David Tallerman - Prince Thief

“Easie… I’m sorry, I know how hard this must be for you,” said Estrada. “But I have to get back. Are you coming?”

“I’ll catch up,” I managed.

Estrada patted my arm. “I really am sorry,” she told me. “But this is for the best. You wanted to save the giants, and this is the only way.”

I nodded dumbly. I’d have liked to tell her that I knew she was right, but all I could feel was overwhelming sadness, and I suspected that if I kept talking it was going to come out. However unremittingly horrible that day had been, I wasn’t ready to break down in front of Estrada.

I watched her leave. Once she was out of view, I started back the way we’d come, engulfed in my misery. I’d never entirely appreciated what a comfort it had been to have Saltlick around until he wasn’t there, how much more tolerable his presence had made the trials of the last few weeks. Now, whatever was to come, I’d have to endure it alone — with none of his huge grins or monosyllabic wisdom or giant-sized acts of kindness to help me.

In the wake of my sadness, slowly but surely, came anger. Not at Saltlick this time; no, now my rancour fell upon Mounteban, on Alvantes and Moaradrid, all of those who’d tried to bend the giants to their own will. Only, it was a useless sort of anger, because Mounteban and Moaradrid were both dead now, and Alvantes might follow them soon enough. So my thoughts roved onwards: to Panchessa and Kalyxis and their lovers’ tiff turned countries-spanning war. I replayed in my mind the fateful meeting in Panchessa’s tent, and considered those who’d helped tip it towards catastrophe. And suddenly I remembered one other person who’d contributed more than their share to the events that had forever separated me from my friend.

Malekrin. How had I forgotten about Malekrin?

Of everyone I had a right to be angry with, the boy might not be the guiltiest, but he was certainly the most available — not to mention the least intimidating. Anyway, he was that bit more deserving for the fact that until this morning I’d been starting to warm to him a little. Yes, if I had to vent my temper on someone then Malekrin was as choice a candidate as any.

My pace picked up in proportion to my mounting ire, and by the time I reached the Dancing Cat I was veritably storming. I wasn’t even sure what I intended, since for all I knew Malekrin was with his grandmother and the contingent from Shoan. Just that once, however, luck had favoured me — for there he was, sat near the fireplace, at the table he’d claimed for himself in recent days.

By then I was so wrought-up that I practically skidded to a halt. “You knew, didn’t you?” I snapped without preamble. “You knew what your grandmother was planning.”

Engrossed in his own thoughts, Malekrin had apparently missed my hurried entrance. He looked up at me with mingled annoyance and incomprehension. “What? That she was going to pick a fight with Panchessa? How would I have known that?”

“The fleet,” I said. “I’m talking about the fleet.”

Malekrin’s face fell. “Oh.”

“So you did .”

“I had my suspicions,” he said. “I mean, what did anyone think my grandmother would want with a fleet of warships?”

A small part of my brain observed that he had a point, but I wasn’t about to listen to it. “You could have warned Alvantes and Estrada. If they’d known, they’d never have let Kalyxis into that tent. Didn’t you say you wanted to help end this war? All you’ve done is make things worse.”

I was expecting an indignant reply, or perhaps anger to match my own — so that when Malekrin only looked aside, it took some of the wind from my sails. I had just time to consider that I might have been a little hard on him when a noise from the doorway broke in on my thoughts. When I looked round, two Altapasaedan soldiers were standing awkwardly on the threshold.

“We’re looking for somebody called Malekrin,” said one.

I was about to point out that they’d not only found him but were welcome to him, when Gailus bustled in after them. Before I could think to wonder what he might want, someone else marched through the door behind him — someone who had no right to be in Gailus’s company, who shouldn’t even have been within the walls of Altapasaeda.

“This here’s…” continued the soldier.

“I know who they are,” I cut him off. “That’s Senator Gailus from Pasaeda, and behind him is Commander Ondeges, currently a general in the army that’s getting ready to slaughter us tomorrow.”

“I’m not looking for trouble,” said Ondeges. “I’m here as ambassador of the King.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” I asked. Then, remembering the soldier’s opening enquiry, I added, “What do you want with Malekrin?”

“I don’t want anything,” Ondeges replied. “But his highness requests his presence, as a matter of urgency. And I think it would be in all our interests if the boy complies.”

“Does Marina Estrada know about this?” I said.

“She doesn’t,” inserted Gailus, “and there isn’t time to tell her. Anyway, the fewer people who know, the less likely word is to get back to Kalyxis.”

“Maybe word should get to her,” I told him. “You’ve already walked us into one massacre today. What makes you think we should trust either of you?”

“It’s all right, Damasco.” Brushing past me, Malekrin addressed himself to Gailus and Ondeges. “I’ll go.”

“What?” I said. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Malekrin turned me a look more pained and, in its way, more childish than any expression I’d yet seen on that obstinate face of his. “You were right,” he said. “I wanted to help and all I’ve done is made things worse. The King wants to talk to me, and I have things I want to say to him, so where’s the problem?”

I sighed heavily. So this was my fault now? “I didn’t mean that. I was just angry. Look, I’m sure this will all work itself out without you making any stupid, noble gestures. I’ve spent most of the last two months with one person or another trying to kill me, and I’m still here to tell about it. Why should this be any different?”

“Malekrin,” Gailus put in, with a glare aimed in my direction, “if you’re to go, it needs to be now.”

Malekrin nodded, and then let his head hang; the gesture made me think of a prisoner placing his neck on the block in Red Carnation Square. “I’m coming,” he said. “But, Damasco… would you come with me? I mean, in case…”

“Of course not!” I cried. “In case what ? In case you decide you want to rob the place on the way out? You’ve already dragged me into trouble once today.”

“In case,” Malekrin said quietly, “I’m too much of a coward to go through with it.”

Now he really did look like a child, a child trying to keep his head up in waters much too deep for him. “You’re not a coward,” I told him, as certainly as I could.

“Well… I’ll find out, won’t I?”

I sighed once more — and even to my own ears, it seemed to go on forever, like the last stale air draining from a bellows. It was the sound, I realised, of a man grown so used to defeat that it hardly even registered anymore. Could it really be any worse for me to hand myself over to the King today, rather than waiting for him to tear down the gates tomorrow?

“All right,” I said. “I’ll come.”

After a brief discussion between Gailus and the sentries, Ondeges led us out of Altapasaeda by the western gate, the one once reserved for the City Guard.

Ondeges had horses waiting for us in a copse a short way from the road. However, even on horseback and at the quick pace he set, working our way around the jutting corner of Altapasaeda took some time. Evening was already falling, the sky a blue-grey trimmed with purple in its heights, as we crossed into the Suburbs. Unlit and empty of inhabitants, the buildings seemed even more derelict and ominous than usual. It took an effort of will not to think of our journey in the other direction a mere few hours ago.