handed. Our only hope lay in not being discovered.
It was a small hope indeed.
Because Anterio would betray us. I had no doubt. His loathing for me would inevitably outweigh whatever loyalty he felt for Alvantes. He had cast me into the arms of the authorities twice before. Likely, he'd only taken me on board in the hope that this moment would arrive.
Sure enough, six booted pairs of feet, led by Anterio's lighter step, marched in our direction. When the voices returned, they were quieter — furtive. Still, I thought I could make out the occasional word. The steps were so close that it sounded as though they were inside the boat rather than on it. When they stopped, they stopped together.
I tried to tense. I'd already decided to fling myself overboard if I could. Better that than what the King would have in store for me. But my muscles, turned to jelly by days of stillness and cramp, refused to comply. I was helpless. All I could do was wait for the creak of the hatch.
There was no creak. In its place came another round of conversation. I caught snatches of queries, and of Anterio's answers. I couldn't piece sentences together but I followed the gist. Had he seen anything suspicious? Heard any rumours? Spoken to anyone out of the ordinary? If they'd seen the hatch, they wouldn't be asking vague questions. If they'd seen the hatch, they'd have opened it now. Which meant…
Which meant Anterio wasn't entirely a fool. He'd been keeping the trapdoor covered during the days with his repellent cargo. No one would ever go digging through that unless they were damn sure what they wanted lay beneath.
A few last words were spoken. The footsteps trooped away. Again, I heard the gangplank's complaint. Moments later, the timbers round me shuddered and I knew we were heading back out into the current.
We'd made it.
Or had we?
Every charged nerve in my body told me not to trust Anterio. Twice I'd done that. Twice he'd tricked me. Probably they'd left to gather reinforcements — a sensible precaution when it came to Alvantes. Probably they were just making sure that the trap, when sprung, was inescapable.
Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes dragged by. Then, sure enough, I felt us heave back against the current. The boat protested as it scudded against something solid. Again, there were footsteps above us — and this time, the wet slither of mouldering produce being cleared.
Abruptly, the hatch sprang open.
I heard it more than saw it. At first I thought I might have gone blind in the pitchy hold. As my eyes adjusted, I realised I could just make out the dimples of pale stars. Half blocking that glimmer-studded sky, a shadowy figure hovered over the opening.
'Out you come,' grunted Anterio.
I clambered up, flopped limply onto the deck gasping for air. I gazed about me, blinking.
There were no soldiers.
Yet it wasn't for that reason I almost sobbed with relief. I knew now that even capture and the promise of violent death would have been a relief after those three horrible days of stinking, claustrophobic horror.
By the standards of the hold, the air on deck was sweet as a fine lady's perfume. Compared with its lightless depths, the night-time black was the caress of softest velvet. Set against its muffled creaks and groans, the faint echoes of life from the shore were the choiring of songbirds.
There before me, scattered in gleams of gold upon the silhouetted mountainside, was Aspira Nero, entrance to the Castoval.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Given the late hour, Anterio offered to let us spend one last night aboard. Though Alvantes declined politely, the edge in his voice told me he was nearly as horrified by the prospect as I was. 'I'm sorry I can't pay you,' he said, perhaps by way of a diversion.
'Don't mention it,' replied Anterio, sounding faintly hurt by the suggestion. 'Just make certain that reprobate receives a dose of honest Castovalian justice this time.'
'I'll be glad to be receiving honest Castovalian justice, rather than that weaselly Ans Pasaedan kind,' I agreed.
I wondered what tale Alvantes had spun the old captain that could explain why arresting me involved fleeing from the King's guardsmen. Perhaps it was better if I never knew, for I doubted it cast me in a very favourable light. It was enough that his subterfuge had worked. We were back in the Castoval — or as near as damn it.
We said our goodbyes to Anterio. Alvantes did, anyway; the captain's glower was enough to still my tongue. I'd expected Alvantes to return to the Fourth Orphan, but instead he picked a dingy place near the harbour called the Drowned Sparrow. I didn't debate the choice, for he knew better than I did where we'd risk running into agents of the Crown. They might not be able to arrest us openly in Aspira Nero, but everyone knew they could find ways around that rule when it suited. In any case, the Drowned Sparrow might be squalid by any normal standards, but compared with Anterio's boat it was little short of a pleasure palace. Just the sight of an open fire and of wine bottles stacked behind the bar made my heart leap.
I never heard what arrangement Alvantes made to pay for our stay. As far as he knew, we had no funds between us, and I wasn't about to disillusion him. Whatever the case, the night passed without incident. Alvantes knocked on my door before dawn, and we set out to reclaim the horses we'd left stabled at the Fourth Orphan.
Our exit from town was uneventful. So was the day's ride south. Alvantes's dejection had become a storm cloud that gathered him in its depths, and I'd long since given up on trying to make conversation. I concentrated instead on enjoying the simple pleasures I'd missed in Anterio's hold: fresh air, crisp sunshine, the smells of grass and horse and a hundred other things that weren't rotten vegetables or bilge water.
At no point had we discussed a route, or even a destination. I assumed Alvantes would want to check in on Estrada. For my part, I had only the most halfformed of plans. I'd been lying, of course, when I'd told Synza I was taking the crown to Mounteban. However it should go down, there was no way I'd walk away from that one alive. If I could find the right broker, however, perhaps a deal could be struck with one of the more powerful Altapasaedan lords. It might even be that I held it in my power to overturn Mounteban's rule with a minimum of bloodshed, for the lords would be quick to rally behind one of their own against that fat crook.
It was a heart-warming plan in theory. In practise, it had more flaws than virtues, and a host of practical difficulties besides. Far less risky a strategy would be to go far away, maybe to Goya Pinenta, and find someone who could strip the crown down to sell as gold and jewels. Perhaps it wasn't quite so noble, but if Alvantes had proved one thing it was what a terrible career choice nobility made these days.
I'd thought only a little of Saltlick and his people. Though only a few days had passed since I'd last seen them, it seemed an age. Even after everything Saltlick had told me and everything I'd witnessed for myself, it was hard to believe they wouldn't have packed up for home by now.
It was the sight of dark shapes on the horizon, late in the day, which brought them back to the forefront of my mind. Whatever those shapes were, they weren't giants. My first impression was that a village had sprung up, but as we drew nearer and the dim forms resolved out of the afternoon haze, I realised it wasn't quite that. It was more like a shanty town — but a shanty town scaled for huge inhabitants. Out of poles driven into the ground, heavy sheets of oilcloth and windbreaks of twined twigs and reeds, a score of large structures had been built across the hillside, each just about sufficient to shelter a half-dozen giants.
Now I knew where at least some of my gold coin had gone.
Saltlick saw me before I saw him. He appeared from beneath one of the canopies and broke into a run. Careening to a halt just in time, he rumbled, 'Alvantes, Damasco. Friends to giants.'
I grinned — partly to hide a lump that had swum unexpectedly into my throat. 'Saltlick. Friend to Damasco.'
Saltlick returned a hesitant smile.
'You're still here,' I said.
I wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question, or whether I said it for any good reason at all. Whatever the
