Crown Thief

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I never saw Alvantes coming.

Only as his fist carried me off my feet did I catch the briefest glimpse of his face, twisted almost beyond recognition by rage. Dazed, I tried to shuffle backwards on my rump. His second blow was more a slap, but more than enough to make my head ring. I threw up my arms — an instinct that proved misjudged when Alvantes's third punch hammered needles through the recently injured one.

"Get off me, you lunatic!" I cried.

I rolled aside. Tough Alvantes might be, but he could only hit so quickly with one hand. His next blow went wide. I made it to my feet and skipped backwards. My head was still tolling like a bell — but behind that racket, my blood was boiling. Only a tiny core of sense reminded me that even one-handed, Alvantes was ten times the fighter I was.

"Back off, damn you!"

"Back off? I should tear your spine out for this!" Alvantes pointed a trembling finger at the ornament around Saltlick's neck. "That's the royal crown of Altapasaeda, you rat's prick."

"All right. So what?"

"So what? You stole it from me, you disgusting little sneak thief."

I wiped a smear of blood from my suddenly bloated lower lip. "I'd say I stole it from the King. But let's not argue semantics. How is that a reason to break my jaw?"

"What? Because…" I could see Alvantes straining to think through his fury. He didn't try too hard. "You're a damned fool. What will this achieve? You can't make someone king by hanging a crown round their neck. Even if you could, it's just a hunk of metal to them."

"Like their stone was just a stone to us? Like I said, back off. Maybe you've given up, but that doesn't mean the rest of us have to. At least I'm trying something."

"Given up?" He paused then — or I thought he'd meant to, anyway. Faint shudders like the ruffling of wind on water were coursing down his body, but he didn't seem aware. "Fine. Do whatever the Hells you want. Play your games with these poor bastards. Maybe you'll piss them off enough that they'll give you the thrashing you deserve."

Alvantes spun on his heel, stormed away.

My relief lasted just as long as it took me to turn my head and wonder just how prescient his last words might be. A vast shadow closed round me, as though the early daylight had been snuffed like a candle flame. "What have you done?"

I was almost too shocked to hear Saltlick string together four words in grammatical order to be alarmed. "You're going to have to trust me," I told him.

"Not trust! Not king!"

"Just for a little while. Please, Saltlick."

He wanted to believe me. For all his obvious anger, that much was obvious. Given my past performance, I couldn't be surprised that he was finding it a struggle.

Just for once, though, luck was on my side.

"Just give me a chance," I told him. "This is for your own good, I swear it."

Before Saltlick could answer, I was sprinting towards the wagon crawling towards us on the road below. I'd realised straight away it must be the locals coming with the morning's meal — and when I saw Huero driving, with Dura beside him, I couldn't help but whoop a laugh. It was all I could do not to leap onto the driver's board and hug them both.

Huero reined the horses in. "Damasco." There was concern in his eyes. "Do you need help?"

Only then did I realise I'd just charged at him, with a bloody lip, whilst laughing manically. "I do. But not for me. Huero, I have a plan. To get the giants moving… to get them home once and for all. Only, it's going to take everyone. Everyone you know, everyone you can gather. Can you bring them here? The more people, the sooner you do it, the more likely it is to work."

"But… what about the food?"

"The food can wait. Will you do it? The faster, the more people, the better."

Huero nodded. "Of course. I'll try. Give me an hour, all right?"

"As quick as you can."

I caught my breath and watched him turn the wagon, before starting back towards the giant camp. This time, I didn't hurry. There was every chance Alvantes had come up with new reasons to hammer my face by now. Even if he hadn't, every moment weighed in my favour. Whatever slim trust Saltlick had in me, I could only keep it kindled for so long.

Sure enough, he watched me questioningly as I crossed the last distance. I didn't have any answers for him — or none that he'd like. "One hour," I said, "just wait one hour. Give me that much… then you'll see."

Alvantes was gone, at least. I could see him by the riverbank, feeding and watering the horses. Rather than give Saltlick time to answer, I followed his example, heading in the opposite direction. I singled out a patch of hillside far from any of the giants and sat down. With one eye on Saltlick, the other on Alvantes in case of further hostilities, I settled to wait.

For all my good intentions, I was drowsing by the time Huero returned. His voice calling my name shocked me into wakefulness. For a moment, I was bewildered to see an entire village worth of people gathered upon the lower slope. Then I remembered.

