The little bastard had managed to keep up so far. He was nothing if not resourceful. 'Our money won't last forever,' I pointed out. 'Who knows what surprises might be waiting? Let's be practical.'
Estrada looked at Alvantes. 'He has a point.'
'I am not sharing a bed with Damasco.'
'I'll take the floor,' I said. 'I'm sure they can rustle up a few spare blankets.'
Alvantes shook his head wearily. 'I can't but wonder what goes on in your mind, Damasco. Very well then, if coin is so much more important to you than comfort.'
'Coin,' I said, 'is more important to me than anything. You should know that by now.'
Once we'd settled in, my first step was to find a quiet corner of the taproom in which to finish sewing the lock picks into my cloak. This time no one paid me any heed, and I was done in minutes. I sought out Alvantes, where he was tending the horses in the stables to the rear. I nodded to Saltlick, comfortably installed in a double stall no doubt intended for carriages rather than giants, and handed Alvantes my needle and thread. 'I suppose there's no point asking what it is you want to hide?'
Alvantes opened his cloak, revealing a rip in the lining. 'Who said I want to hide anything?'
He had, of course. Not explicitly, maybe, but Alvantes wasn't one to ask idle questions — or for that matter, to concern himself with a torn lining. Still, if this was how he wanted to play it, I was confident I could find other ways to satisfy my curiosity. I left him to it and, having stepped outside to confirm that the ferry operators had indeed quit their work, returned to the taproom and settled to a cup of wine.
The next I saw of Alvantes was well over an hour later, just as dinner was called, when he handed back my needle and a much-diminished spool of thread.
'May I admire your handiwork?' I asked.
He drew back his cloak, revealing a neat line of stitches. Well, neat it might be, but there was no way it had consumed such quantity of thread as was missing. What was the man up to?
It was a mystery that would have to wait. I was worn out — from the long day's journeying, from my healing injuries, from the lingering effects of the pain medicine and the shock of my most recent brush with death. Dinner, the promised and surprisingly delicious boar stew, was the straw that broke me. Never mind that my bed was a heap of blankets on the floor; never mind my fears that Synza might have made it across the river. I barely had time to close my eyes before sleep hauled me down into its depths.
I woke feeling almost refreshed.
After a breakfast of stewed plums, Estrada insisted on redressing Alvantes's arm, and I ventured out to check the ferry. It was tied off to the harbour, just as I'd left it. I considered hacking through one of the overhanging ropes, but I doubted Synza would have waited on the far bank, or that the two ferrymen would be in any state to renege on our bargain. No, my best hope now lay in widening whatever start I'd gained.
With that in mind, I insisted on taking the lead when we set out again, and on maintaining the fastest pace I could without drawing comment from Alvantes and Estrada. When we'd passed this way in the opposite direction, Estrada, Saltlick and I had been forced to travel cross-country, led by that despicable shark Mounteban. This time we followed the winding main road out of Casta Canto, which led east and a little north. If it was quicker, the going was still frustratingly slow and dull.
Evening found us out of Paen Acha proper, in the eastern region where the forest broke into scattered woodland and wild meadows. We stopped at a small village I was barely familiar with and paid for lodgings in its dingy, weather-beaten inn. The fact that I'd seen no sign of Synza had done nothing to alleviate my worries, so I was glad to find that in place of rooms the inn had two large dormitories, one for men and women each.
Somehow, despite the fact that most of the beds were occupied by raucously snoring loggers, I managed another sound night's sleep. As we set out the next day, my mood was almost upbeat. We made good speed in the morning, and by lunch we'd joined the north-south highway, the last vestiges of woodland behind us. Far ahead, high above, Muena Palaiya was visible as a spatter of white in the weak sunlight, where its southernmost edge showed above the plateau called the Hunch.
Only then did I start to realise how misjudged my good humour was.
It crept upon me slowly — a subtle sense of wrongness. The few people we passed were sullen and uncommunicative, just as the inn's small staff had been the night before. They looked furtive, on edge, expressions that summoned all-too-ready memories of our time in the Suburbs. One or two I could ignore, but each downturned face, each averted eye, reinforced my doubts. As much as I told myself it didn't mean anything, I couldn't believe it.
We spent the afternoon crawling towards the broadening line of white that was Muena Palaiya. Once we'd passed the crossroads, where the road down from the mountains met the highway, our route began to climb — steadily at first and then more steeply. I found myself watching Estrada. She'd been absent for days. Would it be unreasonable to expect her to look pleased at the sight of her home? Yet as the afternoon wore on, all I could see was tension that set like mortar, drawing her face into harder and harder lines.
When we crested the edge of the plateau late in the afternoon, I realised the gates were closed. Well, there was nothing so strange in that. They were often kept shut. I couldn't even say why the sight unsettled me.
I glanced again at Estrada. Her countenance was rigid.
I knew Muena Palaiya as well as I did anywhere. I couldn't see anything out of place. Had she noticed some detail I was missing? It struck me that there were no guards on the walls either, nor anywhere in sight. Yet even that wasn't entirely unexpected. After all, hadn't most of the local guardsmen died in the fight against Moaradrid?
We were almost at the gates when Estrada called a halt — and said aloud what I was trying so hard not to think.
'Can you feel it?' Her voice was stiff with forced calm. 'It's not just Altapasaeda. Something's wrong here too.'
CHAPTER SIX
We guided the horses to the side of the road, dismounted at a point where a stand of ragged trees hid us from view. The surest sign of the unease in our small party was that Saltlick didn't immediately start devouring the foliage. Instead, he watched Estrada with a steady, sorrowful gaze, evidently sensing her disquiet but not knowing how to help.
Would that Alvantes were so tactful. 'I'm not doubting you, Marina,' he said. 'But consider the strain you've been under these last days. Probably what you're noticing is just the disturbance of everything that's happened lately. After all, Muena Palaiya's been without a mayor, and without most of its guard.'
'Lunto… something's wrong. I know this town better than I know myself. You should understand what I mean as well as anyone. It's just like Altapasaeda. You can almost smell the fear in the air.'
'So, say you're right. What do we do?'
'We?' Estrada shook her head, a sharp judder of resolve. 'No. This is my problem. If something's happened here, it happened because of my absence. It's my job as mayor to set it right.'
'That's absurd. We've come this far together. Let us help you. What if it's more stragglers from Moaradrid's army?'
'Then what can four of us achieve that I can't do alone?'
'All right, perhaps Damasco could…'
'Hey! Not a chance,' I cut in. 'The last time I broke into somewhere for you, I barely got out with my life.'
'It's all right, Easie,' Estrada said. 'I have friends inside. People I trust. And you three have business you need to attend to, business that's already waited far too long. Not least, making sure Saltlick gets back to his people.'
Saltlick looked more abashed than ever. 'Help Marina.'
'Thank you. Really. But Muena Palaiya's my town, and I have all the help I need right here.'
'Marina,' Alvantes said, 'I won't let you go in there alone.'
The look Estrada turned him would have frozen boiling water. 'How exactly do you intend to stop me?'
