"If you're trying to make me feel better, it's not working."
"I couldn't care less how you feel." Alvantes massaged the bridge of his nose furiously, sank onto the end of the bed. "As if things weren't bad enough."
"Cut a long story short. If you've no intention of helping me, just say it."
"Of course I'll help you. Whatever's between you and me, I keep my promises. I told Marina I'd look after you and I will. Damn it, though," he added, a new note of tension entering his voice, "if only you knew how you've forced my hand."
Before I could even think to ask what he meant, Alvantes was back on his feet and pacing to the door.
"Wait," I cried. "You're not leaving?"
"Unless you want to sit here and wait to die, there are things I need to take care of. Lock yourself in."
"How long are you…"
The door slammed shut behind him.
I scurried to slam the bolt into place. After a moment's thought, I went back for the chair and jammed its back against the door. Then I closed the window shutters and bolted them too. I considered upending the bed across them, but it looked excessively heavy. I sat down in the chair instead.
I realised I was shaking. Despite how I felt about Alvantes, I'd have given every coin I had left to make him come back. But he wasn't about to. Perhaps he never would. All his noble talk could easily have been a lie to rid himself once and for all of the irritation that was Easie Damasco.
Damasco? I can't understand it, Marina. He was perfectly fine when I left him.
No. I couldn't expect any help from Alvantes. And Synza surely knew where I was. What were a bolted door and a shuttered window to a master-assassin? Yet there was nowhere else I could go either, nowhere that would be less dangerous.
I was trapped. I was alone.
All I could do was wait.
CHAPTER NINE
I didn't think I'd sleep. Not then. Not ever again.
Yet as the night wore on, so my thoughts began to muddle and turn in on themselves, the darkened room becoming more of a blur. The next I knew, I was being woken from shapeless nightmares by the sound of hammering on the door. I lurched to my feet — or tried to. My bruised muscles were in no condition for swift movements. The chair spun sideways, and I ended up in a heap on the floor.
I crawled to the door on hands and knees and tried to listen. There was nothing except silence now. I didn't trust silence. In my mind, it shaped itself around a small, gaunt man, and the glistening blade he held in one lean hand.
"What are you doing in there? Open the damned door, Damasco."
It certainly sounded like Alvantes. "How do I know it's you?"
"You'll know in five seconds' time when I kick it down."
Maybe it was possible to imitate Alvantes, but imitating an angry Alvantes was a stretch too far. I dragged back the bolt and opened the door.
Alvantes pushed past me. "Are you ready to leave?"
I could see that the passage outside was doused in gloom, with one lone lamp burning at the head of the stairs. "It's still night," I said.
"An hour before dawn."
I took a moment to digest that fact. "Yes. Of course, I'm ready. I never even had a chance to unpack my saddle bags."
"You won't need them. We're leaving the horses here."
I couldn't help noticing that even as he said it, Alvantes was dragging his own bags from the chest in the corner. If he was aware of the hypocrisy, he gave no sign.
In all that had happened, I'd forgotten the mystery of what Alvantes was hiding. Now, as he hoisted the bags over one shoulder, I could just discern the faint bulge I'd noticed before. Should I be lucky enough to survive the next few minutes, it was something I'd have to investigate. Now that we were apparently stuck together, it wouldn't do for Alvantes to be keeping interesting secrets from me.
As for myself, I had everything I really needed: my rucksack, what little money I had left and the clothes on my back. "All right," I said. "I'm ready."
"Follow me then. And try to keep up. We don't have much time."
I did as I was told, keeping close to Alvantes as he marched along the balcony, down the stairs, out through the door of the Fourth Orphan.
The moment we stepped into the open air, my heart began to hammer. There were no street lights in this portion of Aspira Nero. Beneath a cloudy and moonless sky, the shadows were thickly black. One glance showed me countless places Synza could be hiding.
Perhaps his earlier attack hadn't been as reckless as it had seemed, but it certainly suggested he'd relaxed his standards. There was no reason to think Alvantes's presence would deter him. In this darkness, Synza could kill me a dozen times before Alvantes even noticed I was gone.
I stayed near as we crossed the courtyard and turned into the street, trying to keep in Alvantes's line of sight — a next to impossible goal when I had no idea where we were going. If Aspira Nero was mazelike by day, it was doubly so at night. All I could gather was that we were heading downward, which meant we were travelling roughly west. I struggled to construct a mental map of the town, but it was hopeless. Between pain, tiredness and my basic lack of knowledge, I was helplessly disorientated.
Only when we came out into clear space through a gap in the buildings did I realise our objective should have been obvious. There were only two routes across the border, and only one lay to the west. In fact, I should have guessed the moment Alvantes told me we were leaving the horses. Before us lay the dockside.
The harbours of Aspira Nero were almost as large as those at Altapasaeda, and more impressive in their way. Though the low stone wharfs and occasional wooden jetties were basic enough, they were home to craft far grander than the skiffs and barges that dawdled along the southern portion of the river.
Such was the vessel Alvantes was leading us towards. It might have been the biggest riverboat I'd ever seen. Even if it could somehow have passed under the bridge that rose to our left, it couldn't possibly have navigated the southern Casto Mara without scraping its bottom out on the shallower sections. Only to the north, where the river broadened and deepened, could such a craft be of use.
It bore a single sail amidships and a low, rail-enclosed aftcastle. I could see men moving on board despite the hour, and a small group clustered near the gangplank. As we drew near, Alvantes hissed, "Don't speak of the King. Don't bring up Panchetto or Moaradrid. Definitely don't mention the situation in the far north or the Bastard Prince."
"Who's the…?"
"Shut up. In fact, in general, keep your mouth shut."
One of the men on the dockside broke away to block our path. "Who goes there?" he said.
"It's Alvantes, with the companion I spoke of."
The man moved nearer. I saw he was dressed in uniform, though it wasn't one I recognised. "Just in time, Guard-Captain. Get aboard, please."
Alvantes hesitated. "Damasco, this is Commander Ludovoco of the Crown Guard… also captain of this boat, the Prayer at Dusk."
"There'll be time for introductions later." Ludovoco made no effort to mask the impatience in his voice.
Alvantes nodded, and led the way across the last stretch of dockside and up the narrow ramp. Ludovoco and his men fell in behind, and I couldn't help noticing how the sailors on deck stopped what they were doing to form around us. On that unlit deck, at that predawn hour, our welcome seemed more menacing than gracious.
As the gangplank was hauled up, Ludovoco said, "Come. I'll show you your quarters."
He led us through the leftmost of two doors set either side of the aftcastle, down a narrow flight of stairs and through another door off a claustrophobic passage. The room beyond was tiny, just big enough for the two bunks it contained. There was a hurricane lamp suspended from the ceiling, already lit. In its light, I got my first proper look at Ludovoco.