Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,37

there’d be some delay when she squeezed the lever on the bottom, some moment before the gears would engage—but at the slightest pressure, the espringal’s cords snapped forward like a crocodile trying to snag a fish.

There was a dark blur as the iron nail hurtled up at the window, then a wet thud—and the dark window exploded with agonized screams.

said Clef, excited.

Sancia shrank back up against the wall.

Someone upstairs cried, “She’s here! She’s downstairs!” Then there was the sound of rapid footfalls.

Sancia hugged the wall, heart beating like mad. The screaming above her kept going on and on. It was an awful sound, and she tried her best to ignore it.

she asked.

She waited, not even breathing. The man above kept shrieking and howling in pain.

Then there was a harsh snap from somewhere inside the first floor, and the interior lit up with fresh screams—but these tapered off pretty quickly. Probably because those traps had delivered more of a direct hit, which was likely lethal.

One left—but it was dark. She’d have to risk it.

She dropped the espringal and ran, sprinting through the passageways back to the channel, dodging through all the crumbling buildings and rotting wood, her satchel of duvots bouncing on her back. Finally her feet hit soft mud and she picked up the pace, frantically running along the water’s edge.

A voice echoed out from behind her: “She’s loose! She’s gone, she’s gone!”

She glanced to her right, up the street, and saw a dozen men pouring out of two buildings and sprinting for the channel. It looked like they were fanning out, so maybe they didn’t know exactly where she was. Maybe.

They were waiting for me, she thought as she ran. It’s a whole damn army. They called out a whole damn army for m—

Then the bolt hit her square in the back, and she fell forward.

* * *

The first thing she knew was the taste of blood and earth in her mouth. The rest of the world was dark and smeared and indistinct, noise and screams and distant lights.

Clef’s voice cut through the blur:

Sancia groaned. Her back hurt like it’d been kicked by a horse. Her mouth was thick with blood—she must have bitten her lip as she fell. She stirred, pulled her face from the mud, and sat up, faintly aware of a tinkling sound.

She looked at her back, and saw her satchel of duvots was now little more than a rag. The mud around her was covered in shiny coins. She stared at this, trying to understand what had happened.

said Clef.

But it didn’t feel like a miracle to Sancia. This glittering metal in the channel mud represented the whole of her life’s savings.

asked Clef.

she said wearily.

She looked back and saw a dark figure running along the channel toward her—the third man from the fishery building, probably. He must have been the one to fire the shot. He cried, “She’s over there, over there!”

“Damn it all,” said Sancia. She staggered to her feet and sprinted up the hill and off into the Greens.

Sancia ran blindly, thoughtlessly, drunkenly, hurtling through the muddy lanes, her head still spinning from the scrived bolt. Clef chattered madly in her ear as she ran, spitting out directions:

She dodged and turned to avoid them, running deeper and deeper into the Greens, her chest and legs aching with the effort. She knew she couldn’t run much farther. Eventually she’d stumble, or collapse, or they’d catch up to her. she thought. She was close to Foundryside by now, but that didn’t mean much. Foundryside Commoners would sell her out in a heartbeat.

cried Clef.

She realized what he meant. She glanced ahead, picked a building that looked secure and commercial—so hopefully it’d be empty in the middle of the night—ran