David Tallerman - Giant thief

All the while I'd been waiting to glimpse the giant settlement we'd been wandering through its outskirts.

In the time it had taken me to make sense of our surroundings, a half-dozen more giants had fallen in around us, the news of our arrival having rapidly spread in a receding wave of bellows. Though they all seemed friendly, and overjoyed to see Saltlick, it was intimidating to have so many colossal bodies moving so close together, and Estrada and I hung well back. For that reason, I only realised we'd reached our destination when the wall of stocky legs ahead stopped moving and I nearly bashed my head on a giantess's thigh.

Now I understood the purpose of the tree-banners, I could see that we were in the equivalent of a large circular chamber, with avenues leading off like spokes in a wheel. The space was heaving with giant bodies, perhaps as many as a hundred, all gabbling excitedly together. Though I still wasn't entirely sure about giant anatomy, I thought that most of them were female. The few males were barely taller than I was, and I assumed they must be children. It struck me that Moaradrid had only taken adult males for his army. It was conceivably a sign of mercy, but just as likely forward planning for future campaigns.

The banners there were particularly intricate and brightly coloured, and my first thought was that we'd come to the giant equivalent of a town square. Then, through the throng, I noticed the spike of rock thrust through the turf at its centre, its highest point reach ing a little above my head. Near the peak was a smooth, cupped indent, just wide enough that I could have sat up there if I could have climbed it.

Unsurprisingly, however, the giants had chosen not to use the rock as a highchair for passing midgets. Rather, it held a plain wooden rod, almost as long as Saltlick was tall. At one end I could see a simple metal clasp, its prongs wrenched back as if something had been torn from it. I remembered what Estrada had told me that night before we'd reached Altapasaeda. This must be the chief's staff of office, which had housed the giant-stone until Moaradrid's catastrophic arrival.

I was about to point it out to Estrada when the great horde parted, and one particular giantess came hurrying towards us out of the press. She was skinnier than most, her skin puckered and lined, and though she was clearly rushing she was making slow progress. She muttered under her breath all the while, and when she came close enough she hurled herself onto Saltlick, ringed her arms around his chest, and sobbed, "Shol Tchik! Shol Tchik!"

It could only be his mother. I realised belatedly that those words the giantesses kept saying must be Saltlick's true name, which Moaradrid's men had mispronounced. Saltlick didn't hesitate this time to return the show of affection. He clung to her as if his life depended on it, and both their faces were soon streaked and grubby with tears.

This was what he'd struggled for: his place, his people and his family. A sudden sadness knotted my throat. I had none of those things. Still, in that moment, I understood perfectly.

With that insight, a new thought occurred to me. I drew out the giant-stone and held it up.

"Saltlick," I called. "You need to take this now."

Saltlick looked at me, with surprise at first and then with horror.

"I know, I know, you're not good enough. Well, I'm not an expert on giant politics, but you seem popular at least. So maybe you can just be the stand-in chief until someone better comes along." I pointed. "Either way, that staff isn't going to mend itself."

I could see he was about to protest again; but the nearby giants had seen the stone by then, and suddenly the air was filled with deafening, delighted cries.

"Saltlick… take it." I had to shout to make myself heard. "Mend the staff. Make things right."

Saltlick gave the barest nod. He reached down and plucked the giant stone from my hands.

Abruptly, a cry went up from every corner of the square: "Shol Tchik! Shol Tchik!"

He walked with slow steps to the centre of the clearing. He lifted the staff with one hand, holding it as gently as if it were a sleeping baby, and with the other pressed the stone into the clasp. Then he closed his fist around both stone and clasp and squeezed. When he took his hand away, the staff was whole again.

The resultant cheer was so thunderous that I thought my eardrums would explode. When Saltlick reached out to put the staff back on its perch, the wail of protest was if anything louder. He hesitated. Then he drew it back, planted its base in the ground before him, and bowed his head. Every giant fell silent, so suddenly that it seemed all sound had been sucked from the world. As one, they dipped their heads, just as Saltlick had done.

If there was more to the inauguration ceremony, I never saw it, because at that moment, a shout rang from the edge of the clearing behind us. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I recognised the giantess who'd opened the gate for us. She beckoned to Saltlick, cried his name, and rattled off a sentence in giantish. Then she turned and pointed back the way we'd come.

Saltlick hesitated for just an instant, his eyes flickering over those gathered around him. Then he began to run, still clutching the staff.

"What? What is it?" I cried as he bolted past.

When he didn't answer, I fell in behind him, and Estrada followed us both. We charged out of the clearing, Saltlick gaining distance with each stride. I had no idea what the giantess had said, but the sinking sensation in my stomach gave me a fair idea of her meaning. I ran with all my strength, until my muscles shrieked with pain. I ran on and on, past the blur of endless trees, past the banner-walls, out through the suburbs of the giant settlement.

By the time I caught Saltlick, we were in sight of the gate. He'd stopped at the base of the embankment and stood with his head cocked to one side. I came to a stumbling halt and hunched over with my hands on my thighs, gasping for breath. Estrada, arriving next to me, just barely managed to keep to her feet.

At first, I couldn't make out anything over the sound of my own heartbeat pummelling my ears. Then, as the drumming subsided, I heard it. The shout was faint, distorted by distance. For all that, my blood turned to frost in my veins.

"Giant! Thief!"

It crossed my mind simply to ignore him. He was outside and we were safe inside, so why shouldn't things stay that way indefinitely? But if Moaradrid had come here, it stood to reason he had the means to make us listen to whatever he had to say.

"We're here," I cried, as loudly as I could bear.

"I have someone here who needs your help. A certain guard-captain of your acquaintance."

Estrada put a hand to her mouth and made a small, choked sound.

"This bridge clearly wasn't intended for cripples, so you may wish to hurry."

"Oh no." Her eyes met mine. "Damasco…"

I thought about pointing out how much Alvantes hated me, and how I didn't feel much more warmly toward him. I thought about pointing out that we'd won, that I'd done what I came to do, and couldn't we just leave it at that? I thought about a lot of things, but none of them did anything to change the look in her eyes — the desperation, the pleading, and behind all that, the faint glimmer of hope.

"He's going to want the stone," I said to Saltlick. "He'll try and trade Alvantes's life for it. Maybe I could bluff him, or keep him talking while…"

Saltlick reached up and tore the giant-stone free of its clasp.

"Oh. That would work, too."

He took a stride towards the gate.

I darted in front of him. "Wait, wait! Let me. He'll want it to be me. And let's face it; you're not exactly built for rescue missions on narrow rock bridges. It has to be me, Saltlick."

Saltlick considered for a moment. Then he reached down and handed me the stone.