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"You did that on purpose, she accused, bouncing the ball into the circle for the next player.
"Just testing you, weren't I? he replied, cheerfully.
The little girl's head snapped up from the circle and she looked down the street.  Clockite's back!"
Moving fast, the two boys swept up the remaining markers. Taya grabbed her three pennies before the
oldest snatched them up he gave her an unrepentant smirk and turned. The three children flung
themselves on top of the steps again.
Cristof's steps slowed as he drew nearer.
Even after meeting him twice, Taya couldn't help but feel an odd jolt as she compared his castemark to
his naked face and simple garments. The outcaste was dressed much as he'd been last night, in a dark
suit and greatcoat. He held a paper-wrapped bundle in the crook of one arm. The autumn wind played
through his defiantly short hair, making it stand up in dark, uneven chunks that emphasized how poorly it
had been cut.
He glanced at her, then fixed his gaze on the three children who stood in a line between him and his shop
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door. His expression was disapproving as he peered at them from over the top of his wire-rimmed
spectacles.
"What are you three loathsome brats doing on my stairs? he demanded.
Taya drew in an indignant breath, but her protest died as she saw that none of the children were upset
by the outcaste's words.
"We cleaned  em for you, din't we? the girl piped up.
"Did you? Cristof took a step forward and looked past the children. His expression as he gazed at the
steps down to his shop door was one of profound disgust.  Am I to consider that clean?"
"Uh-huh. The girl squatted, her ragged smock pooling around her feet, and wiped her hand over the
step. She held it up.  See, no dirt!"
Taya bit her bottom lip. The girl's palm was filthy, just as hers were, from playing pick-up on the street.
But the shop steps, although stained, were free from the loose layer of ash that covered so much of the
rest of the street.
"I see. Cristof gave the boys a skeptical look.  I suppose you two made your sister do all the work."
"Nope. We got three brooms. The youngest boy pointed to the twig brooms stacked at the bottom of
the steps.  We all took a turn, din't we?"
"And you all expect to be rewarded for it, no doubt."
"Fair's fair, the boy declared.
Cristof turned his relentless gaze on the oldest boy.
"Nothing to say for yourself?"
"Sixpence for sweeping, then, and one for keeping your customer here while you was gone, the boy
replied smartly, jerking a thumb at Taya.
"I doubt she's a customer, Cristof muttered. He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of
coins, counting two pennies into each boy's hand and three into the girl's.
"Thank you, sir.  Thank you, Mister Clockite.  See you tomorrow, sir!"
The three grabbed their brooms and hustled off, waving to Taya. She waved back and turned to Cristof.
"Mister Clockite?"
His gaze narrowed, then he turned and headed down the steps.
"Jessica has trouble pronouncing her r's, he muttered.
"I think it's cute, exalted. They don't call you by your title?"
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"I get enough titling from the adults around here. He fumbled with his keys. Taya lifted the bundle from
his arm, smelling sausage and pickles. He grunted and unlocked the door, pushing it open and flipping the
Closed sign to Open. The jangle of ticking and whirring greeted them as they stepped inside the shop's
dim interior.
"What do you want? he demanded, turning and retrieving his lunch.  Where are your wings?"
"I'm off duty today. Taya was suddenly reluctant to ask him about the night before. Cristof's little
charade on the steps had made her doubt her suspicions. Loathsome brats, indeed. She went on the
offensive, instead.  Why are you so rude to those children?"
"Because I'm a rude person. He pushed aside a large schematic, clearing a spot on the table. Then he
unwrapped his bundle, pulling back layers of increasingly greasy paper until he revealed the sausage and
pickles she'd smelled, and a hunk of pale cheese. Taya's stomach growled. All she'd had for breakfast
had been tea. She made a mental note to buy lunch before heading back to the eyrie.
Cristof walked out of the room through the curtains in back.
Taya unbuttoned her coat and looked around. The jeweled birds were back in place, floating on the little
pieces of string that tied them to a shelf. The shop shutters were open, but very little light came through
the sooty window panes.
She cocked her head to read the schematic Cristof had shoved aside. It looked like a map of the city
sectors.
She reached out and tugged it right-side-up.
It was a wireferry map, showing all the lines that ran from sector to sector and up to Oporphyr Tower.
Symbols had been jotted all over it in pencil.
She leaned closer, worried. Was one of those marks over the vandalized spot?
Cristof returned with two tin cups and a short, dark bottle. Taya straightened and pulled her hand back.
Ignoring her, the exalted broke off the bottle's wax top and set the cups on the table.
"It's a stout, he said, pouring.
Taya gave him another look, not certain what to make of the implicit offer.
"Thank you, she said at last. Even an ill-tempered outcaste couldn't object to good manners.
He handed her the drink without a word and poured for himself. She cradled the tin cup between her
hands, watching. He had a deft hand with the bottle and knew how to keep the frothy head thin as he
poured. She wouldn't have expected any bartending skills from an exalted who'd been raised with
servants to bring him the very best wines and liqueurs. But maybe lower-caste tastes came with a
lower-caste residence.
He finished pouring and looked up.
"I'm still waiting for you to tell me what you want. His voice was edgy.  Unless you have a watch to be
repaired, I can't imagine what business we have together." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]