The Phoenix Thief

THIRTY

TWO DAYS LATER, Kilter was seated in one of Eliva's old wheeled chairs before the mirror in his statehouse room. But instead of the brown-clad servants hovering around him like dazed moths, Catrío helped him button the cuffs of his jacket and combed his pale hair back from his forehead, where his scar showed up pink against his brown skin. He mostly watched her reflection move in the mirror, taking comfort in the familiarity of her movements and the way she was humming. It almost covered the noise of shouting, cheering, and music that, early as it was, had filled the in the streets beyond for hours already and made his heart beat fast. Then his grey eyes met those of his reflection.

Without flinching, he studied the bruised, leaner, older person he had become, and fingered the gold braid on his stand-up collar. This uniform wasn't grey. It was blue, blue as the sky, and a gleaming orange feather was stuck in the band of the cap sitting on his lap.

"There." Catrío finished combing his hair and put her hands on his shoulders, bending a little to bring her own face beside his. "Now you look the part, sir Chief Inventor!"

She, too, was dressed in sky blue, her skirts thick with red embroidered flowers and fawns like Nikori – who had been brought from the forest house and was now trying to eat the carpet in the corner. The color made her eyes look brighter as they sparkled in the candlelight. She fairly rustled with all the lace at her sleeves and on her petticoats, and though her braid was sleek and coiled up on her head, one little wisp in the back fell down in a gentle curl against her neck, stubborn to the end. Looking at her, Kilter couldn't help but smile.

"That's it!" She laughed. "You're about to help do something very important and wonderful that will help everyone in Istravol, and all the settlers, and very likely everybody else in the whole world! Ready?"

Kilter sighed at the thought of so many people. "No. But I want to help."

"Don't worry - Shev and I will stand right by you the whole time. You won't be alone. You don't ever have to be alone again, Kilter. Now let's go. I think if the cityfolk have to wait any longer to thank you they'll bust down the door."

Turning the wheeled chair away from the mirror, Catrío pushed it out of the bedroom and to the hall beyond. In the fall of morning sunlight through one of the nearest windows stood Shev and Nátala, he in a sky-blue uniform much like Kilter's and she in a white dress that fell down to her feet. He pale hair fell down over her shoulders in a mellow stream, but Shev's shone like fire in the sunlight. When they saw Kilter, they both smiled and Shev started towards him, supporting Nátala with an arm around her shoulders.

Prepared this time, Kilter slid his three fingers around Shev's metal ones when he offered them and shook, grip firm.

"How are you feeling?" Shev whispered as he nodded at Kilter's middle, where, underneath his clothes, was the bandage he'd worn for two weeks.

"I am healing." Kilter breathed deep carefully, to avoid straining his injured muscles, and smiled. "I am well."

"Good." It was Nátala who spoke, voice soft. Despite the fresh scar across her cheek, her lips curved gently upwards into a smile. "Very good."

Then a thunderous voice broke out further down the hallway.

"Ryosha! You're up!"

"Papa!" Catrío sang out, and the next moment she was whisked from Kilter's side and swung around in a circle by Pierstov. Vittela hurried up behind him, laughing.

Pierstov's beard was neatly trimmed, the fringe on his leather coat neat, and his boots polished, but Vittela looked almost like a walking bunch of flowers with ribbons in her hair and skirts swirled with embroidery. She put a ruffle of long ribbons behind one of Catrío's ears then crouched down to kiss Kilter's cheek.