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like that. I know you hate it. I know you hate yourself.”
    â€œBut I keep doing it.” His laugh was choked. “I can’t even figure out why. It’s not even for money.”
    â€œNo. It’s never that straightforward. I understand that much. You’re not the only one who’s stained, Broderick.”
    She caught his steady sidelong glance. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
    â€œI can. I think you’d understand more than anyone. More than Grandmother, even.” Over the sprawl of the city, distant airships almost blended in with the clouds. “About the time of armistice last year, a man moved onto our tenement roof. He was badly scarred on his face and wore a mask. We all took to calling him Pigeon Man because he lived up with the birds. He came down to our flat most every day to buy bread from Mama.”
    Pigeon Man never said his true name. He never acted like he’d known Mama so many years before. He and Mama would have been so young back then—­younger than Rivka was now. And the war had changed him. Those changes seeped far deeper than the burns across his face.
    â€œPigeon Man told me he wanted me to construct something for him. He had to gather the parts first. Weeks later, I was out on rounds when our building caught fire. Mama . . . hundreds of others . . .”
    She drew quiet. Broderick said nothing. Even the wind slowed down to listen.
    â€œPigeon Man found me near the wreckage. He said he didn’t think the materials would be that volatile on their own.” Seeing Broderick’s confusion, she continued, “I didn’t know until then that what he wanted me to make was a bomb. He had stored the components on the roof.”
    â€œYou didn’t cause it, then. You hadn’t done a thing!”
    â€œI know that. Most of the time,” she said, purposefully echoing his words. “Pigeon Man never acted sorry for what had happened. More . . . inconvenienced. Out of nowhere, he offered me a bakery to manage. He’d just won it by betting on a game of Warriors. I said yes, because it had always been Mama’s dream to have a shop of her own and not work out of the flat. Besides, where else could I go?”
    She couldn’t say more, and not simply because of the tightness in her throat, or that the cold had shifted from being brisk to being painful. She couldn’t describe the months after, her numbness, his sneers, the beatings, the horror at finding out Pigeon Man—­Devin Stout—­was actually her blood father.
    Rivka and Broderick stared out on Tamarania City. The roundabout below was packed with steam cars and automated cycles, and few horses and wagons. Mr. Cody had said something about Rivka sounding like ­people who had worked to save horses. She wondered what he meant.
    Miss Leander had saved Rivka from Mr. Stout. Now Rivka needed to save Lump and the other gremlins in turn. It was only right.
    She looked at Broderick. “What Tatiana was saying yesterday, about Miss Leander helping with your training. I know Miss Leander, too. I think she would help you, if possible, but Tatiana can’t make any guarantee. She uses ­people. She used me, us, from the very start so she could find some way to become a jockey.” The words tasted foul in her mouth.
    â€œI understand.” Broderick slowly nodded. “I appreciate your honesty. I envy you, your strength. The way you stood up to Mr. Cody.”
    She said nothing. “ You’re not strong, rabbit. Just a weakling, ugly girl. Leave such work for men. ”
    â€œNo one stands up to Miss Arfetta or Mr. Cody,” continued Broderick. “You did.”
    â€œThere you two are!” Tatiana’s high voice rang out. Rivka spun around. Tatiana stalked toward them. “Rivka, you need to come back downstairs. That chimera—­Lump—­is awake and he’s growling if I step near the