Prince Thief (29 page)

Half an hour later and the Pasaedan army was undeniably in retreat. The last regiments were falling back through the far hem of the Suburbs, and the distant back lines had even begun to collapse their tents.

By unspoken agreement, we had returned to the walls to watch. Now, however, Estrada turned away, a look of determination hardening her features. I’d seen that expression many a time, and been on the receiving end of it often enough; there was no question that it spelled trouble for someone.

When Estrada started in Kalyxis’s direction, I couldn’t resist falling in behind her. I had a sure feeling that this would be something I didn’t want to miss. Navare hurried to join us as well, though I suspected his motives were more well-intentioned than my own.

Rather than shove through the Altapasaedans still thronging the walk to watch their enemies depart, Estrada descended to the street and rejoined the wall by a second flight of stairs – so that when she came upon Kalyxis, the other woman was still staring down at the receding Ans Pasaedan lines.

“Kalyxis,” said Estrada, “you have to leave Altapasaeda now.”

Kalyxis looked round then. I’d never found her easy to read, but I couldn’t escape the conviction that the glint in her eye, her reaction to watching Panchessa leave with his armies in tow, was one of disappointment more than relief. But she recovered herself quickly, and her face was blank as a mirror as she said, “Do I? And walk into a trap?”

“If it’s a trap,” replied Estrada, “then yes, that’s exactly what you’ll do. But it isn’t – and I think you know that just as well as I do. If Panchessa truly wanted you dead then we’d
all
be dead by now.”

“So he’s a coward. So he would rather win through trickery than face his enemies in an honest fight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“
Ridiculous
?” Kalyxis’s emphasis was fearsome.

Estrada, however, wasn’t cowed; in fact, her own tone only became more adamantine as she said, “Yes, ridiculous. Not to mention self-absorbed, egotistical and irrational. If you really care anything for your people, if you want to win their freedom, if you haven’t cooked up this entire conflict of yours because of a slight you suffered years ago, then this is the best and only chance you’ll ever have. Get out of here. Get word to the force you sent, before they do something you’ll regret. Start behaving like the leader you’re supposed to be.”

I was certain Kalyxis would go for her then – and though I’d seen enough to know that Estrada could hold her own in a fair fight, I doubted she’d fare so well with a few dozen Shoanish thrown into the equation and only Navare and myself to back her up.

Then Kalyxis relaxed, ever so slightly, eased her fingers with forced casualness away from the hilt of her sword. “I care everything for the people of Shoan,” she said, loud enough that any of her followers could hear. “There’s no risk I wouldn’t take for them... not even this.” Returning her attention to Estrada she added, with chilly disdain, “Now perhaps you’d be good enough to furnish us with a guide to this godsforsaken land of yours?”

In the end, Kalyxis had left through the small western gate. If I didn’t quite trust her to call off the attack on Pasaeda, there was some reassurance in the fact that Gailus departed with her as the requested guide, and more in the knowledge that with Panchessa’s great army marching rapidly northward, any attack upon the Ans Pasaedan capital would be nothing more than a messy suicide. The woman might be terrifying and vindictive beyond reason, but I’d come to suspect that she wasn’t quite as crazy as she might seem.

I saw that she said a few last words to Malekrin, though I wasn’t close enough to overhear just what passed between them. Perhaps Panchessa had settled their differences more ably than either of them could, for she had to leave and he had to stay, and the price if either resisted would undoubtedly be war.

Afterwards, seeing Malekrin looking lost and aimless, I pressed my way through the crowd that had gathered to watch Kalyxis go and said, “You look like a man in need of a drink.”

Malekrin turned, startled. Then his brow furrowed. “I still remember what happened the last time you bought me a drink.”

I grinned, to hide my embarrassment; I’d practically forgotten about drugging him. “I promise that any passing out you do with be entirely your own fault,” I said.

“You could have warned me, you know,” Malekrin said.

