Shorefall (The Founders Trilogy #2) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,19

is to scramble the court. And that is what we shall do.”

They toasted their success, once, twice, more, and shared bowls of coconut rice and shrimp. But then one droopy young man sidled up to their table and leaned over Claudia’s shoulder to talk to them.

“I wanted to ask you,” the young man mumbled, “about that density fix you gave me.”

“Not tonight, Otto,” sighed Sancia.

“I know you fixed it,” said Otto, “but I can’t duplicate what you did.”

“We can discuss this at the library tomorrow,” Berenice told him. “During a scheduled appointment.”

“I’m under a deadline,” said Otto. “If…If there could be just something you could show me…”

Sancia and Berenice dutifully ignored him.

“Please,” he said. “My position is at risk…”

“Ugh!” said Sancia. She slopped down more wine, grabbed a knife, and began scrawling sigils in the tabletop. “Sit down and shut up. Because I’m only going to do this once.”

The young man watched as Sancia drew out a simple set of sigil strings that governed density and started to walk him through the process. A few Crucible patrons stood to observe as well.

“You are giving away our services!” Orso hissed.

“I’ll haul the goddamn table back to the library if I have to!” said Sancia.

Claudia and Giovanni laughed. “It’s your fault for starting a damned scriving charity, Orso,” said Gio. “Everyone expects your help now.”

“The library is not a charity,” Orso said. “Foundryside is a private interest pooling public, communal goods.”

Which was true. After founding Foundryside, Orso had been faced with a dilemma: he’d created a brand-new twinning technique, but there’d been absolutely no market for it. Only merchant houses had the resources to use it, and the merchant houses wouldn’t touch him with a ten-thousand-foot pole—unless they could shove it through his throat.

But then the other scrivers had moved into the Commons and started their own firms, and Orso had realized he had another valuable resource on his hands: Sancia. Specifically, the plate in her head that allowed her to engage with scrivings. That, combined with his and Berenice’s depth of knowledge, meant they were experts in an industry that suddenly needed a lot of help.

So they’d pivoted, and made Foundryside a consulting firm. If you had a design or a rig or a string that you just couldn’t get to work, you took it to Foundryside, and they’d help you fix it, for a fee. The Lamplands even came up with a nickname for Sancia and Berenice: they were “the Muses,” bringing brilliance down from upon high.

But there was a catch: whatever design they helped you fix went into their library. And their library could be perused by anyone who’d also donated a design to it, and paid the fee.

It was a terrifying concept for most scrivers, who came from the campos, where the question of intellectual property was something that regularly got people imprisoned or murdered every month. Sharing scriving designs? Building some kind of library that could be browsed by almost anyone? It seemed mad.

But eventually the scrivers realized: they were not on the campos anymore. And they needed help. “In order to gain,” Orso told them, “you must first give.” And finally, they did.

At first, Sancia had been reluctant to put her talents to such use. But Orso had told her his bet: “Whatever we do to empower the Lamplands will eventually undermine the merchant houses. By making the Lamplands strong, we will make the houses and their empires weak.”

And that was all Sancia had ever been interested in.

She finished scrawling out the strings on the table. “See now?” she said. “See how it works?”

Otto blinked. “I…think so…”

“I do not think he actually does,” said Gregor quietly into his tankard.

Orso clapped his hands. “Otto, you are in luck. If you pop by the offices tomorrow, we will schedule a remedial consultation for you, and give you the low discount of only twice our regular fees.”

“How can it be low,” said Otto, “if it’s also twice as mu—”