
'He meant well,' Taya said, hurrying to catch up with Cristof's long strides. 'You dealt with your parents’ deaths by running away. Alister dealt with them by writing a program to keep it from happening again. I think a lot of people would say his solution was more useful than yours.'
'I wouldn't.' Cristof turned to walk up the broad marble steps of one of the buildings. 'A clockwork heart can't replace the real thing.' He pushed open the giant carved wooden doors and walked inside.
Taya had to duck through the doorway to enter, but the vaulted ceilings inside the building were high enough to accommodate her wings and two span more. She'd visited the Science and Technology building before, receiving and delivering messages, but never at night. Now the halls were dark, the industrially themed frescos on the ceiling hidden in shadow. A low, steady chuffing and rattling from the bank of steam engines in the subbasement level echoed through the corridors.
Her courier duties usually took her upstairs to the offices, but Cristof headed down a short flight of steps to the basement labs. The sound of the engines grew louder, but not loud enough to drown out the argument going on in the analytical engine lab.
' — undefined terms in Cabisi would make it absolutely impossible—'
'We know their programs work!'
'But they're not trying to replicate their natural—'
'It doesn't matter anyway; nobody's going to learn—'
'Now, wait: that's exactly the kind of narrow—'
Taya and Cristof turned the corner.
Three men and two women were sitting around a cluttered room, ale flagons and beer jugs scattered around them. A board of bread and sausage shared table space with a variety of mechanical devices and tools, and a huge analytical engine spanned the wall behind them, clicking and chattering. One of the women was feeding it a set of cards with one hand and holding a tankard in the other. All of the programmers bore the spiral castemark of a dedicate over their right cheekbones.
' — we won't know until we get a Cabisi programmer in here to try it out,' one of the young men was saying with finality. The others burst into argument.
'If you break that engine while you're… celebrating… you'll be blinded and sent into exile,' Cristof said, in a cold tone.
'They wouldn't dare,' the woman at the table said, turning. 'We're too—' She stopped, staring at the two of them. 'Oh, scrap.'
The others turned, then scrambled to their feet, making awkward bows. Taya expected Cristof to shout at them the way he'd shouted at her, but instead he stalked forward, his lip curled with disgust as he inspected the mess around him.
'I assume you have some excuse for this?'
'I–It's a wake, exalted,' one of the men stammered. Cristof froze.
'It's for Exalted Forlore,' another added.
'You must be his brother,' said the third man, looking up. 'He told us about you. There can't be more than one exalted who goes bare-faced in public.'
'This is Exalted Cristof Forlore,' Taya hurried to say, before Cristof could respond with something unpleasant. 'And I'm Taya Icarus. We're investigating Alister Forlore's death, and we need your help. There are things about his programming work that we don't understand, and we hoped you might be able to explain it to us.'
The five programmers relaxed.
'You think his work has something to do with the accident?' one asked.
'Maybe.' Taya left the answer hanging.
'Well, we can try,' another man said, with an air of condescension. 'What do you want to know?'
'How about your names?' Taya asked, forcing herself to give him a friendly smile despite the emotional turmoil she was feeling. 'You were… you were Alister's friends, weren't you?'
'Yes, ma'am. We're his programming team.' The man who'd recognized Cristof held out a hand to her. He was handsome in a conventional way, with brown hair and blue eyes. 'I'm Kyle. The big guy over there is Lars, the one with the scary beard is Victor, the skinny one is Emelie, and the tall one is Isobel.'
Taya greeted them all, shaking hands. Standing to one side, his hands in his pockets, Cristof seemed disinclined to speak. She was glad of it. She needed to do something useful to keep her mind off everything that had happened.
'I'm glad to meet you. I understand you've just finished an important program for the Council?'
'Yeah, although now that Alister's gone, who knows if it'll ever get run through the mill?' Victor grumbled, dropping back into his chair. He was pale and thin, with a bushy black beard and moustache that did, indeed, make him look a bit scary. 'That's why we're running it here tonight.'
Taya thought about Victor's use of Alister's first name. It would have been impossible for the exalted to work with a team while he was wearing a mask and robes. He must have trusted them with his first name and bare face.
Good. That would make this easier.
'It's sort of a commemorative voyage. We wanted to run it through once, in case the Council rejects it,' Isobel added, turning back to the machine. She was still holding a box of punch cards. Her height and blond hair suggested Demican blood, although her dedicate castemark meant she had been born in the city.
'Is it his romance program?' Taya asked. 'Are you running any names through it?'
'All of ours.' Isobel flashed her a quick smile. 'We wanted to see if any of us are romantically compatible.'
'What happens if the program says you are?'
'The couple goes on a date, and we test the program's validity,' Lars said. He turned to the table. 'Can I get you anything, icarus? Exalted?'
'I'll have some of that beer, to toast Alister,' Taya said, swallowing a sudden lump in her throat. 'Since this is a wake.'
'Refills all around,' Kyle commanded. Cups were thrust forward. Taya was surprised when Cristof stepped up, his eyes hooded, and took a tankard.
'Will you make the toast, exalted?' Isobel asked, turning to him.
Cristof hesitated, then nodded. For a moment he stood silently, then lifted the tankard.
'To my brother, whose work I'll do my best to see preserved.'
With a murmur of thanks, the group touched cups and flagons and drank.
'Can you do that?' Kyle asked, looking at Cristof with new interest. 'Your brother told us you'd rejected your caste.'
