Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,114

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She scooped up all the papers, folded them, and stuffed them into her pockets.

Clef moaned, a sound suggesting both pain and epiphany.

he said dreamily.

Then her head lit up with agony.

* * *

It was like the world was dissolving, like a meteor had struck the earth, like the walls had been turned to ash and cinder…She was still in the office, still standing next to that sleeping girl, but there was a hot coal in her brain, burning it away, scorching the walls of her skull. She opened her mouth in silent pain and was surprised when smoke didn’t come pouring out.

Sancia fell to her knees and vomited. It’s the lexicon spiking, she tried to tell herself. That’s all it is…You’re just…sensitive to it…

Clef cried out joyously:

She felt warmth running down her face, and saw drops of blood on the floor below her.

said Clef.

Images leaked into her mind. The dusty smell of the office faded, and she smelled…

Desert hills. Cool night breezes.

Then she heard the hiss of sand, and the sound of millions of wings, and she was gone.

* * *

Berenice peered through the spyglass, watching for Sancia. The girl had abruptly sunk to the ground and fallen out of view—which seemed odd.

What is she doing? Why isn’t she getting out of there?

Then nausea hit her—a familiar sensation for her.

They’re spinning up the lexicon, she thought. Activating more scrivings. And maybe it’s done something to Sancia.

She watched for a moment, then glassed the big, open area beyond the office. She saw glints of metal, and realized guards in scrived armor were walking at a quick pace—not on patrol, then. They were looking for something. And they seemed to be heading straight for Sancia.

“Shit,” she whispered. She looked back at the office. She still couldn’t see Sancia. “Oh, shit.”

* * *

Sancia was no longer in the office, no longer in the foundry or the campo or even in Tevanne. She was gone from that place.

Now she stood atop creamy yellow sand dunes, the pale pink moon hanging fat and heavy in the sky. And standing on the dune across from her was…

A man. Or something man-shaped, facing away from her.

He was wrapped in black cloth, every inch of his body, his neck and face and feet. He wore a short black cloak that went down to about mid-thigh, and his arms and hands were lost in its folds. Next to the man-thing was a curious, ornate golden box, about three feet high and four feet long.

She knew this thing, she knew the box. She recognized them.

I can’t let him see me, she thought.

She heard a sound coming from somewhere in the sky…the sound of so many wings, tiny and delicate, like a giant flock of butterflies.

The man-thing’s head twitched ever so slightly, like he’d heard something. The sound of flapping wings grew louder.

No, she thought. No, no…

Then the man-thing rose up, just a touch, floating a foot above the dunes, and hung there, suspended in the night air.

* * *

Berenice stared through the spyglass as the guards got closer and closer. She had to do something, to warn Sancia or wake her somehow, or at least distract the guards.

She looked around. She had quite a few more rigs on her person, of course—when Berenice Grimaldi prepared, she did so with enthusiasm—but she’d never have imagined preparing for this.

Then she spied a possibility: there was a massive globe light just outside the southwest corner of the foundry, standing on a tall, iron pole, about forty feet high. It probably lit up the main entrance when the foundry was running.

She did some calculations. Then she pulled out her fusing wand and ran over to it.

I scrumming hope this works.

* * *

The man-thing hung in the air above the dunes across from Sancia, silent and still. Then the sands started to swirl around him, undulating in smooth rings as if being