Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,197

cold voice echoing in the council chambers. Her fellow committee members nodded, their faces reserved yet severe. “Despite all that we have heard about Occidental nonsense…about rituals, and ancient mysteries, and murder, and treachery…Despite all of this unprovable fancy, at the end of the day, we have a man. A man who fabricated an incredibly dangerous, illegal device, which he then activated at his own test lexicon. A man who then used that device to invade and make war upon the Candiano campo. And finally, a man who then helped a second conspirator, still at large, to get to the famous Mountain of the Candianos, and then, using that same device, managed to almost completely destroy it.” Ofelia peered over the edge of the judicial lectern. “People died. Many people. This was an act of war. And thus, it is the decision of the Judiciary Committee of the Tevanni Council of Merchant Houses to respond to it as warfare.”

Orso sat in the tall, narrow cage hanging from the ceiling of the judiciary chambers, his long legs swinging through the gaps at the bottom, his chin in his hand. He yawned loudly.

“As the chair of the judiciary committee, I now ask: Does the defendant have anything to add to their final defense?” asked Ofelia Dandolo.

Orso raised his hand.

Ofelia looked around. “Anything at all?”

“Hey!” said Orso. He waved his hand.

“No?” She sniffed, surprised, and picked up the ceramic gavel to end the trial.

Orso sprang to his feet. “What about all the witnesses? The people who saw what happened in the Mountain? What about all the people who nearly died of mysterious attacks on the goddamn Candiano campo?”

Ofelia raised the gavel, her eyes cold. Her fellow committee members stared into the lecterns before them. “The committee decides what is pertinent to each case, and which witnesses shall give evidence,” she said. “It has made clear its decisions regarding each of those issues of which you speak. Such matters are closed, and are beyond the realm of defense.” She banged the gavel on the lectern. “The trial is concluded. I will now confer with the committee regarding your sentencing.” She leaned back in the chair and whispered with the other men at the lectern. All of them seemed to be nodding seriously.

Ofelia stood up at the lectern. “The judiciary committee,” she pronounced, “sentences you t—”

“Let me guess,” said Orso sourly. “Harpering.”

“To death by harpering,” she said, irritated. “Any final comments from the defendant?”

Orso raised his hand.

Ofelia exhaled softly through her nostrils. “Yes?”

“So, just to make sure here,” said Orso, “the judiciary committee must have unanimous consent from all active Tevanni merchant houses when sentencing someone to death for inter-house conflicts, right?”

Ofelia’s brow creased ever so slightly. “Yes…”

“Well, then. Then you can’t sentence me to death.”

The committee members exchanged an uncomfortable glance. “And why not?” demanded Ofelia.

“Because you need to have representatives from all the active, chartered merchant houses,” said Orso. “And you don’t.”

“What? Yes, we do!” she said. “Without Candiano, that leaves Dandolo, Morsini, and Michiel! It’s perfectly clear!”

“Is it?” said Orso. “When’s the last time you checked the charters?”

She froze. She looked back at her fellow committee members, who just shrugged. “W-why?” she asked.

“Why ask me? Check the charters.”

Ofelia summoned over an aide, gave them an order, and they all sat back to wait. “This,” said Ofelia, “is most assuredly an attempt to simply delay the court…”

Minutes later, the aide came back, pale and quaking. He walked up to the lectern and handed her a small scroll. She unfurled it, read it—and then her mouth fell open.

“What…what in all the hell is Foundryside Limited?” she thundered.

“I don’t know,” said Orso innocently. “What does it say it is?”

“You…you…” She stared at Orso, her face turning the color of a ripe peach. “You went and founded your own damned merchant house?”

He shrugged and grinned. “It’s easier to do than you think. No one ever tries, you see, because they know they’ll just get crushed.”

“But you must have at least ten employees to start a merchant house!” she snapped.

He nodded. “I have that.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“But…but you must also have operational property!”

“Have that too,” he said. “Real estate in Foundryside is damn cheap.”

She stood up. “Orso Ignacio, you…you…”

“Ah-ah,” he said chidingly. He raised a finger. “I think you’re supposed to address me as ‘Founder,’ now. Right?”

An icy silence filled the chambers.

Orso leaned forward, grinning through the bars. “So. Since Foundryside Limited is now a fully operational merchant house—and since we don’t have any representation on the