I was more than glad to reach the market district though. I still kept to the main thoroughfares, but here at least they were silent and unlit. We were almost through the more prosperous region, with the market square visible at the end of the road, when I realised Saltlick had stopped again. I glanced round to see him hovering a dozen paces behind me.
"Saltlick, what are you doing? It's this way."
"Not stealing." He looked angrier than I'd ever seen him — but angry like a kicked dog who knows the boot is his master's. "Go back."
"No you won't. I've a skin to save and a living to make, and I need your help." While I could probably have managed without him from there, it was easier by far to have him trailing behind than to try to lug the haul myself. I held the giant-stone up at arm's reach, as close as I could get to his eye level. "Do I have to remind you? I'm your chief. That means you're helping me."
"No more." But he sounded hopelessly unsure. He even took a half step towards me.
Perhaps it was time for a change of tack. "Look… all you have to do is get me as far as Captain Anterio's boat. Then comes the bit you'll like. Once I'm safely onboard, this rock's all yours. You can go home and be lord high muckamuck of the giants, or rescue those friends of yours that Moaradrid's been swindling. How's that for a deal?"
Saltlick looked appalled. "Not good enough!"
"Well it's the best and only offer you're getting." Then my brain caught up, and I realised what he'd meant. "Wait, you're saying you're not good enough? Don't be ridiculous. You're strong, you're brave, you're resourceful… you're probably even quite clever by giant standards. What makes you think you wouldn't make just as good a chief as anyone?"
He shook his head. "Not good enough."
"Fine. You can find someone who's worthy and give it to them. How's that? Or if you'd rather, I can throw the damn thing in the river and no one can have it."
That did it. Perhaps Saltlick could stand to see a monster like Moaradrid as chief of the giants, perhaps he could even tolerate me, but to have no leader and no hope of another ever was too much. He lumbered towards me. The anger was gone from his face, leaving behind it an impression of something utterly broken.
I comforted myself with the thought that I'd meant what I'd said. Saltlick would have his precious stone back thanks to me, and maybe even save his people. "Don't worry. A day from now you'll look back on this as the best thing you ever did."
The words sounded hollow even to me. Rather than dwell on that fact, I set off walking again. Saltlick didn't hesitate in following this time. I forced a swift pace through the barren market square, and it wasn't long before we came out on the upper tier above the harbour.
I paused a moment, to lean against the iron railing and make sure everything below was as it should be. It was strange to see the docks so quiet, so dark and empty. There was no activity on the landings, no drunken sailors staggering back to their vessels, and apart from a few large packing crates near the waterside the greater part of the day's detritus had been cleared away. Most of the craft had only a single nightlight burning at their sterns. After the hustle and bustle I'd witnessed earlier, there was something dismal about the scene, as though we'd stumbled over a nautical cemetery.
I recognised Anterio's dilapidated tug, moored where I'd left it. I thought I could make out a figure on deck staring back. I waved, and the gesture was returned.
So this was it. In a few minutes, I'd be out of Altapasaeda. By dawn, Anterio would have dropped me at some middle-of-nowhere village where I could buy a horse and disappear for good. I took the stairs three at a time, and hurried across the intervening stretch of docks, with Saltlick thudding along behind me. I'd have never imagined a day ago that I could be so glad to see a filthy riverboat or its eccentric captain.
I was almost on the gangplank before I realised it wasn't Anterio.
"I suppose I should thank you for not keeping us waiting, if nothing else."
"Guard-Captain Alvantes… this is a surprise." I just about managed not to choke on the words.
"Really? You must hold us in very low esteem. Anterio was a terrible guardsman in his day, but he was never a fool. He contacted me about a suspicious character making outrageous claims about being on some secret mission for the Palace Guard. That tied up with the reports of your movements, of course."
"And you left your dinner to come and meet me? Really, you shouldn't have."
There'd been a playfulness to Alvantes's tone, an uncharacteristic touch of gloating even. Both vanished as he said, "I'd have arrested you hours ago, Damasco. But you had diplomatic immunity and His Highness wanted to make sure you were caught redhanded. Which is exactly what just happened — so now, you're mine. Guardsmen, to me!"
That last was shouted past my shoulder, and the words had barely ceased echoing from the harbour wall when I heard the clop of hooves behind me. As I turned, I saw that the packing crates I'd noted now stood open, and that a rider was trotting forth from each dark opening. A moment later, a dozen mounted guards had formed a semicircle around us.
For the briefest instant I felt proud to be the target of so much effort and conniving. That was quickly replaced by terror. My best hope now was to spend the rest of my life in prison, and that was a slim chance at best. More likely, the Prince would throw me to Moaradrid as a party favour.
Alvantes waved to one of his riders, and the man wheeled his mount towards the loading ramps at the far end of the harbour. He was back less than a minute later, this time at the head of a small convoy: he'd acquired a coach from somewhere, and another halfdozen horsemen. I thought they were reinforcements, perhaps to subdue Saltlick, until I recognised the figure at their head.
I'd been right, no cosy imprisonment for me. Moaradrid rode behind the guardsman, changed now into his usual attire, and I recognised Panchetto's arms on the door of the coach. Once it had drawn completely to a halt, the Prince himself stepped out, wrapped from ankles to ears in a huge fur-lined robe.
"I might possibly have forgiven you for stealing from my guests, Damasco, but to ruin a good dinner party is positively depraved. And giant, you seemed such a sensible sort. Shame on you!"
Saltlick hung his head.
"Now perhaps you'll return your recent acquisitions and we can all go to our nice warm beds?"
Moaradrid drove his mount forward. "Enough games, Panchetto. The thief has shown his true colours. His immunity is insupportable now. Give him to me."
Panchetto looked genuinely shocked. "There's evidently some misunderstanding. I paid you the courtesy of notifying you about tonight's endeavour and allowed you to accompany us. There can be no question of handing an Altapasaedan criminal into your custody. This is a matter for our authorities."
"I won't allow him to escape me again."
"I'm afraid you won't have very much choice."
The Prince's tone was almost as icy as the warlord's was. Yet though there was annoyance on his plump features, it was nothing to Moaradrid's barelychecked fury.
When he spoke, it was in hardly more than a whisper. "You've had every chance and warning. Give me this man."
"I'll do no such thing."
"Very well."
The motion was so quick I could hardly follow it, or register what was happening. Panchetto couldn't have known. Moaradrid's hand moved to his belt, and then drew back. There was the briefest streak of silver, like the tail of a falling star, and a sound as sharp and clear as glass breaking.
Panchetto's body struck the cobbles.
An instant later, his head followed.