His mother moved nearer and clutched his arm imploringly.
Not looking quite at her or away, he added, 'Mother sad. Son come, son go. But must do.'
'What about the chief-stone? Do you think they'll follow you back here without it?'
Saltlick's expression told me she'd struck a nerve. 'Have to,' he said flatly. 'Only way.'
Poor Saltlick. He'd come home only to leave again almost straight away. Well, at least he had come home. Anyway, I'd made up my own mind. 'I'm coming with you. I mean, maybe not to rescue your friends, but some of the way anyway.'
And so we said our goodbyes. What for Estrada, Alvantes and I was merely awkward, given the lack of any shared language, was clearly heartrending for Saltlick. I only really understood then that the giantesses had thought their kidnapped men-folk dead, and what a miracle it had been when he returned. His mother wept floods of tears, as did many of the others. There was much embracing and reassurances back and forth. Saltlick stood like a monolith amidst all that wild and giant-sized emotion: I knew he was trying to reassure them, though I couldn't understand the words. In the end, he gave his mother a last hug and walked to join us where we were waiting just outside the gate.
'Ready?' Estrada asked.
'Ready,' he agreed.
It was much easier going down than it had been coming up.
We took our time though, however much Saltlick must have wanted to hurry, and took frequent breaks for Alvantes to rest. Late in the afternoon we reached the crevasse that marked a rough halfway point to the valley floor. I whooped with joy to see our horses still there — I'd had dreadful visions of them plunging off the cliff side.
I was hurt, though, that Killer seemed more pleased to see Alvantes than me. He whinnied dementedly until Saltlick produced a small bale of dry grass from one of the parcels he'd carried with him and split it between the two of them. At that, all thoughts of reunion were forgotten. Once they'd eaten, we watered them from our flasks and brushed them down as well as we could.
It was almost dark by then, and we had no choice but to make camp. I lay awake for a long time, despite my tiredness, staring up between the lips of rock at the sliver of sky above and at the myriad stars that glimmered there. I felt smaller than I ever had in my life, and the world seemed bewilderingly huge — larger than just the Castoval, or even the kingdom.
I thought about what I'd told Estrada in the caves behind Muena Palaiya: 'I'm a large part of a picture only slightly bigger than I am.' Had it really only been a few days ago? It seemed as though a lifetime separated me from the Easie Damasco who'd so casually said those words. I listened to Saltlick and Killer battling to out-snore each other. I drifted to sleep with the mingled scent of giant and horse in my nostrils, and didn't resent it one bit.
We woke before dawn, cold and stiff, and were glad to make an early start. We travelled in convoy, Saltlick first, then Alvantes, myself, and Estrada. Alvantes bore his injury stoically, though more than once I noticed him try to do something that required two hands and flinch with realisation.
Since he had to rely on his crutch on the loose ground, he grudgingly allowed me to lead Killer. I tried to reassure the horse with more realistic promises this time: 'If your master there lets me, I'm going to take you to an inn and feed you like a king, you mad old mule.'
He seemed to appreciate my candour.
With a bright sun above and no one pursuing behind, it was actually quite pleasant to trudge down the uneven path. I felt almost wistful when the end of the cliff trail loomed into view. I tried not to think about the carnage we'd have to pass on the road: the familiar faces frozen and lifeless, the reek of two-dayold death. I focused on that inn I'd promised Killer, on wine, good food, a night in a proper bed.
Whatever I was looking forward to, it wasn't an ambush.
One moment we were trudging down the last stretch of broken path. The next armed men surrounded us on all sides. The two ahead held swords outstretched. The dozen on the rocks to either side aimed taut-strung bows. There was no time to react, nowhere to run. They had us at their mercy.
'Gueverro?'
Alvantes hobbled forward, and seeing him, the leftmost swordsman lowered his blade. I recognised him as the leader of the Altapasaedan guardsmen whose intervention had saved us from Moaradrid.
'Guard-Captain?'
Alvantes's face cracked, just for a moment. All of the cold arrogance, the world-weariness, the stubborn nobility slewed away, leaving nothing but joy. 'I thought you'd be dead to a man.'
Gueverro grinned crookedly. 'Moaradrid's troops gave up and ran. They'd have beaten us eventually, but we'd shown them what it would cost. With Moaradrid gone, their hearts weren't in it.'
'Then why are you still here?'
'We waited to see if you'd come back. A party of riders came down in the night and managed to fight their way through. We thought Moaradrid must have been with them, but there was still a chance…'
'Moaradrid's dead.'
Gueverro nodded wearily. 'Well, that's good news. The man was poison. It isn't done, though, is it? His army's still spread through the Castoval.'
'Tomorrow we'll worry about Moaradrid's army,' said Alvantes. 'Just for tonight, it's done.'
Barely a hundred men had survived that battle three long days ago. Perhaps half were Altapasaedan guardsmen, the remainder from the bedraggled force Estrada had brought together. They'd built a crude camp near the river, sheltered by stands of silver birch, and besides waiting to see if anyone came down from the mountain they'd mainly passed their time recuperating.
There was good hunting in the woods on the other bank, so at least no one had gone hungry. We dined that night on freshly shot venison bolstered with fresh fruit and the remainder of our own supplies. We talked about nothing of consequence. True to Alvantes's word, no one so much as considered out loud tomorrow.
We lay out once more beneath an open sky, and again I found that I had little desire for sleep. A hundred questions darted through my mind, and seemed to dance in time with the shimmering lights above. I felt as if I'd come to the end of something. Now the future lay before me, enormous and vague.
In the morning, Alvantes gave a brief speech to his ragtag army. He thanked them for their courage, their steadfastness in the face of hopeless odds. Those that wanted to go home could, without question. Those who had no families to go back to or wanted to serve the Castoval yet further were welcome to stay with him. He was heading back to Altapasaeda to see how things stood.
A couple of men took him at his word, and left — but only a couple.
Alvantes joined Estrada, Saltlick and I.
'What then?' Estrada asked.
'I'll see. If the dregs of Moaradrid's army are in Altapasaeda then perhaps we can persuade them to move on. I have a few resources left in the city, enough to deal with a handful of stragglers. Either way, it can only be a passing visit. Someone has to officially tell the king his son is dead.'
'How will he take the news?'
'I have no idea. Still… it's the right thing to do. After that, I can start looking for that traitorous wretch Mounteban. He's got plenty of good men's blood on his hands.' Alvantes sighed. 'What about you, Marina? Where will you go?'
'Home, of course. Muena Palaiya still needs a mayor.'
'Things may not be how you left them.'
'Then I'll deal with that when I get there. Anyway, Saltlick will need a travelling companion.'
Saltlick nodded, and grinned from ear to ear.
Estrada turned to me and said, 'Will you be travelling with us, Easie?' Seeing Alvantes's expression, she added, 'We'd never have made it if not for him. He's learned his lesson, Lunto.'
I'd learned plenty of lessons over the last few days. I chose not to guess which one she was referring to.
'I don't think you'll be returning to your old ways, will you?'
