"You didn't think shooting me in the face would be fatal?" Cristof was squinting, and Taya realized he wasn't wearing his glasses. He must have lost them in the fall. "You must not have been paying attention earlier. Maybe you were too excited about throwing me into the abyss to see what I did to your lictor?"
"You'd better let me take the gun," Taya said, worried about Cristof's nearsighted aim.
"I'm sorry, Taya, but I don't think you have a cold enough heart to shoot." The tall exalted's voice was flat. "I, on the other hand, am very tempted to run a few needles through your legs right now, Alister."
"And then what would you do?" Alister straightened up and smoothed the front of his embroidered robe. "Are you going to turn me in, Cris? You know what they'll do to me, don't you? Are you really going to let them blind me and flog me out the city gates? After all we've been through together?"
Cristof's needler trembled a moment. Then he shifted his grip and the trembling stopped.
"Blinding is for traitors, Al. You aren't going to be that lucky. Murder carries the death penalty."
"So you'll let me die? That would make you the last Forlore. Will you go back to Primus and take up the mask again? Or you will you let our family line vanish from the ranks of the exalted?"
"I don't see any compelling reason to keep it going. The last two generations have been full of murderers."
"You're as guilty as I am," Alister said, pointing to the lictor's body sprawled on the crosswalk behind them.
"Exactly," Cristof said, evenly. "As I said, no compelling reason."
"Cris, let me tie him up," Taya said, reaching for her safety line and remembering that she'd left it on the catwalk high above. "I need your line."
Cristof pulled the coil off his harness and held it out. She limped forward and took it.
"Our swan's been shot," Alister said, watching them. "Did you notice the blood on her leg? I don't think you should make her walk around on it."
"Shot?" Cristof turned, giving her an alarmed look. "I thought—"
Alister lunged, tackling him. Taken off guard, Cristof staggered and fell to one knee, his needlegun skittering across the grillwork from his hand.
Taya grabbed for the weapon. Its barrel brushed her fingertips as it slipped over the catwalk edge.
The two brothers grappled. Cristof was taller, but Alister was stronger and heavier. The younger brother laughed as Cristof realized his ondium-buoyed harness put him at a distinct disadvantage. For a moment Taya was afraid Alister was going to hoist Cristof up and throw him over the side again, but then Cristof grabbed Alister's neck with both hands, squeezing.
Alister's hand plunged into his jacket pocket and reappeared with Taya's knife.
Taya grabbed the first thing that came to hand, the torn basket of tin punch cards, and leaned over the struggling men. She slammed it down on Alister's head.
The basket split, sending the remaining cards tumbling everywhere. Alister winced and Taya grabbed the back of Cristof's harness, yanking him up and away from his brother. Then her leg gave out and she sagged, darkness swimming before her eyes.
Through the haze, Taya could barely make out Alister recovering and flicking her knife toward his brother. A line of red appeared on Cristof's jaw, jarringly vivid against the spots that floated in front of her eyes. She groped across the catwalk and grabbed a handful of wide tin cards. When Cristof shifted to one side, she hurled them at Alister's face.
The decatur flinched. Cristof shoved him and they hit the metal railing, which shook and bent at the rivets.
Alister's eyes widened as the metal sagged beneath him. He grabbed Cristof at the same time that Cristof's hand closed on his arm. For a moment Cristof held him safe — and then the railing snapped and they both fell over the edge.
Without stopping to think, Taya grabbed the abandoned safety line and rolled off the catwalk after them.
This time she didn't try to put on her wings. Instead, she extended her arms and legs into a dive, the line snapping against her arm as she fell.
The two men were tumbling, gaining speed on the descent. Taya reached for her nearest counterweight pocket and pulled out the ondium bar, releasing it and letting it dart up to the ceiling. Her speed increased as her weight increased.
She had time. They hadn't reached terminal velocity. She yanked another counterweight out and let it go. Then another.
She began to draw closer. She hooked one end of the safety line to her harness and reached out.
Alister and Cristof were clutching each other, their anger forgotten in the horror of the unexpected plunge. Taya's first attempt to clip the rope to Cristof failed. Her second attempt succeeded. The hook snapped onto his belt.
He looked up, his eyes widening.
"It's okay!" she tried to shout, but the words were ripped from her mouth. She began the struggle to re-wing herself. It wasn't easy, with the safety line dangling between them.
At last her arms slid between the struts. She threw her wings out. All three of them jerked, then began to fall again.
She wouldn't be able to carry them, she knew that. She was in the same position Pyke had been during the wireferry rescue. The best she could do was slow and guide their fall. She let the line run taut, then began to angle all three of them toward the Great Engine.
It grew larger and larger as they drew closer, and she searched for an opening. At last she found a landing spot, a makeshift platform created by two huge, flat, ponderously grinding ondium gears. She steered them toward it as they dropped, hoping Cristof and Alister knew enough to brace for impact.
The gears grew larger, each one as wide as Viera's ballroom floor, slowly rotating.
Cristof dropped Alister, who tumbled on the gear and lay motionless. Taya yelped as the two of them bobbed upward with the released weight. Then Cristof snapped the hook off his belt and fell, landing about ten feet away from his brother. One foot slid perilously close to the gear teeth before he yanked it back, scrambling to safety.
Knowing that a graceful landing would be impossible, Taya braced herself, backbeat, and dropped onto the second gear on her knees.
This time the pain was too much to bear.
Chapter Fourteen
"Taya? Taya?"
She groaned and opened her eyes. She was surrounded by noise and motion.
"Don't move." She felt the hard leather of a harness shift under her cheek and realized she was propped against Cristof's shoulder. Her arms were still encased in wings and spread out in front of her. "Are you all right?"
"We should get her out of that armature." Alister's voice, a little farther away.
"Does anything hurt?" Cristof sounded worried. Fingers stroked her cheek. "Don't move. You may have broken something."
"I'm all right." Taya tried to push herself up, swinging an arm around. Metal feathers scraped against metal, and she realized they were still on the megagear. The Engine loomed above and below them, its clattering and chugging forcing them all to raise their voices to be heard. She glanced at Cristof and saw the pallor in his cheeks as he studied her. The cut on his jaw was still bleeding. The fall had made the blood streak up the side of his cheek.
She couldn't have been unconscious for more than a few seconds, then.
She tried to pull her leg under her and a fresh streak of pain ran through her calf. Involuntary tears sprang to her eyes.
"What?" Cristof's hand tightened on her shoulder. "What hurts?"
"My leg."
"Where you were shot? Or someplace new?"
She pushed herself up again. "Shot."
"Give her room, Cris," Alister said, sounding annoyed. "She doesn't need you hovering over her."
"Move slowly," Cristof directed her, ignoring his brother. Still, he backed away.