The Phoenix Thief

FOURTEEN

IT WAS SLOW WORK, salvaging the Girl for parts Kilter could use to build the Model Twelve. First, he wouldn't be able to get out to the carriage house until after he'd dressed, eaten breakfast, and helped Catrío feed Nikori and all the birds. Then, because Shev had begun leaving the house at odd times and stayed away for hours at a time, he'd have to cross the courtyard on foot instead of being carried. The wheeled chair didn't work well on the snow, so Catrío helped him across to the carriage-house door, holding his arm to keep him from slipping. Then Catrío would be feeding and milking the goats for a while. By the time she finished with that, most of the morning hours were already gone and Kilter would have only a short while alone before Catrío interrupted him again with more food.

"I'm not hungry," he told her on the fifth day when she came in with a tray, a cloth draped over it to keep the snow off.

She set the tray on a nearby trunk that held a jumble of leather straps and metal rings and buckles that she called horse tack, and put her hands on her hips. "When a human or animal goes off their feed, it's a sure sign they're sick. And I only just got you looking less like a walking skeleton! You eat this food right now while I watch, or I am not going to leave you alone for the rest of the day."

Kilter opened his mouth to protest, but Catrío sat down beside the tray and crossed her arms over her chest. "Eat."

Kilter looked down at the fistful of thin cables he was detangling, and then at the heap of Gearfalcon machinery he had yet to sift through. On his other side, his sorted piles of gears, folded canvas, and screws reminded him so strongly of Dmal that he shifted himself a little so that his body blocked most of them from Catrío's sight. He hadn't told her anything about Dmal. Somehow even having her see something that reminded him of the old man felt exposing, like he was a rat that had been flipped onto its back by a hunting stray.

Pulling the last of one cable free from the tangle, he coiled it and set it down between two piles of screws. Behind him, Catrío sighed.

"Kilter? Kilter, I know the Gearfalcon is really important to you, and I know it hurt to have it broken so badly, but... but please, can't I be in here while you work? I could help you."

He remembered how quickly and lightly her fingers flickered over the keys of the harpsichord, how well she read the pages of the notebook, and how strong she was when holding down Nikori when he flailed whenever his bandages were changed. But then he remembered Shev's slitted eyeholes and the hollow echo of the metal-man's chest. He couldn't let Catrío help him make the Model Twelve.

"I don't need help."

Startled by how hard his pulse was throbbing in his chest, he picked up the notebook from his lap and flipped the pages, pretending to look for something. Catrío sighed again.

"First Shev gets all restless and irritable like he does every winter, and goes off wandering by himself at any and all times of the day or night, and now you just want to be left alone, too."

Kilter heard the rustle of her skirts as she got to her feet. A moment later she appeared in the corner of his eye, headed towards the carriage house door. She reached for the door handle, head bent.

"Just... eat your lunch, please," she said quietly.

Kilter twisted around to face her. "It's not you, Catrío. I like you. But I have to be alone to do this. I need to."

She stood by the door for a moment, looking at him over her shoulder. Then she opened the door and let the daylight, brightened by reflecting off the snow, turn her into a dark silhouette.