Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,184

huge and invisible had fallen down nearby, causing a huge gust of wind and a massive swirl of sand. But of course, there was nothing there—at least as far as Orso was aware, but it was hard to verify since the next thing he knew he and Berenice were flying ass-over-head down the street.

He crashed into the cobblestones, coughing, and sat up. “Shit!” he said. Then he peered up. He thought he could make out a tiny dot arcing across the night skies toward the Mountain. “It worked? Did it really work?”

“I would say so,” said Berenice wearily, sitting up on the other side of the street. Groaning, she stood and hobbled over to Orso’s empty heating chamber. “It’s giving off a lot of heat…I know scriving defies reality, but it seems like you’ve defied a lot more reality than normal tonight. Now what do we do?”

“Now?” said Orso. “Now we run like hell.”

“We run? Why?”

“I thought I mentioned this to you…” said Orso. “Or maybe I mentioned it to the Scrappers. I forget. Anyway, scriving a chunk of reality is really very hard to manage. Tribuno and I found that out a long time ago. So although this thing is stable now…” He knocked on the side of the carriage. “It won’t be for long.”

She stared at him, horrified. “What do you mean?”

“I mean in about ten minutes, this thing is either going to explode or implode, I honestly don’t know which. But I know I don’t want to be around to see it.”

“What!” she screamed. “Then…then what’ll happen to Sancia?”

“Well, if she’s still flying…then she will stop flying,” he said. He saw her outraged stare. “Well, the girl’s obviously going to make it there in way less than ten minutes! I mean, look at her, she’s hauling ass! It was just a gamble I had to make!”

“You could have scrumming told us this!” shouted Berenice.

“And what would that have done?” said Orso. “Probably made everyone yell a bunch, just as you’re doing now. Now, come on, Berenice, let’s go!” He turned and sprinted down the street, back to the gates.

39

“Captain Riggo!” shouted Estelle.

Again—the footsteps, the door, the salute. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Have we encountered anything in the campo?” she asked.

“I’ve not heard back yet, ma’am,” he said. “But from my vantage point…I’ve yet to see much in the way of conflict.”

She shook her head. “It’s a diversion. A goddamn diversion. They’re coming here, here! I know it in my bones. How many soldiers do we have in the Mountain, Riggo?”

“At least four dozen, ma’am.”

“I want three dozen up here,” said Estelle. “Two dozen in the hallways, and a dozen in here with me. I’m the target—me, or the antiquities.” She pointed at the desk, upon which sat the box, the imperiat, and the key, along with dozens and dozens of books and other artifacts. “And we can’t move all those now. So we have to be ready.”

“I see, ma’am,” said Riggo. “I’ll deploy your orders immediately.”

* * *

Above the campo, Sancia screamed.

Screaming was all she could do, really. So many of her higher levels of thought had just been abruptly obliterated by the sudden acceleration, the raging press of the wind and the reek of smoke, that she could only react to her situation in the dumbest and most instinctual of ways—which meant screaming.

She was rising so fast, so damned fast. She blinked tears out of her eyes, and saw she was already far, far, far above the city. Too far, really—and she also wasn’t going anywhere close to the Mountain.

If I don’t stop this thing, she thought, I’m going to sail past the damn clouds!

Sancia placed both hands on the plate and tried to tell it to slow down.

squealed the rig.

Sancia screamed at it.

She mentally directed the rig at the Mountain.

chirped the plates.

said Sancia.

Their ascent slowed, but not much.

she said.

Their ascent slowed more.

she said.

Then her ascent stopped…and she slowly started being redirected toward the Mountain, lightly drifting down to the huge black dome.

She’d have to make more adjustments to make it there, she knew. But she was getting the hang of this. The