I turned to see Alvantes and Navare now in the midst of organising a defence of the gatehouse, their two squads already merged back into a single force, as though none of the last week’s events had ever occurred. Those at the forefront sallied to recover the wounded, to help or haul them back to relative safety. They were met with scant resistance, for beyond our lines Ondeges and Ludovoco’s forces were doing the same, their two factions flowing together to secure the courtyard.
Seeing them apart, lined opposite each other for the first time, I could tell that the two sides were more or less evenly matched. Whatever we’d stumbled into, then, it was a very different conflict to the one I’d left all those days ago — and I could only assume that this time it was Alvantes who’d struck the first blow. But having once escaped the palace, why would he have returned? If he’d been set on rousting Ludovoco, why wait until now? There was more to this than I could see, more than this small, desperate tussle.
With the injured out from underfoot, it was apparent that the brief armistice was drawing to a close. Given how temperamentally unsuited I was to violence, I felt it was time I started seeking an alternative. Though it was all I could do to stand upright, I knew I’d find strength to run if I had to. But where to? Without knowing the context of this brawl, it was possible I’d be charging into even greater danger.
I’d have to decide soon, or else the decision would be out of my hands. Ludovoco had finished marshalling his troops; Alvantes and his men stood ready to meet them. Now that the combat had taken on more formal outlines, Ludovoco looked coldly self-assured, as though the rest were a mere formality. Given the efficiency with which his soldiers had taken their formation, compared with the ragtag performance of Alvantes’s guardsmen, I couldn’t help thinking that he had every right to his confidence.
But I was wrong, and so was Ludovoco, and he began to realise it at exactly as I did.
Then again, how was he supposed to have known that — even as he’d fenced with such cruel efficiency, as he’d calmly organised his forces for the next round of violence — a mob of furious barbarians had been working their way through the palace? Ludovoco registered the approach of running feet with only the slightest hint of puzzlement; but as they drew nearer, his icy calm began to slip.
If I’d found something satisfying in watching the vicious bastard’s confidence waver, however, it was nothing to the look on his face when fifty scimitar-waving Shoanish poured from the palace entrance, with Kalyxis standing tall in their midst. I wished I could burn that image into my memory and keep it with me forever. It was the expression of a man whose plans had just been demolished in a fashion he couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and it was beautiful.
Sadly, I didn’t have long to enjoy it. Because whatever Kalyxis had been expecting, it wasn’t this either, not a company of armed and already bloodied soldiers formed in perfect battle order. I didn’t hear what she called to her followers, but I was willing to guess the word ambush figured in there somewhere. When Ludovoco’s thin lips moved just slightly, I’d no doubt he was expressing a similar thought.
Either way, they were on each other quickly enough.
“You really did it?” cried Alvantes. “You brought help?”
“They’re not here to save us, Lunto,” called back Estrada.
Alvantes gave that news a moment’s consideration. Then, “Navare,” he shouted, “stay here with half the men and do whatever you can. Ludovoco mustn’t leave, do you hear me? He’s the target. If you have to take a side, make it the Shoanish.”
Though Navare must have been every bit as shattered as I was, I’d have never guessed it as he began to organise the guardsmen closest to him. The rest fell into step behind Alvantes and Estrada, who were already pacing across the square. I tried a quick mental reckoning as to whether following was more or less risky than running as fast my legs would carry me in the other direction; but I had no more evidence than before, and at least with Alvantes there would be armed men between me and any threats. I hurried to catch up, and Saltlick — who had been hovering close, still looking frail and stunned — limped along after me.
A number of horses were tied before one of the larger temples, a blasphemy Alvantes had presumably chosen to overlook — though it was hard to imagine whichever god was represented by the fish-headed statue glaring down at us agreeing, given the still-steaming offerings a couple of the beasts had deposited on his doorstep.
We mounted hurriedly, and I barely had time to wonder what Alvantes had in mind before we were off. He was leading us north, I noted; the main road we joined would eventually end at the northwestern gate, the one recently pulverised by the giants in our bid to rescue the city from Mounteban.
Speaking of giants: “Slow down!” I bawled at Alvantes. “Don’t you see he can’t keep up?”
I was referring, of course, to Saltlick, who was trying his best to keep pace with the horses despite his recent injuries and failing hopelessly. Seeing how far he’d already fallen behind us, Alvantes threw a questioning glance at Estrada, and then said, “All right, damn it… slower, everyone.”
He didn’t sound at all happy about it, and it was perhaps as much to divert his thoughts as from genuine curiosity that Estrada chose that moment to ask, “What’s been happening, Lunto? Why were you fighting?”
Alvantes’s face somehow became a shade grimmer. “The King’s at the gates. Or through them by now, who knows? Mounteban’s covering that end, damn him.”
“But the palace…?”
“We had to keep Ludovoco where he is. He knows too much about what’s been going on inside the city; I couldn’t let him take that knowledge to Panchessa.”
So that was it. Altapasaeda was defending itself on two fronts — and that wasn’t even to mention Kalyxis and her Shoanish, or for that matter, Mounteban’s inevitable next betrayal. Perhaps I’d made the wrong call in trailing after Alvantes. Then again, it was hard to imagine where I’d possibly be safe with so many enemies around, every one of them after my blood for their own reasons.
“And now you’re hoping Kalyxis and Ludovoco will keep each other occupied?” Estrada asked.
“Exactly,” agreed Alvantes. “Anyway, I can’t trust Mounteban to hold the walls. What does containing Ludovoco matter if the whole city’s overrun?” He drew up abruptly at a junction, where an easterly road cut towards the Market District and eventually the docks. “Before that, though, we have to get you to safety.”
“What?” Estrada’s tone hardened. “Don’t be absurd, Lunto. If we can’t hold off Panchessa, here and now, there’ll be no safety anywhere.”
It was a sentiment uncomfortably close to my own thoughts. However, I recognised that look in Alvantes’s eye, that certainty beyond doubt that he was right.
Then again, I’d seen the stubborn set of Estrada’s jaw often enough as well. “What hiding place is going to last once the King’s inside the walls?” she added, a shade more gently.
“There are still boats in the harbour…” Alvantes began.
“No. Lunto, no. Even if they haven’t blockaded the river, which they most probably have, I’m not leaving. Now, stop wasting time that peoples’ lives depend on.”
“She’s right,” I told Alvantes, “and you know it. For once, why don’t you save yourself the trouble of losing an argument?”
Though he glowered — at me, of course, rather than Estrada — Alvantes didn’t try to disagree again. Instead, he tapped his heels against his horse’s flank, and we were off once more.
I gritted my teeth. I had a fair idea of what we were riding towards; the noise was a sure portent. It had been audible since we’d left the palace, and building ever since — though proximity only made it harder to pick individual sounds from the roar of shouts and thrash of weapons. It was the cacophony of violence on a grand scale, and it was becoming all too familiar.