Crown Thief (2 page)

  The westbound road here was confined by banks of dry earth and shale, already glistening and running in the downpour. We were heading somewhat upward, and it was difficult to see much through the cascading water. I knew it couldn't be far to the barracks, but the journey seemed interminable. Then, from the head of the column, came the beginnings of a ragged cheer – that turned rapidly into murmurs of shock and indignation.

  We stopped abruptly.

  I couldn't see anything for the blockade of bodies. I turned an inquiring glance on Saltlick, whose extra height should have equated to an increase of perspective. His only reply was a shrug of massive shoulders. I realised he had no idea what he expected to see. Left to rely on patience, I made a few unsuccessful attempts to jump on the spot, drawing irritated looks from those in front.

  Alvantes waited just long enough for my clothes to become utterly sodden before he called, "Move on. Keep your eyes open. Tread quietly."

  We did as instructed, so much as was possible in hammering rain. It was falling so heavily by then that when the barracks came into view, a bleared smudge against the hillside, I couldn't tell what the fuss was about. It took a brief reprieve in the violence of the shower to make me understand.

  The building was a heap of blackened timber.

  Estrada had dismounted, off to one side of the devastation. I hurried over to her. "What's happened?" I said. "Who did this?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't think Alvantes does either."

  It could have been anyone with a grudge against the guard. That didn't exactly narrow the list. However, another more immediate worry had struck me by then. "Could they still be here?"

  "I doubt it. Look at the damage."

  I did – and I saw what she meant. Even in this downpour, the ruins would still be smoking if the fire were recent.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when Alvantes, behind me, said, "It was set a day ago, at least. Still, I've sent scouts out."

  I scowled at him. "So which of your many enemies do you think got there first?"

  Speaking to Estrada rather than me, Alvantes said, "It wasn't anyone who knew what they were doing. I suspect there was rain here yesterday as well. The blaze was doused before it completely took hold and they didn't stay to see the job through."

  "Does that mean we could get some shelter?" Estrada asked hopefully.

  "I've set men to clearing out the most suitable rooms."

  "Wait," I said, more irritable for being ignored, "what do you mean? Why sit huddling in your burned-down barracks when we could be safe and warm in Altapasaeda?"

  Alvantes finally looked at me. "Where do you think whoever burned it most likely came from?"

  "I don't know. Or care. The only thing that's kept me sane these last days is the thought of a warm meal and a soft bed."

  Alvantes wheeled his horse away. "Then I'm sure that thought can hold you a while longer."

 

It wasn't long before the troops had returned a sizeable space to habitability. Even better, the ruined portions had supplied enough dry, relatively uncharred wood for a small fire. With heavy blankets hung over the makeshift doorway – actually a portion of collapsed wall – and the smoke losing itself amidst the cloudladen sky, not even Alvantes could find anything to complain about.

  When his men finally declared the room safe and allowed me inside, I was surprised to see the body of what appeared to be a goat spitted over the blaze, filling the room with a mouth-watering odour. Given Alvantes's oft-stated aversion to stealing, it was anyone's guess where it had come from.

  Regardless, dinner proved some compensation for my extended drenching. Though the portions of goat meat were on the stingy side, there was plenty of hard bread and a kind of salty porridge. If none of it was particularly appetising, it was warm food on an empty stomach after a wearisome day's walking. Afterwards, I felt somewhat restored, if barely less soggy or badtempered.

  Alvantes's first act after dinner was to call a conference in a small and partially collapsed side room. In attendance were Estrada, Sub-Captain Gueverro and two of the guardsmen Alvantes had sent to scout, as well as two representatives from amongst the Irregulars. Practically everyone who was anyone in our party, in fact – except for me.

  So that was how it stood. No matter that I'd shed blood in service of the Castoval, no matter that I hadn't stolen anything in days! I still wasn't good enough to be part of Alvantes's precious inner circle.

