Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,42

Yet it had just come back on, flickering to life.

said Clef, suddenly articulate.

A whispering filled her mind. Sancia looked at the iron door. She reached out with her bare hand and touched it. The whispering filled her mind, as did a thousand other things about the door.

“Scriving’s back on,” she said out loud. “It’s back.”

It seemed as if the effects of…well, of whatever the campo man had done back there were fading. This was both good and bad. Good, because both she and Clef now had their abilities back. But also bad, because that meant the scrived lock in this door would now also be fully functional—and though she didn’t know how long it’d take for Clef to pick it, she could tell from the calls and shouts behind her that she didn’t have much time before her pursuers found her.

she said.

She didn’t let him finish the question. She slid Clef into the lock.

Just like with the Candiano door, a thousand questions and thoughts poured into her mind, all of them directed at Clef.

the door shouted.

asked Clef.

said the door.

Sancia glanced down the alley as she listened. She somewhat understood this: apparently after nightfall, only someone with a specific scrived key—one with an important seventeenth tooth—was allowed to unlock and open the door.

asked Clef.

A huge exchange of information took place between Clef and the door. The distant sounds of shouts were drifting toward her. “Come on,” she whispered. “Come on…”

said the door.

said Clef.

Silence. Then there was a click, and the door opened. Sancia slipped through and slowly shut it behind her. She crouched behind the wall, listening. Her ankles ached, her feet ached, her hands ached, her back ached—but at least for once her head didn’t hurt much.

she said.

She heard footsteps on the other side, someone walking, slowing down…and then they tried the handle of the iron door.

Sancia stared at the handle, fervently praying that the handle didn’t keep moving—but it didn’t. It moved just a tiny, tiny bit—and then it stopped.

The person on the other side grunted. Then they walked away.

Sancia waited for a long time. Then she let out a slow breath, and turned to face the gray spires and domes and smokestacks of the Michiel campo.

said Clef.

said Sancia.

Sancia rubbed her eyes. She had to get out of the city, but this presented a familiar problem.

She needed money. She always needed money. Money to bribe someone, money to buy tools to get more money, money to get a safe place to store her damned money. Life was cheap, and cash, as ever, remained dauntingly expensive.

Her normal source of money had been Sark. But Sark wasn’t an option anymore.

Then she had an idea, and slowly cocked her head. But his house—that might be a different case.

she said to Clef.