It had begun to rain while we'd been talking, weighty drops that shattered on the ground, the cart sides and our clothes like a thousand tiny drums tattooing in unison. Milky light on the horizon gave way to hillocks of grey cloud topped with treacle-black gloom. I noticed then how cold it was. "Why don't we get back inside the coach?" I asked.
"Will you be all right on your own, Saltlick?"
Saltlick had been lolling with his head back, letting raindrops course into his throat. He looked up long enough to nod and grin at Estrada. "Go home," he said.
Estrada glanced towards the mountain peaks that closed the valley. Hidden somewhere in those heights was giant territory. "Yes. Not long now, Saltlick."
We were in the carriage with the door shut before I asked, "You've told him you'll help him get home?"
"And I will. Once this is over that's my first priority."
Estrada sounded as though she meant it. I made a silent resolution that, whether or not she helped Saltlick return to his family, I would. It was the least I could do after last night, and of all the promises I'd made recently it was the one that most deserved to be honoured.
Of course, from what little Estrada and Alvantes had told me I'd be lucky to help myself, let alone anyone else.
"So you persuaded Alvantes and a few of his men to join up with you. What are they, more bait?"
"Not a few. The entire Altapasaedan City Guard is pledged to us. But hopefully Moaradrid doesn't know that."
"How could he not?"
"They abandoned their barracks during the night, led by Sub-Captain Gueverro. Moaradrid will be led to believe they heard the news of Panchetto's murder, panicked at the thought of a battle and mutinied. Thanks to Panchetto, they've such a terrible reputation for cowardice that he should believe it. Even if he doesn't, it can't make much difference. He'll be in too much of a hurry."
"He doesn't know where we've gone."
"He will soon."
I was beginning to see. If the ambush was set for a particular time then there was no point blundering in half a day early with Moaradrid's army nipping at our heels. All the others would find when they arrived would be our corpses. Alvantes and Estrada must have some way to control when Moaradrid came after us. Deciding that she'd tell me in her own time, I rested my head against the backboard and closed my eyes. The rain was pounding, heavier than before, a rattle that seemed to shake the whole carriage.
When I opened my eyes, Estrada was looking at me.
"Understand, Damasco," she said, "I can't forgive you. You're utterly selfish, you've behaved despicably, and even if this latest repentance is sincere it won't make any difference to how I feel."
"Fine."
"All right. Well, I'd gone to Altapasaeda to ask Lunto for his help, and to buy a little time. I hadn't realised Moaradrid would be able to move so many troops so quickly, or that he'd confront Panchetto so openly when his lines were already weakened. He'd grown desperate. His scheme for the crown was unravelling. He must have realised an attack on Altapasaeda was suicide, but there seemed a real chance he'd try anyway. If he'd won, recovered the stone, and captured Panchetto into the bargain, he might have levered the king off the throne without another drop of blood being shed. Alvantes agreed to pledge the Guard, even though Panchetto would never forgive it. But by then the problem was how we'd get to the rendezvous point at all."
"When we first heard about your deal with Anterio, we thought about confronting you. Then Lunto suggested we use it to our advantage. We'd lead Moaradrid to believe you'd fled upriver with the stone; he'd go hunting after you, and — if the timing was right — run right into our trap. We'd no way to know what would really happen. We had no idea Panchetto would find out what you were plotting, or insist on going along when Alvantes went to arrest you, or take Moaradrid with him."
A thought struck me. "If the Guard have abandoned their barracks and Panchetto's dead then…"
"Yes. Moaradrid's forces are almost certainly in Altapasaeda now."
My jaw dropped. "You've sacrificed an entire city. I can't believe Alvantes let you give up Altapasaeda."
"It's not a sacrifice. It's a gambit."
"Only if it works."
I regretted my insensitivity as soon as I'd said it. Estrada looked, for just an instant, as though she could easily have broken down altogether. I could hardly imagine the strength of will it had taken to conceive this strategy all those days ago, and then to follow it through over every setback and tragedy to this point, where everything hung in the balance and everything was on her head if it failed.
"It will work," she said.
"All right," I agreed, trying to sound as though I believed it. "So how can you control when he comes looking for us?"
Estrada's voice dropped lower, as if she had to drag the words from some internal gulf. "The wounded men from the fight at the harbour are in the palace. Moaradrid will have found them and tortured them. Their instructions were to give us up at dawn."
I shuddered. Alvantes's handpicked guards had been braver and more foolhardy than I'd guessed. I remembered the state Saltlick had been in when I rescued him. I had a fair idea what they would have gone through. Except… "It's long past dawn."
"Yes."
"And we can't be that far from Altapasaeda."
"About three hours."
I realised abruptly that not even the most violent torrent could make the hammering coming from outside. "That isn't just rain, is it?"
Almost in the same moment, a guttural cry arose: " Move!"
The carriage leaped into motion, almost hurling me from my seat. Now through the storm I could make out the pulse of countless hooves, far too many to be our small entourage. I darted a glance through the drapes, and wished I hadn't. The road behind was black with mounted men. I only caught a glimpse before the bucking of the carriage dragged me away. It seemed in that instant as though Moaradrid had sent his whole army after us.
The road south from Altapasaeda ran fairly straight. It didn't take us long to achieve the nerve-shattering speed I remembered from our earlier escape. This coach might lack the luxuries of Panchetto's, but — if there was any sanity to Alvantes's plan — it was sure to be faster. Still, it felt as though it would tear apart at any moment. Through gritted teeth, I called, "How far is it?"
"To the rendezvous? It's set for noon."
" That's two hours away!"
"Alvantes can make it."
"Maybe he can. What about us?"
The minutes ground by. I felt as if every spot of my flesh was bruised, and still the bouncing continued, still I was thrown back and forth like a shuttle on a loom. Estrada bore it in silence, and I tried to do the same. They hadn't caught us yet. That was all that mattered.
As far as I could work out, a few small advantages were keeping us alive. Our horses were freshly rested, and likely the fastest Altapasaeda had to offer. Alvantes and his men would know this road far better than our pursuers could hope to. They apparently lacked horse-archers, for no one was shooting. Finally, we had the simple logic of the hunt on our side: the fox is always more motivated than the hounds that are set to tear it apart.
The coach and Saltlick's wagon must have been slowing us, though, despite the hair-raising efforts of their drivers. When a few minutes had passed and we'd preserved our lead, I began to wonder if they were even trying to catch us.
My answer came as a loud crash from the rear of our coach, behind and above Estrada's head. Another followed it, and then a scrabbling sound, as though pebbles were being scattered over the roof.
"We've been boarded," I whispered.
Estrada, nodding, put a finger to her lips. She reached down and drew a wicked-looking stiletto from her boot.