  Looking for someone to complain to, I glanced about for Saltlick. There was no sign of him. I could hear the rain still hammering upon the tiled roof; though it never seemed to bother him, I doubted he'd rather be outside than in. Eager for a task to take my mind off Alvantes and his superciliousness, I decided to track him down.

  I slipped beneath the blanket that covered the inner-facing door, drawing my hood up. The barracks, in its unconflagrated state, had consisted of a hollowed square of buildings around a large parade ground. From within that quadrangle, I could see how the north and east wings had been reduced to heaps of collapsed stone and jutting black timbers. On the other two sides, the destruction was more erratic. As Alvantes had suggested, it was clear how the fire and rain had fought over the building.

  Apart from the area picked for our lodgings, one other portion had more or less escaped damage. Though its door and windows had also been covered, I could make out the muffled glow of torchlight through the heavy cloth. Even before I drew the curtain, I recognised the musty odours exhaling from within. It was no surprise to see the guard horses housed comfortably in their own stalls.

  Four guardsmen were in the process of brushing them down, while half a dozen others laboured in the half-darkness at the far end, where the fire had brought down great portions of roof. They'd already dug free a trapdoor in the cobbled floor and were busy hauling sacks from the depths. Presumably, these underground stores were where the bulk of our evening meal had come from.

  As for Saltlick, he'd ensconced himself in the farthest stall, amidst a mound of straw. He was eating grain from a bucket, scooping it in handfuls and emptying it into his maw.

  "They're taking care of you, I see."

  Saltlick smiled and nodded. "Good."

  If his vocabulary had improved over the last weeks, his preferred mode of speech still leaned towards the concise. On those rare occasions I actually wanted to hold a conversation, it was less than helpful.

  "Alvantes has called a meeting. Needless to say, we're not invited." I sat down next to him. "Another stop on the way to rescuing your people. I hope it's not raining like this where they are. Either way, I doubt they have a roof over their heads or grain to eat."

  Saltlick put down his bucket and looked at me enquiringly.

  "I suppose it isn't anyone's fault, really. Of course, the way Alvantes is going on, it could be days before we set out again."

  He looked crestfallen. "Days?"

  "Weeks, even, if Alvantes has his way. It seems there's some problem in Altapasaeda. Isn't there always? Anyway, no doubt Alvantes will be wading in to try to sort it out. I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't rope you into his harebrained scheme."

  Another feature of conversation with Saltlick was how much of what went through his mind could be gleaned by watching the play of his crude features. "Weeks," he grunted, and his brows crumpled together. "Help Alvantes," he added, and the question twitched from eye to eye. Eventually, his face settled into its usual careless arrangement. "Alvantes friend. Help if need help."

  I could hardly contain my shock. Not only had Saltlick taken Alvantes's side, he'd done it in what amounted to an entire sentence! Truly, there was no justice amongst men or giants.

  "Well, let's just hope there's enough of your friends left to take home when we finally reach them," I said, and marched back out into the rain.

 

I returned just in time for Alvantes's speech. I should have guessed he wouldn't let the night pass without one.

  He'd stationed himself beside the fire. "Listen, men!" he bellowed. Then, when the hubbub had died down, he continued, "As you all now realise, circumstances in Altapasaeda are not as we left them. Clearly, those of us who are guardsmen have a responsibility to investigate. For the rest of you, your help will be welcomed if you're willing to give it… though I'll blame no one who chooses otherwise."

  He paused, let this sink in. "A few of us will travel on to the Suburbs in hope of gathering more information. I'll send back news and further orders when I have them. In the meantime – keep sentries, stay out of sight, avoid wearing guard livery or weapons if you do need to go out. If we have enemies in Altapasaeda, our one advantage is that they don't know we've returned. Good luck to you all."

  Estrada, appearing beside me, put voice to the question I was in the process of asking myself. "Are you coming with us, Easie?"

  "Am I invited?"

  "Of course. Alvantes mentioned you specifically."

  I didn't like the sound of that. Nor had I forgiven Alvantes for excluding me from his stupid meeting. Then again, there was nothing behind me but the occasional two-goat village. I could rent a decent bed in the Altapasaedan Suburbs, and travel on from there to anywhere in the Castoval. "I'll come," I decided. "Better that than a sleepless night in this half-demolished barn."

