can ask the guard at the sector gate how to get to the hotel. You'd better hurry, before the midnight lockdown.'
'This bridge?' The Alzanan began walking forward, his neck craned. His tall companion followed, wearing the flat, stoic expression Demicans cultivated. 'How do we get up to it?'
'Go back a block and turn right on Damper, then right again on Alumina. There are access steps on Crate Street. Look for the signs directing you to Whitesmith Bridge.'
'But we were on Crate Street, and we didn't see any way up,' the Alzanan protested in his own language, still advancing. Taya touched the utility knife strapped to her chest harness.
'Please don't come any closer, gentlemen,' she said, still speaking Alzanan.
The two men paused.
'You don't need to be afraid of me.' The Alzanan looked hurt. 'I'm just asking for directions.'
'Go back a block. Make two rights.' Taya's heart was pounding. This could be a test, but it could also be the prelude to mugging. She was on Tertius, for the Lady's sake — people were attacked down here all the time. 'Please go.'
'Can I touch your wings for good luck?' The Alzanan took another step forward. Taya stepped backward, her hand tightening around the knife grip.
'I'm sorry, but I—'
Then she heard the scrape of metal against stone above her. Instinct took over and she threw herself forward, but heavy coils of rope hit her, jarring her wings and dragging at the metal feathers. Taya staggered, off-balance, and looked up. A second Alzanan leaned over the side of the bridge, leering down at her.
A net. Taya swore, feeling it encumbering her wings, its awkward weight threatening to pull her on her back.
This isn't a test!
The first Alzanan and the Demican lunged forward. Taya yanked at her harness buckles with one hand, slashing out with her knife when the Alzanan drew near.
'Help!' she shouted, feeling a buckle give way beneath her fingers. She began pulling at the next. The Demican drew a dagger from the back of his belt, his face hard.
They were going to kill her.
'Help! Guards!'
The Alzanan darted in like a knife-fighter, a thin blade materializing between his fingers and snapping across her harness. Its razor-sharp edge cut the backs of her fingers. Taya stabbed at him. He danced backward. A small nick marked his bare forearm.
The second buckle opened and her wings slid to one side across her shoulders. Taya tugged at the buckle around her waist, her fingers slippery with blood. If she could get out of the armature, she'd be able to fight. But right now her wings were nothing but deadweight.
'Guards!' she shouted again, angry. 'Dammit, somebody get help!'
The Demican shoved his partner aside, stalking forward with menacing intensity. Taya worked harder to pull the waist strap open. Demicans were hunters and warriors, hardened by their nomadic life outside civilized lands. And this one was about two feet taller and wider than she was.
'What's going on here?' a hard voice snapped with authority.
The two men looked around, and Taya abandoned the buckle, taking the moment's opening to even the odds. She lunged forward and thrust her utility knife through the Demican's wool shirt and into his chest.
He roared with anger, grabbing her wrist and yanking her aside. The net tangled her feet and she sprawled, losing her knife. She wrenched her waist buckle open with both hands and twisted aside as the warrior's knife slashed down. The point of the blade caught her shoulder as she rolled away, leaving the net behind her.
Scrambling on all fours, Taya snatched her utility knife off the cobblestones.
Something gave a sharp, machinelike hiss. Behind her, the Demican grunted, sounding surprised.
Taya spun, rising into a fighting crouch.
The Demican was staring down at his chest. Two long metal needles stuck out from his shirt, blood spreading around them to match the growing stain where she'd stabbed him.
'Forget her! We go!' the Alzanan shouted in Ondinan, and ran. The Demican staggered, looked at his fleeing companion, and then followed.
Taya craned her neck, but there was no sign of the second Alzanan who'd been on top of the bridge.
Her wings floated a foot off the ground, trapped by the heavy rope net. Taya hurried over to them, hoping she could untangle the armature from the ropes without damaging it any further.
The newcomer's footsteps sounded behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see a lictor.
Her rescuer had crouched to study the drops of blood on the cobblestones. The hem of his greatcoat dragged on the street, and he held a bulky iron airgun in one hand. Taya had seen the air rifles carried by Council guards, but she'd never seen one that was pistol-sized before.
Then the man looked up, lamplight flashing from the wire rims of his glasses. For a moment he and Taya stared at each other with mutual recognition.
'Exalted.' Taya ducked in a clumsy bow, remembering their disagreeable meeting in Decatur Forlore's office. 'Thank you for rescuing me.'
Cristof was silent a moment longer, then stood. He slipped the gun into his coat pocket, where it made an unsightly lump. The cold night breeze ruffled the uneven ends of his dark hair. Taya had to look up to meet his eyes — like most icarii, she was small and slight, whereas he had an exalted's height, six feet tall or more.
'Well, icarus,' he said, frowning. 'You're either very careless or very unlucky.'
His words irritated her. She turned back to her armature before he could see the annoyance in her expression.
'Actually, I consider myself very lucky,' she said, working hard to keep her tone even. 'I'm still alive.'
'You're bleeding.'
She glanced over her shoulder at the dark stain on her flight suit. The wound stung, but it was less inconvenient than the cut across her fingers.
'It's just a scratch.' She turned back and tried to find the bottom of the net.
'Don't. You'll break it if you try to untangle it here. Take it back to my shop and do it in the light.'
She hesitated. She didn't like his manner, and if she weren't so worried about her wings, she'd take great satisfaction in turning him down.
But it wasn't worth damaging her wings for the sake of pride.
'Is your shop close?'
'A few blocks away.' He stepped next to her and began gathering the net's loose ends. She scooped the whole bundle off the ground. He turned his frown on her again. 'I'll get it.'
'I can do it, exalted,' she insisted. 'It's not heavy, and they're my wings.'
He gave her a cool look, then handed her the rest of the net. As soon as she'd gotten all the ends wrapped up, he began walking, one hand jammed in his coat pocket.
Taya followed, silently, and wondered if this might be a test, after all. Her classes in diplomatic protocol had never covered how to deal with an outcaste exalted.
Cristof's workshop was small, tucked into the basement of a larger building that was filled with small businesses. They descended three steps from the street to get to the door, which he unlocked with two keys.
'Be careful,' he said, leading her in. Taya followed, tugging her floating bundle behind her.
The first thing that struck her was the sound — a loud ticking, whirring, and clicking that came from every direction at once.
Cristof struck a lucifer match and lit a lamp. Taya looked around with wonder as he turned it to its brightest level and hung it on one of the low ceiling beams.
The exalted's shop was filled with clocks and watches, pumps and wind-up toys, every kind of clockwork mechanism imaginable. Most were in motion, their hands turning, pendulums swinging, and gears rotating.
