Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,88

to succeed.”

“But this is a tall goddamn order!” said Sancia. “Sark said he thought our client was founder lineage, just like you, or someone close to it. That means me working in places like this.” She nodded at the city below. “In the enclaves. The places that are basically designed to make sure people like me die the second I step foot in them.”

“I’ll help you. And Orso will too.”

“Why would Orso help me?”

“To get back his key, of course,” said Gregor. “Along with any other Occidental treasures the man’s been hoarding. Our opponent has stolen two items from Orso, and seems to have acquired a third—this imperiat. No doubt there’s more.”

“No doubt.” She suppressed the flicker of anxiety in her belly. She wasn’t sure what seemed harder—delivering founderkin to Gregor, or returning a treasure she wasn’t supposed to have. “So I help you get this…this justice of yours, and then you let me go?”

“In essence.”

She shook her head. “Justice…God. Why are you doing all this? Why are you out here risking your life?”

“Is justice such an odd thing to desire?”

“Justice is a luxury.”

“No,” said Gregor. “It is not. It is a right. And it is a right that has long been denied.” He stared out at the city. “The chance for reform…for real, genuine reform for this city…I would shed every drop of blood in my body for such a thing. And then, of course, there is the fact that if we fail, then a vicious person will possess tools of near-divine power. Which I, personally, would find quite bad.” He took out the key to her bond and held it out. “You can do the honors yourself, I believe.”

“I thought Orso was crazy,” she said, unlocking the bond. “But you’re really crazy.”

“I’d thought you would be more amenable to the idea than others,” he said lightly.

“And why’s that?”

“For the same reason I think wearing that bond irked you so, Sancia,” he said. “And the same reason you conceal the scars on your back.”

She froze and slowly turned to stare at him. “What?” she said softly.

“I am a traveled man, Sancia,” he said. “I know the look of you. I have seen such things before. Though I hope I never will agai—”

She stepped forward, sticking her finger in his face. “No,” she said fiercely. “No.”

He drew back, startled.

“I am not having this conversation with you,” she said. “Not now. Maybe not ever.”

He blinked. “All right.”

She slowly lowered her finger. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me,” she said. Then she walked back indoors.

* * *

She stalked upstairs, found a bedroom, and shut and locked the door. She stood there in the darkened room, breathing hard.

Then a voice spoke up in her mind:

she said.

She sat down in the middle of the floor, hauled her boot off, and held him in her bare hands. Then she pummeled him with questions.

He was silent for a long time. he said in a quiet voice.

She tried to catch him up as fast as she could.

he said.

Clef said nothing for a bit. A flock of floating lanterns trickled through the street below, casting pulsing pink light on the ceiling.

she asked.

he said, sighing.