In short, it was a depressing place, and I'd never wasted much time there.
Alvantes, of course, had no way of knowing that. When we were still a short distance away, he asked abruptly, 'Are you wanted here?'
'What?' I said. 'How would I know? No one sent me an invite if that's what you mean.'
'I mean, have you committed any significant crimes that are likely to get you arrested on sight?'
'Oh. Not that I remember.'
I'd never stolen anything bigger than an apricot in Aspira Nero, but I wasn't giving Alvantes the satisfaction of a straight answer.
He rode forward, dismounted, rapped hard on a smaller door set into the main gate and called, 'Two travellers seeking ingress. I'm Guard-Captain Alvantes of Altapasaeda, and my companion is Easie Damasco.'
I was a little disappointed when rather than shouts of, 'Not Easie Damasco, the notorious thief and outlaw?' we were met with a disgruntled, 'Hold your horses, damn it!'
A minute later, the door swung inward. A squat man in plain leather armour and conical helmet stood in the entrance. 'Couldn't you have got here before we shut the main gate?' he complained.
'Evidently not,' replied Alvantes.
The guard had sense enough to read his tone correctly. 'Right. Evidently.' He stepped out of the way. 'Welcome to Aspira Nero. Portal between north and south and all that.'
Dismounting, Alvantes led his horse through the gap, and I followed.
The narrow street beyond ran crookedly, somewhat up hill. The buildings had little of the Castovalian in their design. Like the walls, they were built from stone quarried in the mountainside behind, over two and even three storeys. Each seemed supported by its neighbours, giving the unsettling impression that if any one should collapse, the entire town would come tumbling down. The bare stone was harsh and unwelcoming, just as the few locals to note our arrival did so without a hint of friendliness.
I hoped Alvantes's local knowledge was better than mine was. 'So what's the plan?' I asked. 'I tell you, another day of riding will be the end of me.'
'Damasco,' he said, not turning. 'It's time we talked. Or rather… it's time I talked and you listened.'
'I'm not sure I like the sound of that.'
'There's an inn I know nearby,' he continued as though I'd never spoken.
There was an edge to his tone that brooked no argument. Instead, I trailed after him, down first one and then another twisting side street. From there, we turned into the yard of an inn named the Fourth Orphan. Alvantes called out a stable boy to take our horses, passed him a coin, and led on into the taproom.
It was clean but gloomy, full of purposefully dark corners. The handful of patrons stopped their conversations to watch our entrance with a little too much interest. In general, it struck me as more the kind of establishment I'd frequent than somewhere I'd expect to find Alvantes.
Still, it was clear he knew his way around. Pointing out an isolated table towards the back, he said, 'Sit down.'
I did as I was told, tucking myself into one of two opposing benches that shared a low table. A minute later, Alvantes eased onto the opposite bench, placed a cup of wine before me. Not much caring that he'd bought nothing for himself, I took an eager sip. It was headier and sweeter than any Castovalian wine I'd tasted, perhaps a vintage from across the border.
'So,' I said, 'this is pleasant. But perhaps it's time you got out what's on your mind.'
'Damasco. I've never made any pretence of liking you.'
'You haven't. No one could ever accuse you of pretence.'
'However, I did agree to civility. I want you to understand, therefore, that this is not intended as an attack. It's simple fact, and it requires saying.'
'I'll keep that in mind.'
Alvantes leaned forward, single palm flat on the table. 'Some days ago, I made two promises to Marina. The first was to make certain Saltlick was reunited with his people. The second was that I'd allow you to accompany me for so long as you wanted. For reasons I don't begin to understand, Marina thinks my company will do you good.'
'She knows how you make me laugh,' I tried.
'The fact is, I don't trust you or your motives. Frankly, I'd hoped you'd have taken the hint by now and found some other way in which to occupy yourself. I don't know what the current situation in Ans Pasaeda is, but if anything should happen there, I won't be able to protect you. Nor would I try. I won't break my promise to Marina by forbidding you to continue, but I will say this: you aren't welcome, Damasco.'
I was taken aback. No witty rejoinder came to mind. It wasn't that I didn't expect bluntness from Alvantes, but in the past, it had always arrived in small and easily dismissed doses.
The worst of it was, I knew he was right. I could admit a certain fondness for Saltlick, even Estrada I'd grown to tolerate — but they were gone, and who knew if I'd see them again. What could be more pitiful than trying to imitate my time with them by following after Alvantes like some starved puppy?
'Look,' he said — and I was appalled to hear a note to his voice not entirely removed from sympathy — 'I understand that on some level you may occasionally mean well. Maybe you're even serious in these infrequent, half-hearted attempts at repentance. My advice, for whatever it's worth, is that you take some time to think over your next move. I need to gather information before I cross the border, and I can't do it with you there. Why don't you take the night to consider? If you really feel the need to accompany me, I'll be leaving at dawn.'
I felt empty — as though Alvantes's words had hollowed me from head to toe. I could tolerate many things from the man, but pity? 'There's nothing to consider,' I said. 'I didn't want to tell you this, but Estrada asked me to look after you too. 'He's been acting so strangely since Moaradrid made him a cripple,' she told me. 'With that and failing to protect the Prince, I'm not sure he can cope without someone looking over his shoulder.''
Alvantes jerked towards me. My cup sloshed its contents over the table, rolled to shatter on the floor. 'You're lying.'
'I told her I'd do my best. But I won't go anywhere I'm not wanted.'
Alvantes gave a brief, bitter laugh. 'You've spent your entire life going where you're not wanted.'
'Well, no more. Find another nursemaid, Alvantes.'
I stood up. My knees felt mushy, my legs were shaking — with both anger and fear, for the look on Alvantes's face was one of barely held rage. With all the calm I could muster, I marched towards the door. At the last moment, I slammed a twelfth-onyx down before the serving girl and said, 'That's for the broken cup. You'll have to excuse my friend, his handicap makes him clumsy.'
I wasn't certain I'd get out the door without Alvantes catching me and beating me into a bloody puddle. I never doubted he could do it, missing hand or no. I'd already decided I'd run at the first hint of pursuit; battles of words were the only kind I could ever hope to win against him.
No footsteps came. I made it through the door, out of the courtyard, into the street, around a corner. I moved mechanically, barely thinking. I still felt empty, and painfully on edge. I'd put Alvantes in his place, but there was no satisfaction in it.
Because everything he'd said was true. I'd known it all along.
My planned trip north might have begun as some harebrained idea about stealing from the King, but that particularly fantasy had dissolved in the first cold light of day. Such schemes belonged to the Damasco of old, the one who'd rob a warlord's tent on hardly more than a whim. The new Damasco was tired of hurling himself into jeopardy; the new Damasco wanted a week to go by with no one trying to kill him.
No, the reason I'd followed Alvantes was simply that it was easier than confronting the question of my future.
Now I was alone — and alone, there was no respite. As much as it sickened me to admit it, Alvantes was right about something else as well. For reasons I couldn't comprehend, I was suffering from fits of dogooding, which invariably sabotaged my own prospects. This time, I'd really gone too far. I'd given up my wealth for a few raggedy peasants and a herd of giants too stupid not to sit and starve.
It's just money. Could I really have said that?
Those two gold coins might have become a small house, even a business of my own. My remaining onyxes would keep me for a few weeks, but when they were gone, they were gone. What could I do then? The only trade I'd ever known was thieving. If Mounteban's schemes succeeded, that career choice promised to be more
