Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,198

judiciary committee—seems like it’d be a violation of the laws to convict me. And especially to execute me.”

Ofelia swallowed, her hands in fists at her side. She looked back at her committee members, who looked uncertain and alarmed. “What a brilliant tactic!” she said acidly.

“Thank you,” said Orso.

“Do you know why it’s never been tried before, Founder Ignacio?”

“Ah. No?”

“Because people are right. Newly founded merchant houses do get crushed by the established houses. And I suspect that a house that has just used these laws to escape a conviction of murder and sabotage will receive so, so, so much more hostility from the established houses that…why, I can’t imagine such a house would survive a month, if a week. I know I certainly wouldn’t go to work for one.” She glared at him, her eyes glittering nastily. “And there is no statute of limitations on your crimes. Once your house goes under, you’ll be right back in that cage, with nothing to protect you from the loop.”

Orso nodded. “I’d be afraid of that, Founder Dandolo, if it were not for one thing.”

“And what, pray tell, is that?”

He leaned forward in his cage, grinning evilly. “We took out the oldest merchant house in Tevanne in one night,” he said. “If I were a merchant house…Well. Personally, I would not go screwing about with Foundryside Limited.”

* * *

Sancia slowly climbed the wooden stairs, wondering exactly what in the hell she was walking into.

It had been a chaotic two days—sneaking Gregor from place to place, living in ditches like fugitives, trying like mad to reach her old contacts. The crypt had proven to be totally empty, and almost all of her contacts were gone—but those that remained had all said the same thing: If you want to find the Scrappers, go to Foundryside, to the Diestro rookery. Only it’s not called that anymore.

Well then, she’d asked, what the hell is it called?

Foundryside Limited, they’d all said. Don’t you know? It’s the new merchant house.

Which was unheard-of. And yet it’d been true: she’d walked through the door of the Diestro to find not just Claudia and Giovanni hard at work, but dozens of craftsmen and laborers who were renovating the entire building into something that resembled…

Well. A merchant house. A small one, and a dirty one—but still a merchant house.

Neither Claudia nor Giovanni had answered any of her questions. They’d just pointed at the stairs, and said: He wants to talk to you first. Before any of us do, anyways.

And so here she was. Walking up the stairs, totally unsure about what awaited her.

The stairs ended in a large room that was nearly empty, except for a desk in the back. Orso Ignacio stood behind it, reviewing some schematics for what looked like a lexicon. He looked up at her as she approached. “Ah, finally,” he said. He grinned. “Sancia, my dear girl. Take a seat.” He noticed there wasn’t a chair. “Or just stand comfortably, I guess.”

“Orso,” she said. “Orso, what the hell is going on? What is this place? Where have you been?”

“Well, the last question’s easy,” he said blithely. “I just got out of a trial where everyone wanted to kill me.” He sat. “As for the other questions…That’s a bit more complicated.”

“But…Orso…did you start your own damned merchant house?”

“I did,” he said, nodding.

She stared at him. “Really?

“Really.”

“And you…you bought this building?”

“Yep. Well, Claudia bought it for me, with my money. But yes. You need property and a good number of employees to be a chartered merchant house, and Claudia gave me both. Nice girl. Thanks for introducing us, by the way.”

“You made a deal with the Scrappers? All of them? And they get what, to be employed at a somewhat real merchant house?”

“Not just employment,” said Orso. “Ownership. They get to be founders. I supplied the starting capital, they supply the labor and raw resources, and we all share a piece of the profits. It’s not as mad as it sounds.” He thought about that. “Well, it is pretty mad, but I thought it was a smart play. Company Candiano’s been on the decline for ages, and Estelle and Tomas’s mad shit was the last straw for lots of employees—and clients. Clients who still have needs, of course—but now that people are fleeing Company Candiano like mad, again, what merchant house do you think the clients are going to?”

“The one spearheaded by Tribuno Candiano’s former lieutenant,” said Sancia.

He grinned wickedly. “Exactly. I know more about Candiano processes