"You can keep it," he said, gruffly. "For now, I mean. Until I find you something better."
"You don't need to do that," she protested. "I mean, now that you've got this clock working again…."
"It's all right. I own plenty of watches."
"I—" she closed her mouth. What was she doing, arguing with him when he was trying to do something nice? Lady, if anything, she should be encouraging him. "Thank you, Cris. I appreciate it."
He knelt on the floor and began packing his toolkit.
"I expect to be up to ‘rarely’ in no time."
"Huh? Oh, you have a hidden agenda, do you?" She laughed. His straight-faced humor always surprised her. "You promised me you didn't."
"There's nothing hidden about it," he replied. "My objective is obvious. I've decided that I'd rather have you describe me as ‘sweet’ than a ‘slagging pain in the tailset.’"
"Really?"
"Well…" he looked up from the bag. "Maybe not in public."
"I might be able to confine myself to saying it in private, if you gave me a reason." Taya met his eyes, and he blushed. He averted his gaze and grabbed a handful of greasy rags, stuffing them into his bag.
Taya stood, grabbed one of the crutches, and limped over to him. She braced a hand on his shoulder and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm sorry," she said, unrepentantly. "I shouldn't tease you."
He glanced up at her, his expression serious.
"No, you shouldn't. I don't have much experience with teasing. I could end up taking you seriously."
Taya felt a jolt as he met and held her gaze. Her fingers curled on his shoulder. She leaned over, braced against him again, and he slid a hand up over her cheek.
For a moment they gazed at each other, the promise of another kiss trembling between them.
Then, behind them, Gwen cleared her throat.
Taya jumped, nearly stumbling. Cristof half-rose, grabbing her arms to steady her. They both looked over their shoulders, giving the landlady guilty looks.
She eyed them, her beefy arms folded firmly over her chest.
"If you're finished here, Master Clockwright, I'll go get my pocketbook," she said, unmistakably satisfied with herself. "And I'll expect a receipt."
"I really ought to charge you, now," Cristof muttered, making sure Taya was stable before he stood and brushed at the dust on his trousers. He raised his voice, sounding annoyed. "I thought you were going to leave us alone if I repaired your clock for free."
Taya clapped a hand over her mouth, not sure whether to be embarrassed or amused. Amusement won out, and she had to struggle not to laugh as the thick-waisted landlady and skinny exalted glared daggers at each other.
"You said ‘for a while,'" Gwen snapped. "I did leave you alone for a while. But if you think I'm going to let you ravish one of my little girls—"
"Ravish!" His eyes widened with disbelief.
Gwen snorted, irreverently snapping her fingers at him. "The bill?"
Cristof ground his teeth. "I, at least, will keep my end of the bargain. I'm not charging you for this repair."
"Then if you don't have any more business here—"
"He's going to take me to lunch," Taya said, hastily. Then she gave Cristof an uncertain look. Would he mind? Did he have more important things to do? "Weren't you? Or are you busy?"
"Of course we're going to lunch," he said, still glowering.
"Good." She smiled. "Just give me a minute to get my cloak."
"Wait. You can't walk down Cliff Road on crutches."
Gwen snorted. "Send one of the neighborhood boys to hire a hack, you maskless ninny. They'll run messages for a penny or two."
Cristof scowled, then turned and headed outside.
"Have him ask for Gregor and Bolt, if they're available!" Taya shouted. Cristof nodded once, shoving through the door.
As soon it shut behind him, Taya turned on Gwen.
"You enjoyed that," she said, accusingly. Gwen gave her an innocent look, then burst into raucous laughter.
"Oh, I did. You both looked so disappointed! If only you could have seen yourselves! Absolutely priceless!"
Taya tried to resist, but then she started giggling, too, until both of them were reduced to helpless laughter and snorts, glancing at the door to make sure Cristof wasn't going to come back in and find them like that.
"That's not fair," Taya said at last, wiping her eyes. "I like him."
"Clear proof that love is blind," Gwen retorted. "What in the world would a nice girl like you see in that squawking crow?"
"He's brave, and honest, and intelligent—"
" — bony, bad-tempered, poorly dressed, outcaste—"
"Oh, Gwen! He's not perfect, but… the perfect one turned out to be a murderer."
"Hmph." Her landlady sighed. "You know I'm only giving him a hard time because I can. But I worry about you, Taya. You're flying in such dangerous skies, with all these criminals and spies and bombs…."
"It's all over now."
"Is it?" Gwen looked dubious. "And what will you do when that awful decatur is executed and your crow puts on his mask again? It would be one thing if I thought you were just having a fling, but I know you better than that. I don't want you to get your heart broken when reality catches up with you."
"Reality." Taya straightened her shoulders. "I can outfly reality any day."
"Not even the fastest icarus can do that, dear." Gwen sighed. "Well, enjoy yourself while you can, even if it is with an outcaste. And don't forget to take your pain medicine, if you're going to be gone for any amount of time."
Taya nodded, grabbing her other crutch and limping up the stairs.
Cristof's mood had improved by the time they were settled into the hack. The message boy had found Gregor, and the cheerful coachman greeted Taya with enthusiasm and Cristof with respect. They jolted into motion. Cristof steadied his toolbag with one hand, stretching his legs across the narrow gap between their two facing seats.
"Where are we going?" Taya asked. "If you have work to do, I don't mind getting lunch on my own. I didn't mean to invite myself like that."
"No? I thought we'd go to that foreign restaurant you like. The Cabisi place. I didn't eat there the other night, so I thought I should try it today."
She smiled. "You have time?"
"My suspension is still in effect. In fact, this time they took away my lictor's papers to ensure it."
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right. I don't know what I'm going to do after this, anyway." He looked out the window, then flinched and looked back. Taya glanced out and saw that the hack was making its way down Cliff Road, revealing a sweeping vista and long drop. "I'll never be able to work as a spy again."
"You don't sound too upset about it."
He absently tapped his fingers on his toolbag. "I'll find something else to do."
She hesitated, but the opening was there, and she had to take it.
"Will you go up to live like an exalted again?"
"No." His answer was fast and firm. "I can't go back to a mask and robes anymore. Could you go back to working in a factory, after living like an icarus?"
"But that's different. I'd be giving up my freedom if I did that," she protested.
"And I'd be giving up my freedom if I covered myself again. You have no idea. It's not just the public restrictions, although those are bad enough. It's all the other rules and traditions and expectations. No… the Lady made a mistake when she incarnated me as an exalted. I'm not ready for it yet."
"Maybe the Lady wanted you in the caste for a reason," Taya suggested. "To make it more honest, or to shake up the traditions, or something like that. Maybe it's your duty to live like an exalted."
"Do you want me to go back?"
"No!" She looked at him and saw that he was serious, so she became serious, too. "But I want you to do what's right. If you have to go back to help your family, then you should."