Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,167

Berenice!” said Orso. “It’s been seven hours, and we’ve seen neither hide nor hair of Sancia or Gregor! No messages, no communications, nothing! And the Candiano campo is suddenly completely shut down! Something has gone wrong. And I’ve no interest in sticking around to see what.”

“But…but we just can’t leave Tevanne!” said Berenice, pacing back and forth across the crypt.

“I could,” said Gio. The two Scrappers were obviously terrified. They were far more vulnerable than two campo scrivers.

“Maybe instead of paying us,” said Claudia, “you can pay for our passage out of here.”

“We can’t abandon Sancia and Gregor!” said Berenice. “We can’t leave the imperiat in Tomas Ziani’s hands! A man like that…Think of the damage he could do!”

“I am thinking of that,” said Orso. “I can’t stop thinking about it! That’s why I want to get the hell out of here! And as for Sancia and Gregor…”

Berenice stopped and glared at him. “Yes?”

Orso grimaced. “They made their choice. They knew the risks. We all did. Some wind up lucky, and others don’t. We’re survivors of all this, Berenice. The wisest thing to do is just keep surviving.”

She heaved a great sigh. “To think of us hopping aboard a ship and sneaking away in the dead of night…”

“What else are we supposed to do?” said Orso. “We’re just some scrivers, girl! We can’t design our way out of this! The idea is preposterous! Anyways, Sancia and Gregor are smart people, maybe they can find their own way ou—”

They froze as they heard the stone door roll away in the crypt passage beyond. This was troubling—because only Gio had the key, and that was currently sitting in his pocket.

They looked at one another, alarmed. Orso held a finger to his lips. He stood, grabbed a wrench, and gingerly approached the opening of the passageway. He paused—he could hear slow footsteps approaching.

He swallowed, took a breath, and screamed and leapt in front of the passageway, wrench raised over his head.

He skidded to a stop. Standing before him, grim and stone-faced, was a wet, filthy, bloody Sancia Grado.

“Holy hell,” said Orso.

“Sancia!” cried Berenice. She ran to her, but stopped a few feet away. “My…my God. What happened to you?”

Sancia had not yet seemed to notice either of them—she was just staring into the middle distance. But at these words, she slowly blinked and looked at Berenice, meeting her eyes. “What?” she said faintly.

They stared at her. She had a slash on her head, cuts on her forearms, a bruise on her cheek, and crusts of dried blood all over her face and neck…but the worst part about her was her eyes. One eye remained the same, the usual white with dark brown, but the other eye, her right, was flooded with red. It was like she’d received some fierce blow to the side of her head, one that had almost killed her.

Sancia exhaled, then said in a croaking voice, “What a lovely sight you are, Berenice.”

Berenice blushed hugely, turning bright crimson.

“What the hell happened?” demanded Orso. “Where have you been?” He looked at the open door to the crypt. “And how the hell did you get in?”

“I need to sit down,” said Sancia softly. “And I need a drink.”

Berenice helped her into a chair while Gio opened a bottle of cane wine. “Don’t bother with a glass,” whispered Sancia. He popped it open, handed it over to her, and she took a huge swig.

“You look, my girl,” Gio said, “like the shepherd who climbed the mount and saw God’s face in the skies.”

“You’re…not quite wrong there,” she said darkly.

“What happened to you, Sancia?” asked Orso. “What did you see?”

She started talking.

* * *

At some point, the words just ran out. A long, long silence stretched on. And while Berenice, Gio, and Claudia looked pale and shaken, Orso looked like he was about to vomit.

He carefully cleared his throat. “So,” he said. “A…hierophant.”

“Yeah,” said Sancia.

He nodded, trembling. “Estelle Candiano,” he said. “Formerly Ziani…”

“Yes,” said Sancia.

“Was, in some way, behind all of this from the start…”

“Yeah.”

“And now she has murdered her husband…”

“Yeah.”

“And she now intends to become…one of the ancient ones.” Orso spoke like saying the words aloud would make them make more sense.

“I guess it wouldn’t be that ancient if she’s doing it right now,” said Sancia. “But yeah. That’s the sum of it.” She bowed her head. “And Gregor…I think Gregor’s dead. And she has Clef. She has everything. Clef, the imperiat, the box with the voice in it…Everything.”

Orso blinked