Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,64

fishery in the Greens. Four men showed up. Well-fed, campo sort. One took the box away and said he wanted to confirm it. Left us with the other three. Then there was some signal, and they stabbed Sark, and nearly killed me.”

“And you…fought your way out?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes,” she said defensively.

His large, dark eyes flicked over her small frame. “All by yourself?”

“I’m decent enough in a fight.”

“What fishery was this?”

“By the Anafesto Channel.”

He nodded, thinking about this. “Anafesto, eh. Well then,” he said. “Let’s go have a look, then!” He shut the door and climbed into the pilot’s seat.

“Look where?” said Sancia, startled.

“To the Greens,” said the captain. “To this fishery of which you speak. Presumably there will be dead bodies inside—yes? Bodies that might suggest exactly who paid you to rob my waterfront?”

“Wait! You…you can’t take me there!” she cried. “Just hours ago there were dozens of big bastards walking around there, looking to gut me!”

“Then you had better stay quiet, hadn’t you?”

* * *

Sancia lay perfectly still as the carriage rattled over the muddy Commons lanes to the Greens. This was possibly the worst outcome for her: she’d intended to never return to the Greens, let alone trussed up in Captain Gregor Dandolo’s carriage. she said.

said Clef.

Finally the carriage rolled to a stop. There was darkness outside the windows, but she could tell they were at the fisheries by the smell. Dread bloomed in her stomach as she remembered that night—just last night, though it seemed so long ago now.

For a long time, Dandolo said nothing. She imagined him sitting hunched in the cockpit, watching the streets and the fisheries. Then she heard his voice, quiet but confident: “Won’t be a moment.”

The carriage rocked slightly as he climbed out and slammed the door.

Sancia sat there, and waited. And waited.

asked Clef.

said Sancia.

Sancia tensed up. She realized what must be happening. she said.

The cockpit door opened, and someone climbed in—presumably Gregor Dandolo, but she couldn’t see. Then she heard his voice quietly saying, “No bodies. None.”

Sancia blinked in shock. “But…That’s impossible.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Yes!”

“Where ought there have been bodies, young miss?”

“Upstairs, and on the stairs!”

He looked over the back of the seat at her. “Are you sure? Positive?”

She glared at him. “Yes, damn it!”

He sighed. “I see. Well. I did find quite a bit of blood in both of those locations—so I must grudgingly admit that some aspect of your story appears to be at least somewhat true.”

She stared at the ceiling, outraged. “You were testing me!”

He nodded. “I was testing you.”

“You…You…”

“Do you know what was in the box?” he demanded suddenly.

Surprised, Sancia tried to recover. “I told you. No.”

He stared off into the distance, thinking. “And…I suppose you don’t know anything about the hierophants?” he said softly.

Her skin went cold, but she said nothing.

“Do you?” he asked.

“Beyond that they were magic giants?” said Sancia. “No.”

“I think you’re lying. I think you’re lying to me about something—about what was in the box, about how your deal went down, about how that blood got there.”

said Clef.

“And I think I’m about to save your life,” she said. “Again.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Walk around to the back of your carriage and look for something. It’ll be stuck on the bottom right. Looks like a button, one that shouldn’t be there.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What kind of ploy is this?”

“It’s not a ploy at all. Go on,” she said. “I’ll wait.”

He looked