Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,98

to these people, right, sir?”

Orso didn’t answer. He just kept staring down into the passageway.

said Clef.

“Uh,” said Berenice, disconcerted. “Well. I meant we could try to look at the rig itself to identify the person who made it—but I’ve been working on the gravity plates all afternoon, and I still have nothing.”

“Then we focus on what we know,” said Sancia. “We know the rig’s down there. We know it’s working. We know everyone got to see Orso at this damn meeting, and they know he’s alive now. So someone will be coming. Soon.”

“And when they come,” said Gregor, “we either capture them or follow them. Following them is my preference—it can reveal so many more things…” He sighed. “But I suppose capturing and questioning them is our only choice. We’ve no idea what campo this agent of theirs would return to, nor which enclave within the campo itself! We’d need sachets and keys and all sorts of credentials…”

said Clef.

“I…I can talk to my black market contacts,” said Sancia. “I can get sachets to get into the campos.”

“You can get that many sachets?” asked Gregor, surprised.

The idea was preposterous. But maybe they didn’t know that. “Yeah.”

“And credentials?” asked Berenice.

“If you pay me enough,” said Sancia, “I can get you into the campos.”

Clef laughed.

“Then I think it’s settled,” said Gregor. “You get your sachets, we set our trap, and wait. Right?”

“Right,” said Berenice.

“Right,” said Sancia.

They all waited, and turned to Orso.

“Sir?” asked Berenice.

Finally, Orso moved, turning to look at Sancia. “That was…quite some performance,” he said quietly.

“Thanks?” she said.

He looked her over. “There’s a simple way to stay alive as a hypatus, you know—never include a scriving in your designs that you don’t completely understand. And, girl…I must admit, I don’t understand you at all.”

“You don’t need to,” said Sancia. “You just need to understand the results I get you.”

“No,” said Orso. “I need a lot more than that. For example—how do I know you’re telling the truth about any of this?”

“Huh?” she said.

“You go into the dark, say you found the rig, but we can’t get close to it. If we go down there and look ourselves, we die. There’s no way to check. That all seems convenient to me.”

“I’ve helped you before,” she said. “I found the damn rig in the statue!”

“But how did you do that? You never told us. You haven’t told us a damned thing!”

“Orso,” said Gregor. “I believe we can trust her.”

“How can we trust her if we don’t know how she’s doing what she’s doing? Finding a rig is one thing, but seeing through walls, finding the trapdoor…I mean, she went straight to it like a dog on the hunt!”

said Clef.

Orso turned to her. “You figured all this out just by listening?”

“Yeah?”

“And touching the walls?”

“Yeah? What of it?”

He stared at her for a long, long time. “Where are you from, Sancia?” he demanded.

“Foundryside,” she said defiantly.

“But where originally?”

“Back east.”

“But where east?”

“Go east enough and you’ll find it.”

“Why are you so evasive?”

“Because it’s none of your damn business.”

“But it is my business. You made yourself my business when you stole my key.” He stepped closer, squinting at her, his eye tracing over the scar on the side of her head. “I don’t need you to tell me,” he said quietly. “I don’t need you to tell me anything. I already know.”

She tensed up. Her heart was beating so fast it felt like a murmur.

“Silicio,” said Orso. “The Silicio Plantation. That’s where you’re from, isn’t it?”

The next thing she knew, Sancia had her hands around his throat.

* * *

She hadn’t meant to do it. She’d barely even understood what was happening. One moment, she’d been sitting on the floor. Then Orso spoke that name, and suddenly she smelled the sting of alcohol, heard the whine of flies, and the side of her head was bright with pain—and then she was screaming and throttling a terrified Orso Ignacio, trying to crush his already-bruised windpipe with her bare hands.

She was screaming something, over and over again. It took her a moment to realize she was saying, “Was it you? Was it you? Was it, was it?”

Berenice was suddenly on top of her, trying to haul her off of him,