With that in mind, I insisted on taking the lead when we set out again, and on maintaining the fastest pace I could without drawing comment from Alvantes and Estrada. When we'd passed this way in the opposite direction, Estrada, Saltlick and I had been forced to travel cross-country, led by that despicable shark Mounteban. This time we followed the winding main road out of Casta Canto, which led east and a little north. If it was quicker, the going was still frustratingly slow and dull.
Evening found us out of Paen Acha proper, in the eastern region where the forest broke into scattered woodland and wild meadows. We stopped at a small village I was barely familiar with and paid for lodgings in its dingy, weather-beaten inn. The fact that I'd seen no sign of Synza had done nothing to alleviate my worries, so I was glad to find that in place of rooms the inn had two large dormitories, one for men and women each.
Somehow, despite the fact that most of the beds were occupied by raucously snoring loggers, I managed another sound night's sleep. As we set out the next day, my mood was almost upbeat. We made good speed in the morning, and by lunch we'd joined the north-south highway, the last vestiges of woodland behind us. Far ahead, high above, Muena Palaiya was visible as a spatter of white in the weak sunlight, where its southernmost edge showed above the plateau called the Hunch.
Only then did I start to realise how misjudged my good humour was.
It crept upon me slowly — a subtle sense of wrongness. The few people we passed were sullen and uncommunicative, just as the inn's small staff had been the night before. They looked furtive, on edge, expressions that summoned all-too-ready memories of our time in the Suburbs. One or two I could ignore, but each downturned face, each averted eye, reinforced my doubts. As much as I told myself it didn't mean anything, I couldn't believe it.
We spent the afternoon crawling towards the broadening line of white that was Muena Palaiya. Once we'd passed the crossroads, where the road down from the mountains met the highway, our route began to climb — steadily at first and then more steeply. I found myself watching Estrada. She'd been absent for days. Would it be unreasonable to expect her to look pleased at the sight of her home? Yet as the afternoon wore on, all I could see was tension that set like mortar, drawing her face into harder and harder lines.
When we crested the edge of the plateau late in the afternoon, I realised the gates were closed. Well, there was nothing so strange in that. They were often kept shut. I couldn't even say why the sight unsettled me.
I glanced again at Estrada. Her countenance was rigid.
I knew Muena Palaiya as well as I did anywhere. I couldn't see anything out of place. Had she noticed some detail I was missing? It struck me that there were no guards on the walls either, nor anywhere in sight. Yet even that wasn't entirely unexpected. After all, hadn't most of the local guardsmen died in the fight against Moaradrid?
We were almost at the gates when Estrada called a halt — and said aloud what I was trying so hard not to think.
"Can you feel it?" Her voice was stiff with forced calm. "It's not just Altapasaeda. Something's wrong here too."
CHAPTER SIX
We guided the horses to the side of the road, dismounted at a point where a stand of ragged trees hid us from view. The surest sign of the unease in our small party was that Saltlick didn't immediately start devouring the foliage. Instead, he watched Estrada with a steady, sorrowful gaze, evidently sensing her disquiet but not knowing how to help.
Would that Alvantes were so tactful. "I'm not doubting you, Marina," he said. "But consider the strain you've been under these last days. Probably what you're noticing is just the disturbance of everything that's happened lately. After all, Muena Palaiya's been without a mayor, and without most of its guard."
"Lunto… something's wrong. I know this town better than I know myself. You should understand what I mean as well as anyone. It's just like Altapasaeda. You can almost smell the fear in the air."
"So, say you're right. What do we do?"
"We?" Estrada shook her head, a sharp judder of resolve. "No. This is my problem. If something's happened here, it happened because of my absence. It's my job as mayor to set it right."
"That's absurd. We've come this far together. Let us help you. What if it's more stragglers from Moaradrid's army?"
"Then what can four of us achieve that I can't do alone?"
"All right, perhaps Damasco could…"
"Hey! Not a chance," I cut in. "The last time I broke into somewhere for you, I barely got out with my life."
"It's all right, Easie," Estrada said. "I have friends inside. People I trust. And you three have business you need to attend to, business that's already waited far too long. Not least, making sure Saltlick gets back to his people."
Saltlick looked more abashed than ever. "Help Marina."
"Thank you. Really. But Muena Palaiya's my town, and I have all the help I need right here."
"Marina," Alvantes said, "I won't let you go in there alone."
The look Estrada turned him would have frozen boiling water. "How exactly do you intend to stop me?"
I saw the anger flare in Alvantes's eyes — and quickly dissolve into frustration, with perhaps even an edge of helplessness. "I didn't mean it like that. But you can't seriously expect to tell me you'll be in danger and then think I'll let you ride in there alone."
"That's precisely what I expect. It's how it has to be. When we fought Moaradrid, you knew your men needed to see you leading them, that you weren't afraid. It's the same here, with my people. I won't let them down again. But Lunto — it's going to be all right. You really don't need to worry."
Estrada stepped suddenly forward and reached to put her arms around his neck. Alvantes stood rigidly at first; then, forcing himself to relax, he put his own arms round her back and returned the embrace. For a moment, all the clumsy formality went out of the gesture and they pressed each other close.
It was Estrada who drew away first. "Thank you," she said. "For everything. Come find me once your business is settled with the King."
Alvantes only nodded.
She turned to Saltlick and me. "Easie… take care of yourself. Try to be good."
"You too, Mayor Estrada. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
I held out my hand and she shook it, with the faintest of smiles.
"Saltlick," she said, "will you bring your people to visit on your way home? I promise we'll make you a good welcome."
"Meet friends," beamed Saltlick. Bending almost double, he offered her his hand as well. Though it was fully twice the size of hers, she managed to wrap her five fingers around two of his and they shook.
Then, without another word, Estrada caught up her horse's reins and led it towards the southern entrance of Muena Palaiya. Watching her cross the short distance, I realised my breath was catching in my throat. At the gates, she rapped hard, three times. Seconds passed — enough that I began to think no one would answer. Estrada only waited patiently. Finally, the rightmost gate opened. Whoever was on the other side was masked by the nearer gate. I heard a man's voice, too low for me to pick out words. Estrada responded briefly. The gate opened a little more and she led her horse into the gap. She was barely through before the portal swung shut behind her.
I let out the long breath I'd been holding. "There she goes," I said, more to break the tension than because I thought the comment worth making.
I turned to Alvantes — and was startled to see the fury in his face. "Damn you, Damasco. Do you care so little that you couldn't say one word to talk her out of this?"
He looked as if he'd like to throttle me with his bare hand. I tried to keep my voice steady as I said, "Do you know the woman at all, Alvantes? She became mayor of the most crime-ridden town in the Castoval. She led an army into battle and did more to stand up to Moaradrid than anyone. Whatever's going on in there, if she can't handle it no one can."