of Altapasaeda knows she was clapped in irons. The woman has no shame.'
Anterio shook his head. 'To think. She seemed such a lady…'
'You're not the first to be fooled by that pretty face,' I told him, with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. 'So now that you know the truth, perhaps we can reinstate our business deal? Since I'm here I might as well clear up a few loose ends, but I'll need to be off soon.'
We made the final arrangements; I gave Anterio back the four onyxes, and turned to leave. I'd been desperately tempted to suggest simply departing there and then, but I knew I wouldn't get far. I was certain now that I was being watched. Half a dozen faces had become familiar since we'd left the palace. Hopefully they'd have overheard the explanation I'd given Saltlick about settling for our morning's passage. At any rate, I couldn't imagine they'd gleaned any clue to my real plans from the afternoon's charade.
Just in case, when I reunited with Saltlick — who was obviously growing tired of being heckled by angry dockworkers — I said loudly, 'All done. Captain Anterio has gratefully received his dues from this morning, I have my stomach medicine, and now we'll go and collect your fine new clothes.'
It sounded convincing enough. Yet, even as I listened to my own words, a voice of doubt intruded.
Then we'll go for dinner with Moaradrid.
And then — assuming he doesn't climb over the table to cut my heart out right there and then — I'll get to stake my life on the most absurdly dangerous crime of my career.
CHAPTER 16
My fears and doubts began to fade as we wandered back from the docks, until I found myself feeling almost cheerful. For the first time in a long while, I was doing something more than being driven by the whims of others. There was a degree of comfort, too, in knowing that the trials of the last few days were, one way or another, about to reach a conclusion. Rationalisations aside, though, it felt good to be simply walking. I'd grown so used to fleeing for my life that just to saunter was a pleasure.
Most of the stalls had disappeared from the market square, leaving a wind-swept space broken up by a few wooden frames stripped of their canvas. Further on, the last shopkeepers were bringing in their produce, collapsing canopies, dropping shutters and bolting doors. The sun was barely halfway down the sky, and it was too early for any kind of nightlife. The streets were nearly deserted, with only a few lastminute shoppers rushing by, too busy to pay us much attention. There were hardly any carts or horses, so we stuck to the middle of the road, picking our way amongst puddles of rotten fruit and vegetables, dung, and other less identifiable refuse.
The respite, like all good things, proved short-lived. I hadn't been unduly worried about being tailed before, when we were safe amongst the crowds and it suited me to have witnesses who'd report my cover story to whoever their paymasters might be. Since we'd started back, though, two men had been staying close to us, making less and less of an attempt to hide their presence. They wore their cloaks loose enough to conceal weapons, walked with a sort of compulsive sneakiness, and in general had the air of gutter criminals. Perhaps I wasn't one to judge on that count, but at least I'd always tried to steer away from violence. Something told me these two didn't suffer from the same compunction.
As the last shop doors slammed shut, as their straggling customers became scarcer, so the pair quickened their pace. My backward glances were met with less than friendly grins. It struck me that they might not be agents of one or other interested party. They might simply be cutthroats who'd spied a well-off tourist and decided to chance their luck. Yet that made little sense. No thief, no matter how desperate, would consider anyone accompanied by Saltlick an easy mark.
Part of me felt that feigned indifference was my best chance. However, it was becoming harder not to hurry. Our pursuers matched every slight increase of speed. They were drawing closer, and any pretence of disinterest had vanished.
If there'd been anyone to see, they'd have wondered why someone with a giant by their side was fleeing two shabby vagabonds. We would probably have looked comical.
I didn't feel it.
I fought the urge to run, and wracked my memory for a route that would take us quickly to some populated area. We were near the edge of the upper market district, heading towards the temple district. That would be equally barren at this hour. The palace was hopelessly far. Surely we'd be safe as long as we stuck to the major thoroughfares, though? Surely they wouldn't dare attack us in the open, where anyone might chance by?
Three figures stepped from the shadows of an alcove ahead. A moment later they'd spread across the road. They looked nonchalant; as though blocking roads was something they did every day. That confidence frightened me more than anything.
An alley threaded off to our right. 'Saltlick! This way.'
Saltlick, apparently oblivious to the threats now behind and ahead of us, looked puzzled, but followed as I darted into the shadows. The passage was wider than I'd expected, broad enough for him to pass unimpeded. It was longer than I'd hoped it would be. It was also a lot more occupied. These two looked a lot like their friends who'd followed us from the docks, or perhaps a little meaner. If their smiles were anything to go by, they were pleased to see us. I didn't need the sound of footsteps closing behind to tell me we had nowhere to run.
'You look like busy individuals, so I'll save you some time. We don't have any money.'
'I think we'd just as soon check for ourselves.' That was the one on the left.
'You could try. But would it be worth the bother of having Saltlick here pound you to death with your own spleen?'
His eyes crawled nervously up Saltlick's bulk, and his confidence seemed to flag.
A voice behind us said, 'The monster won't hurt anyone, Pedero. Get it done.'
'That's what I like to see, people who aren't afraid to gamble with their lives.'
The words came out more obviously scared than I'd have liked. The one behind us had sounded too sure. He knew Saltlick wasn't a threat. Bluffing wasn't going to work.
'Saltlick, these men want to hurt us,' I said. 'Stop you going home, stop us helping Estrada. You're not going to let them are you?'
'No fight.' He sounded nervous, but he meant it.
'Told you,' said the voice from behind us. 'Wouldn't stamp a rat. So get on with it.' Then, apparently to us — it was hard to tell without taking my eyes off Pedero — he added, 'No one has to get hurt.'
'Nobody said we can't hurt them.'
Pedero planted his palm on my chest and shoved. I tumbled backwards, narrowly missed the pillar of Saltlick's left leg, struck the wall and landed hard. Pedero had a knife out by the time I looked up, one of the jagged blades favoured by local lowlifes. His companion drew his as well. It slid from the oiled leather scabbard with a serpentine hiss.
'Work first, fun later.' This from the leader. 'Turn out your pockets, and no tricks.'
I wondered what trick he imagined would help me out of such a situation. This was no ordinary robbery, that much was obvious. If there was something I could do or say to help myself it lay in that fact, but my panicked brain drew a blank.
I wrenched Panchetto's ring from my finger, dropped it on the pavement in front of me. 'That's all I have.'
'Sure it is. Keep going.'
I realised, as I should have from the start, that they were looking for something in particular. It could only be the stone, which meant these were agents of Moaradrid's. Not his own men, everything about them told me they were local ruffians, but in his pay all right. How else could they have known Saltlick wouldn't resist?
I took out my dagger and the bottle, placed them beside the ring.
'What's that?' Pedero asked, eyeing the bottle distrustfully.
'Medicine,' I said. 'It's for my stomach.'
Pedero ran a thumb along the flat of his knife. 'Might take more than medicine,' he said.
'Look, I don't have what you're after.' I craned my head towards the leader and his troupe. There were five of them blocking the mouth of the alley, effectively screening Pedero and me from passing observers. 'I know what
