Excerpt 2 (Contains Spoilers for Clockwork Heart)

Steampunk, Clockwork Heart Sequel, NaNoWriMo

(Caveat: Anything I write during National Novel Writing Month is subject to significant change or deletion during the longer editing phase to follow! So don’t get too invested in any scene I quote here … this is “rough draft” at its roughest!

… Also, if you haven’t read Clockwork Heart, the text below contains SPOILERS.) 

“Your husband is leaving with Lt. Amcathra,” Rikard said, stepping inside at Taya’s call.

Taya looked up from the book she’d promised Cassie and registered the young lictor’s scarf and gloves, as well as the air rifle slung over his back.

“Where’s he going?” she asked, carefully marking her place and closing the volume. She made a mental note to tuck it away before Cristof visited her suite. She wasn’t sure what his reaction would be if he picked it up and read a few pages, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t be good for his delicate constitution.

“Lt. Amcathra has made inquiries in Grimaucourt and discovered that a man was murdered the night before you were poisoned. He informed the exalted that he was going to the morgue to inspect the body. The exalted insisted upon accompanying him.”

“Insisted?” Taya blew out a resigned breath. Cristof had been itching to leave the mansion since yesterday, even though Lord Pomeroy’s physician was insisting they rest. “I’ll bet your uncle was thrilled by that.”

“My uncle asked if perhaps the entire delegation would like to join them.”

Taya smiled, hearing Amcathra’s sour expression in Rikard’s words.

“What did Cris say?”

“The exalted said he believed the mercates were still in conference, but he thought you might be interested.”

“A trip to the morgue. How could I resist?” Still, Taya threw off her blanket with a sense of eagerness. Staying cooped up in the delegation’s wing of the mansion hadn’t been keeping her amused, either, now that she was starting to feel a little more steady on her feet. She padded across the room in her socks and opened the wardrobe. No dress for the morgue. She pulled out her flight suit and boots. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Rikard nodded and stepped outside. Taya dressed with practiced speed, then paused and laid a hand longingly on the metal wings and armature that floated next to the wardrobe. The tips of the wings lightly touched the plaster ceiling, but heavy iron chains and fetters had been wrapped around the arm struts and keel bars, locking the armature to the heavy furniture around it.

“Soon,” she promised herself, then grabbed her own scarf and gloves and hurried out, locking the door behind her. A lictor had been stationed at the hall entrance ever since she’d fallen ill two days ago. She wouldn’t need to find someone to guard the room in her absence.

The wind in the courtyard was cold and sharp, but the sky was clear and the sun bright. Cristof was already in the carriage, masked, the gold thread and jewels in his robes glittering. Taya slid inside next to him. Amcathra swung in on the opposite seat. Rikard closed the door and Taya heard him climbing up to sit next to the driver.

She checked to make sure the curtains were closed as Cristof fumbled for his mask, and then untied it for him.

“I’m glad you decided to join us,” he exclaimed, leaning over to kiss her as soon as the mask was off. “I don’t know if the hospital workers speak Ondinium.”

“Oh, is that why you asked?” She pulled away and gave him a withering look. “I thought you wanted my company.”

He blinked, then colored. “Well, of course. That, ah, goes without saying.”

“Apparently.” She dropped the mask in his lap to indicate her displeasure.

drupagliassotti @ November 15, 2008