opened my eyes again, reluctantly, to find myself gazing once more into Estrada's panicked face.
'What's going on?'
'They're gone.'
'What? Who's gone?'
'Mounteban. His men. They've left us. They're all gone, Damasco.'
CHAPTER 12
'This is all your fault.'
I couldn't tell whether Estrada looked more hurt or angry.
'I don't mean because of last night,' I added hastily. 'I'm talking about… well, the whole thing. What were you thinking, asking for help from one of the five most notorious criminals in Muena Palaiya?'
'The other four wouldn't even let me through the door.'
That brought me up short.
'Look,' she said, 'not that I have to explain myself to you, but Castilio has been one of the bravest and most steadfast defenders of the Castoval. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him, and neither would you.'
'And now we know why.'
'Is that how you see it, Damasco? Every good thing the man has done was just a ruse? It couldn't possibly be that what happened last night was the anomaly.'
I sat down in the grass, feeling more irritable than I could entirely justify. 'How about abandoning us into the hands of our enemies? Is that another 'anomaly'? Because from what I've seen of Mounteban over the years, this is exactly in character.'
''Once a thief, always a thief'… people don't change in your world, do they, Damasco?'
The fact that Mounteban had related our conversation on the mountainside to Estrada only fanned my anger. All the frustration and pain of the last few days was boiling up inside me. I didn't seem able to control it, or particularly want to for that matter. The two of them had dragged me into this mess. Now Mounteban had disappeared in our most desperate hour and Estrada was behaving as though I was the one in the wrong.
I sprang back to my feet. 'No, in my world people do what they have to do to survive and they keep doing it for as long as they can get away with it. But at least they don't plot and scheme about it, they don't manipulate people into risking their lives and they don't pretend to value anyone they truthfully couldn't care less for.'
I could tell I'd struck a nerve. Once again, I'd forgotten that until recently Estrada had been nothing more than a provincial mayor. Her responsibilities hadn't included matters of life and death, or anything more serious than presiding over the yearly parade. With that in mind, it was impossible to miss the shadows behind her eyes, grim remnants of decisions she'd made over the last few days.
It was too good a weakness not to exploit.
'How many men have to die before you admit you don't know what you're doing? What about me? Or Saltlick, is he next? You've drawn us deeper and deeper into this mess, without a word of explanation. Now that it's just the three of us, maybe it's time you tried a little honesty. What exactly are we doing here, Estrada?'
If I'd hoped for a dramatic reaction, I was disappointed. Her face was inscrutable. Seconds passed. Finally, she said, very softly, 'You're bait.'
'What?' I couldn't believe I'd heard her right.
This time she shouted it: 'You're bait!'
Then, to my astonishment, Estrada burst into tears. I couldn't look at her. I swung away and stormed towards the other end of the clearing, appalled by the use of such an unfair strategy. I sat down again, with my back to her and my face to a line of whitethorn bushes. My anger had frozen into a cold, hard knot in my stomach. Bait? I was nothing more to Estrada than a worm wriggling on a hook.
It made sense, of course. What better way to lure Moaradrid than with his insane obsession for capturing Saltlick and me? Rationalising it didn't make me feel any better. A fragment of calm amidst the fury noted how absurd it was that I should feel betrayed when Estrada had never made any pretence of not using me. I ignored it. The fact was, promises… well, not promises, but assurances had been… perhaps not made, but implied, definitely implied.
Something heavy tapped my shoulder, so unexpectedly that I almost tumbled into the grass.
'Saltlick?'
The giant hovered over me like some bizarre monolith ejected by the earth.
'What do you want? Can't you see I'm…' I let the sentence trail off, not wanting to say 'sulking', and went back to staring at the bushes.
Another tap, this one insistent enough that I felt it in the depths of my collarbone.
' Sorry.'
'You want to apologise? Saltlick, for once this is hardly your fault.'
He pointed. I followed his outstretched arm. There was Estrada pacing at the far end of the glade. I couldn't tell if she was still crying.
'Sorry.'
'You want me to apologise? Not a chance. Didn't you hear? All she wants us for is to lure Moaradrid into some trap.'
Saltlick sighed violently, and his features contorted with frustration. The hand that had been pointing darted like some fleshy bird of prey and grasped a hold of my cloak. An instant later, I was dangling in the air, a good two paces from the ground.
'What are you doing? Put me down!'
I struggled furiously, and then realised I ran the risk of strangling myself in my own cloak and gave up.
'If you put me down now,' I mumbled through the hood now tangled over my head, 'we can forget this whole thing.'
Evidently, that wasn't the plan. I could hear his trudging footsteps, accompanied by the disconcerting sensation of my entire body swinging at each impact. With a lurch that seemed briefly to transfer my genitals to where my kidneys would normally be, I found myself back on solid ground. I clawed the hood out of eyes, and found myself staring into the face of a confused Estrada.
From behind me, Saltlick repeated, ' Sorry.'
'All right, damn it. Look, perhaps I was wrong to blame you entirely for all this. Maybe you weren't to know what a despicable cockroach Mounteban is. I mean, I'm sure this absurd quest to free the Castoval is well- intentioned.'
A slight smile pushed some of the anger from her mouth. 'That's the worst apology I've ever heard.'
'Really? Because for me it was pretty good. Care to see if you can do any better?'
Estrada looked puzzled.
'Your apology. I'd like to hear it. I think Saltlick would too.'
She glanced up at him imploringly. Either I was right, or he hadn't been following the conversation, because he didn't say anything to contradict me.
'Maybe you're right.' She coughed, and stared briefly at her feet. I could swear a tint of red had entered her cheeks. 'Maybe I should have trusted you both from the start. It's possible that my faith in Castilio was a little… misjudged… and, well…'
'You shouldn't have used us as bait without so much as telling us?'
'Yes. That too.'
'Apology accepted.' I spat into my hand, and offered it for her to shake.
This time there was no hesitation in her smile. 'Don't push your luck, Damasco.'
• • • •
Having assessed the situation with calmer heads, we both realised that a shouted argument hadn't been the best way to keep our presence concealed. We were lucky we hadn't brought Moaradrid's men swarming down on us. With our numbers more than halved and Saltlick's chronic aversion to violence, we'd inevitably be lost in a fight. As much as I hated to admit it, things looked bleak without Mounteban and his thugs to watch out for us.
