The Phoenix Thief

TEN

KILTER'S FIRST THOUGHT upon waking was that, at last, he was warm. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a large bed, the light glowing off the ceiling above him. Then he lowered his eyes and caught sight of the bandage wound about his am, and his memories all came crashing back. Panicking, he lifted the blanket with his uninjured hand and looked down at his legs. They were covered by a pair of brown trousers, but there was something else on his right leg, too. The trouser leg was rolled up, and below his brown knee the limb was encased with strips of white fabric that bound two smooth, flattened pieces of wood onto either side of it.

Lifting the blanket allowed cooler air to slide across his bare chest, though, so he let it drop down over him again. Then he jolted with surprise.

Catrío was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, a pile of fabric on her lap.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up." She held up the thing she was working on. It was a wide-sleeved shirt much like her own, embroidered along the cuffs and neckline with yellow, grey, and blue. "Shev brought you clothes, like I told you he would, but they don't fit you quite right. The trousers should work once he finds a belt, as well, but this shirt is much too big for you. We tried putting it on you before, but it just hung off you like you were a laundry post. You're not very big, are you? I thought men were more Shev's size, seeing as he's a suit of armor that's designed for men to wear."

Kilter's mind was so crowded with frantic questions he found it hard to look at her straight. Finally, he managed one.

"He is?"

Catrío nodded, returning her focus to her needle and thread. "Some sort of suit of armor. He looks like the ones in the hall, yes, but he's not like them, too, for obvious reasons. I think he's an automaton, or some kind of machine, and yet he's more than anything one of those could be. I don't quite understand it, for I've never come across any accounts of suits of armor moving about as he does. But what he is isn't as important as who he is. He's my friend." She glanced up from her stitching to smile at Kilter, cheeks dimpling. "He says he found me out in the snow, just like he found you, and brought me here when I was very little."

"Says?" Metal things, Kilter knew, could make a lot of noise, but they couldn't talk.

"Well, not exactly. He writes it out."

"Writes?"

"Goodness, what are you, a parrot?" Catrío laughed.

There were too many new words. Kilter's head buzzed. "Parrot?"

Catrío looked up to fix her bright blue eyes on Kilter again. "You don't know about writing, or parrots?" She frowned. "What do you know about?"

Her voice held none of Kolas' impatience, or the Chancellor's hardness, and Kilter ventured to look at her again as he pulled the blankets closer to his chin. She was studying him with her head tilted to one side, so that a wisp of hair that'd fallen out of the pile at her neck hung down across her cheek. But it wasn't an angry frown, or a frightened one. Kilter sat up, wincing as a flicker of pain told him his leg was far from better.

Kilter looked at his arms, brown against the white fabric of the blankets, with the scars running across them in rough streaks.

"You don't know anything about me. You want to know. Yes?" he said quietly.

"Well, obviously." Catrío laughed. "Like I said yesterday, you're the first person I've ever met. Shev told me there are other people out there, somewhere, and I read all about them, too, but that's entirely different than actually meeting one. And I'm sorry if I do anything rude. I really don't know how to talk to other people, so please correct me if I do something wrong."