Huero had outdone himself. Judging by numbers, he must have brought everyone between here and the Hunch. I hurried down to meet them.

"Thank you, everyone," I said. "For all your kindness towards the giants, and for coming here now. I'll need just a few minutes of your time."

I rapidly outlined what I wanted them to do. There were a great many gasps, a few appalled looks, and a general rumble of discontent. Somewhere towards the back, a woman exclaimed, "Well, I never. Not in all my days."

Huero chose that moment to step in. "It's a strange request, all right, friend Damasco." He was speaking in my direction, but it was obvious his words were intended for the crowd. "Still, but for you, these giants might have starved by now. It's obvious you want what's best for them."

"Don't we all?" I asked. "And what's best for them is what's best for all of you — to get them back home where they belong. With a little harmless play-acting, that's exactly what we'll do." There was a subdued muttering and much clearing of throats, but I knew Huero had shifted the mood a little in my favour. I could only hope it would be enough. "Excellent. The sooner we start, the sooner it's done."

Helpless before that inarguable logic, the mob of villagers fell in behind me, and I marched them towards where Saltlick stood waiting. If he'd looked perplexed before, his reaction to the peasant army bearing down on him now was one of sheer bewilderment. The other giants, too, were watching with curious fascination.

That, at least, was a good sign.

"All right," I said, as softly as I dared, "On the count of three. One… two… three…"

I knelt before Saltlick, hoping against hope that now that the time had come, the villagers would follow my lead. I gave it a moment, in case of stragglers — and I began to shout.

"All hail! All hail Saltlick, King of the Castoval!"

Huero matched me in both word and volume. For the rest, a few thin voices came to my aid, sounding more apologetic than forceful. Was I the only one kneeling? I dared a glance. Dura and Huero had joined me, of course, their brows all but scraping the dewdampened grass. Of the others, some were halfway to their knees, others barely tilting their heads.

Nothing for it. I had to press on.

"All hail! All hail King Saltlick!"

This time, it was more of a concerted effort. More people lent their voices than didn't, even if few sounded sure about what they were yelling.

I drew a deep breath, poured it all into my next shout. "All hail! Hail King Saltlick, King of the Castoval!"

Better, far better. Finally, they were beginning to sound as though their hearts were in it.

"All hail! All hail Saltlick, King of the Castoval!"

This time, the sound cascaded over me, a wave that tingled through my every muscle, made the hairs on my neck stand straight. I barely heard my own voice amidst the roar. It was a good job too, because my throat was starting to feel scraped raw. I lowered my volume a fraction, grateful to let others carry the weight.

I gave it half a dozen more rounds and then bowed low as I could manage, forehead to the ground. A rustle of clothing from all around told me the villagers had remembered this final, crucial detail. I regained my feet. Around me, the crowd was already beginning to break up. There was an air of confusion, as if no one was quite certain what had just happened.

I looked towards the giants. Well, we'd certainly kept their attention — and probably that was the best I could hope for at this stage. I turned to Saltlick. He was staring fixedly at the point where we'd been kneeling, with an expression of distant horror.

Huero appeared beside me. "I thought that went well. Didn't you?"

"Honestly?" I said. "I have no idea."

"Should we feed them now?"

"Not yet. There's one more thing I need to do."

"All right. We'll wait. Good luck, Damasco."

For all our sakes, I thought.

I paced over to Saltlick. His gaze didn't move to follow me. Stopping before him, I called his name.

He didn't so much as twitch. If he were a man, I would have stood some chance of guessing what was going through his mind. With Saltlick, it was hopeless even to try.

"Saltlick?"

He could probably ignore me forever if he'd set his mind on it. It was one of his more unique talents. I flailed for words that might draw him out.

"Remember how you agreed to trust me?" I asked.

Saltlick's head twisted, as though dragged. "Not king!"

As he spoke, he hooked one finger inside the crown, preparing to tear it loose.

"Saltlick, stop!"

He paused — but the finger stayed snagged.

"Do you want to go home?" I hissed. "Do you want to lead your people home?"

Saltlick didn't remove the finger. Nor did he keep pulling.

"Answer me. Tell me honestly that there's anything in this world you want more than that. Is there anything more important? Anything you wouldn't go through to make it happen?"

He released the crown. His hand dropped to his side, as though all the life had gone from it. "Go home," he said — almost pleadingly.

"Then trust me."

A barely perceptible nod. Enough.

