but they didn't try to defend themselves. They didn't do anything at all.'
From what I'd seen of Huero and knowing the giants, I could imagine the scene as clearly as if I'd been there. 'You couldn't do it.'
'How could we? And once we'd realised that, there seemed to be only one other choice.' Huero lowered his head, brushed at his eyes. 'Afterwards, we were relieved. We understood… it's much better this way.'
I couldn't think of a thing to say. My mind boggled at the kind of decency that could see the giants for what they really were after what they'd been made to do. Yet even through the fog of alcohol, I understood that Huero was right. Any other outcome would have destroyed him and his people forever.
He looked up. 'Well. I think I've talked at you enough. You should get some sleep — like your friend there.'
I glanced at Alvantes, still snoring sonorously. It didn't seem the time to explain how far he was from being my friend. 'Goodnight,' I said.
I watched as Huero walked to the barn doors and pushed through them. The space was spinning very gently. The warmth of the rice liquor seemed to have permeated my entire body. I stood — and was surprised. As I crossed to the double doors, I had no conscious idea of what I was about to do. Even as I stepped into the cool night air, my brain was in complete denial of my actions, as though observing from a great distance.
I caught up to Huero halfway between barn and house. He looked at me in surprise.
'You should take this,' I said. I clasped his hand.
He looked at his palm and then at me, and there was nothing in his face but bewilderment.
'To feed the giants. When Saltlick talks them into going home, take whatever you need to get your farm back. If there's anything after that, you can give me it back when I'm next through here.'
'This is…'
'You'll need to get it changed somewhere.'
'But…'
'One more thing. Can you keep an eye on Saltlick? He can talk fairly well now. He could translate if you need him to. He's more sensitive than he lets on — a few compliments go a long way. He's fond of children.'
Huero nodded, without his eyes ever leaving the golden disk in his hand. 'We'll look after them all,' he said. 'Far better than we've been able to, with this.' Finally, he managed to tear his eyes from the coin. 'Thank you,' he said.
'It's just money,' I told him. 'Goodnight.'
I woke, bleary-eyed and thick-skulled, to another overcast dawn and a vague sense of horror.
What had I done?
I tried to think about the coin — the coin I'd so impulsively given away, the coin that had been the one remaining hope for my future. I couldn't. It was a cavity in my mind. Whenever my thoughts came close to it, they vanished. It was the same when I tried to ask myself what happened next. Was I really about to go with Alvantes? Alvantes who hated me, who I despised in return? If I didn't, what option did I have? Every question was like a sinkhole. My thoughts fell into it and nothing came back.
If Huero had come out then, I might have told him I'd made a terrible mistake. If Alvantes had asked whether I still planned to go with him, I might have said no. Neither thing happened. We packed our bedding, saddled up and rode into cold morning drizzle.
Saltlick was already about when we reached the hillside, and deep in a one-sided conversation with one of his brethren. I couldn't help noticing that it wasn't the former chieftain this time. He gave up when he saw us and ambled down the hillside.
When he drew near, I said, 'I suppose this is goodbye, then. I know you have to stay and talk some sense into your friends.'
Saltlick struggled against his limited vocabulary for a suitable reply. After much obvious thought, he settled on a booming, 'Easie friend.'
I managed a half-hearted grin. 'Saltlick friend too.'
It was true — and perhaps I hadn't entirely realised it until then. I'd grown used to the clomp of his footsteps beside me, the tectonic grind of his jaw as he ate, his impossible, indefatigable good-naturedness. It struck me with the sudden jolt of an unexpected blow — I would miss him.
'I don't expect we'll see you when we come back this way,' I told him. 'You'll have convinced the other giants and you'll all have gone home together. Perhaps, though, some day… I mean, if I happened to have nothing better to do… I could come visit you?'
Saltlick beamed. 'Easie visit,' he agreed.
I could see Alvantes was getting impatient. Maybe Saltlick noticed too, for he chose that moment to reach down and offer me his hand. I let him clamp it around mine and we shook.
'Take care of yourself,' I said. 'Good luck.'
Riding away, I fought the urge to look back. I managed well enough for a couple of minutes, and then allowed myself a glance over one shoulder. Sure enough, Saltlick was waiting where we'd left him. He grinned and waved.
I returned the wave; I couldn't quite manage the grin.
I would have been hard pressed to think of a single moment I'd enjoyed since I'd stolen the giant-stone from Moaradrid. My escapades with Saltlick and Estrada had seemed an unremitting nightmare at the time. Yet the knowledge that they were over, that we'd never travel together again, left me with a sense of emptiness.
What made it worse was the thought of who I still travelled with — a man who made no secret of loathing me, who until recently had wanted nothing more than to see my head on a chopping block.
Estrada was gone. Saltlick was gone. Now it was just Alvantes and me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Though the ground to our right rose quickly into overgrown hillside, the road ran straight and uninterrupted and the land beside the Casto Mara remained more or less level. For the entire rest of the day I could see Aspira Nero as a streak of grey crawling shallowly from the wide-flowing river at its base to the outcrop of mountainside that marked its highest extreme.
There was little else to see there at the northern tip of the Castoval. The slopes were too stony and uneven for farming, and settlements were few and far between. Occasionally I'd catch a glimpse of the Casto Vidora, the river that flowed from the western mountains to merge its turbulent waters with the Casto Mara. Mostly, though, I was left with the walls of Aspira Nero and my own deliberations to keep me amused.
Neither was remotely up to the task. The view was tedious, and my thoughts insisted on tormenting me with questions I had no way to answer.
Like, What happens now?
What do you think there is here for you?
And last but far from least, How much of a dung-brained moron would you have to be to give away all your gold?
I tried to concentrate on Aspira Nero. Not only was it still dull, it served to remind me how desperate my circumstances had become. Minute by minute, I was drawing nearer to the edge of the world I knew.
The northernmost wall of Aspira Nero and the Casto Vidora joining the far bank were the absolute limits of the Castoval. Beyond was Ans Pasaeda and eventually, far to the north, the royal city of Pasaeda itself. But Aspira Nero belonged to neither north nor south. Defined by its location, it was a gateway and a melting pot, wedged between two very different nations.
Its grand walls, however, were mostly for show. They certainly hadn't done much to keep Moaradrid from tramping his armies through here. In fact, all he'd have needed to do was knock — for unlike even the smallest of the other towns, Aspira Nero had no garrison of defenders. Had there been troops here, the Castovalians would have considered them northern, the Ans Pasaedans as Castovalian. There were guardsmen, but they served no role in the town's protection, focusing all their energies on policing the streets instead. For all its unpredictable mingling of cultures and despite its labyrinthine streets, crime was practically unheard of in Aspira Nero.
