Clockwork Heart by Dru Pagliassotti

remembered Decatur Forlore’s quip about the repairman’s way with machines and felt a flash of amusement. He had worried about her armature first and her wounds second, hadn’t he? She imagined the exalted touched his broken clocks with exactly the same care and dispassion with which he’d touched her bare shoulder.
    He laid the bloodstained towel on the table and picked up the clean one, pressing it over the cut. “That will be enough of a bandage for the flight to your eyrie.”
    â€œThank you.” She buttoned her suit and reached for the floating harness.
    â€œGive the cuts on your hand a few more minutes to clot.” He pushed up his spectacles, turning away. “Do you want to see them fly?”
    Taya studied his back, confused by the sudden change of subject. Then she remembered the mechanical birds.
    â€œPlease. If you don’t mind.”
    He untied one of the toys, holding it gently as he wound the key. The gaslight flashed on his glasses again.
    â€œMy mother gave these to my brother and me, when we were little.” He held the bird up with both hands and spread his fingers.
    The clockwork wings beat and the little bird took off, darting across the room and hitting the opposite wall. It floated there, its beak pressed against the wall and its wings still flapping uselessly.
    Cristof walked across the room and turned it with one finger. The bird flew away again, coming to an abrupt stop at the next wall.
    â€œThey’re meant to be used outdoors,” he said. “Or in a very long hallway, preferably with an unsuspecting adult at the other end.”
    Taya laughed, and for a brief instant Cristof’s thin lips twisted upward in response. He retrieved the bird. Its wings were winding down, their beating slowing, but its ondium core kept it floating between his hands.
    â€œMy brother broke this one and threw it away. I decided to fix it for him. It took me six years to learn how, but now it flies as well as ever.” Pride shone in his pale eyes as he regarded the tiny mechanism. “Nobody makes these anymore. Using ondium in a children’s toy is too much of an extravagance now that the main veins have been tapped out.”
    â€œI think they’re wonderful.” Taya smiled. “Did you give it back to your brother?”
    â€œNo. By the time I’d fixed it, he’d moved on to other toys and didn’t want it anymore.”
    â€œOh. That’s too bad.”
    â€œIt’s typical.” He turned and tied the bird back to the shelf. “Alister adores his toys until they disappoint him. Then he throws them away.” His voice turned sour.
    â€œAlister?” Taya felt a jolt of recognition. She’d already heard Cristof use that name once today. “You don’t mean—” But of course he did. It made perfect sense. “Decatur Forlore is your brother?”
    Cristof’s hands stopped.
    â€œI thought you knew.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t.” She faltered. “But, if he’s your brother, why are you living down here?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWell, he’s a decatur, and he’s still speaking to you, so why doesn’t he bring you back to Primus?”
    â€œI have no interest in going back to Primus.” His voice had turned cold, but Taya forged on.
    â€œBut you don’t want to be outcaste, do you?”
    Face twisting in rage, Cristof turned and slammed a hand down on the table.
    â€œMy brother and my caste are none of your business, Icarus!”
    Taya flinched, then slid off the chair and dropped to one knee, pressing her palm against her forehead.
    â€œI’m sorry, Exalted,” she said, furious at herself. How could she have forgotten her manners around an exalted, even an exalted in exile? Some future diplomat!
    â€œStand up.” Cristof’s voice was tight.
    She glanced at him. His face was pale with anger. She bowed again, feeling