"I need you to tell the other giants what I tell you. Regardless of what I say — every word, do you hear me? Now, call them over. Explain that I've a message for them and you're going to translate."

For all the unmistakable doubt in his eyes, Saltlick's voice was more than loud enough as he rattled off a couple of brusque sentences in giantish.

"Now… exactly as I say, you understand? No improvising. No cutting the bits you don't approve of. Word for word, Saltlick."

Another hesitant nod. I supposed I had no choice but to trust him too. I took a deep breath, as though I really were about to orate for the extraordinary assembly before me. "Before your stone was lost, Saltlick was made chief of the giants. I saw it happen. He was made chief in front of your elders, your womenfolk and young."

Saltlick was incapable of anything close to self-aggrandisement. If there were to be a sticking point, this would be it. Sure enough, I could see he was hesitating. I took a step closer and hissed, "They need you. Say it for them."

Still, he hesitated.

That was it then. Damn Saltlick and damn his stupid modesty, he had destroyed my plan, and I had no other. He had doomed himself and his people and…

Words burst from his mouth — harsh consonants and stunted vowels rolling out in the thick giantish tongue. It made no hint of sense to me. I could only hope he was repeating something close to what I'd said.

I began again the moment he'd finished, not daring to give him pause to think. "Now, thanks to his noble efforts in the service of all Castovalians, we have asked him to wear our mark of leadership too — making him our king, the king of everyone in this land."

I'd thought nothing could bother him more than revealing his brief, disastrous turn as chief. Yet if anything, he looked more dismayed this time — and not only dismayed but dazed. It hadn't occurred to me until then, but given his ignorance of Castovalian custom, he might really believe I'd just appointed him king of the entire land.

Whatever mental tribulations he was enduring, however, he hardly hesitated — and the way his expression shifted quickly to one of intense concentration told me he was doing his best to interpret the words I'd given him. More than once he stumbled, perhaps tripped by notions ill-suited to his mother tongue.

"Saltlick is our chief now," I went on, "just as he's yours. Before he assumes his royal duties, he would like to take you all home. You must obey him. If you don't, you will gravely insult my people."

Saltlick didn't pause at all this time. As he spoke the last words, in fact, I was certain I noticed a subtle change in his tone. He looked less confused, less intent on simply translating. He even held himself straighter.

Was that hope in his eyes once more?

Either way, we were almost there. All that was needed now was to come to the point. "Go now," I said. "Go where you're wanted, where you're needed. Forget the trials that brought you here. Forget the words of Moaradrid. Step forward. Be led back where you belong."

It was the longest — indeed, the only speech I'd ever given. Like a loud and distorted echo, Saltlick rumbled on in my wake, until he too finished speaking. I turned my gaze from him to our mutual audience, hardly daring to see what effect our words had had.

No one had moved.

Not one giant twitched so much as an eyelash.

They sat as they had since we'd first seen them, immobile as the land itself.

I'd failed. I'd won Saltlick's trust for nothing. And no wonder! It had been a ludicrous idea from the beginning. If Saltlick hadn't been able to move his people in all this time, how could I think anything I said would make a difference? It was horrible to admit, but Alvantes had been right. What was the crown to the giants? What did they care about Castovalian traditions? As if a king meant anything to them!

One giant stood, stepped forward.

He was young; younger, I thought, than Saltlick, and smaller than most of the others. He looked sheepish, and perhaps a little defiant too.

There was the longest pause. Just as I was wondering what possible use a single convert could be, two more giants stepped forward to join him.

The next pause was shorter. Half a dozen giants clambered to their feet, wincing at muscles stiffened by disuse, and moved to join their companions.

After that, it was a steady stream. Once more than half the giants had declared their allegiance, the rest fairly bounded up, as though released from under a weight that had pinned them all this time.

The old chief was the last to step forward. But he did.

It was as if a spell had been broken. Perhaps in a way it had. Moaradrid had subdued the giants with chains more sturdy than any iron — bonds of ritual, loyalty and guilt. Now, it was as though they were waking from an ages-long sleep, or transforming from stone back into living things. I turned my attention to Saltlick. He was staring, jaw slack, eyes glazed, as if mesmerised by the crowd before him.

There was no time for niceties. I punched him on the thigh.

He glanced at me with vague surprise. A single fat tear was working its way down his cheek, apparently unnoticed.

"Get them moving," I said. "Now. Before they change their minds. We'll head for Altapasaeda and work from there."

