If the words were intended for his men, who were already drawing their weapons, it was Estrada that Ondeges was looking at. Even as she began to protest, he stepped closer and said, “The boy’s the important thing now. Once we’ve bought you some time, we’ll try and rejoin you.” Then, moving even closer, lowering his voice even further — “but if we don’t… remember our arrangement.”
So Ondeges knew about Malekrin. The boy in question was trailing behind us, and nothing in his face told me he’d heard those last, whispered words. If he had, though, he must surely be wondering — just as I was — what deal had been struck on his behalf. Were Ondeges and Estrada planning to trade his life to Panchessa for the safety of Altapasaeda? If so, I could hardly blame them, yet suddenly I felt a faint stab of guilt at the thought. I’d no reason to like Malekrin, no reason to help him, no reason even to care if he lived or died. But the pang was there, and rationalising didn’t make it go away.
It was something I’d have to watch. Hadn’t my irregular, irrational conscience got me into enough trouble already? Just then, however, it was hardly my most immediate concern — for Estrada and Navare were already herding their people into the black mouth of the passage. I was surprised to see that this time Estrada had made Saltlick go first; didn’t she realise he was bound to slow us down, now more than ever thanks to his injured leg? Then again, perhaps that was exactly why she’d done it, for so long as he was leading there was no chance of him being left behind.
As for me, I found myself towards the very rear, with Malekrin taking final place. With most of our own equipment lost in the wreck, it was fortunate Ondeges had thought to stow a couple of lanterns in the tunnel mouth for his own return journey. That meant one for each group and little enough light, but near darkness was a great deal better than total darkness. I could just make out the lambent glimmer ahead, masked by a snaking trail of bodies.
As I began to follow, I spared one last glance behind me, for Ondeges and his men. They were forming up around the mouth of the passage, ready to fall back into its confines the moment the need arose. Beyond them, out in the harbour, the Shoanish ship — still nothing but a sinister silhouette cast by the dying glow of the fire — was close now, manoeuvring through the debris-thick waters.
I looked away. Ondeges could take care of himself, which was more than I could claim if the Shoanish should come out on top of the impending fight. As I turned back, however, I caught Malekrin’s eye, and I couldn’t help wondering if he was having similar thoughts. It was hard to say who he had more to worry about just then, Ondeges or his own mad grandmother. Yet, hurrying with measured strides, he was all surface fearlessness; in fact, something in his posture reminded me distantly of his father, of Moaradrid’s ferocious confidence. In Malekrin, though, it was undermined by a constant hint of awkwardness, as though it were a pretence he could never quite perfect.
Well, the boy could look after himself too; he was enough his father’s son for that. I wasn’t about to waste my time worrying about him, not when he might be the only one to survive should his barbarian friends make their way past Ondeges.
Our light was no more than a trembling glow in the deep dark of the passage; it gave the man ahead the barest definition. Without my noticing, I’d already fallen some distance behind. I realised I’d have to concentrate on keeping pace — for our column was moving swiftly enough that I could easily find myself abandoned in the blackness.
I wondered about Saltlick. How was he managing to move so fast, bent double and dragging an injured leg? I could hardly imagine how he was bearing up, but at least the trying diverted me somewhat from my own exertions.
For all that, however, it wasn’t long before real tiredness began to set in. I wasn’t about to slow, of course; at first the sounds of battle echoing down the passage saw to that, and after they’d finally faded to nothing, the fear of who might be coming after us in their absence.
No, I’d hurry until I dropped if need be — because if Kalyxis had been aboard that approaching ship, she was going to have questions that I knew I’d struggle to answer. They would involve crowns and princes, and I didn’t think they’d be asked gently.
I couldn’t tell how many hours had passed or what distance we’d travelled, had long since ceased to notice anything but the ache that ran bone-deep through every limb, when I recognised the pound of feet approaching. Only then did I realise I’d been hearing it for a long while, but failing to tell it apart from our own hurried steps. Unbeknownst to me, whoever was approaching had already drawn close.
I nearly called out a warning. But if I’d heard those hurrying feet, so had everyone else, and I wasn’t certain I had the breath to spare. Anyway, what difference would it make? We were going as fast as we could go, and it was clear from the pace of those nearing footfalls that we had no hope of outrunning them. All I could do was continue as quickly as I could bear, knowing it wasn’t enough, glancing again and again past Malekrin, who stared imperturbably ahead — until the first of them broke from the shadows.
Then, I was so relieved to recognise Ondeges that I could have hugged him — at least until I saw his expression, and the gore spattered across his jacket.
“Where’s Estrada?” he snapped.
My brief affection turned to annoyance. If my lungs hadn’t been two sacks of fire, I might have pointed out that it was hardly my responsibility to keep track of her.
Fortunately, Estrada picked that moment to brush past me. “You made it,” she said.
“We couldn’t hold them,” Ondeges replied grimly. “They’re licking their wounds, but they’ll be after us soon enough.”
It was exactly what no one wanted to hear. Our pace had already been starting to lag, as the last strength drained from bodies that had been overexerted even before this subterranean marathon began.
With Ondeges and his men amongst us, however, we did somehow manage to pick up speed once more. Their tirelessness, even after the bloody battle they’d just endured, was something between inspiring and shaming. That they could carry on almost at a run while we, who hadn’t just fought for our lives, were struggling to even walk, implied that somewhere we must have reserves yet untapped.
If that were the case, though, I hardly felt it, for while I’d somehow managed not to fall behind, all it had earned me was new heights of fatigue. I did begin to rouse a little when we reached the junction between palace and barracks, however; even if the nearer exit was closed by the detritus of an entire collapsed building, the fact that we’d reached so far meant an end was in sight. I gritted my teeth, marched on.
By the time we reached the portal that led into the palace basements, I had no more enthusiasm left to muster. I was too dead on my feet even to wonder how close Kalyxis’ barbarians were behind us. I noted with the barest interest that the door had been hacked from its hinges; so Mounteban had laid his greasy paws upon the only copy of the key after all. With no furniture in the corridor beyond, that meant no way to bar the passage behind us — but even that only bothered me a little.
It was only as we hurried through the dank cellars beyond that something finally managed to penetrate the murk of my languor. By the time we were halfway to the ground floor, it was obvious that things was very wrong ahead. Perhaps that wasn’t surprising; what could be expected of a palace without its prince, entrenched in a city about to be assaulted by its own king? Whatever I might have expected, however, I wouldn’t have guessed it would be quite so noisy.
To my ears, which were admittedly working no better than the rest of me, it was only a great commotion, mingled and incomprehensible. The best I could manage was to follow the man ahead and do my best to keep up; the prospect of considering what we might be rushing into was beyond me. Even as we entered the palace itself and the noise became overwhelming, I couldn’t bring myself to try and analyse it. I glanced at the faces of those around me, palace soldiers and city guardsmen and Mounteban’s swarthy buccaneers, and I wondered if they understood something I was missing.