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"I think this will do it, Taya said with satisfaction, choosing a color.
"This isn't your foundation, is it? he asked as she dabbed a coppery base color over the blue waves on
his cheeks.
"No. My friend Cassi's. Why?"
"It isn't your shade."
"So you're an expert on cosmetics, as well as a clockwright and a secret lictor? Are you livinganother
secret life I should know about?"
He shook his head, and she tsked, dabbing at a splotch with her fingertip.
"I've had to cover my castemark before."
"Too bad. I know a dressmaker who'd love to have an exalted as a patron. She corked the bottle and
opened a small pot of eye darkener. Do you want to be cardinal or plebeian?"
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"Plebeian. I'm going back to Tertius."
She leaned over him and drew a famulate castemark on his forehead.
"It's not perfect, but it'll do, she said, drawing back and assessing her work. Don't reach up and
smudge it."
"I won't. He grabbed her fingers, warming them a moment between his hands. Thank you."
Taken off-guard by the gesture, Taya stared at him. Even half-sitting on the porch rail, Cristof's head
was an inch or two higher than hers.
Gawky. Skinny. Crowlike.
Not such an awful guy, after all.
"That's what friends are for, she said, at last.
He didn't say anything, scrutinizing her with his hands curled around her fingers. Taya felt like some kind
of machine he was trying to figure out and forced a laugh to dispel the tension.
"Although, she added, this friendship ends if you keep waking me up in the middle of the night."
He released her, standing.
"I'll keep that in mind. Good-night, Taya Icarus."
"Good night."
* * * *
Three hours later Gwen knocked on her door again. This time the vexed woman held out a message from
the University.
Taya opened it, groaned, and shoved it under her pillow.
She'd deal with it tomorrow.
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Chapter Twelve
Taya could barely see her hands in front of her as she hurried down the path to the flight dock. The dawn
diispira hadn't kicked up yet, and it was cold enough for her breath to form visible clouds as she ran.
Cristof was a dark, narrow figure huddled by the gate.
"It's locked, he said, as she approached.
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"Of course it is. She pulled out her key and let them in. Ondium's expensive. Did you find a place to
sleep last night?"
"More or less."
"What does that mean?"
"The floor was cleaner than the mattress. I didn't sleep well."
"Stiff muscles?"
"Not too bad."
"Good. She led them across the open practice field to the flight prep building. I got a message from
Kyle last night."
"What did he say?"
"The Clockwork Heart program affected the University engine. I guess that once it runs, it keeps other
security programs from locking off access to the engine, or its storage drums, or something like that. He
seemed to think it was pretty important. He said he's sending a formal report to the college president and
the lictors this morning."
"Oh, Lady. Cristof leaned against the building wall, staring into space. What was Alister doing?"
"That's what we're going to find out. She unlocked the door to the flight prep building and struck a
lucifer match as soon as they were inside. Candles and lamps were stored by the door. She handed him a
lamp and took one herself. In the light, she saw that he'd wiped off last night's handiwork, leaving his
castemark visible once more. You decided to be an exalted again?"
"It might give us an advantage if we're caught."
"Good idea. We'll need all the advantages we can get. She led him to the men's changing room.
That morning, she'd done what she could to set up her own advantages. She'd left a note in Cassi's
purse containing Kyle's letter and describing where she was going and why. She didn't know what Cassi
would do when she found it, but no icarus flew without filing a flight plan.
Besides, if they got caught by the lictors, she wanted her friends to know she wasn't a criminal.
"Don't worry. Cristof tapped his bulging coat pocket. You can always say that I forced you at
gunpoint."
"It wouldn't work. They'll just ask why I didn't drop you once we were aloft. She opened up the flight
suit closet. How tall are you?"
"Six three."
"Hmm. She looked dubiously at the selection. Well, do your best to find a suit and boots that fit. The
suit needs to be snug, but not so tight that it binds. Don't wear anything but your drawers beneath it. Fold
your clothing and bring it out with you, and we'll store it in my locker. Then we'll find you a harness."
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He nodded, and she left him, going to the women's locker room to change into her own suit and harness.
Fifteen minutes later she was showing him how to step into a complicated arrangement of straps and
buckles.
Cristof had done the best he could, but his flight suit was several inches too short in the arms and legs
and a little too wide around the chest and shoulders. Transferring the contents of his coat pockets into the
pouches built into the suit gave him a bulky look.Crow with his feathers plumped, she thought,
irreverently.
"The needlegun I can understand, and even your identification papers, but do you really need this? She
held up the slim leather tool kit.
"You never know when you might need a screwdriver. He tucked the leather case away and she shook
her head. Cassi and her lip paints, Cristof and his tools.
"You really are a gearhead, aren't you?"
"We gearheads consider that term a compliment, icarus."
Amused, Taya buttoned up his collar until it rested under his chin. He tugged at it, frowning.
"Leave it alone, she instructed. It may feel tight now, but you don't want a breeze down your suit while
you're flying."
"It's no more uncomfortable than robes and a mask, he said, dropping his hand and cinching his belt
tighter. But the suit's heavier than I expected. Especially the boots. You don't look big enough to carry
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