David Tallerman - Crown Thief

"Make sure of it."

He offered his hand and I clasped it. "Thank you. For everything. Really, Huero."

"No, thank you, Damasco." He glanced to Dura, busy marshalling Reb Panza's dazed, hung-over runaways. "After everything that happened… well, I think we needed a little diversion in our lives."

I watched them leave, Huero driving their own wagon and Dura another loaned by Estrada, with the old folks of Reb Panza sat sulkily in the back or trailing after like a depressed dog's tail. Last of all went the Patriarch, an expression of sheerest terror hovering above his grand moustaches. How was he to know the giants were out in force to see off the family who'd cared for them for so long, and not to devour him if he should miss a step?

With the secret of the giants' presence out, Estrada had chosen to abandon subterfuge altogether. We travelled in single file from the north gate towards the south, and it was hard to believe that one man, woman or child in the entire town hadn't turned out to watch. Since morning, the general mood had turned to one of amicable curiosity. A few people even clapped and cheered, as though it were all a pageant put on for their entertainment.

Halfway down Dancer's Way, Estrada drew her mount up abruptly. The column of giants shuffled to a halt behind us.

As soon as the riot of pounding feet had died, Estrada cried at the top of her voice, "People of Muena Palaiya!" She waited again, this time for her audience to quieten itself. "You'll all know by now that our town has been under the forced rule of a man named Guiso Lupa. Most of you will know too that Lupa was an agent of the criminal Castilio Mounteban, who has set himself up in tyranny over Altapasaeda. With the aid of my friends here, Lupa has been driven out, and Muena Palaiya belongs to its people once more."

Those who'd been celebrating the giants' parade took this as an excuse for another round of applause.

"However, for Muena Palaiya to stay free, Altapasaeda must be free also. Or else sooner or later Mounteban will make our town, and eventually all of the Castoval, his own. Therefore, I find myself with no choice but to leave you in the hands of your town council, along with the task of repairing the damage Lupa has wrought. I hope you'll pull together, now more than ever, and that I'll see you again soon — safe in the knowledge that we have no more to fear from the ambitions of evil men."

This time, the reaction was more widespread, though perhaps not quite so enthusiastic. After so much unrest, no doubt the people of Muena Palaiya had been hoping for a return to something like normality. Nevertheless, the cheering went on for what seemed an age.

When Estrada rejoined Alvantes and me, her face was set with fierce resolve.

It was matched by the determination in Alvantes's voice as he said, "Marina, absolutely not."

"You'd have me go back on my word?"

"You'll be safe here."

"Only if you win — in which case, I'll be just as safe with you. If you don't…" A little of the bravado went out of Estrada as she finished, "You know fear of you was the only thing that kept him away from me, Lunto."

"Marina…"

"Anyway, Castilio might listen to me. There could be a chance of avoiding bloodshed."

"There'll be no avoiding bloodshed."

"In which case, you know I can handle myself. You came here to protect me and you helped free my home. Now I'll do the same for you. Damn it, I'm not waiting like some hand-wringing soldier's wife. If it all goes wrong, if you're hurt…" Estrada clutched his one hand in hers, gripped it tight. "I want to be there."

Alvantes stared at their locked hands for the longest time, as though he were the only witness to some unimaginable prodigy. Then, as if shaking himself from a dream, he said, "Once we're inside, you do what I tell you. That's my condition."

"Agreed."

"You take no chances."

"Absolutely not, Guard-Captain."

He sighed, a sound of utter, wearied defeat. "Then thank you, Marina. It will be a pleasure to travel with you again."

Maybe the man was learning after all.

Over the next four days, we retraced the route through the Castoval we'd taken so recently — and what seemed a lifetime ago. In one great, snaking column, we trekked down the mountainside road to the valley floor, swung west into Paen Acha, forded the river at Casta Canto — a slow and immensely tiresome process with a hundred giants in tow — and continued through the further depths of the forest towards the main southward highway.

All the while, Alvantes, Estrada and I discussed our strategy, with occasional, brief contributions from Saltlick.

In private, I'd already raised with him the possibility of the giants aiding us one last time. "Saltlick, what they did back there. Do you think you could persuade your people to help Altapasaeda the same way?"

"No fight," he said. "No hurt."

"Let's take that as a given. But if there was some way you could help without causing any harm… without putting yourselves in real risk?"

I was being disingenuous, and surely we both knew it. The giants had already been in real risk. The morning after the decapitation of Lupa's headquarters, I'd discovered that half a dozen of them had suffered wounds enough to fell a man twice over. They'd all shown Saltlick's remarkable capacity for healing, and a couple of days later the signs of damage were more or less gone. However, Altapasaeda wasn't Muena Palaiya. Where Lupa had had a few ignorant toughs, Mounteban had an army.

So what I was really asking was, Will you lead the giants into a battle where they can't fight back, but where their enemies will kill you all given the slightest chance?

Saltlick had understood without me needing to spell it out, though; I knew him well enough to realise that much. He'd taken so long to answer that I'd even thought he might say no.

He hadn't, of course.

That only left the question of what possible help a battalion of pacifist giants could be against the most secure and heavily defended city this side of Pasaeda — another flaw in a plan that, even as we drew close to Altapasaeda, seemed to consist of little else. What hope did we have, when our greatest weapon was no weapon at all?

On the fourth day, we broke free of Paen Acha, stepping from tree-lined gloom into bright sunlight reflected through endless-seeming seas of golden corn. There, barely visible in the distance, were the walls of Altapasaeda. They looked small at such a distance, fragile even, especially compared to the monolithic creatures marching behind me.

Nevertheless, those fortifications were ten times sturdier than those of Muena Palaiya. They'd been built by paranoid northerners to withstand siege from an entire revolting population. Alvantes had stated with absolute certainty that not even the giants could smash those defences, nor were they tall enough to climb over. Even if we could somehow lay our hands on a job lot of giant-sized hammers, the giants would be cut down from the walls before they could make a breach. Perhaps they could shrug off a few arrows, but not the volleys that would be laid down by the forces under Mounteban's command.

Yet seeing the walls like that — so distant, so frail — none of it seemed to matter. I couldn't bring myself to believe that any one of the giants couldn't snap that faraway thread of stone in two.

"That's it," I muttered, more to myself than Alvantes riding beside me.

He started. "What is?"

"We've been tying ourselves in knots about what the giants can or can't do. But it doesn't matter. All that matters is what Mounteban thinks they can do."

"They can't bluff their way into Altapasaeda, Damasco."

"Maybe they don't need to."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I, just yet. Give me time, though."