Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,18

And me?

Well. They used to own you. So you know what they can be like.

* * *

Sancia slowly sat up in bed. She was achingly tired, but she still couldn’t sleep.

That comment—They used to own you—it had bothered her then, and it bothered her now.

The scar on the side of her head prickled. So did the scars on her back—and she had a lot more there.

They don’t own me still, she insisted to herself. My days are free now.

But this, she knew, was not entirely true.

She opened the closet, opened the false floor, and picked Clef up.

she said.

Clef said, excited.

5

Sancia ran a string through Clef’s head and hung him around her neck, hidden in her jerkin. Then she walked down her rookery stairs and slipped out the side door. She scanned the muddy fairway for any watchful eyes, and started off.

By now the streets of Foundryside were filling up with people, tottering or skulking over the wooden sidewalks. Most were laborers, staggering off to work with their heads still aching from too much cane wine the night before. The air was hazy and humid, and the mountains rose in the distance, steaming and dark. Sancia had never been in the uplands beyond Tevanne. Most Tevannis hadn’t. Living in Tevanne might be rough, but the mountainous jungles were a lot worse.

Sancia turned a corner and spotted a body lying in the fairway up ahead, its clothes dark with blood. She crossed the street to avoid it.

said Clef.

<…that’s a good point, I guess.>

She looked back and observed how much of the man’s throat was missing.

said Sancia.

And she explained.

Since it was the merchant houses that made Tevanne great, it was probably inevitable that most city property would wind up being owned by them. But the houses were also all competitors who jealously protected their scriving designs; for as everyone knew, intellectual property is the easiest kind to steal.

This meant that all the land the houses owned was fiercely guarded, hidden behind walls and gates and checkpoints, inaccessible to all except those who possessed the proper markers. The house lands were so restricted and controlled they were practically different countries—which the city of Tevanne more or less acknowledged.

Four walled-off little city-states, all crammed into Tevanne, all wildly different regions with their own schools, their own living quarters, their own marketplaces, their own cultures. These merchant house enclaves—the campos—took up about 80 percent of Tevanne.

But if you didn’t work for a house, or weren’t affiliated with them—in other words, if you were poor, lame, uneducated, or just the wrong sort of person—then you lived in the remaining 20 percent of Tevanne: a wandering, crooked ribbon of streets and city squares and in-between places—the Commons.

There were a lot of differences between the Commons and the campos. The campos, for instance, had waste systems, fresh water, well-maintained roads, and their buildings tended to stay standing, which wasn’t always the case in the Commons. The campos also had a plethora of scrived devices to make their lives easier, which the Commons certainly did not. Walk into the Commons showing off a fancy scrived trinket, and you’d have your throat slit and your treasure snatched in an instant.

Because another thing that the campos had that the Commons did not was laws.

Each campo had its own rules and law enforcement, all of which fully applied within their rambling, crooked boundaries. But because each campo’s individuality was considered sacrosanct, this meant there was no defined set of citywide laws, nor was there any real citywide law enforcement, or judicial system, or even prisons—to establish such things, the Tevanni elite had decided, would be to suggest that the power of Tevanne superseded the powers of the campos.

So if you were part of a merchant house, and resided on a campo, you had such things.

If you didn’t, and you lived in the Commons, then