Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,8

seems to be.”

“Wouldn’t the walls have notified us if someone unauthorized crossed over the barrier?”

“Not if they crossed over high enough.”

“Ah,” said the sergeant. “And you think…” He looked over his shoulder at the line of safes.

“I’m having the boys comb the stacks as we speak,” said Dandolo. “But if they’re mad enough to fly into the waterfront with this thing, maybe they’re mad enough to go for the safes.” He sucked his teeth. “Keep an eye out, Sergeant, but stay at your post. I’ll look around. Just to see.”

“Right, sir.”

Sancia watched with growing horror as Dandolo mounted the stairs, the wood creaking under his considerable weight.

Shit! Shit!

She considered her options. She could go back to the window, open it up, slip outside, and stand on the doorframe below, waiting for Dandolo to leave. But this took a lot of risks, since she could be seen or heard by the man.

She could shoot Dandolo with the dolorspina dart. That would likely cause him to go tumbling back down the stairs, alarming the sergeant below, who could then raise the alarm. She debated if she could reload in time to hit him too, and found this plan no better.

Then she had a third idea.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the knot of twine and the scrived lead ball.

She’d intended to save this final trick as a distraction while she made her escape. But then, she did need to escape from this current situation.

She put away her pipe, gripped each end of the twine knot, and looked up at the approaching captain, who was still climbing the stairs in front of her.

You’re an asshole for scrumming this up for me, she thought.

She gripped the ends of the twine knot, and ripped it untied in one fast motion.

Sancia vaguely understood how the scriving mechanism worked: the interior of the lead ball was lined with sandpaper, and the twine was treated with fire potash, so when it was ripped through the sandpaper, it ignited. Just a small flare, but that was enough.

Because the scrived ball in her hands was linked with a second lead ball, which was far, far away in the box atop the paper crates in the cargo stacks. Both balls were altered to be convinced that they were actually the same ball—and thus, whatever happened to the one happened to the other. Dunk one in cold water, and the other would grow rapidly cool. Shatter one, and the other would shatter as well.

So this meant that when she pulled the twine and ignited the flare inside, the second ball in the cargo stacks suddenly grew burning hot too.

But the second ball was packed in quite a lot more fire potash—and the box it sat in was filled to the brim with flash powder.

The instant Sancia ripped the twine through the lead ball, she heard a faint boom way out in the cargo stacks.

The captain paused on the stairs, bewildered. “What the hell was that?” he said.

“Captain?” called the sergeant downstairs. “Captain!”

He turned away from Sancia and called down the stairs, “Sergeant—what was that?”

“I don’t know, Captain, but, but…There’s smoke.”

Sancia turned toward the window and saw that the scrived device had worked quite well—there was now a thick column of white smoke out in the cargo stacks, along with a cheery flame.

“Fire!” shouted the captain. “Shit! Come on, Prizzo!”

Sancia watched, pleased, as the two of them sprinted out the door. Then she dashed downstairs to the safes.

Let’s hope it keeps burning, she thought as she ran. Otherwise I might crack the safe, and get the prize—but I’ll have no tricks left to get me off the waterfront.

* * *

Sancia looked at the line of safes. She remembered Sark’s instructions—It’s safe 23D. A small wooden box. The combinations are changed every day—Dandolo is a clever bastard—but it should be no issue for you, girl. Should it?

She knew it shouldn’t. But then, she was now working with a much tighter deadline than she’d previously planned for.

Sancia approached 23D and took her gloves off. These safes were where civilian passengers stored away valuables with the Waterwatch—specifically, passengers unaffiliated with the merchant houses. If you were affiliated with one of the merchant houses, it was assumed you’d store your valuables with them directly, because they, being the manufacturers and producers of all scrived rigs, would have far better security and protection than just a bunch of safes with combination locks.

Sancia placed one bare hand on 23D. Then she leaned her bare forehead against