Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,95

if you did—would you tell me?”

She stared at him, and a mixture of expressions passed over her face: surprise, anger, resentment, then sadness. “Do I owe you that?”

“I think so,” said Orso. “I never asked you for much.”

She was silent for a long while. “That’s not true,” she said. “You…you did ask me to marry you. But after that…no, you never asked me for anything else again.”

They stood in the hallway, surrounded by servants, not knowing what to say.

Estelle blinked rapidly. “If I thought Tomas was a threat to you, I would tell you, Orso.”

“Even if it betrayed Candiano interests to do so?”

“Even if it did that.”

“Thank you.” He bowed deeply to her. “I…I appreciate your time, Lady Ziani.” He turned and walked away.

He kept his head level and his arms stiff as he moved. Once he was about a few hundred feet down the hall, he ducked beside a column and watched the Company Candiano crowd.

He could tell when Tomas Ziani and the others emerged—the servants all sat up straight, keenly aware that their masters were now here. But not Estelle. She stood seemingly frozen, staring into space. And when her husband came and took her hand and led her away, she barely seemed to notice.

17

Sancia was still asleep when there was a knock at the door. “Sun is setting,” Gregor’s voice said. “Our chariot shall be here soon.”

Sancia groaned, hauled herself off the sheetless bed, and staggered downstairs. All the injuries and scrapes from the past two days felt like they’d grown until her whole body was a bruise. When she saw Gregor she realized he must feel the same way: he was standing crooked, so as to not put pressure on his back, and he had his bandaged arm pulled close to his chest.

After a while, the front door opened and Berenice walked in. She looked at the two of them. “Good God,” she said. “I’ve seen cheerier faces in a mausoleum. Come on. The carriage is ready. I’ll warn you, though—he’s in a foul mood.”

“He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who has good moods,” said Sancia, following her.

“Then this is a worse mood,” said Berenice.

She drove them back to the hypatus department just as the sun slipped behind the clouds.

Sancia asked.

he said. He sounded chipper and cheerful again.

She tried not to let her concern show in her face.

said Clef.

The hypatus offices were still and dark. They used a back entrance to a small, forgotten staircase, and they climbed until they found Orso waiting at the top, next to his workshop.

asked Clef.

“Took you damned long enough!” snapped Orso. “God, I thought I’d die of scrumming old age up here!”

“Good evening, Orso,” said Gregor. “How was the committee meeting?”

“Dull and short,” said Orso. “But not…entirely useless. I had some ideas—and if we can find that damn rig, I can confirm if those ideas are right.” He stood and pointed at Sancia. “You. Are you ready to do this again?”

“Sure,” said Sancia.

“Then please,” he said. “Astound us.”

“All right. Give me a second.” She looked down the stairs. To her, it was all just a sea of noise, of whispers and chanting.

There was a silence. She assumed he was searching, and would answer her after he found something.

But then things…changed.

The murmurings and chanting grew louder, and then the sounds seemed to stretch…And bubble…And blur…

Then words emerged among them—words she could hear.

<…bring heat, bring it up, bubble it up, and store it away, there it goes, keep the heat there, oh, please, how I love to make the tank hot…>

<…will NOT let anyone in, absolutely NO ONE, they CANNOT enter unless they possess KEY, key is VERY IMPORTANT, and I…>

<…rigid form, rigid form, rigid form, pressure at the corners, I am like the stone in the depths of the earth…>

Sancia realized she could hear the scrivings, that she could understand them—without touching them. She nearly fell over from shock. She was fairly sure she’d just heard some kind of water tank, a lock, and a scrived support structure, all from somewhere in the building.

she said.

The voices returned to quiet chanting.