Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,173

see…” Orso walked over to his shelves and took out something that looked like a small iron can. “A heating rig,” he said. “We use it to make sure the lexicon chambers are insulated properly.” He hit a switch on the side, tossed the can into the chamber in the wall, and shut and locked the door. “Should get up to some pretty incredible temperatures in there quick.”

“So, now we…?” said Gio.

Orso looked around, grabbed a wooden paint box from one of his tables, dumped the paint cans out, and tossed it into the newly built chamber. “Help me get this thing on the floor,” he said, “and turn it on.”

He and Gio lifted the box off the table and, grunting, carefully placed it on the floor. Then they shut and locked the big iron doors and turned on the twinning scrivings by twisting a bronze dial on the side.

Suddenly the box creaked, like someone had just placed a substantial load on it.

“Good sign,” said Orso. “Test lexicons are heavy as hell. If it thinks it holds one then theoretically the thing itself would abruptly gain weight.”

They waited a moment. Then Orso said, “All right. Turn it off.”

Gio turned back the dial. Orso shoved the latch on the door up, and opened the chamber.

An immense cloud of hot black smoke came billowing out. They all coughed and waved the smoke away from their faces, then peered into the heating chamber. As the smoke dissipated, the small, shriveled form of a burned box emerged.

Orso cackled with delight. “Looks like it scrumming works to me! The double believed it held the same heating rig as the first!”

“It works?” said Gio faintly. “I can’t believe it really works…”

“Yes! Now we just put this thing on wheels, and we’ve basically got a light, mobile lexicon on our hands! Of a sort, I mean.”

They finished the job, mounting the empty chamber on a wooden cart and making sure the whole thing was secure. Once they were done, they sat back and marveled at their work.

“Doesn’t look like much,” said Gio.

“Could do with a paint job, yeah,” said Orso.

“But it’s still probably the biggest damned thing I’ve ever done,” said Gio.

“Orso…” said Claudia. “You realize what you’ve done here, right? Scriving’s always been localized—you’ve got to stay close to one big, expensive piece of equipment for it to work. But you’ve essentially come up with a cheap, easy way to cover a whole region without having to build forty lexicons or whatever!”

Orso blinked, surprised. “Have I? Well…it’s still restricted, mind…but I suppose you’re right.”

“If we all live through this thing,” said Claudia, “this would be an incredibly valuable technique.”

“Speaking of living through this thing,” said Gio, “how do we plan on surviving after? Like, we are talking about attacking the heart of a merchant house and killing a scion of the industry.”

Orso stared at the heating chamber on the cart, and slowly cocked his head. “Claudia,” he said softly. “How many Scrappers are there in total?”

“How many? I don’t know. Fifty or so.”

“And how many would follow you faithfully? A dozen, at least?”

“Yeah, thereabout. Why?”

Orso grinned deliriously and tapped the side of his head. “I don’t know what it is about mortal panic,” he said, “but it keeps giving me the best scrumming ideas. We’re just going to need to file some paperwork. And maybe buy some property.”

The Scrappers exchanged a glance. “Oh boy,” said Gio quietly.

* * *

Sancia sat opposite Berenice, watching as the girl dashed from blackboard to parchment to scriving blocks, writing strings of sigils on any surface she could find with a mesmerizing, liquid grace. She’d finished two definition plates so far. The plates themselves were about two feet in diameter, wrought of steel, and they were covered in looping spirals of impossibly delicate bronze sigils—all put there by Berenice’s flowing stylus.

Berenice looked up from her work, a strand of hair clinging to her sweaty forehead. She seemed to glow with a happy energy—and Sancia could not look away.

“Ask it if it says anything about elevation,” Berenice said breathlessly.

Sancia blinked, startled. “Huh? What?”

“Ask the rig if it needs anything about elevation!”

“I told you, it doesn’t respond well to my questi—”

“Just do it!”

Sancia did so. She shut her eyes, then opened them and said, “It doesn’t seem to know what elevation even is.”

“Perfect!” cried Berenice.

“Is it?” asked Sancia.

“It’s one less hole I need to fill,” said Berenice, scribbling away.

Orso walked up and looked over Sancia’s shoulder. “We’ve done our part. Where