Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,181

poured out of the tower onto the gate pathway before the man, espringals raised. The man in the lorica flicked his shield up just in time to catch the volley of bolts, and he started moving forward, perfectly crouched behind his shield, inching forward toward the three men pouring bolts into him.

He stopped, seeming to sense that the men needed to reload. Then he swung his shield arm out, and something…happened.

It was hard to see. There was just a burst of glimmering metal in the air, the Candiano guards shuddered as if struck by lightning, and they fell. But Claudia saw that their bodies were now curiously rent and torn…

She focused on the man in the lorica as he stood up, and saw that his shield was not just a shield: it had been modified so that the back half was also a scrived bolt caster. Probably not accurate over long distances—but nasty up close.

Giovanni stared, horrified. “What do we do?”

She thought about it, and watched as the man leapt off the top of the Candiano gates into the campo.

“Hell,” she said. “He’s not our problem! So just sit tight, I guess!”

* * *

Berenice and Orso huddled in the scrived carriage, staring at the immense Candiano gates ahead. The streets around them were abandoned, like there was a curfew on.

“Everything’s…quiet,” said Berenice.

“Yes,” said Orso. “Scrumming creepy as hell, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” said Berenice in a small voice. She craned her head forward, peering at the walls. “I do hope Sancia’s all right.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” said Orso. “Maybe.”

Berenice said nothing.

Orso glanced at her out of the side of his eye. “You and she seem to get along all right.”

“Ah. Thank you, sir?”

“You do great things together,” said Orso. “Crack the Cattaneo. Fabricate whole new scriving definitions in hours. That’s…That’s something.”

She hesitated. “Thank you, sir.”

He sniffed and looked around. “It’s dumb as hell, all this,” he said. “I keep thinking this could have been avoided. I could have stopped it. If I’d told Tribuno what I thought about his dumb shit. If I’d…I’d been more diligent in my pursuits of Estelle. I let my pride get wounded when she turned me down. Pride…it’s so often an excuse for people to be weak.” He coughed, and said, “Anyways…if a young person were to ask me advice of a…a personal nature, I’d advise they not sit and passively watch opportunities go by. That’s what I’d say—if, mind, if a young person were to ask me advice, of a personal nature.”

There was a long silence.

“I see, sir,” said Berenice. “But…not every young person is as passive as you may think.”

“Aren’t they?” said Orso. “Good. Very goo—”

“There!” said Berenice. “Look!”

She pointed at the walls. A tiny pool of shadow slipped along the bottom of the white walls, up to the huge towering gates.

“Is that…her?” said Orso, squinting.

The pool of shadow stayed at the base of the gates for a moment before slipping back down the way it came, disappearing behind a tall rookery.

“I don’t know,” said Berenice. “I think so though?”

They waited, and waited.

“Should something be happening now?” said Orso.

Then they both jumped in fright as a wall of shadow leapt at them out of an alley.

“Goddamn it!” said Sancia’s voice, floating out of the darkness. “It’s me! Calm down!” She was panting hard. “Damn…That was a lot of walls, and a lot of gates.” She climbed inside—or Orso thought she did, it was so dark it was hard to tell—and collapsed in the back of the carriage.

“Is it done?” said Orso.

“Yeah,” gasped Sancia.

“And when does your clever plan start?”

“Simple,” said Sancia. “When you hear the explosions.”

* * *

Claudia and Giovanni crouched in the shadows of the street, watching the Candiano gates. Then they heard a sound—a clattering, a clanking.

“What’s that?” said Gio.

Claudia pointed, dumbstruck. “It’s the gates, Gio.”

They watched as the huge gate doors…trembled. They quivered, like they were the skin of a drum that had just received a powerful blow. Then they began rattling, at first quietly, then much, much louder, until it strained their ears, even from where they were.

“Sancia,” said Claudia. “What the hell did you do?”

And then the gates broke.

The two halves erupted open, swinging outward with a force like a raging river, snapping all the locks along their middle. They pivoted a full 180 degrees, slamming into the campo walls and the watchtowers on either side of them, and they struck the walls hard enough to make them crack and start to crumble—a stunning feat, considering the