She glanced to her left. The hack had stopped, and the three programmers and Cristof were piling out.
Rifles jutted over their shoulders.
Cristof hadn't been very happy when they'd arrived at Gregor's coach and Victor had pulled the percussion weapons off the floor, where they'd been shrouded in canvas.
'Firearms are restricted inside the city,' he'd protested, as Victor had handed one of the guns to him. 'Where did you get these?'
'Friends of friends. I thought we'd be going into Slagside ourselves, and I didn't want to go unarmed.' Victor had shrugged, handing a rifle to Isobel. 'They're just a precaution.'
'Vic's playing soldier again,' Isobel sighed, examining her weapon. 'He and his friends like to think of themselves as Ondinium's second line of defense. You should get some of those lictors’ air rifles, Vic.'
'These are cheaper and sturdier.'
Cristof gave the bearded man a hard look. 'So who are your friends, Victor? Liberationists?'
Victor shook his head. 'I don't sign up for causes. I just think that sometimes you have to take the law into your own hands if you want to ensure justice.'
'Loose gears don't help a clock run better.'
'Life isn't as simple as clockwork, exalted. We both know that.'
'What makes you think I'm not going to report you?'
'The fact that you've been bending some rules yourself, lately.'
Cristof made a familiar, impatient sound, checking to make sure the gun was loaded, but he hadn't said anything else. Victor had handed the fourth weapon to Lars.
'Thanks, but I can't imagine shooting anybody,' Lars had said with a shudder, handing it to Gregor. 'You can watch our backs.'
The coachman had taken the weapon with a bemused expression.
'What're you going do if somebody draws on you?' Victor insisted. 'You may be good in a bar fight, but those ham-sized fists of yours won't be any protection against a bullet.'
'I don't see how a skinny little gun's going to protect me.' Lars snorted. 'I'm too big to miss if somebody starts shooting.'
'The idea is that they'll be too afraid of your weapon to shoot.'
'How about I just look harmless and keep my hands up?'
Victor hadn't offered the icarii a weapon, and they hadn't asked for one. To carry a firearm would violate one of the most fundamental rules of icarus protocol. They could lose their wings over it. Not even Pyke had suggested it, although he'd gazed at the rifles with palpable longing.
Now Taya watched as Gregor climbed up to the top of his coach and sat down, his rifle by his side. He'd taken the hack around the refinery and parked on Drover's Way, the wide road that led to the biggest gate in Ondinium's walls. He'd seemed just as excited by the late-night mission as the programmers, even though Cristof had assured him that it would likely turn up nothing more interesting than a few piles of rubble and, if they were lucky, a torn copper punch card.
Cristof had chosen to team up with Lars, Taya saw, and Isobel with Victor. The two teams split up, one going left and the other right, to circle the broken shell of the refinery.
She waited until they were close and then kicked off again, taking a long, silent sweep over the building. Pyke did the same, while Cassi, their designated signaler, stayed on her high perch and watched.
Both Cristof and Victor seemed to have had similar training. They stayed in the shadows with their partners, popping up to look through the broken-out windows with their rifles aimed, then crouching and moving to the next. They continued until they met at the far wall and hunkered down to consult.
Isobel stepped out of the darkness and waved. Taya tilted her wings in acknowledgement and turned to see if Pyke had seen. He was heading down, too.
They both landed, Pyke on his feet and jogging to a halt, Taya on her knees. The landing hurt, and she began to wonder why she'd argued so hard to be a patroller instead of a signaler.
It was a stupid question, of course. She'd go crazy sitting away from all the action and wondering what Cristof was doing. Thank the Lady, Cassi had understood.
Pyke walked up as she locked her wings. Sliding a hand under one arm, he helped her to her feet.
'How are you feeling?'
'Fine,' she whispered, trying to keep the weight off her wounded leg. He supported her as they joined the small group.
'I didn't see anything from above,' she murmured as she joined them.
'No, but the exalted and I smelled something strange,' Victor replied. 'Ammonia, he says. Smelled like methanol, to me.'
'What does that mean?'
'I don't know, but it's a funny smell to come from a refinery that's been shut down for nearly a week.'
Taya gave the shattered walls a second, worried look.
'Victor and I will go inside to look around,' Cristof said to the group. 'I want the rest of you to spread out and give an alarm if anyone runs outside. Don't shoot. Just shout. Pyke, can you stay up in the air to follow anyone who leaves?'
'Sure.'
'You think there's still someone inside?' Isobel asked.
'Chemical fumes disperse quickly, so the fact that we both smell something worries me.' Cristof checked his rifle. 'I should probably send one of you back to alert the nearest Tertius station, but I don't want to risk raising a false alarm while the captain has another operation going.'
'Send Cassi,' Pyke said. 'Taya needs to stay grounded.'
Taya started to object, and Pyke laid a hand on her shoulder.
'Hey, I just saw you land. Your leg can't take many more jolts like that. You want to hurt yourself so bad you'll be grounded the rest of your life, like Paulo?'
Taya thought of the crippled night watchman and shook her head. Her leg was still throbbing. She had a bad feeling she might have pulled a few stitches.
'I'll stay grounded unless I have to go aloft,' she acquiesced. Pyke squeezed her shoulder.
'Why does she listen to you
?' Cristof demanded.
'She likes me better,' Pyke said, with a smug smile.
Taya shot them both a disgusted look.
Frowning, the exalted took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief. 'All right. There are three doors: the big bay door in front and the two smaller doors in back. Gregor can watch the front, and Isobel, you watch the back. You should be able to cover both doors at once. Cassilta's already got a clear view of the west side, so Lars, I want you on the east. Taya, stay with Lars. Neither of you is armed, so if you see someone, stay hidden and shout an alarm.'
'Got it.' The big man nodded. Taya nodded, too. She would have preferred to be with Cristof and Victor, but she knew she wouldn't be much use with a bad leg.
The group broke up.
Lars and Taya found a doorway where they could sit on the sooty stone steps and see most of the east wall of the refinery. Lars sat on the bottom step, and Taya sat higher, her wings brushing the brick sides of the entryway.
'You okay?' Lars asked, as she bent over and looked at her injured leg.
'I think I'm bleeding again.' She tugged at the laces that were tying down the shredded leather of her pants leg and winced. 'I hate being hurt.'
'You should take it easier.'
'I can't.'
'Yeah. I understand.'
They waited, their eyes fixed on the shadowy building. The gaping windows looked like wounds in its walls,