The tear lost its purchase, splashed into the grass between us. Saltlick, too, seemed to waken. "Damasco," he said, softly. "Friend to giants."

I slapped him on the knee. "Damn right. The best friend you've got, and don't ever forget it. Now get going! I'll follow in a minute."

Saltlick nodded. Then he called three words in giantish and started towards the road. My heart lurched when the other giants fell in behind him, one by one. Watching them go, I couldn't but note how painfully thin they still were, how they laboured against limbs rigid from neglect. They had a long way to go yet. Nevertheless, in that moment, watching that stream of monstrous figures wade across the landscape, I felt happier than I could ever remember feeling.

Eventually, I had to turn away. There was one more loose end to tie before I could leave this tragedystained hillside behind.

I started towards Alvantes, where he was still minding the horses near the riverbank. I was halfway there when Huero caught up with me. He was flushed with excitement, and his voice fairly bubbled as he said, "We have a new king, eh?"

"I'm not sure it's entirely constitutional," I said. "Still, it couldn't hurt if you all keep playing along a little longer."

"I think we can manage that."

"Good. Do you think you could feed them on the march? I think it's better if they put this place behind them as soon as possible."

"Absolutely. You're coming with us though?"

"I'll catch you up."

I bid Huero farewell and covered the last distance to where Alvantes stood. Glancing up, he waved his hand dismissively, as though dashing away an insect. "Come to gloat? So keep the crown, Damasco. It's no business of mine if you want to make a mockery of everything it stands for."

"If it gets the giants home, that's more good than it's done anyone lately. But that's not what I wanted to talk about."

"Oh?"

Steeling myself, I reached into my pack, drew forth the thing I'd been keeping there for so long now, almost forgotten alongside its other more precious cargo, and proffered it to him. "I seem to remember you saying your father gave you this. He probably wouldn't have wanted you to lose it."

It was a moment before Alvantes recognised the telescope for what it was. "How did you…? No, of course. You stole it when you stole the crown. Am I supposed to thank you?"

Given how difficult I'd found giving it up, given how rare and correspondingly valuable it was, I had to bite my tongue to keep down the obvious, honest answer. Because there was something else I needed to say, or that I thought Alvantes had to hear, or perhaps both. "Look, I know we're not friends. We never will be, and I wouldn't have it any other way. But how your father died… that was a terrible thing, Alvantes. I'm sorry it happened."

He focused on me properly then, for the first time. "A terrible thing? You talk as if it was an accident."

"No. It was a vicious murder."

"It was a punishment. And it was my fault."

Only then did I realise that, on some level, I'd known all along that was how he felt. Of course he would blame himself. He was Alvantes. "It really wasn't," I told him. "It was the King's fault, and it was the fault of those bastards Stick and Stone. But it wasn't yours. You did what you thought was right — just like your father did. And even if he'd known what was coming, I expect he'd have done the same. From what I saw of him, you two were a lot alike."

"He probably would have, at that. Stubborn old man."

Despite the words, and for the first time since we'd left Pasaeda, there was no harshness in Alvantes's voice. I could only hope that meant he was ready to hear what else I had to say.

"Here's the thing, though, Alvantes. Terrible as it was, that doesn't mean you're allowed to quit."

His head jarred up, as though I'd slapped him. "Is that really what you think I've done?"

What surprised me wasn't the response but the note of genuine questioning in his voice. "I'm not sure," I said. "Is it?"

Alvantes looked away. "Honestly? I'm not sure either."

"Well, maybe you should give it some thought. Come with us to Muena Palaiya; see how Estrada's getting on. Then maybe we can see if there's anything we can do about that slug Mounteban."

"I'm done pretending to be a hero," he declared, with sudden vehemence.

"Is that what you've been doing? You certainly fooled enough people."

"I'll come with you to Altapasaeda," Alvantes said. "I have to know Marina's safe."

"Fine. Let's saddle up then. There's a flock of giants near here that could do with a couple more shepherds."

We must have made a truly astonishing sight.

From where I rode at the centre of the convoy, the parade of giants seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon. Like an honour guard, the villagers trooped to either side. A few rode in pony and ox carts, some on horses or donkeys; most had no choice but to keep the pace on foot.

As the day drew towards its midpoint, the villagers trailed off in clumps, heading back to their homes and fields. Their reactions to the giants' departure seemed to range between relief and mild sadness. A few of the women were even mopping at their eyes as they waved goodbye. It cheered me to see that a few of the giants waved shyly back.