 

By the time I went outside, the rain had stopped. But the heavy cloud remained, leaving the moon a dim smear of brightness and shutting out all but a few stray stars. Alvantes had a dozen guardsmen gathered round him, including Sub-Captain Gueverro, and all were now dressed in anonymous grey cloaks.

  "What I told the men counts just as much for us," he told Estrada, who'd followed behind me. "Until we know what we're dealing with, we'll keep a low profile."

  "What about Saltlick?" I asked. "Low profiles aren't exactly his forte."

  Saltlick, who was just then squeezing his way out through the hole in the wall, proved my point by dislodging a sizeable chunk of masonry. Sheepishly, he stood brushing stone-dust from his shoulders.

  "We agreed we'd bring him with us," hissed Estrada. I realised the words were aimed at Alvantes rather than myself, and that I'd hit upon an already debated sore point.

  "We will," he replied defensively. "I'll think of something."

  I couldn't entirely blame Alvantes for not wanting Saltlick along. A dozen disguised guardsmen might pass unnoticed, but a giant striding by tended to draw comment. Sooner or later, Alvantes was bound to decide Saltlick was too much of a liability. Judging from Estrada's reprimand, maybe he already had.

  Two of Alvantes's guardsmen went back inside. When they returned, they were leading a column of horses, assisted by the men set to work in the stables. One of them handed me the reins of a drowsy-eyed bay mare. Since it was evident we'd be spending time together and that both of us would rather have been allowed to catch some sleep, I decided we should be friends. I patted her muzzle, and received a weary whinny in reply.

  We set out in single file, not back the way we'd come but following the road around to the north-east, which would eventually twist back to make its way along Altapasaeda's western edge. Even in daytime, we'd be unlikely to be seen by anyone, for the only entrance on that side of the city was the small gate reserved for the comings and goings of the guard.

  However, as soon as the walls came back into sight, Alvantes motioned a halt. "Off the road," he told us. "Stay in the shadows."

  Everyone moved to comply, with varying degrees of success. Even knelt on his haunches, no patch of gloom was big enough to hide Saltlick in his entirety.

  "Damasco," said Alvantes, "come with me."

  "What? Why me?"

  "Because it's time you started pulling your weight. And because your insight into the underbelly of Altapasaeda might prove useful."

  I wondered what Alvantes was up to that required knowledge of Altapasaeda's underbelly. "I see. You'll look down on me for being a thief until the day comes when you need a thief."

  "When did I say I'd stopped looking down on you?"

  "Then maybe you should carry out your little mission on your own."

  "Unfortunately," he said, holding up his stump, "it requires assets I currently lack."

  Damn him, had he really sunk to that? "Fine. I suppose I can spare you a few minutes." It took all my willpower not to say,
lend you a hand.

  Alvantes climbed down from the saddle, as did I. "The rest of you, stay here," he said. "We won't be long."

  Alvantes followed the road for a few paces, before abandoning it in favour of a rough path curling off to his left. I followed at a distance, insulting him steadily beneath my breath. It wasn't long before the path had deteriorated to little more than an animal trail over rocks made slippery by the downpour; only then did I give up my muffled cursing, to concentrate on not twisting an ankle.

  Perhaps a quarter of an hour had passed before Alvantes held up his one hand. We were some way up the hillside, with an outcrop of dark rock at our backs and other smaller boulders lined haphazardly in front, interspersed with bedraggled bushes and the occasional lopsided tree. Where there were gaps, I could just make out the walls of Altapasaeda beyond, their highest point now somewhat below us.

  "See there?" Alvantes said. His voice was low, though it was impossible anyone could hear us.

  I followed his pointing finger. Two figures were just visible upon the parapet of the small northern gatehouse, lit by a glimmer of torchlight. "Barely."

  Alvantes reached into his saddlebag, drew out a narrow metal tube about the length of his forearm. "Try this."