"Icarus, unless you have clearance to talk to this prisoner, you should leave," the lictor said, giving her an acrimonious look.
"Can you tell me anything else about them?" Taya asked quickly, in Demican.
"I think they found somebody to sell them the weapons they wanted. Bombs. They were very pleased." The Demican shrugged. "Bombs are no better than guns. They are both cowardly ways to kill."
The lictor was standing, one hand dropping to the pistol at her belt. Taya hopped backward on her crutches.
"I agree," she said, in Demican, then added in Ondinium, "I'm leaving, I'm leaving."
"What was that about?" the woman asked, her expression full of suspicion.
"Spirits, scavengers, and guns." Taya glanced at the woman's weapon. "Demicans think firearms are a coward's weapon."
"I don't give a damn what Demicans think."
"No reason why you should." Taya nodded to the prisoner, then limped out, feeling the back of her neck crawl under the lictor's glare.
Gregor helped her back into the coach.
"Do you know of a bar with a red door in Slagside?" Taya asked, setting her crutches by her. Gregor leaned in the coach door, frowning.
"Slagside, is it? There ain't much call for hacks down there, even where the roads would be wide enough for one. You've no desire to go there, now, do you?"
"Actually, I do." Taya sighed. "Do you know anyone else who's familiar with Slagside?"
"No, not a one." Gregor shrugged. "People who pass their time in Slagside ain't people I'd care to count as friends. Smugglers, thieves, and cutthroats all."
"Surely not all of them."
"Enough of ‘em for it to be a bad place for an outsider to visit. A pretty girl on crutches, especially, don't you think?"
"How about the Pickled Thalassonaut?"
"The only danger you'll be facing there is being bored to death," Gregor said, chuckling. "Be that our next stop, then?"
"If you don't mind. And I'll pay for your meal there, too, because I'll probably be there a while."
"Fine with me. Bolt and I could use a rest, the two of us could." Gregor closed the door and climbed back to the driver's seat.
Chapter Sixteen
Taya found Alister's programming team, with the notable and worrisome exception of Kyle, desultorily arguing about a new program and keeping a close eye on the door. She left Gregor to tend Bolt and joined their table. It didn't escape her that the other programmers in the bar were watching Alister's team with open suspicion. Alister might have cleared the team's reputation with the lictors, but not in the court of public opinion.
Minding Cristof's request to avoid telling them about Kyle's possible kidnapping, Taya filled them in on everything else she'd learned.
"Slagside, huh?" Victor asked, his eyes narrowing. "Dangerous place."
"It's not much of a lead," she admitted, "but it might be worth looking into."
"Give me half an hour." The programmer stood, then stopped. Taya followed his gaze and saw Pyke and Cassi walking in, holding her armature and flight suit.
"You got it!" Taya leaped to her feet, then dropped back into her chair again with a wince. "Ouch."
"Yeah." Pyke was staring at Victor. For a moment the two men held each other's gaze, and then the icarus looked away, maneuvering the floating armature through the tavern to her table. "I signed out for it, too, so if you break it again, I'm the one who has to answer to my uncle."
"I won't break it," Taya promised, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.
"Better not." He grinned at her.
"Watch it," a programmer at another table growled, ducking Cassi's wings as she maneuvered around to join them. "This isn't a bird bar."
"Mouth off to me and you'll never get a letter again, punch jockey," Cassi warned him, leaning on the back of Taya's chair. She addressed her friend. "We're off work now."
"Good. Sit down." Taya made the introductions, then stood to inspect her armature. The programmer at the table behind them snarled and moved. Cassi put a leather-booted foot on his table and shoved it several feet away from them to give their wings more clearance.
"We've met," Pyke said, nodding to Victor.
"Taya was asking about a bar in Slagside." Victor paused. "If we're heading down there, I thought Scuro might be useful."
"You're friends with him?"
"We've had a few drinks together."
"I'd like to get to know him better. He's got interesting things to say about technological colonization."
"Did you hear him last week?"
"You mean his talk about the Cabisi?"
"Oh, Lady save us, they're conspirators," Cassi groaned. "If you two are going to talk spook stuff, do it outside."
"I'm so glad somebody else thinks that stuff is way outside normal operating parameters," Isobel said, reaching across the table and offering her hand. "If you get Victor started on politics, he'll rant for hours."
"Pyke's the same way," Cassi said, shaking hands with her.
"Pyke!" Taya said. "There's a hack outside, driven by a man named Gregor. He can take you and Victor on my tab, if you've got a long way to go."
Pyke nodded, deep in conversation with the dour programmer.
"I wonder where they're off to," Emelie said as they walked off together. "We don't need any more political trouble."
"Politics is always trouble," Lars muttered, with his chin on his fist.
Cassi waved to the bartender for another pitcher. Meanwhile, Taya tethered her floating armature to a table leg and inspected her flight suit. The physicians had exacerbated the damage Cristof had started, slicing the suit's leg open to help her out of it the day before.
"Do you think this can be fixed?" she asked, fingering the tear.
"Probably not." Cassi poured her a beer. "But as long as you aren't going airborne, a torn leg won't matter."
"I guess not." Taya sighed, running a hand over the oiled leather. "I liked this suit, though."
"Get the top cut into a jacket." Cassi grinned and stroked the fur draped over the back of Taya's chair. "Then I can borrow this."
"So, why are you here, anyway?" Emelie asked, in a challenging tone.
"Taya said we might be able to help you find the you-know-what," Cassi replied. "And I've never been in here before. It never hurts to try out a new bar."
"They carry an interesting liquor from Tizier," Isobel volunteered. "None of these other wretches will drink it. It's a kind of a spicy, anise-flavored rum."
"Wow." Cassi made a face. "Is it as bad as it sounds?"
"Worse."
"How much does it cost?"
"I don't understand why Kyle hasn't shown up yet," Lars sighed. Taya turned to him as Cassi and Isobel continued talking. "Do you think Vic was right? Could he have been working with the thieves?"
"All Victor said was that Kyle was a suspect," Taya corrected him. She wanted to tell him about Amcathra's suggestion, but she forced herself to stay silent. "Kyle struck me as an honest, responsible man. I don't think he is a spy."
"No, but I would have said that about Alister, too. I was thinking…."
"What?"
"What if Kyle got there before me and ran into them? Maybe they did something to him."
Taya tightened her hands around her metal tankard until her knuckles were white.
"If they did," she said, choosing her words with care, "he'd be too valuable to hurt. Anyone who wants an engine will want a programmer."
"Yeah, that's true." The big man looked thoughtful. "And Kyle's smart enough to let them know that, too. So if the lictors find the engine—"
"They might find Kyle, too. If the thieves have him. But he could be someplace else, couldn't he? Visiting family, or a girlfriend or something?" Taya echoed Cristof's words.