David Tallerman - Giant thief

He gave an exaggerated nod. "Good."

"You think you can run some more?"

"Run all day." An entire tree's worth of leaves clearly constituted a decent lunch for a giant.

"Well, I'm starting to consider surrendering for a cup of water. We should get going."

• • • •

I mainly occupied myself through the long afternoon by searching for a more comfortable position on Saltlick's broad shoulder. I tried kneeling, squatting, sitting forward with my legs dangling over his chest, and even — briefly and almost disastrously — standing. Nothing met with any success. I still hurt more with each jogged step.

In between bouts of wriggling, I tried to divert myself in more productive ways. I noted how the scenery of the Hunch became more rocky and wild as we travelled nearer the summit. I listened for any sound of nearby water, though if there was any it was drowned by Saltlick's drumming feet. Primarily, my attention was absorbed by the distant figures creeping along the road behind us.

I lost sight of them when they reached the base of the Hunch. I was certain by then that they were gaining on us. I'd been able at the last to make out details I was sure had been invisible before. Even if they weren't concerned with us, that was bound to change if they'd seen us or heard any hint of a giant wandering loose through the countryside. What if I ditched Saltlick, and put as much distance between him and me as possible? The plan had some appeal, until I envisaged myself trying to evade a hundred armed horsemen alone and on foot. No, until I found an alternate mode of transport the giant was my safest bet. The fact that he was also a beacon for my enemies was something I'd just have to accept.

We broke the brow of the Hunch before sunset. It was highest there on its north side, and I could see most of the plateau stretched before me. It was a drab expanse of browned grass, more scrub trees and wilting bushes, broken by long scars of exposed white rock, with occasionally a cactus standing sentinel over some patch of stony earth. To the east, it sloped to higher ground, and eventually to the mountains. The view ahead continued at a slight decline for a few miles, before the abrupt drop of the south slope back toward the floor of the Castoval.

Southeast, in the distance, I could just make out Muena Palaiya. I hadn't given much thought to a goal, but Muena Palaiya, the nearest large town, was a definite possibility. I had friends there. Well, one anyway, and though I was dubious about how much help I could expect from him, it was an option at least. Those seemed to be getting scarcer as the day wore on.

Anyway, we wouldn't be reaching Muena Palaiya that night. Nearer, there were any number of small villages dotted about, their cream-coloured walls glowing amber in the early evening sun, standing out brightly against the parched landscape. I couldn't expect any charity there. Past indiscretions would earn me a beating on sight in one or two of them. But nor could I go on much longer without food and water.

"Saltlick, do you see that village?" I pointed out the nearest.

He angled his neck to follow my finger and grunted in accord.

"Head towards it. There should be a fork coming up on the left."

Sure enough, barely a mile had passed before the road split. The way we'd been on continued along the western brink of the Hunch, offering a view of the Casto Mara tumbling below. The other branch curved inward, towards the mountains. Saltlick followed my instructions. We trekked for a while through wild scenery of jagged rocks and short, knotty trees. The sun was a crimson mound spilling behind the horizon. As the last light began to fade, we turned a corner between short cliffs of flaking orange mud and found ourselves on the edge of the village.

It was a miserable, dilapidated place. A dozen straw-roofed shacks of whitewashed stone were gathered around a small square. Most had wattle shelters for stores and animals tacked onto their sides, each looking as if it would collapse in a strong breeze. The square had been paved once, but the slabs were broken and irregular now, and a few had been pillaged to shore up holes in the buildings.

I didn't much care. The place had one thing going for it, and that made up for all its failings combined: an uncovered well sat in the centre of the dusty plaza.

There was a bench outside one of the larger houses. An elderly man in off-white trousers and shirt sat on it, a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his face, a pipe clenched in his teeth. He squinted at us with tiny black eyes from amidst a haze of bluish smoke.

"My name is Easie Damasco, and this is my companion Saltlick," I called. "Good evening."

"Could be." His voice was faint and wheezy, his tone noncommittal. If the arrival of a giant in his village alarmed him, he was hiding it well.

"It is, for both of us. You can provide us with supper, while we have sufficient coin to pay you for it. Our first priority is refreshment from your well. I'll follow that with whatever food you can spare, while some dried grass or hay would be adequate for my companion, so long as the quantity is ample."

Half a dozen doors crept open as I spoke, revealing faces peeking out. All of them were either very old or very young; the rest of the populace probably passed their evenings in some nearby village advantaged with a tavern. The children peered in astonishment at Saltlick, and whispered and giggled to each other. Their decrepit guardians stared suspiciously at me. There was a long hush when I finished. Finally, one of the villagers stepped out. He looked inordinately ancient. Though he was bald except for a few grey wisps, his lip was distinguished by grand moustaches hanging below his collar, died black and waxed to a luxurious sheen.

"Welcome to the village of Reb Panza. Sadly, your stay must be a brief one. We are hopelessly poor, and not equipped for generosity."

A murmur of agreement rose from the doorways.

I whispered in Saltlick's ear. He squatted, and I swung to the ground, and then regretted the acrobatics when all of my bruises complained at once. I started towards the moustachioed patriarch, trying not to limp too noticeably.

"Perhaps you misunderstood? I have more than sufficient funds to pay."

"Yet these days — when we hear talk of war to the north, which tomorrow may be war on our doorsteps — what is worth more, coin or food?"

"A nonsensical question. Name a price, and we'll have a basis for discussion." My stomach was rumbling ferociously. My mouth was dry as a picked bone. I was in no mood for haggling or sophistry. Unfortunately, for me, both were popular local pastimes. "Tell me what you'd consider a reasonable price for two loaves of bread and some meat or fish, water, and a cartload of grass. We can start with that and consider sundries later."

The patriarch stood thinking about this for a particularly long time, with his chin nestled on one fist and the other hand stroking his moustaches. While I didn't dare hurry him, I could have gladly throttled him for the delay. I glanced anxiously over my shoulder. There was nothing to see but Saltlick, who had sat down with the children gathered around him. One had bravely clambered up his leg to perch on his knee. I sighed, and turned back.

Thankfully, the patriarch picked that moment to complete his rumination. "Perhaps, just perhaps, we may be able to accommodate you."

"Excellent news."

"You must understand that we are starving ourselves, and also, that our well is nearly dry. Who knows what will happen when it's exhausted? Here on the Hunch even hay isn't easy to come by."

"You have my sympathies."

"Thank you. Taking all of these factors into account, we can't help but sell our goods at unusual prices. That said, a sum of three onyxes doesn't seem unreasonable."