A little later, Huero drew his wagon up beside me. "We've been thinking," he said, without preamble. "They've got a long way to go. They'll need to eat." He glanced over at his wife.

"So," Dura took over. "We've been discussing. What would you say to us travelling with you for a few days? We'd feel better for knowing they're safe."

"I'd be glad to have you," I told them, trying to control the grin that seemed determined to stretch across my face. "They might not say much about it, but I'm sure the giants will be too."

Huero peeled off at a turning to stock his cart for the journey, promising to catch us as soon as he could. By then, the last of the villagers were calling their goodbyes and straggling away. I found it strange to think that tomorrow, the giants and the bizarre events of this day would be nothing more than a memory for them, an anecdote to bring out on cold evenings.

Soon after, we met the incline of the Hunch. We were making good time; even emaciated and out of shape, the giants were more than a match for our horses. I'd already decided it would make sense to spend the night in Reb Panza. They were used to the sight of giants, and given the terms of our parting, they might be more tolerant of our presence than other villages in our path.

That was how I rationalised it, anyway. If pressed, I'd have been forced to admit I was curious to see the fruits of my absurd generosity. Given the basic condition of Reb Panza, it wouldn't have taken an entire gold piece to make it as good and better as it had been before Moaradrid's arson. Surely there'd have been a little left over for some token of their appreciation? I was hoping for a statue, but given how difficult my roguish good looks might be to capture, I'd settle for a tastefully done plaque.

As we drew closer, my anticipation grew. Huero had achieved great things with my gold, and it seemed only fair to expect the same from the villagers of Reb Panza. After all, you could only buy so much thatch and plaster with a gold piece.

I hurried to the front of the convoy, eager for my first sight of the village. Finally, we came upon a point between slopes of baked orange mud that I recognised as the last turn before Reb Panza. I felt a little giddy as I entered the bend, like a child about to receive a special prize. Except the only prizes I'd ever received as a child were the ones I took for myself, whereas this would be a genuinely hard-earned reward. As anticipation tingled my spine, I closed my eyes, the better to open them at the last moment and see…

Reb Panza exactly as I'd left it.

No sign, no hint, of repair. Not one cracked paving tile replaced, not a single wall replastered. I had to fight the uncanny sense that I'd never been away. Or perhaps I'd never given the old Patriarch that coin, had only dreamed it to assuage my irksome conscience?

Saltlick, at the head of the giants' convoy, was close behind me. I held up a hand. "Wait here. Keep everyone together."

My voice was strangled, but there was nothing I could do about that. I rode on, into the square. More than ever, the village was thick with an air of desolation. Could they have decided it would be more economical simply to leave and start again elsewhere? "Hello?" I called. "Anyone here?"

A pregnant silence — then one door opened the narrowest crack. The woman who looked out at me was haggard-eyed; lank hair hung in streaks across her face. My first thought was that she was in middle age, but I realised quickly that a wash and a good night's rest would reveal her to be hardly older than I was. "Who are you?" she said. "We've nothing for vagabonds."

"Where's the Patriarch?" I snapped, irked by her tone. It occurred to me that I'd never thought to ask his name.

"That scoundrel? Gone. Run off, and taken all of our old folks with him. I'm his daughter, for my sins, so anything you want with him you might as well say to me."

"Run off? Run off where?"

"To Muena Palaiya. Senile old fool!" Despite her initial hostility, it appeared I'd found a subject she was eager to discourse on. "Why else would I be wasting my time here and not working where there's a living to be earned?"

I'd noticed on my previous visits that Reb Panza's population seemed to be restricted to the young and old, with no apparent middle ground. "You work away?" I asked.

"What else? Try to farm this dust?" She waved irritably at the surrounding country. "We hire with our men up in the fields near Pan Marco. It's easiest to pass our nights there and come back when we have a day or two off. Now, thanks to my pig-headed father and whatever fool gave him money, the women of Reb Panza are stuck here caring for our spoiled children!"

"Oh." If it wasn't an adequate response, it was all I had in me right then. My heart had been sinking with each word, as I realised the extent to which my good intentions had foundered.

"Oh indeed! How can we live now? This village was already on the verge of collapse, even before that foreign beast burned it half to the ground. If our parents don't come back soon, we'll have to leave this place to the rats."

"I'm sorry."

