just tore them down and paved over them. No one thought much about what was underneath, until they started digging the tunnels. Most of the crypts and basements have gotten flooded out—but this one is in fairly good condition.”
Sancia followed her in. The crypt was large, with a big, round, central chamber, and several smaller, narrow wings splitting off from it. “How’d you find it?”
“Someone once traded us jewelry for rigs,” said Claudia. “The jewelry was old and branded with a family crest—and one of us realized it’d had to come from a family grave. We went looking, and found this.”
“We hole up here only when we’ve really pissed off a merchant house,” said Gio. “And it sounds like you lot have done exactly that. So—this should work nicely.”
“So…” said Berenice, staring around. “We’re going to be scriving…and working…and, for a while, living…in a crypt. With…bones.”
“Well, if you’re really going to try to break into the Mountain, then you’re probably going to wind up dead anyway,” said Gio. “Maybe this will help you get used to it.”
Orso had found a hole in the vaulted ceiling. “Does this go up to the surface?”
“Yeah,” said Claudia. “To let heat out if you’re doing any minor forging or smelting.”
“Excellent. Then this should work quite well!” said Orso.
Gregor was leaning over a large stone sarcophagus with a caved-in lid. He peered through the gap at the remains below. “Will it,” he said flatly.
“Yes,” said Orso. He rubbed his hands. “Let’s get to work!”
said Clef.
said Clef.
said Clef.
* * *
Once they’d gotten the lay of things, Orso waited out in the tunnel, staring out at the shantytowns beyond. Greasy campfires and thick, black smoke crawled across the surface of the Gulf. The smoke turned the starlit sky into a dull smear.
Berenice emerged from the crypt and joined him. “I’ll make the requisitions now, sir,” she said. “We should be able to move in and get everything ready to start work tomorrow night.”
Orso said nothing. He just stared out at the Gulf and the Commons beyond.
“Is something the matter, sir?” she asked.
“I didn’t think it would be like this, you know,” he said. “Twenty, thirty years ago, when I first started working for Tribuno…We all genuinely thought we were going to make the world a better place. End poverty. End slavery. We thought we could rise above all the ugly human things that held the world back, and…and…Well. Here I am. Standing in a sewer, paying a bunch of rogues and renegades to break into the place where I used to live.”
“Might I ask, sir,” said Berenice, “if you could change anything—what would it be?”
“Hell, I don’t know. I suppose if I thought I had a chance, I’d start my own merchant house.”
“Really, sir?” she said.
“Sure. It’s not like there’s any law forbidding it. You just have to file papers with the Tevanni council. But no one bothers anymore. Everyone knows the four prime houses would crush you instantly if you tried. There used to be dozens when I was young…and now, only four, and four forever, it seems.” He sighed. “I’ll be back tomorrow evening, Berenice. If I’m still alive, that is. Good night.”
She watched as he strolled down the tunnel and slipped out the iron grate. Her words echoed faintly after him: “Good night, sir.”
* * *
“This is nuts,” whispered Claudia in the dark. “It’s insane. It’s madness, Sancia!”
“It’s lucrative,” said Sancia. “And keep your voice down.”
Claudia peered down the warrens of the crypt, and confirmed they were alone. “You’ve got him on you now, don’t you?” she asked. “Don’t you?”
“I told you to forget about him,” said Sancia.
Claudia miserably rubbed her face. “Even if you didn’t have Clef, this is beyond foolish! How can you trust these people?”
“I don’t,” said Sancia. “Not Orso at least. Berenice is…well, normal, but she reports to Orso. And Gregor…Well, Gregor seems…” She struggled for the right word. She was unused to complimenting men of the law. “Decent.”
“Decent? Decent? Don’t you know who he is? And I don’t mean him being Ofelia’s son!”
“Then what?”
Claudia sighed. “There was a fortress city in the Daulo states, called