his grey hair — retreated behind a battered desk. He spent five minutes removing and cataloguing our possessions, and then fussily recording our names and brief descriptions. Saltlick seemed to throw his system into chaos, and most of that time was spent with him tutting and chewing morosely at his quill, as though the giant had materialised solely to baffle him.
I was almost relieved when our original captors led us through an archway and down steep stairs into the guts of the prison. Though it was barely noon outside, this lower level was lit by greasy torchlight. As far as I could tell, it consisted of corridors running at right angles to each other, forming a grid with the cells spaced between and around the edges. The place reeked of smoke, though not enough to cover other smells, more human and less pleasant.
Our posse of guards was met by a pair of jailers, their uniforms identical in cut but black instead of crimson. There followed a brief and muddled discussion. I caught our names, the Prince's, and laughter. Then the jailers joined our already extensive procession, and together they ushered us towards one of the outer cells.
'In you go,' the lead guard said. Saltlick's obedience had done nothing to ease his nervousness, as though he suspected some kind of long-winded trap.
Saltlick tried to ease himself through the low, narrow doorway, and failed. It took him a few seconds of manoeuvring, and in the end of moving sideways in a crouched shuffle, to get inside. All the while, the guard's face melted towards panic, and I struggled not to snigger.
'Right, now you two. Don't try and make any trouble.'
'I never try to make trouble. It just seems to happen around me,' I replied, stepping through.
I glanced back when Estrada didn't follow. Though she wasn't exactly resisting, there was something in her bearing I'd learned to recognise. It told me our guard's bad day wasn't about to get any better.
He too appeared to sense that he was out of his depth again. 'You as well, madam.'
'You're not going to tell the Prince I'm here, are you?'
He considered. 'Not as such, no.'
'May I ask why?'
'Because that man there is Easie Damasco, a known and wanted criminal, and your other companion is some sort of monster. This leads me to believe that you aren't the type the Prince would associate with.' Seeing Estrada's expression, he added quickly, 'Also, I'm only a sergeant, and I don't think His Highness would listen to me.'
'I appreciate your honesty.'
The young guardsman looked relieved. 'So if you could step into the cell…'
'Just one more thing, sergeant.'
He winced.
'What if you're wrong?'
'Excuse me?'
'I mean, what if I am, as I say I am, the mayor of a nearby town that Prince Panchetto has allied himself with, and what if word was to reach him that you'd thrown me into a prison cell for no apparent crime or good reason?' I could tell she was beginning to enjoy herself. 'What I'm asking is, what do you think would happen then?'
The sergeant gulped, opened and closed his mouth, and ended with a shrug that seemed to pass through his whole body. He said, 'I don't know, madam. But if you'd be good enough to wait a while in this room behind us then I'll take the matter to the guard-captain and let him decide what's best.'
Estrada smiled beatifically, and stepped inside. Behind her, the sergeant shut the door as gently as he could whilst still appearing to slam it.
The show over, I turned my attention to our surroundings. I'd been in worse cells. It was fairly clean, and came with not only a bucket but also a pile of straw in the corner, which Saltlick had promptly begun to devour. We even had natural light from the grill set in the outside wall above our heads.
That, however, soon proved more a curse than a blessing. The window was there not for our comfort but so passers-by could mock and spit at us if the urge took them. We'd been in there hardly five minutes when a mob of youths squatted around the opening, and began catcalling to Estrada and pouring abuse on Saltlick and myself. On a better day I'd have risen to the challenge, but I didn't have it in me right then. I sat in the farthest corner, arms wrapped around my knees, and glared until they got bored and went away.
When we were alone again, I said to Estrada, 'You do know who the guard-captain is, don't you?'
'Of course I do.'
'And your plan is to have that man come here? He'll probably want to hold the axe himself.'
'Everything will be fine, Damasco.'
'You said that before.'
'I did. Have a little faith. Altapasaeda's the place for it.'
I lapsed into silence. I doubted she knew guardcaptain Alvantes's reputation half as well as I did, but what was the use of arguing? She'd realise eventually that nobody remembered or cared if she'd once been mayor of some backwater burg. In the meantime, I should try to see the funny side of her stubbornness. A few weeks of being heckled in this dismal box would beat it out of her better than anything I could say.
The shadows of the bars had jutted straight across the room when we'd arrived. Now they were slanting towards the corner where Saltlick sat chewing straw. That made it a little past noon, if my sense of direction hadn't failed me. I was warm enough, and not uncomfortable. Perhaps they'd feed us soon. Maybe they'd forget about us. Maybe the sergeant wouldn't keep his word, or Alvantes would deem the matter beneath him. Maybe…
I'd barely registered the rapid footsteps outside when the door sprang open. I tumbled out of the way. When I looked up, I found myself face to face with the chiselled features of Alvantes, captain of the Altapasaedan City Guard. He looked older than when I'd last seen him. Fine wrinkles had sprung up around his angular jaw; a hint of grey discoloured his close-cropped dark brown hair. His uniform still bulged around wide shoulders, though, and his eyes glittered with their old enthusiasm. Alvantes the Boar, the Hammer of Altapasaeda… of course he would want to deal personally with the infamous Easie Damasco.
Which begged the question: why did he barely glance in my direction? His gaze skimmed over me, took in Saltlick, and settled on Estrada. 'Marina.'
'Guard-Captain.'
'This is… unfortunate. I've spoken with my men.'
'They weren't to know.'
'Of course. I took that into account. And the fact that you were travelling with…' Now he did look at me, briefly and with disgust. 'Well, you can see how misunderstandings might arise.'
'Yes. Nevertheless, Easie Damasco is my companion, and under my protection.'
'And…?' He nodded towards Saltlick.
'Saltlick too. We wouldn't have made it this far without his assistance.'
I couldn't help noticing the smile that curved Saltlick's thick lips.
Alvantes, however, looked less than impressed. 'We'll respect that, of course. As long as the thief behaves himself while he's within the city.'
There was something going on here that I was missing. The strained formality between Alvantes and Estrada spoke volumes, but about what I couldn't tell. Though turning up as a refugee with an aberration of nature on one arm and a wanted criminal on the other was probably doing little for Estrada's credibility, I sensed it was more than that.
Still, if it got us out of this cell they could start dancing together for all I cared. 'My behaviour will be impeccable,' I said. 'I hope we can put any past misunderstandings behind us.'
Alvantes threw me a look of such utter loathing that I actually flinched. 'There have been no misunderstandings. If you put one toe astray, no amount of protection will save you.' As if nothing had been said, he turned back to Estrada. 'Shall we go? His Highness is waiting.'
Our second journey through Altapasaeda was more discreet. This time we only had two guards escorting us, for a start. It was more than that though. Somehow, people's eyes slipped away from Alvantes, somehow their feet carried them aside without any indication they'd even noticed he was there. We might have been travelling in a bubble of invisibility for all the attention we were paid. It occurred to me that if Alvantes ever needed a change of
