"Of course," she murmured, and trudged after him into the shadows.
I was glad to see them go. I couldn't have cared less about the tomorrow. I flung myself to the ground, pausing just long enough to drag my cloak around me before my eyes slammed shut. I could hear the others following my example to either side. Saltlick struck the ground like a felled oak. A minute later and their snores were drowning out the faint background hiss of wind through leaves. I lay listening, filled with the strange sensation that my body was still moving even as I lay on the ground.
I began to realise, to my horror, that I wasn't falling asleep. I was beyond exhaustion, yet the dim flicker of my consciousness was refusing to go out. The more I thought about it, the worse it grew. I became suddenly aware of the chill, of the moonlight pressing against my eyelids, of a dozen tiny irritations prodding me towards wakefulness.
I opened my eyes and sat up. I remembered that Mounteban and Estrada were still awake too, talking somewhere off in the blackness. Five minutes of their company would surely lull me to sleep. They might not appreciate my intruding, but tact was the farthest thing from my mind.
There remained the difficulty of finding them. It was impossible to see anything in the shade of the hollow beyond the prone outlines around me and a vague suggestion of deeper dark that must have been bushes. The last thing I wanted was to trip over one of Mounteban's crew and have my sleeplessness cured by a knife in the belly. I settled for crawling forward on hands and knees, using the line of the foliage as a guide. It was a lot of trouble to go to for a little tedious company, but I was so wide awake by then that rest seemed a hopeless impossibility. If conversation stood a chance of curing my insomnia then it was worth damp knees.
I thought after a minute that I could make out hushed voices somewhere nearby. I crept forward and recognised Mounteban's gruff tone, too quiet for me to separate words. I tried to orientate myself by it, and kept moving. There followed a period of quiet. It went on for so long that I began to worry I'd passed them altogether.
Then close by, Estrada spoke. "I never meant that."
"Oh?"
"I didn't. I did what was needed."
"What was needed?"
There was an edge to both their voices. I decided against announcing my presence. I kept still and concentrated on listening instead.
"Castilio, I truly never meant to mislead you."
"All those visits… did everyone in Muena Palaiya receive so much attention? I couldn't understand, at first. Why a woman like you would spend so much time trying to recruit a scoundrel like me."
"We needed your help." Estrada sounded almost tearful. "There's no point discussing this any further. I'm going to sleep. I hope you'll put it out of your mind."
I heard the rustle of her cloak as she stood. Then came another sound, of sudden movement, and she cried out. Her voice was abruptly stifled. There was a loud thump, a body or bodies falling upon the turf, and a series of stifled impacts, with the constant background of Estrada's muted cries.
Mounteban grunted in pain, and she sobbed, "Stop!"
I was on my feet before I knew what I was doing.
"Get off her!"
Silence descended. I realised I had no idea where I was in relation to them. Moments slid by. The dark clotted, the stillness thickened around me.
" Or what?"
I turned to where I thought Mounteban's voice had come from.
"What will you do, you little piss-ant pickpocket?"
A good question. The obvious answer was that I'd briefly divert him with the chore of beating my head into a mush before I let him get back to his business. Why hadn't I kept my nose out? I didn't stand a chance alone against Mounteban.
Except that I wasn't alone.
"What will I do?" I said, with more courage than I felt. "Well, I'll call Saltlick. And I'll tell him what you had planned for his friend. How about that, Mounteban? I doubt he'll take it too well."
"He wouldn't hear you."
"Perhaps you're right. Shall we try?"
I heard the tiniest splash as Mounteban spat into the short grass. "The three of you deserve each other." A moment later, his footsteps were receding into the darkness.
When I was certain he'd left, I said quietly, "Are you all right?"
"No Easie, I'm not all right."
"It's a good job I arrived when I did."
"He wouldn't have done anything." Estrada actually sounded angry with me. Then her voice broke, and she began to cry softly.
I vaguely wanted to say something sensitive, or something that would at least quieten her, but I'd exhausted my supply of sensitivity. Instead, I sat down. With my head that much nearer to the ground, I realised the shock of almost being pummelled had extinguished whatever faint spark had been keeping me conscious. I barely had time to tumble backwards and haul my cloak up over me.
All I could hear as sleep wrapped around me was the lullaby of Estrada's gentle sobbing.
• • • •
I woke to pale sunlight and Estrada furiously shaking my shoulders. I blinked at her, grunted something that was meant to be, "Leave me alone you insane woman," and rolled away.
Then I realised what had been strange about the scene. The sun had been far too high and bright for dawn. I opened my eyes again, reluctantly, to find myself gazing once more into Estrada's panicked face.
"What's going on?"
"They're gone."
"What? Who's gone?"
"Mounteban. His men. They've left us. They're all gone, Damasco."
CHAPTER 12
"This is all your fault."
I couldn't tell whether Estrada looked more hurt or angry.
"I don't mean because of last night," I added hastily. "I'm talking about… well, the whole thing. What were you thinking, asking for help from one of the five most notorious criminals in Muena Palaiya?"
"The other four wouldn't even let me through the door."
That brought me up short.
"Look," she said, "not that I have to explain myself to you, but Castilio has been one of the bravest and most steadfast defenders of the Castoval. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him, and neither would you."
"And now we know why."
"Is that how you see it, Damasco? Every good thing the man has done was just a ruse? It couldn't possibly be that what happened last night was the anomaly."
I sat down in the grass, feeling more irritable than I could entirely justify. "How about abandoning us into the hands of our enemies? Is that another 'anomaly'? Because from what I've seen of Mounteban over the years, this is exactly in character."
"'Once a thief, always a thief'… people don't change in your world, do they, Damasco?"
The fact that Mounteban had related our conversation on the mountainside to Estrada only fanned my anger. All the frustration and pain of the last few days was boiling up inside me. I didn't seem able to control it, or particularly want to for that matter. The two of them had dragged me into this mess. Now Mounteban had disappeared in our most desperate hour and Estrada was behaving as though I was the one in the wrong.
I sprang back to my feet. "No, in my world people do what they have to do to survive and they keep doing it for as long as they can get away with it. But at least they don't plot and scheme about it, they don't manipulate people into risking their lives and they don't pretend to value anyone they truthfully couldn't care less for."
I could tell I'd struck a nerve. Once again, I'd forgotten that until recently Estrada had been nothing more than a provincial mayor. Her responsibilities hadn't included matters of life and death, or anything more serious than presiding over the yearly parade. With that in mind, it was impossible to miss the shadows behind her eyes, grim remnants of decisions she'd made over the last few days.
It was too good a weakness not to exploit.