He was no longer talking about that day in Midendo, I realised. “What, and miss your expression? I tell you, it made all of this worthwhile. Now will you come drink, or are you too royal now to mix with the likes of me?”

Malekrin made a show of considering. Then, with a perfectly straight face, he said, “I’m going to have to learn to mingle with the common folk, aren’t I? I suppose you’re as good a place to start as any.”

As we wandered back through Altapasaeda, I left Malekrin to his own thoughts. For all his show of good cheer, it wasn’t hard to see the apprehension bubbling beneath the surface. Anyway, I felt a little guilty at my duplicity – for in fact it had been Estrada who’d asked me to seek him out, and asked too that I bring him to the Dancing Cat once Kalyxis was safely gone. Still, I reasoned, the drinking part had been all my idea, and at least I’d meant it honestly.

The streets felt alive for the first time in days. There were carts and horses, and a great many people moving hither and thither on foot, all of them travelling at speed. It wasn’t entirely clear what everyone was doing; most seemed to be hurrying purely for the sake of it. Perhaps it was simply a process of waking up, I thought – the whole of Altapasaeda stretching like a bear that had roused after a long, cruel winter.

Whatever the case, I sensed that the general mood was more shocked than jubilant. Altapasaedans had grown used to the threat of first Mounteban and then Panchessa, and surely it would be a while before normality – whatever that word now meant for the city – truly returned. At any rate, I was grateful no one recognised Malekrin, for I doubted he would be ready yet for the demands and questions that would soon be hurled his way. Tomorrow he would be Prince Malekrin of Altapasaeda, but maybe for tonight at least he could remain plain, ill-tempered Mal.

The Dancing Cat, when we arrived, was surprisingly empty. Probably the crowd that I’d come to think of as its regulars, that motley crew of ex-guardsmen and Mounteban’s former lackeys who had become the heart of the Altapasaedan defence, were off doing whatever important things needed to be done in a city that had just so narrowly escaped disaster.

I took the opportunity to requisition a bottle of wine and two cups from beneath the bar. Mal was already at his table of choice by the time I returned; I filled our cups to brimming, pushed one beneath his nose and said, “So what do you plan to do with the palace then? You can’t live in all of it, you know.”

“I couldn’t live in a hundredth of it,” said Malekrin. “I doubt there’s a single room small enough that my tent back home wouldn’t fit into it. So, I don’t know. In the short term, though, I think it would make a good hospital. Better than what they have now, at any rate,” he added, with a shudder.

“Anyway,” I said, “I think you’ll make a good prince...”

Malekrin’s face lit, just for an instant. “Really?”

“Wait, let me finish. I think you’ll make a good prince, is what I’d
like
to tell you... but the truth is, I expect you’ll be awful at it. Still, I’m sure you’ll try your best, and with everything that’s happened, it might do people good to have a prince again for a while. Maybe you can hold things together until Estrada comes up with a better solution, at any rate.”

Malekrin grinned. “Thank you, Damasco... for everything you’ve done.”

“What? I haven’t done anything.”

“Well then, thank you for that.” He frowned. “Anyway, where will you go now?”

I hadn’t given the question much thought; there hadn’t seemed much point in considering the future when I didn’t expect to have one. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I’ll head north.” I thought of Huero and his family, who had helped me to get the giants moving from the hillside where Moaradrid had abandoned them. “I made a few friends there. I think I’d like to see how they’re doing.”

“But you won’t leave straightaway?” Malekrin asked. There was a hint of concern in his voice.

“No,” I said, “I may as well hang around for a few days... see how this all pans out.”

We both looked round then at the creak of footsteps on old wood, to see Estrada appear from the direction of the stairs. “There you are,” she said – and, as her gaze took in the bottle of wine and the two now almost empty cups, she added, “Why aren’t I surprised?”

“Because,” I told her, “you are a woman of rare, keen insight.”

“That’s true,” Estrada replied, with a sage nod, “that’s certainly true. But don’t think you can talk your way out of getting our new prince drunk, Easie. Anyway, it’s you I was hoping to find.” To Malekrin she said, “Do you mind if I borrow your drinking partner, your highness?”

