But there was no point even finishing. Saltlick, dragging himself from the passage mouth like a cork popped from a bottle, could hardly even stand upright.
In any case, Mounteban’s thugs were already busy at work on the second craft. Both vessels were moored at bow and stern and gang planks had been left on the jetty, which the party had already hurried to set in place. Now, the city guardsmen were dashing to ready the boat to my right, preparing the sails and fitting oars into oarlocks, while a half dozen of the buccaneers worked with wicked-looking knives on the cables holding the other. Even as I watched, one of the aft ropes split and coiled away.
By then, I was nearing the end of the jetty, with Estrada just ahead of me. It occurred to me that a flung oil lamp would make short work of the second boat; but the men had already extinguished their lanterns, I was hardly about to take the time to relight one, and knowing my luck there was a real chance I’d miss anyway.
Instead, I spared a moment to glance behind me. Saltlick was now halfway between the tunnel mouth and me, struggling to close the gap between us. Then, even as I watched, the first of the palace soldiers stole into the light. He blinked hard, struggling to make sense of the scene before him. Then he raised his crossbow and fired. The bolt missed Saltlick’s left foot by the slightest of margins and hammered into the pier.
Another soldier stepped from the darkness. He too carried a crossbow, he too was briefly dazzled, took the measure of his surroundings, set his bow and fired… and the only difference was that his aim was considerably better.
Saltlick went down on one knee, with such a shock that the planks seemed to ripple and buck. I couldn’t even tell where he’d been hit at first, until he tried to stand and I saw the bloodied shaft protruding through his shin. He took a step, nearly toppled sideways, and I could see him realise just as I did that this injury was something worse than the many hurts he’d shrugged off in recent weeks. I had to fight the urge to rush to him, to try to support him — because there was no possible way I could.
“Come on!” I roared, instead. “Damn it, Saltlick, get your lazy giant hide over here!”
Both soldiers were struggling to reload their weapons, even as their colleagues spilled from the tunnel mouth, drew swords and began to narrow the distance between us. Meanwhile, Saltlick hobbled closer — but each step pumped blood onto the salt-stained timbers, with every second or third he’d stumble, almost fall.
“Done!” bellowed one of the buccaneers from behind me, and as I looked the last rope quivered and coiled, like a snake drowning on the chopping water. The boat was already beginning to drift; the men on board simply flung themselves overboard, as though swimming were no less troublesome than walking. A few swift strokes brought them back to the pier.
When I turned back, Saltlick was almost up to us — and the palace soldiers weren’t far behind. The buccaneers were hurrying past me and up the gangplank of our boat, Estrada had led the way, and it occurred to me that apart from Saltlick and the men hurrying to kill us, I was the only one left on the jetty. I darted across the plank, hardly noticing how it shivered beneath me, and flung myself aboard.
As soon as I had my feet back I was at the boat’s side, ready to cajole Saltlick some more. But he’d already caught up, and was poised at the end of the pier, wavering as he struggled to balance on his good leg. He eyed the gangplank nervously — for as long as it took another crossbow bolt to whistle past his eyes. Then he took one stride out onto it, another… and the plank split in two.
The splash was titanic, a column of brine that geysered above my head and opened like a flower, crashing water into the boat. The point where Saltlick had gone under was hidden from my view by the angle of the boat’s side. I’d once seen giants wade through a river almost as deep as they were tall, but could they swim? Given that their mountain home was landlocked, I doubted it.
“Wait, what are you doing?” I shouted at two guardsmen hacking the last of our tethers to the pier. They looked at me in confusion, and only hesitated when they registered the utter panic on my face. I glanced round, hoping against hope for some miracle to materialise. I could almost feel Saltlick sinking into the chill waters, as though he were a stone tied round my waist.
“There! The net!” It was bundled neatly on the starboard side, perhaps an emergency measure for if the Prince ate all the food on board. When no one seemed to understand, I dashed over and tried to drag it myself. It was heavier than I could have guessed, and all I managed was to tumble backwards, with a cry of frustration.
By then, all eyes were on me. Those who hadn’t seen what had happened were giving me the kind of looks normally reserved for people who gibbered to themselves in public. But there were those who had seen, and Navare was among them. In an instant he was at my side and calmly unfurling the net, signalling his men to help us. I steadied myself with a vast effort and put my back into the work. Still, it all seemed to be taking so long — and through every moment, I couldn’t escape that sense of Saltlick sinking like a leaden weight into the depths.
“Get it overboard!” I bawled.
But my guidance was no longer necessary. Navare was directing, with short gestures and brief, snapped commands. In a moment the net was shaken loose and dashed over the boat’s side, with Navare, ten guardsmen and myself straining to weigh down our edge.
For all that, the shock when Saltlick caught hold threatened to wrench my arms out of their sockets. I’d been so certain he was at the bottom of the sea that I’d hardly thought to prepare myself. Even if I had, I could never have anticipated how damned heavy he was. With a dozen of us straining in a knot of arms and legs against the boat’s side, it still seemed certain we’d be dragged overboard — as if we were fishermen who’d snared some prodigious monster from the deeps. It was impossible to imagine we could hang on; already, the craft was tipping alarmingly.
Then huge fingers closed over the boat’s side, and some of the tension went out of the net. The fingers sprouted an arm, a couple of guardsmen grasped onto that, and Saltlick loomed into view. I let go of the net; I couldn’t have held on a moment longer anyway. Spray splashing around him, Saltlick hauled himself over, crashed to the deck.
I heard rather than saw the snap of the last rope holding us in place, the thud of the anchor being hefted onto the deck. It was all I could do to crawl out of the way, to let the oarsmen take their places.
I lay back, exhausted, as we pushed our way out towards the cave mouth and open water.
It didn’t take the palace soldiers long to recover the second boat.
It started as a speck barely visible in the cave mouth, unthreatening as a fly drowned in a drinking cup. Yet it meant only one thing: for reasons I couldn’t begin to guess at, Ludovoco had no intention of giving up the chase.
It was sheer chance that our numbers about equalled those of our pursuers. As the hours wore on, it became apparent that their nautical knowledge was no better or worse than ours either. They couldn’t catch us; even if they could have, there wasn’t much they could have done. But nor could we lose them. There were times when we would find some current and draw away, when fog or darkness would obscure them for a while. Those breaks never lasted long, however, and never gave me much hope that we’d seen the last of our persistent new friends.
The fact that all they could do was keep pace with us begged a question that troubled me more with each passing hour: what did they hope to achieve? The likeliest explanation was that the palace guardsmen were readying for a fight when we arrived at our destination — and perhaps they’d already guessed where that might be. If Ludovoco had realised we were seeking an alliance with Kalyxis and the far-northern tribes, it was too great a threat for him to ignore.