David Tallerman - Crown Thief

Then, before I could realise what was happening, she'd released Alvantes, darted from the stage and wrapped me in a suffocating embrace. "Thank you too, Easie. It was brave of you to come here."

I levered her far enough away that I could draw air. "It was this or another night sleeping in a ditch," I said. "Now can we please get out of here?"

Outside, the giants were already gone. We'd agreed that they'd spend as little time within Muena Palaiya as possible, lest the entire town be reduced to panic. The roof of the barn-cum-mansion was propped carefully against its flank. To the west, I could see the crescent scar in the town wall where they'd made their entrance. It was an unsettling sight — strangely, less because of the extent of the damage than its orderliness. Men could have achieved such destruction, but only giants could have made it look so neat and easy.

There was no sign of Lupa or his henchmen. I couldn't believe he'd dare try to stay. Whether Alvantes had made the right call in letting him run back to Mounteban was another question — but that was a problem for tomorrow and for someone other than me. With Saltlick and Estrada safe, my part was played.

Speaking of which… "Estrada," I said, "there's someone waiting outside town who I think would be glad to see you safe."

Her face lit at the realisation of whom I meant. We found our horses tied in a stable abutting the building and, Estrada mounted behind Alvantes, we headed for the fourth time that night down Dancer's Way. With no one standing guard upon the gates, we had to open them ourselves; still, it was worth a little effort for so clear a sign that Muena Palaiya was free of Lupa's thugs.

We rode in silence across the scantily wooded ground outside the town. Turning onto the northern cliff road, I thought at first that the giants must still be hiding further along — until they edged in ones and twos from the shade of the cliffs.

The sight sent a shudder down my spine. I understood then that nothing Lupa did, no amount of cajolery or bribing, would make his men return to Muena Palaiya. If I'd witnessed these colossi tear the roof from a building, no reward or threat would make me cross their path again.

They all looked more or less identical to me in the gloom. Saltlick's eyes were evidently better than mine, for he rushed forward with a bellow of "Marina!"

"Saltlick! Oh, it's so good to see you." Estrada looked as though she'd have liked to fling her arms around him too. She settled for clasping her two hands round one of his. "And your people are here. Thank you so much for what you did."

"Glad to help," Saltlick replied, framing the unfamiliar syllables carefully.

Estrada stepped back to appraise him. "Around your neck… is that…?"

He nodded bashfully.

"It… ah… it suits you."

"There's a story there," I inserted.

"I don't doubt," said Estrada, an invisible smile clear in her voice. To Saltlick she said, "We need to get you and your people out of this cold."

"Not cold," he replied.

"Nonsense. Give me an hour and we'll see what Muena Palaiya's hospitality can produce."

All of a sudden, Estrada was full of energy and good cheer. I wondered if I was the only one to notice the fragility behind it. It was as if, Lupa gone, she felt the need to prove herself once more as the woman who could lead a town as well as or better than any man. I wasn't at all surprised when despite the late hour she managed to not only rouse a party of volunteers but to have them construct a giant-scaled shanty town on the waste ground outside Muena Palaiya that put the one we'd left two days ago to shame.

I was so entertained by watching the workmen labour frantically to meet Estrada's near-impossible deadline — whilst keeping as far away as possible from the giants — that I hardly realised how exhausted I was. Only as the show drew towards a close did I properly notice the yawns threatening to dislocate my jaw. I was relieved when Estrada materialised from the darkness, Alvantes in tow, and said, "I've arranged tavern rooms for you."

We found Huero and his family and said goodnight to Saltlick, who was busily organising dining and lodging arrangements for his people. If he was still troubled by the fact that he'd been savagely tortured by Moaradrid a mere few paces away, he gave no sign; perhaps seeing the land turned to such an opposite purpose was enough to salve that particular memory. Either way, he waved us an energetic goodbye.

The tavern was an elegant two-storey affair on the more reputable edge of the notorious Red Quarter. It was vertiginously above my usual price range, and I wondered what strings Estrada had pulled to arrange us rooms there. Then again, perhaps its owner had been moved to generosity by the news of Lupa's retirement — for on the way there, Estrada had told us of half a dozen eyewitnesses reporting his hasty departure.

Any fool could have seen that there was much still unsaid between Alvantes and Estrada. However, neither of them was in any state to say it, and they settled for a weary "goodnight."

One thing, however, couldn't be left for morning. Mumbling an improbable excuse about enjoying the night air, I waited for Alvantes to go inside and hurried after Estrada. I told her briefly what had happened in Ans Pasaeda, of the fate that had befallen Alvantes's father and the way it had eaten at him since.

"Frankly," I finished, "it's made him even crabbier than usual. I thought it would be a shame if you took it personally."

"Oh, Lunto," she said, her voice thick with heldback tears. Then, "Thank you, Easie… I mean, for telling me. I'm not sure he would have."

"Give him time," I said — more to end the conversation before I fell asleep on my feet, than because I thought time would ever help penetrate Alvantes's stoicism. I bade her goodnight, hurried inside and let the landlord show me to my room.

He'd hardly left when a knock on my door revealed Alvantes standing in the hallway. I took a nervous step back. The only explanation my fatigued brain could produce was that Estrada had incurred some minor harm during our rescue, a stubbed toe or chipped nail, and he was here to make good on his promise of murderous revenge.

"Damasco."

"It wasn't my fault."

"What? I'm not here to accuse you. I just thought I should… that is, I wanted to… or rather…" Alvantes took a deep breath. "Thank you. For not letting me give in. Whatever my father would have wanted, it wasn't that."

"That's true," I agreed, striving to hide my relief.

"I understand now what I have to do."

The zealous note in his voice renewed my unease. "Oh?"

"Something else my father would have pointed out is that protecting the people of Altapasaeda has nothing to do with the dictates of a king."

"He might also have mentioned that he wouldn't want you rushing headlong to certain death."

Alvantes considered. "He might have, at that."

"So… a plan, maybe?"

"Indeed." Alvantes looked embarrassed then, an expression I'd never have expected his severe face capable of. "Which is the other reason I'm here. The giants, Marina's rescue… it was quick thinking on your part. I'll need that, when the time comes. So, if you were willing…"

It was impossible he meant what I thought he meant, but I had to at least check. "You're asking for my help?"

"If you've nothing better to do."

That was it? This man who'd insulted and imprisoned me, who'd struck me more than once, who'd forced me into danger more times than I cared to count, really believed I'd help him save a city I couldn't care three figs for? Did he think one apology — or not even that, a mere half-hearted thank you! — could turn our relationship on its head?

Then again, of the two, there was no denying I disliked Castilio Mounteban considerably more. I'd give a lot to wipe the smug condescension from his face.