I couldn't wait any longer.
"They're taking our dinner away," I moaned, as though the serving girl who'd just appeared to remove the bowl in front of me were tearing the food from my very mouth. "Hey, what's that? I didn't get to try any." I grabbed for some strips of meat on the edge of Estrada's plate and my wrist struck her glass, splashing its contents over the table.
"Damn it! Don't worry, I'll get you another."
I snatched up the goblet and chased after the nearest serving girl. Half a dozen semi-clothed beauties were tasked solely with keeping everyone's glasses filled from the amphorae they cradled. I pushed the refilled glass before Estrada, who thanked me with a glare.
The servants worked with brutal efficiency. Hardly a minute had passed before the barely-touched first course had vanished. Close on its heels came the centrepiece of the banquet: a colossal boar, reeking of hot fat, paprika and sweet wine. There followed bowls of rice, some spiced, some mixed with pickled fruit or titbits of seafood; platters laden with every conceivable vegetable prepared in every imaginable manner; and countless pastries, breads and sweetmeats. I wanted to condemn the waste and gluttony-but, sitting in the midst of it, I simply couldn't. I could only be awed, and wonder how I'd ever return to a life of poverty.
Educated by my earlier failure and a growling stomach, I settled for a dripping hunk of meat and some fried rice and tucked in. This was sure to be the grandest meal of my life, and I wanted to try at least a little of it before the Prince resumed his unconventional entertainments.
My wolfish eating might normally have drawn comment, but that night I'd have probably had to tip the plate over my head. Everyone not in conversation with the Prince was staring at Saltlick, who at that moment was half way through a tureen of vegetables that would have served half a dozen people. He'd been eating steadily since the first dish had been set down, and showed no sign of slowing. There was something awful and fascinating in the way he crammed handfuls into his maw, like watching a forest fire laying bare vast tracts of wilderness. Many of the Prince's guests, and especially the ladies for some reason, were so enraptured that they were ignoring their own appetites altogether.
The Prince must have considered Saltlick sufficient amusement, because he continued to keep his conversation amongst the chosen few around him. At first I was glad of an interval, but as the quiet wore on the tension grew, until even the effort of chewing ground on my nerves. My stomach began to ache and grumble. I wished the bottle in my pocket really did contain medicine.
I pushed my plate aside and leaned away. Others around the table were making similar motions — reclining, edging back, picking half-heartedly at scraps. I could see the Prince's piggy eyes flitting from figure to figure, noting yawns and glazed expressions. I tensed.
"Really," he began, as though the break in conversation had lasted seconds instead of minutes, "the thing I truly can't understand is why you've all come to Altapasaeda. As delightful as your company is, you must know how we detest squabbles."
"We didn't mean to bring our problems to your door, Prince," replied Estrada. It was the first she'd said to him all evening, and the words were very slightly slurred. "Our lives were in danger. We had nowhere else to go."
"In danger? Moaradrid, tell me that isn't true."
"The thief stole from me. This woman is protecting him. She is mistaken in doing so."
"A mistake I'm repeating, eh?" Panchetto's voice held an edge that I'd never have expected. It struck me then that an opportunity to remove Moaradrid without too much show would suit him well, his father even more so. If an excuse arose to arrest Moaradrid then all sorts of fates might befall him in the depths of the palace dungeons, fates that could be kept from his generals until reinforcements arrived.
The same would have occurred to Moaradrid, of course, probably long before he considered setting foot in the city. He was playing a dangerous game, made more risky by his own temper. He managed to control it this time, though barely. "There can be no comparison, Highness. Only you can judge to whom your hospitality extends."
"That's very true. But surely the same can be said of our lovely lady mayor?"
"There's a difference between princely generosity and the harbouring of a fugitive."
"How can he be a fugitive? You don't make the law." This time, Estrada's words came out in one long jumble, and she rested both hands on the table to steady herself.
"I say again: an object was stolen from me. This injustice must be redressed."
"It's like Easie said… you stole it too. You stole it more." Estrada pushed back from the table and her entire upper body swayed. "You… it's all your fault." She raised one hand and stared at it, as if unsure where it had come from. "You are a very bad man," she concluded — just in time to keel backwards and roll onto the floor.
I leaped to my feet.
"Marina? What is it? What's wrong?"
I knelt beside her and made a show of checking her breathing.
"She's only fainted," I said, with the assurance of one who'd been studying medicine all his life. I tried to glare equally at Panchetto and Moaradrid. "You should be ashamed of yourselves."
My words brought a sympathetic murmur from around the table. I couldn't have cared less what those pampered lordlings thought, but it was vital no one try to interfere.
Before anyone could, and I could see Alvantes considering it, I turned to Saltlick and said, "We should put her to bed. Will you help me carry her?"
Saltlick nodded and lifted Estrada in his arms. It was oddly touching to see how gently he held her limp figure, a scene only slightly spoiled by the saliva dribbling from her lower lip.
"Come on," I said, heading towards the entrance. Saltlick fell in dutifully behind me. Panchetto stood at the last moment and — failing to hide his attempt to regain the initiative very well — said, "Won't you wait while I call my personal physician?"
"That won't be necessary. I'm sure she just needs rest and quiet."
"Then I'll send one of my men to escort you." Panchetto motioned to one of the guards.
"We can find our own way," I replied curtly, and was out of the room before he could say anything more.
It was true, I'd taken care to memorise our route, and I made it back to our corridor without difficulty. I led the way into Estrada's room and signalled Saltlick to lay her on the bed. She grunted when he did so, mumbled something incomprehensible, and rolled onto her side. An instant later, the chamber echoed to the sound of snoring.
Saltlick stood close by, gazing down. He turned to me and whispered, "Marina sick?"
"Not really. I drugged her glass when I refilled it, but it'll wear off in an hour or two."
" Drugged?" Now his voice was thunderous.
"Keep it down! It was only a little. How else was I supposed to get us away from that insane party?"
That threw him. I could see the confusion and anger battling across his features. Interesting as it was, I had to focus on the task at hand. First, I eased the medallion that Panchetto had given her from around Estrada's neck and draped it round my own. It was harder to untie the pouch at her throat, but eventually I pried loose the knot and it fell into my hands.
I turned to find Saltlick glowering at me. "Stop stealing!"
"I don't think so," I said. "Not when there's a whole palace of wealth up for grabs." I slipped the chief-stone from its pouch and held it up towards his face. "And not when I have my very own giant to help me."
CHAPTER 18
More emotions traipsed over Saltlick's features in the space of that minute than in the entire time I'd known him. The parade began with delight, as though he'd just rediscovered a lost friend. That segued into bafflement, quickly followed by alarm, a brief return of pleasure, something that was possibly shock, and finally, an expression of vague, bewildered horror.