The Phoenix Thief

SEVENTEEN

AS SHEV STEPPED into the carriage house, the Phoenix faded to a softer glow more like that of the moon. Though it seemed to be pure white, its feathers glimmered green, pink, and yellow with each movement, shimmering like the fire in the sky had. Kilter and Catrío stood and stared with their mouths open. With slow steps, Shev crossed over to them. When he halted, the Phoenix turned its curving neck and fixed an eye as deep blue as the night sky on them and, ruffling its feathers like Mavora, it gave a soft, trilling sigh. Catrío gasped, and Kilter's pulse churned in his chest, just as his father's had. He pressed his palm against his chest.

Heartbeat – So that is what it's called. His chest shook under his fingers as he fixed the new word into his mind. Heart.

But he couldn't concentrate on that. The painfully beautiful creature that had so suddenly appeared before him was the thing his parents, and Catrío's, had risked themselves for, what he'd been sent to find, what Dmal's life depended on, what the Chancellor wanted to use – like black, dead coal – to power his machines.

Tears leapt to his eyes. He couldn't look. He couldn't bear it. Pressing a hand over his mouth to keep his lips from trembling, he dropped his gaze from the glittering splendor of the Phoenix. But Catrío approached Shev, one hand extended.

"The real Phoenix! You're not much like the pictures in my book at all. They don't do you justice, not one bit. You're not a weak little parrot – you've got more cock, eagle, and pea-fowl about you than anything else. Look at your pinions – and that crest!"

The Phoenix trilled at her again, bobbing its head to touch her fingertip with its beak. Her skin glowed at the touch.

"Oh!" She couldn't talk for a moment, but then the words burst out of her again. "Oh, I have so many questions! Are you really a star, or do you fly so high in the sky you just look like one? Why do you only come every twelve years? Is the sky-fire really only fire?"

Shev held up his hand, showing a scribbled-on slip of paper, and Catrío, stopping in the middle of another question, took it. The carriage house fell silent. Then Catrío looked up, eyes narrowed.

"You're going to tell me what happened to you? I think I already know. You were the son of the Chancellor of Istravol, weren't you?"

The patches of rust on Shev's joints had spread, and he had several new scratches and dents. He squeaked and groaned louder than usual when he pointed at the scrap of paper in Catrío's hand, and then made a motion as if he were writing.

With a huff, Catrío reached in the pocket of her trouser and pulled out a little pad of parchment, which, like the buttons, needles, feathers, and other small things, she must have been carrying around out of habit. She handed it to Shev, as well as one of the burnt-black wooden stubs she and Kilter had used to mark measurements on the canvas and wood. Shev began writing, bent over the task, and the Phoenix looked up from the metal-man at last. Kilter became keenly aware of his heart, again.

During Catrío and Shev's conversation, he had struggled harder and harder to keep his breathing steady and tears from gathering in his eyes, and now, quite suddenly, the Phoenix leapt from Shev's shoulder to Kilter's with a soundless swoop. Kilter staggered with surprise. The Phoenix's feet were clearly curved around his shoulder, and he could feel them, but he felt no weight, only a close warmth sliding over him to settle in his chest and stomach. It was so curious, for something so big and supposedly powerful to feel like it weighed nothing at all.

Nearby, Shev was squeaking again, gesturing for the parchment and pencil stub. He quickly wrote a few words then held the parchment out to Catrío again, and Kilter tore his eyes from the Phoenix's brilliant plumage to look at her.