Malekrin smiled, bowed low in his seat. “You may. So long as you return him before I’m forced to empty this bottle on my own.”

I got to my feet, not quite steadily – for I’d cleaned my cup a little quicker than was prudent – and threaded my way over to Estrada. As we began up the stairs, she said softly, “That poor boy. After everything he’s been through, and now a responsibility like this to bear. I wish there was another way.”

“He’ll be fine,” I whispered back. “He’s tougher than he looks.” Then louder, I continued, “Anyway, did I understand what you told him in front of Panchessa? You’re staying here in Altapasaeda with your boyfriend?”

Estrada paused at the head of the stairs – and I’d have sworn she was blushing. “I’ve told you before,” she said, “he’s
not
my boyfriend. But he needs someone here while he heals, and after that... well, I might stay on.” Suddenly all of the defensiveness fell from her face and she said, “I love him, Easie. I don’t want to live my life without him anymore.”

Now it was my turn for embarrassment. My overwhelming urge was to make some glib comment, but seeing the weight of old sadness relieved by the hope in Estrada’s eyes, I knew I just couldn’t get away with it. “He loves you too,” I said. “I doubt he’s any better at saying it than he is at showing it, but believe me... I’ve spent far too much time with the man, and he’d give everything he has for you.”

Estrada’s smile was so bashful, so girlish, that for a moment the years seemed to slew off her and I saw the young woman she must have been when she first met a certain Guard-Captain Lunto Alvantes. “I know,” she said. “I do know.” Then the moment passed, the Estrada I was familiar with returned quicker than I could register, and she added, “Anyway, you’ll be glad to know that Lunto is awake and feeling much better. And he has something he’d like to say to you. In fact we both do.”

She carried on up the hallway, knocked lightly on the door to her own room, paused a moment and then opened it. Following behind her, I was more surprised than I should have been to see Alvantes lying in her bed.

He was wearing a cotton night shirt, but most of the side and one arm had been trimmed away to expose thick layers of bandage. He looked pale and hollow-eyed; but as Estrada had said, he was certainly awake, and – with the aid of a great many pillows – sitting up.

Alvantes looked uneasy at my presence, all the more so when Estrada leaned to kiss his forehead, and I found myself uncomfortably reminded of the last time someone I knew had summoned me. The memory of my last talk with Saltlick sent a tremor of tension through my chest. Was this to be another goodbye?

However, once Estrada had seated herself in the chair beside the bed, Alvantes regain a little of his composure – and weak though his voice was, I could tell he was trying to be jovial as he said, “Marina tells me you singlehandedly talked Panchessa into marching his armies out of here.”

“Actually,” I replied, “Malekrin did most of the work, last night.” Then I remembered that neither Estrada nor Alvantes even knew about our clandestine meeting with Panchessa. “It’s a long story,” I added lamely.

“Either way,” said Alvantes, “I wanted to thank you. You did well, Damasco.”

For a moment, I was so startled that I could hardly think to reply – not so much because he’d said it, I realised, but because of how my heart swelled to
hear
him say it. It reminded me of something I’d been wanting to tell him for some time now. “I’m sorry, Alvantes... sorry I attacked you, and sorry I doubted you.”

“It’s forgotten.” Alvantes touched two fingers to the side of his jaw, where the flesh was still faintly purpled, and grimaced. “Just never do it again, all right?”

“Well,” I said, “I can’t promise anything.”

There was an awkward pause then, each of us having exhausted whatever limited stocks of manly sympathy nature had gifted us with. I knew that Alvantes was trying to shift our conversation onto more comfortable ground when he asked, “So Marina’s told you that she plans to stay here in Altapasaeda?”

“She has,” I agreed.

“This is a real opportunity for the city,” he said, “A new beginning.”

