At least I had a good view from where I lay. Through a gap, I could see out onto the grassy plain before the gates, where riders were massing. There might have been fifty already, with more arriving in a constant stream. Would they attack Muena Palaiya? Even with the garrison undermanned, they'd be hard-pressed. Those walls were sturdy and easily defended.
Either way, I was in too much of a corner to consider changing my plans. Maybe they imagined I was already inside, but it was just as likely they'd decide to make a search of the area. I hauled myself to my feet and squeezed through the gap in the rocks behind me. It was alarmingly narrow at first. On the other side it opened out a little into a sort of slim crevasse. Familiarity guided my exhausted steps, for I'd been this way more than once before. It had been known then, in certain circles at least, as the side door to Muena Palaiya.
The path — if path it could be called — crawled up and around the cliff face, which was less sheer at that point, a tumble of huge stones and jutting rock formations. At best the route was a narrow seam of loose dirt between boulders. At worst it meant sliding down perilous slopes of shingle or clambering over trees that jutted from the cliff face. I was in no shape for the endeavour. I soon noticed that I was leaving a snail-trail of scarlet over the white stone; my shoulder was bleeding again. I imagined myself tumbling over the cliff edge in a faint, and then bewildered townsfolk gathering round my broken body. The journey seemed to go on forever.
What made the route so difficult, however, made it secure. There were only a few points where I was visible from the town below. When I eventually reached Back Way Rock, I was confident I'd made it there unseen.
I lay flat on my face. I felt dizzier, and very muddled. Where was I? What exactly was I supposed to be doing? I decided I'd ask Saltlick, who I could hear behind me, chewing a mouthful of foliage. Memories jarred back into place. I recognised the sough of wind through leaves for what it was. The feverishness receded a little.
I dragged myself to the edge of the crag, and looked over cautiously. The eastern wall of Muena Palaiya was built around and partly into the cliff face, and the advantage of Back Way Rock was that it projected a little way out over the parapet, beside a particularly gentle and uneven decline. It was possible to climb down from there and, with more exertion, back up. It was a well-kept secret amongst those of us who liked to come and go without interference. At least it had been the last time I was in Muena Palaiya; the guards might keep a permanent watch on it these days for all I knew.
There was no one to be seen nearby, or anywhere on the eastern stretch of wall. A glance to my right told me why. What must have been the entire remaining garrison were gathered in a row on the northern wall around the gate, their helmets and cheerful blue cloaks bright in the early sunlight, staring down at some spectacle below. I could hear raised voices too, now that I listened. Was Moaradrid's force attacking? Their weapons weren't drawn, but perhaps that was only a matter of time. I decided to make my move, while they were otherwise occupied and I was fairly lucid. I pulled myself over to the side, looked down, and regretted it. The wall seemed unfeasibly far below.
Perhaps they'd shrunk it? Or raised the rock?
No, that was the fever talking, just as the distorted distance existed only in my fuddled brain. Focusing, I could see the first "step", a narrow outcropping worn by countless boots. I gritted my teeth, swung over, and managed to land a foot there whilst gripping the edge of the overhang. I looked for the second step once I was steady, and found that too.
Vertigo tugged at my brain. Sweat seemed to flow from my palms, making them slide wetly on their holds.
I couldn't remember where the third step was. I didn't dare look. I crouched, and lowered an exploratory foot. It found nothing but sheer, unbroken surface. I tried to pull it back, only to find that somehow I'd twisted around, my body angled away from the cliff.
I made to swing back, and my right hand slipped loose. I clawed frantically. My left foot slid free.
Scrabbling helplessly, I fell.
CHAPTER 6
I landed hard.
A part of my mind reported with grim satisfaction that I was dead. That was it, every bone in my body was shattered, probably a few organs had burst too. It had been a tolerable life, on the whole, but it was over now. You can't win them all.
Another part pointed out that it still hurt. It still hurt a lot. I hadn't even fallen that far, nor had I landed on my head. In short, there was no reason I should be dead.
Does there have to be reason, the first part wondered.
Yes, replied the second.
Really?
Absolutely.
Well then perhaps we're not.
I opened my eyes and groaned. Death might have been preferable, overall. I hurt in places I'd never known I had.
The reality was that I lay across the parapet, limbs spread-eagled like dropped firewood, one foot and a hand dangling over the edge. I reclaimed them quickly, sat up, and propped myself against the cliff. Seeing that the guards were still focused on the north wall, I managed a sigh of relief. I didn't even seem to have acquired any new injuries. A quick survey told me that everything was in at least a semblance of working order.
I clambered to my feet and tried to get my bearings. Muena Palaiya was built on a slope; it was barely noticeable when you were within the town, but there on the highest edge the decline was obvious. Most of the houses, like the walls, were built of stone and many even had paved roofs. They tumbled down in a series of irregular whitewashed steps, following the contours of the hillside. Narrow alleys intersected everywhere, passing under countless arches and — where the buildings stretched to two storeys — even under floors. There was only one thing wide enough to be called a road, and that was Dancer's Way, which ran diagonally from the northern entrance to the other gate in the southwest corner. Below me, just stirring into morning activity, was the Artisans' Quarter. It was a warren even by the town's own standards, a region of cramped passages, odd smells, and countless disparate trades.
Though it wasn't where I wanted to be, it offered more privacy than the wall did. It was still quite dark, as the sun struggled to get out from behind the mountains. That wouldn't last for long, and nor could I rely on the guards staying clustered by the gates. I scurried to a point where the gap between wall and neighbouring roof was narrow enough to jump, and did so, landing clumsily amidst a tangle of netting and what appeared to be crab and lobster cages. I rolled over, half buried myself amidst the clutter, and lay still, enjoying the brief security.
I'd liked many things about Muena Palaiya. The wine was good, the pickings were easy, the girls amongst the prettiest around. What had endeared it to me most, though, had always been its rooftops. Nowhere were there roofs so untidy, so laden with assorted rubbish, or so closely packed together as in Muena Palaiya. Sadly, the populace had decided in recent years to elect a new mayor, a woman no less, and whether or not they'd meant the election seriously that was how she'd taken the job. I had no idea how the greater mass of citizens had fared under Mayor Estrada's regime, but I'd quickly found that her unreasonable focus on law and order sapped most of the fun from living in Muena Palaiya. I'd left three years ago, and hadn't been back since.
It was comforting to find the rooftops, the great Thieves' Highway, just as I'd left them. Perhaps it was too comforting. Lying propped against coils of rope and bundles of netting, shielded by the salt-stained cages, I was as snug as any lord in his silk-covered bed. I knew, deep in my fatigued brain, that if I fell asleep I'd likely wake in a cell. It didn't seem a very immediate concern.