Helpless before that inarguable logic, the mob of villagers fell in behind me, and I marched them towards where Saltlick stood waiting. If he'd looked perplexed before, his reaction to the peasant army bearing down on him now was one of sheer bewilderment. The other giants, too, were watching with curious fascination.
That, at least, was a good sign.
"All right," I said, as softly as I dared, "On the count of three. One… two… three…"
I knelt before Saltlick, hoping against hope that now that the time had come, the villagers would follow my lead. I gave it a moment, in case of stragglers — and I began to shout.
"All hail! All hail Saltlick, King of the Castoval!"
Huero matched me in both word and volume. For the rest, a few thin voices came to my aid, sounding more apologetic than forceful. Was I the only one kneeling? I dared a glance. Dura and Huero had joined me, of course, their brows all but scraping the dewdampened grass. Of the others, some were halfway to their knees, others barely tilting their heads.
Nothing for it. I had to press on.
"All hail! All hail King Saltlick!"
This time, it was more of a concerted effort. More people lent their voices than didn't, even if few sounded sure about what they were yelling.
I drew a deep breath, poured it all into my next shout. "All hail! Hail King Saltlick, King of the Castoval!"
Better, far better. Finally, they were beginning to sound as though their hearts were in it.
"All hail! All hail Saltlick, King of the Castoval!"
This time, the sound cascaded over me, a wave that tingled through my every muscle, made the hairs on my neck stand straight. I barely heard my own voice amidst the roar. It was a good job too, because my throat was starting to feel scraped raw. I lowered my volume a fraction, grateful to let others carry the weight.
I gave it half a dozen more rounds and then bowed low as I could manage, forehead to the ground. A rustle of clothing from all around told me the villagers had remembered this final, crucial detail. I regained my feet. Around me, the crowd was already beginning to break up. There was an air of confusion, as if no one was quite certain what had just happened.
I looked towards the giants. Well, we'd certainly kept their attention — and probably that was the best I could hope for at this stage. I turned to Saltlick. He was staring fixedly at the point where we'd been kneeling, with an expression of distant horror.
Huero appeared beside me. "I thought that went well. Didn't you?"
"Honestly?" I said. "I have no idea."
"Should we feed them now?"
"Not yet. There's one more thing I need to do."
"All right. We'll wait. Good luck, Damasco."
For all our sakes, I thought.
I paced over to Saltlick. His gaze didn't move to follow me. Stopping before him, I called his name.
He didn't so much as twitch. If he were a man, I would have stood some chance of guessing what was going through his mind. With Saltlick, it was hopeless even to try.
"Saltlick?"
He could probably ignore me forever if he'd set his mind on it. It was one of his more unique talents. I flailed for words that might draw him out.
"Remember how you agreed to trust me?" I asked.
Saltlick's head twisted, as though dragged. "Not king!"
As he spoke, he hooked one finger inside the crown, preparing to tear it loose.
"Saltlick, stop!"
He paused — but the finger stayed snagged.
"Do you want to go home?" I hissed. "Do you want to lead your people home?"
Saltlick didn't remove the finger. Nor did he keep pulling.
"Answer me. Tell me honestly that there's anything in this world you want more than that. Is there anything more important? Anything you wouldn't go through to make it happen?"
He released the crown. His hand dropped to his side, as though all the life had gone from it. "Go home," he said — almost pleadingly.
"Then trust me."
A barely perceptible nod. Enough.
"I need you to tell the other giants what I tell you. Regardless of what I say — every word, do you hear me? Now, call them over. Explain that I've a message for them and you're going to translate."
For all the unmistakable doubt in his eyes, Saltlick's voice was more than loud enough as he rattled off a couple of brusque sentences in giantish.
"Now… exactly as I say, you understand? No improvising. No cutting the bits you don't approve of. Word for word, Saltlick."
Another hesitant nod. I supposed I had no choice but to trust him too. I took a deep breath, as though I really were about to orate for the extraordinary assembly before me. "Before your stone was lost, Saltlick was made chief of the giants. I saw it happen. He was made chief in front of your elders, your womenfolk and young."
Saltlick was incapable of anything close to self-aggrandisement. If there were to be a sticking point, this would be it. Sure enough, I could see he was hesitating. I took a step closer and hissed, "They need you. Say it for them."
Still, he hesitated.
That was it then. Damn Saltlick and damn his stupid modesty, he had destroyed my plan, and I had no other. He had doomed himself and his people and…
Words burst from his mouth — harsh consonants and stunted vowels rolling out in the thick giantish tongue. It made no hint of sense to me. I could only hope he was repeating something close to what I'd said.
I began again the moment he'd finished, not daring to give him pause to think. "Now, thanks to his noble efforts in the service of all Castovalians, we have asked him to wear our mark of leadership too — making him our king, the king of everyone in this land."
I'd thought nothing could bother him more than revealing his brief, disastrous turn as chief. Yet if anything, he looked more dismayed this time — and not only dismayed but dazed. It hadn't occurred to me until then, but given his ignorance of Castovalian custom, he might really believe I'd just appointed him king of the entire land.
Whatever mental tribulations he was enduring, however, he hardly hesitated — and the way his expression shifted quickly to one of intense concentration told me he was doing his best to interpret the words I'd given him. More than once he stumbled, perhaps tripped by notions ill-suited to his mother tongue.
"Saltlick is our chief now," I went on, "just as he's yours. Before he assumes his royal duties, he would like to take you all home. You must obey him. If you don't, you will gravely insult my people."
Saltlick didn't pause at all this time. As he spoke the last words, in fact, I was certain I noticed a subtle change in his tone. He looked less confused, less intent on simply translating. He even held himself straighter.
Was that hope in his eyes once more?
Either way, we were almost there. All that was needed now was to come to the point. "Go now," I said. "Go where you're wanted, where you're needed. Forget the trials that brought you here. Forget the words of Moaradrid. Step forward. Be led back where you belong."
It was the longest — indeed, the only speech I'd ever given. Like a loud and distorted echo, Saltlick rumbled on in my wake, until he too finished speaking. I turned my gaze from him to our mutual audience, hardly daring to see what effect our words had had.
No one had moved.
Not one giant twitched so much as an eyelash.
They sat as they had since we'd first seen them, immobile as the land itself.
I'd failed. I'd won Saltlick's trust for nothing. And no wonder! It had been a ludicrous idea from the beginning. If Saltlick hadn't been able to move his people in all this time, how could I think anything I said would make a difference? It was horrible to admit, but Alvantes had been right. What was the crown to the giants? What did they care about Castovalian traditions? As if a king meant anything to them!
One giant stood, stepped forward.
He was young; younger, I thought, than Saltlick, and smaller than most of the others. He looked sheepish, and perhaps a little defiant too.