I must have sounded sincere, because her tone was a touch softer as she replied, "Well, it's hardly your fault." She stepped out from the doorway. "Anyway, those are my problems. How about you? What brings you to a cesspool like Reb Panza?" She looked me up and down. Then her gaze travelled further — and she froze, mouth open. An incomprehensible sound gurgled free. She tried again. "Those are… those are…"

"Yes. Giants."

She recovered just slightly. "I was going to say monsters."

"Oh."

"They said something about a giant — our parents, and the children. We thought it was a game they'd been playing."

"That was Saltlick," I told her. "My friend."

She looked at me. "You're friends with a monster?"

"A giant," I reminded her. "Now what would be the chances of lodgings for the night?"

Having calmed down a little, the woman introduced herself as Alba. In the end, all I could think to do was give her one of my remaining handful of onyxes to rent two shacks, one for Alvantes and me, the other for Huero and Dura, who had caught up with the convoy while I'd been negotiating.

From their doorsteps, the other women of Reb Panza eyed the giants with horror. However, after countless assurances from myself, Huero and Dura, they did agree to let their children out. Given how they'd taken to Saltlick on our previous visits, they were overjoyed to discover his brethren camped on their doorstep — and the giants, in turn, were every one as patient as Saltlick had been in the face of their zealous attentions.

While they kept each other busy, Huero and I pondered the giants' sleeping arrangements. It promised to be another mild night, and I was confident they'd be all right outside. Even if they weren't, there was nothing we could do. Few of the shanties in Reb Panza were big enough to hold even one of them.

Still, I felt a little guilty to leave them for a warm bed. When I finally slept, I did so fitfully, troubled by the unreasonable burdens suddenly piling upon me. I tried to trace what twists of fate had left the responsibility of a hundred giants on my shoulders, to rationalise how my attempt to set things right could have left Reb Panza more destitute than I'd first found it. It was all too much for a simple thief to be expected to bear.

However, I was pleased in the morning to find the giants no worse for wear, and even in good spirits. It didn't take much effort to get them moving; now that their journey had begun, they were obviously eager to reach its end. While they set out under Huero's administration, I took a moment to say my goodbyes to Alba.

"It so happens we're headed to Muena Palaiya," I said. "Maybe I can find your errant old folks and convince them to return." In truth, there was no "maybe" about it. I'd drag that thieving Patriarch back by the scruff of his wrinkled neck if I had to. Still, there seemed no point getting her hopes up.

"If you do," she replied, "only make sure to give him a good hiding first. And make sure to mention my name as you do it."

It would have been dull to cross the barrens of the Hunch once more but for one thing. To the giants, every sight was fresh and strange, and their enthralment was infectious. Now that they'd begun to accept their freedom, they chattered softly amongst themselves, pointed out new discoveries, and generally behaved much as the children of Reb Panza would have if they'd been suddenly transported to the giants' enclave.

We maintained a good pace, and passed no one — perhaps because any travellers scurried to hide when they saw us approaching. By late evening, we'd drawn close to Muena Palaiya. Educated by previous experience, Alvantes and I left Huero and the giants out of sight and rode on alone to the northern gates.

It was no surprise to find them closed at so late an hour. That the walls were still bare of guards, though, was certainly strange. Estrada would never have let the town's security slip to such a degree, now less than ever.

Alvantes dismounted before the gates and rapped violently. Yet for a long while, no response came. Just as I was sure there was no one beyond to hear, a nasal voice called from the walls, "Who's there?"

Alvantes paced back to see, and I followed. A man with grimy, grizzled black hair and a hatchet face stared down at us from a platform atop the gates. He was dressed in the livery of a Muena Palaiyan guard, but even I could tell he was no guard. The livid crescent scar inscribed around his neck, the sneer, the short curved knife he wore slung across his chest and the way his fingers stayed near it, all spoke of someone used to killing first and skipping questions altogether. In fact, now that I looked carefully, wasn't he one of the interchangeable cut-throats who'd thronged around Castilio Mounteban's bar?

It was obvious Alvantes had come to similar conclusions, for his voice was sharp-edged as he called back, "We're here to see the mayor."

The guard sniggered, an unpleasant sputtering sound. "Not from around here, are you? Not very up on current affairs?"

"We've been away," Alvantes conceded.

"Right. Of course. I could have told you that." The guard grinned from ear to ear. "Because if you hadn't, you'd know better than to go asking for the mayor — when what you meant to say was mayors."