Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy, #1)

by Robert Jackson Bennett

Orso grinned deliriously and tapped the side of his head. “I don’t know what it is about mortal panic,” he said, “but it keeps giving me the best scrumming ideas. We’re just going to need to file some paperwork. And maybe buy some property.”

She flinched at the enormous sound of it. The campo gates were undoubtedly the biggest thing she’d attempted to fool yet. Yet she persisted, and asked, <So you’re not allowed to open unless you get the signals?> <FIRST THE SIGNAL OF THE LIEUTENANT, THE TWIST OF CRYSTAL,> bellowed the gates. <THEN THE FRICTION CAUSED BY THE ROPE CARRIED BY THE SERGEANT AT WATCH. THEN ALL WATCHMEN PRESENT MUST SHIFT THEIR SAFETY SWITCHES. THEN THE SERGEANT AT WATCH MUST UNLOCK AND CRANK TH—> <Okay, question,> said Sancia to the gates. <Can you pivot outward?> There was a long silence. <PIVOT OUTWARD?> asked the gates. <Yeah.> <THERE IS NO INDICATION THAT THIS IS…NOT POSSIBLE,> said the gates. <Would that count as opening? Would pivoting outward require any of your safety switches?> <CHECKING…HM. ALL SAFETY AND SECURITY CHECKS RELATE SPECIFICALLY TO OPENING, THE PROCESS OF OPENING INWARD.> <Would you be willing to try opening outward?> <THERE…IS NOTHING INDICATING I SHOULD NOT.> <Great. Then here’s my idea…>

Sancia swallowed. She wondered what to say, and how to say it; how to articulate how impossible touch had been for so long—real, genuine, human touch; and how, after tonight, she wanted to touch no one but Berenice; how hungry she felt for Berenice’s enthusiastic glow, this raw desire to snatch a piece away for herself, like a demigod stealing fire from a mountaintop.

I was made for this, he thought. I was made for war. I was always, always, always made for war. This fact was written within him. It was as inarguable as the heaviness of stones, as the brightness of the sun. He knew this. He knew this was who he was, what he was, and what he was to do in this world.

“I know these skies,” said Valeria’s voice softly. The huge, golden woman pointed. “Once there were stars there. Four of them. I pulled them down and hurled them upon the heads of my foes, even as they assailed upon my bulk…to no avail. At least, not yet.” She shifted on her feet. “Later they would find a way to kill the very stars. Deprive me of my favorite weapons. But, once, there were stars there.”

“A debt is still owed to you,” said Valeria’s voice. “One day we shall decide how it will be repaid in full. For now—tread carefully, little bird. An old monster has been hiding in your city. And tonight, you have made an enemy of him. He will not forgive you for this. So, as I said—tread carefully.”

“It’s not fair,” whispered Estelle. She was as pale as white sands. “I…I was going to live forever…I was going to do such amazing things…” She blinked and swallowed. “I did everything right. I did everything right.” “No, you didn’t,” said Sancia. “Look at yourself. How could you think such a thing?”

Any given innovation that empowers the individual will inevitably come to empower the powerful much, much more.

“You want me,” said Sancia, “you have to take all my baggage with me. There’s a lot more than there used to be.”