Another hour ticked by. Then another.
Orso kept an eye on the Michiel clock tower out the window. “Six o’clock,” he said nervously.
“Almost finished,” said Berenice.
“You keep saying that. You said that an hour ago.”
“But I mean it this time.”
“You said that an hour ago too.”
“Orso,” said Sancia, “shut the hell up and let her work!”
Another sigil. Another massive sheaf of parchment. Another dozen styli ruined, another dozen inkpots and bowls of melted bronze. But then, at eight o’clock…
Berenice paused, squinting through the lens. Then she sat back and sighed, looking exhausted. “I…I think I’m done.”
Orso grabbed the definition without a word, ran to the test lexicon, put it in, and turned it on. “Sancia!” he called. “How’s it look?”
The rig now glowed bright in her hands — but not solidly bright. It wasn’t a complete rig, in other words, just most of one. But from what Berenice had said, they might not need the whole thing.
<Define LOCATION and DENSITY of MASS in order to achieve effect!> said the rig with a manic happiness.
Her belly squirmed with anxiety. She wanted to make sure she understood how this thing worked before she told it what to do. <Tell me how I make you work.>
<First we must decide LOCATION of MASS!> squealed the plates.
<What’s mass?>
<MASS is LARGEST THING. Nearly all FLOW is directed toward LARGEST THING.>
<Okay, a—>
<Then must define the STRENGTH of FLOW of LARGEST THING. All matter FALLS toward LARGEST THING along direction of FLOW.>
She was beginning to understand. <Location is up,> she said.
<Great!> said the plates. <Very unconventional! And DENSITY?>
<Density is…one half of regular Earth density? Can that work?>
<Sure! Want me to implement EFFECTS now?>
<Uh. Yes.>
<Done!>
Instantly, Sancia’s stomach swooped unpleasantly, like she had a live mouse running around in her intestines. Something had…changed. Her head felt heavy — much like her blood was being pulled up into her skull.
“Well?” said Orso impatiently.
Sancia took a breath, and stood up.
But then…she just kept going.
She stared around, terrified, as her body rose up toward the ceiling at a steady pace. It wasn’t fast, but it felt fast, probably because she was panicking. “Oh my God!” she said. “Holy shit! Somebody grab me!”
They did not grab her. They just stared.
“Looks like it works, yeah,” said Gio.
To her relief, she started to come back down again — but she seemed to be falling toward a big stack of empty metal bowls on a nearby table. “Shit!” she said. “Shit, shit!” She kicked around helplessly, and they all watched as she slowly, inevitably collided with the pile of bowls, which went crashing and clanging all over the workshop.
<End effects!> Sancia shouted at the rig.
<Done!>
Instantly, the lightness died inside her, and she crashed onto the table and fell to the ground.
Berenice, delighted, stood up and punched a fist into the air. “Yes. Yes! Yes! I did it, I did it, I did it!”
Sancia, groaning, stared up at the ceiling.
“This is what she’s going to do to stop Estelle?” said Gio. “She’s going to do that?”
“Let’s call this,” said Orso, “a qualified success.”
An hour later, and they reviewed their plan.
“So we have what we need,” said Orso. “But…we still need to get our empty box within a mile and a half of the Mountain. That’s the farthest the gravity rig will work.”
“So we still need a way through the walls?” said Claudia. “Into the campo?”
“Yes. But only a bit,” said Orso. “A quarter mile or so.”
Claudia sighed. “I don’t suppose Sancia could use the rig to jump over the walls and open the gates from the inside.”
“Not without getting shot to bits,” said Gio. “If the whole campo’s locked down, the guards at the gates will shoot anyone who gets close.”
Sancia held the gravity plates in her hand, whispering to them and listening to them respond. Then she sat up. “I can get us past the walls,” she said quietly. “Or through them, rather.”
“How?” said Berenice.
“A gate is just a door,” she said. “And Clef taught me a lot about doors. I just need to be able to get close.” She sat up and looked around the workshop. She spied something she’d seen the last time she’d been here, when she’d searched the workshop for the listening rig. “Those rows of black cubes over there, the ones that seem to suck up light — are those stable?”
Orso looked around, surprised. “Those? Yes. They’re loaded in one of the main Dandolo foundry lexicons, so you can take those almost anywhere.”
“Can you attach them to a cuirass, or something wearable?” she asked. “It’ll be damn handy if I’m a moving blot of shadow in the darkness.”
“Sure,” said Orso. “But…why?”
“I’ll need them to sneak up to the east Candiano walls,” said Sancia. “Then I’ll get things started. Berenice, Orso — I’ll need you to have your magic box loaded onto a carriage and ready at the southwest gates. All right?”
“You’re going to run along the entire Candiano walls?” said Claudia.
“Most of them,” said Sancia softly. “We’ll need a distraction. And I can give us a good one.”
Gio studied the black cubes. “What are those for, Orso? I’ve never seen someone scrive light like that before.”
“I made those for Ofelia Dandolo,” said Orso. “Some secret project of hers. Gregor mentioned she’d made some kind of assassin’s lorica out of the things…A killing machine you can’t see coming.”
Gio whistled lowly. “It’d be handy to have one of those tonight.”
Sancia sank down in her chair. “What I’d prefer more,” she said, “is to go to war with the one person who has the most experience in waging it. But he’s been taken from us.” She sighed sadly. “So we’ll just have to make do.”
35
Darkness whirled around him. There was the crunch of wood, the crackle of glass, and, somewhere, a cough and a whimper.
“Gregor.”
The scent of putrefaction, of pus, of punctured bowels and hot, wet earth.
“Gregor?”
The swirl of water, the sound of many footfalls, the sound of someone choking.
“Gregor…”
He felt something in his chest, something trembling, something squirming. There was something inside him, something alive, something trying to move.
At first he was horrified. But though he could not really think — how could he think, as he was lost in the darkness? — he started to understand.
The thing moving in his chest was his own heart. It was beginning to beat — first gently, anxiously, like a foal taking its first steps. Then its beats grew stronger, more assured.
His lungs begged for air. Gregor Dandolo breathed deep. Water burbled and frothed in countless passageways within him, and he coughed and gagged.