Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,183

to rattle. “Good,” she said. “I told them to go last. The second those things pop open and the way’s clear, you speed in as fast as you can, all right?”

“Oh shit,” said Orso. A bead of sweat ran down his temple as he gripped the pilot’s wheel.

“Don’t go too fast,” said Sancia. “Because there’s going to be shrapnel. Get me?”

“You…you are really not helping here,” snapped Orso.

“Just go when I say go.”

They watched the gates rattle, tremble, and shake—and then, like all the others, they burst open, ripping apart the walls on either side.

A massive tsunami of dust flooded toward them. Sancia shielded her eyes with one hand. She was now mostly blind—but she could still see with her scriving sight.

She waited a moment. Then she said, “Go. Go now.”

“But I can’t see!” said Orso, sputtering.

“Orso, just scrumming go, go!”

Orso shoved the acceleration lever forward and the carriage took off, hurtling into the dust. Sancia squinted and peered ahead, reading the scrivings written into the buildings on either side of the street, glimpsing the massive, rippling landscape of designs and sigils encoded into everything.

“The road curves slightly to the left up ahead,” said Sancia. “No, not that much—there. Yes. Good.”

Finally they broke free of the dust cloud. Orso exhaled with relief. “Oh, thank God…”

“No soldiers in sight,” said Berenice. “Streets are clear.”

“All on the eastern wall,” said Sancia. “Just as I’d hoped.”

“And we’re almost there.” Orso peered out the window at the street names. “Just a little farther…Here! Here’s the spot!” He slammed on the brakes. “Exactly a mile and a half from the Mountain!”

They stared ahead at the vast dome rising among the towers. Then they all scrambled out. Sancia started affixing the gravity rig to her body, and Orso checked his twinned heating chamber. “Everything looks good here,” he said.

“Turn it on,” said Sancia.

“I’ll turn it on once you’re ready,” he said. “Just to be safe.”

She paused, glancing at him, but continued buckling on the gravity rig. “Goddamn, I hope I have this dumbass thing on right,” she muttered.

“Let me see,” said Berenice. She reviewed the various straps, fussing and tutting and adjusting them. “I think you’re set,” she said. “Except perhaps this one here.”

She tightened one buckle on Sancia’s shoulder. Thoughtlessly, Sancia reached up and grabbed her hand, her own bare palm gripping Berenice’s fingers.

Berenice paused. The two looked at each other.

Sancia swallowed. She wondered what to say, and how to say it; how to articulate how impossible touch had been for so long—real, genuine, human touch; and how, after tonight, she wanted to touch no one but Berenice; how hungry she felt for Berenice’s enthusiastic glow, this raw desire to snatch a piece away for herself, like a demigod stealing fire from a mountaintop.

But before she could start to fumble with the words, Berenice just said, “Make it back.”

Sancia nodded. “I’ll try,” she said hoarsely.

“Don’t try.” Berenice leaned in, and suddenly kissed her. Quite hard. “Do it. All right?”

Sancia stood there for a moment, dazed. “All right.”

Orso cleared his throat. “Listen, uh—I don’t want to interject here, but we are dealing with, you know, the apocalypse, or thereabout.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Sancia. She released Berenice and took stock of her gear—some stun bombs, darts, and a long, thin length of rope—and breathed deep. “I’m ready.”

Orso turned the bronze dial on the side of the heating chamber.

The gravity rig grew bright on Sancia’s chest.

“Shit,” she said. “Oh boy.”

“It’s still working, yes?” said Orso anxiously.

chirped the rig.

“Yeah,” said Sancia. “It’s working, all right.”

“Then do it! Now, now, now!”

Sancia took another deep breath and told the rig,

said the rig.

She situated her feet and dipped her legs down into a crouching position.

As she did, the gravity around her…changed.

Things began to float around her: pebbles, grains of sand, shreds of leaves…

“Berenice?” said Orso nervously.

“Ah…I believe this is upthrust,” Berenice said. “Like—step into a bathtub, and the water level rises. I didn’t have time to control for that.”

“Shit,” said Sancia. “Here I go.”

Then she sank lower, and jumped.

And she flew.

* * *

Orso watched as Sancia seemed to be obscured by a fine mist. Then he realized that the mist was actually more motes of dust and sand, all hanging suspended in the air around her, cheerily denying gravity.

Then her legs flexed, and things seemed to…explode.

It was like something