For all our sakes, I thought.
I paced over to Saltlick. His gaze didn't move to follow me. Stopping before him, I called his name.
He didn't so much as twitch. If he were a man, I would have stood some chance of guessing what was going through his mind. With Saltlick, it was hopeless even to try.
'Saltlick?'
He could probably ignore me forever if he'd set his mind on it. It was one of his more unique talents. I flailed for words that might draw him out.
'Remember how you agreed to trust me?' I asked.
Saltlick's head twisted, as though dragged. 'Not king!'
As he spoke, he hooked one finger inside the crown, preparing to tear it loose.
'Saltlick, stop!'
He paused — but the finger stayed snagged.
'Do you want to go home?' I hissed. 'Do you want to lead your people home?'
Saltlick didn't remove the finger. Nor did he keep pulling.
'Answer me. Tell me honestly that there's anything in this world you want more than that. Is there anything more important? Anything you wouldn't go through to make it happen?'
He released the crown. His hand dropped to his side, as though all the life had gone from it. 'Go home,' he said — almost pleadingly.
'Then trust me.'
A barely perceptible nod. Enough.
'I need you to tell the other giants what I tell you. Regardless of what I say — every word, do you hear me? Now, call them over. Explain that I've a message for them and you're going to translate.'
For all the unmistakable doubt in his eyes, Saltlick's voice was more than loud enough as he rattled off a couple of brusque sentences in giantish.
'Now… exactly as I say, you understand? No improvising. No cutting the bits you don't approve of. Word for word, Saltlick.'
Another hesitant nod. I supposed I had no choice but to trust him too. I took a deep breath, as though I really were about to orate for the extraordinary assembly before me. 'Before your stone was lost, Saltlick was made chief of the giants. I saw it happen. He was made chief in front of your elders, your womenfolk and young.'
Saltlick was incapable of anything close to self-aggrandisement. If there were to be a sticking point, this would be it. Sure enough, I could see he was hesitating. I took a step closer and hissed, 'They need you. Say it for them.'
Still, he hesitated.
That was it then. Damn Saltlick and damn his stupid modesty, he had destroyed my plan, and I had no other. He had doomed himself and his people and…
Words burst from his mouth — harsh consonants and stunted vowels rolling out in the thick giantish tongue. It made no hint of sense to me. I could only hope he was repeating something close to what I'd said.
I began again the moment he'd finished, not daring to give him pause to think. 'Now, thanks to his noble efforts in the service of all Castovalians, we have asked him to wear our mark of leadership too — making him our king, the king of everyone in this land.'
I'd thought nothing could bother him more than revealing his brief, disastrous turn as chief. Yet if anything, he looked more dismayed this time — and not only dismayed but dazed. It hadn't occurred to me until then, but given his ignorance of Castovalian custom, he might really believe I'd just appointed him king of the entire land.
Whatever mental tribulations he was enduring, however, he hardly hesitated — and the way his expression shifted quickly to one of intense concentration told me he was doing his best to interpret the words I'd given him. More than once he stumbled, perhaps tripped by notions ill-suited to his mother tongue.
'Saltlick is our chief now,' I went on, 'just as he's yours. Before he assumes his royal duties, he would like to take you all home. You must obey him. If you don't, you will gravely insult my people.'
Saltlick didn't pause at all this time. As he spoke the last words, in fact, I was certain I noticed a subtle change in his tone. He looked less confused, less intent on simply translating. He even held himself straighter.
Was that hope in his eyes once more?
Either way, we were almost there. All that was needed now was to come to the point. 'Go now,' I said. 'Go where you're wanted, where you're needed. Forget the trials that brought you here. Forget the words of Moaradrid. Step forward. Be led back where you belong.'
It was the longest — indeed, the only speech I'd ever given. Like a loud and distorted echo, Saltlick rumbled on in my wake, until he too finished speaking. I turned my gaze from him to our mutual audience, hardly daring to see what effect our words had had.
No one had moved.
Not one giant twitched so much as an eyelash.
They sat as they had since we'd first seen them, immobile as the land itself.
I'd failed. I'd won Saltlick's trust for nothing. And no wonder! It had been a ludicrous idea from the beginning. If Saltlick hadn't been able to move his people in all this time, how could I think anything I said would make a difference? It was horrible to admit, but Alvantes had been right. What was the crown to the giants? What did they care about Castovalian traditions? As if a king meant anything to them!
One giant stood, stepped forward.
He was young; younger, I thought, than Saltlick, and smaller than most of the others. He looked sheepish, and perhaps a little defiant too.
There was the longest pause. Just as I was wondering what possible use a single convert could be, two more giants stepped forward to join him.
The next pause was shorter. Half a dozen giants clambered to their feet, wincing at muscles stiffened by disuse, and moved to join their companions.
After that, it was a steady stream. Once more than half the giants had declared their allegiance, the rest fairly bounded up, as though released from under a weight that had pinned them all this time.
The old chief was the last to step forward. But he did.
It was as if a spell had been broken. Perhaps in a way it had. Moaradrid had subdued the giants with chains more sturdy than any iron — bonds of ritual, loyalty and guilt. Now, it was as though they were waking from an ages-long sleep, or transforming from stone back into living things. I turned my attention to Saltlick. He was staring, jaw slack, eyes glazed, as if mesmerised by the crowd before him.
There was no time for niceties. I punched him on the thigh.
He glanced at me with vague surprise. A single fat tear was working its way down his cheek, apparently unnoticed.
'Get them moving,' I said. 'Now. Before they change their minds. We'll head for Altapasaeda and work from there.'
The tear lost its purchase, splashed into the grass between us. Saltlick, too, seemed to waken. 'Damasco,' he said, softly. 'Friend to giants.'
I slapped him on the knee. 'Damn right. The best friend you've got, and don't ever forget it. Now get going! I'll follow in a minute.'
Saltlick nodded. Then he called three words in giantish and started towards the road. My heart lurched when the other giants fell in behind him, one by one. Watching them go, I couldn't but note how painfully thin they still were, how they laboured against limbs rigid from neglect. They had a long way to go yet. Nevertheless, in that moment, watching that stream of monstrous figures wade across the landscape, I felt happier than I could ever remember feeling.
Eventually, I had to turn away. There was one more loose end to tie before I could leave this tragedystained hillside behind.
I started towards Alvantes, where he was still minding the horses near the riverbank. I was halfway there when Huero caught up with me. He was flushed with excitement, and his voice fairly bubbled as he said, 'We have a new king, eh?'
'I'm not sure it's entirely constitutional,' I said. 'Still, it couldn't hurt if you all keep playing along a little