An odd thought occurred to me. “I can’t see Malekrin carrying on the way Panchetto did, charging taxes just to keep himself in banquets. In fact, I can’t see him staying on as prince for any longer than he has to. Today might be the first step towards a free Altapasaeda... a free Castoval, even, in time. Wasn’t that Mounteban’s dream?”

Alvantes scowled. “Perhaps a better version of it,” he said gruffly, “if we get it right.”

“Anyway, Easie,” put in Estrada, “this brings us to the reason we wanted to talk to you. If I’m going to stay here with Lunto, someone else will need to look after Muena Palaiya. The charter allows me to nominate a proxy to serve until the next election, but obviously it can’t be just anyone. It would have to be someone who knows the town, who cares about it... someone I can rely on to do the right thing.”

“Good luck with that,” I said. “Just finding anyone who knows the place
and
likes it could take all of a month.”

“Yes,” agreed Estrada, “it’s occurred to me that town politics isn’t for everyone. Of course, honesty isn’t really a prerequisite; in fact, it’s probably a disadvantage. It took me a while to appreciate it, but half the time it isn’t about what you can do, it’s about what you make people
think
you can do. What the job needs is a sincere heart and the mind of a swindler.”

“So you’re looking for an honest crook to run your town?” I said. “Good luck with finding one of those.”

Estrada smiled. “I’ve only ever met the one.”

“Well,” I told her, “you should probably ask them then. Of course, if they have half the sense you credit them with, they’ll probably say no, and... Estrada, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like... like... Wait, you don’t mean
me
?”

“Easie,” she said, “you’re selfish, rude, insensitive, and probably the most bloody-minded person I’ve ever come across in my life.”

“Hey!”

“But from the moment I met you, I knew you could be far more than you were – and you haven’t let me down. Look what you’ve helped accomplish in these last months: Moaradrid defeated, the giants rescued, a war averted. You do things your own way, and it’s invariably the wrong way... but I’d say the results have been worth it.”

Suddenly my heart was beating far too fast. Had the woman gone mad? I couldn’t imagine anything worse than politics – and after my recent experiences, my imagination had plenty of scope. How did she think I could look after an entire town full of people, when I could hardly even look after myself?

Reading my reaction from the dread surely etched across my face, Estrada added gently, “Look at it this way, Damasco... can you honestly tell me you have anything better to do?”

I was ready to turn her down. The words were halfway to my tongue. Had Estrada said something else,
anything
else, I would have refused, and kept refusing until there was no breath left in my lungs.

Somewhere beneath the whirling panic that my thoughts had become, a small, detached voice observed that the woman had come to know me too damn well. Because, could I truthfully claim I had anything better to do than be mayor of Muena Palaiya?

I couldn’t. I really couldn’t.

There was no getting around it; I just wasn’t the thief I’d been. And maybe, just maybe, that meant it was time to try something new. “When I accidentally burn the town down,” I said, “or single-handedly start a war with Shoan, it will be on your head. You understand that, don’t you?”

Estrada smiled. “It’s a risk I’m prepared to take.”

I offered her my hand. “Then in that case, I accept.”

She shook. “I thought you would.”

As she released my palm, I fought against the dizzying sensation that my world had finally, irrevocably tumbled off its axis. How had I come to this point? I’d accidentally crossed a lunatic warlord, inadvertently stolen something of inconceivable value. I’d fallen in with dangerous sorts like Estrada and Alvantes, the kind of people who believed in such perilous notions as heroism and self-sacrifice. I’d learned, to my great shock, that when I made mistakes, people other than me got hurt. And at the beginning of it all, I’d rescued a giant who wanted to fight even less than I did, never once imagining I might end up calling him my friend.

But Saltlick was gone – and the thought that he wasn’t here to share in our victory, that he’d never even know he hadn’t left us to our deaths, twisted like a cold blade in my guts. I finally, truly understood then the choice he’d had to make; save his people, or abandon everything he believed in to try to rescue his friends. It was a choice, and a sacrifice, that were bound to torment him for the rest of his days.