I didn't much care. The place had one thing going for it, and that made up for all its failings combined: an uncovered well sat in the centre of the dusty plaza.
There was a bench outside one of the larger houses. An elderly man in off-white trousers and shirt sat on it, a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his face, a pipe clenched in his teeth. He squinted at us with tiny black eyes from amidst a haze of bluish smoke.
"My name is Easie Damasco, and this is my companion Saltlick," I called. "Good evening."
"Could be." His voice was faint and wheezy, his tone noncommittal. If the arrival of a giant in his village alarmed him, he was hiding it well.
"It is, for both of us. You can provide us with supper, while we have sufficient coin to pay you for it. Our first priority is refreshment from your well. I'll follow that with whatever food you can spare, while some dried grass or hay would be adequate for my companion, so long as the quantity is ample."
Half a dozen doors crept open as I spoke, revealing faces peeking out. All of them were either very old or very young; the rest of the populace probably passed their evenings in some nearby village advantaged with a tavern. The children peered in astonishment at Saltlick, and whispered and giggled to each other. Their decrepit guardians stared suspiciously at me. There was a long hush when I finished. Finally, one of the villagers stepped out. He looked inordinately ancient. Though he was bald except for a few grey wisps, his lip was distinguished by grand moustaches hanging below his collar, died black and waxed to a luxurious sheen.
"Welcome to the village of Reb Panza. Sadly, your stay must be a brief one. We are hopelessly poor, and not equipped for generosity."
A murmur of agreement rose from the doorways.
I whispered in Saltlick's ear. He squatted, and I swung to the ground, and then regretted the acrobatics when all of my bruises complained at once. I started towards the moustachioed patriarch, trying not to limp too noticeably.
"Perhaps you misunderstood? I have more than sufficient funds to pay."
"Yet these days – when we hear talk of war to the north, which tomorrow may be war on our doorsteps – what is worth more, coin or food?"
"A nonsensical question. Name a price, and we'll have a basis for discussion." My stomach was rumbling ferociously. My mouth was dry as a picked bone. I was in no mood for haggling or sophistry. Unfortunately, for me, both were popular local pastimes. "Tell me what you'd consider a reasonable price for two loaves of bread and some meat or fish, water, and a cartload of grass. We can start with that and consider sundries later."
The patriarch stood thinking about this for a particularly long time, with his chin nestled on one fist and the other hand stroking his moustaches. While I didn't dare hurry him, I could have gladly throttled him for the delay. I glanced anxiously over my shoulder. There was nothing to see but Saltlick, who had sat down with the children gathered around him. One had bravely clambered up his leg to perch on his knee. I sighed, and turned back.
Thankfully, the patriarch picked that moment to complete his rumination. "Perhaps, just perhaps, we may be able to accommodate you."
"Excellent news."
"You must understand that we are starving ourselves, and also, that our well is nearly dry. Who knows what will happen when it's exhausted? Here on the Hunch even hay isn't easy to come by."
"You have my sympathies."
"Thank you. Taking all of these factors into account, we can't help but sell our goods at unusual prices. That said, a sum of three onyxes doesn't seem unreasonable."
I confess my mouth gaped a little. The patriarch's house was barely worth three onyxes. Even as a starting offer, it was outrageous, and it would leave me with only five coins. Nevertheless, I didn't have time to barter – or for that matter, intend to pay if I could help it. "Done!" I exclaimed.
This time it was his jaw that dropped.
The bargaining concluded, I was escorted to the well and gratefully guzzled cup after cup, until I was afraid that water would dribble from my ears. I called Saltlick over and he came with an escort of laughing children clutching his legs and jumping to grab at his loincloth. They watched in awe while he downed three brimming buckets full, then wiped his hand across his lips and burped happily. After that, he was led to a lean-to filled with dried grass, and I was directed to the old pipe-smoker's bench. He moved aside grudgingly to share it with me.
The sweet smoke smelled faintly of lavender, and made me drowsy. By the time my food was brought out, I was starting to nod. The aroma of warm, fresh bread roused me instantly. I looked up to see an old woman hobbling from a nearby doorway, a wooden platter clasped in hands so arthritic that I was terrified she'd drop it. She succeeded with steady determination and moments later the platter was perched beside me. As well as the bread, there was a pot of greasy rice mixed with olives and scraps of meat, and a small hunk of goat's cheese.
I'd planned to save half for the next day, but hunger took over and I ate in a stupor, stuffing food into my mouth and hardly tasting it, oblivious to everything. I had only a third of a loaf left by the time reality reasserted itself. Ruefully, I dropped it into one of the pockets inside my cloak. If I wasn't full, at least I no longer felt like my stomach was trying to devour the rest of my organs.
I stood, stepped out into the square, glanced to the north – and froze. On the high edge of the Hunch, half-visible between trees, a pinprick line of fires burned. They could only be torches. Our pursuers had made up a huge distance. Something about those steady, bobbing flames made cold sweat bead across my whole body.
"Saltlick," I called, forcing my voice down to a steady pitch, "it's time we were moving on."
Saltlick, having made considerable inroads into the grass, now sat beside the shelter, the gaggle of children still clambering noisily around and over him. He could have snapped any one of them in half with the wave of a hand, yet they were perfectly unafraid and trusting. I realised how much my perceptions had been coloured by seeing the giants fight that morning. I remembered the one holding a horse and its stricken rider in the air, about to cast them to the ground, and shuddered. They hadn't seemed so placid then.
Saltlick looked up. When I barked his name again, he stood and lumbered over. I tried to motion northward with my head, but I couldn't tell whether he understood.
Before I could say anything, the patriarch darted over, with a surprising turn of speed. "So, both satisfied? It's a shame to leave so soon, and in the dark, with mountain lions, bandits, and worse abroad. We could provide lodgings at reasonable rates, and perhaps a barn for your friend."
"A gracious offer. Sadly we have far to go, and time is precious."
"Well then. The price is three onyxes, agreed fair and square."
I wondered how quickly I could get onto Saltlick's shoulder, and if he would leave when I ordered him to. Perhaps he would even take the villagers' side over mine. None of them was in any shape to pose much resistance, but there was something unsavoury in the idea of trampling our way through a barricade of old people and children. I pulled out Moaradrid's purse and opened the drawstring with a resigned sigh.
Looking inside, a thought occurred to me. "You've been very generous, not to say hospitable. The rice and cheese were an unexpected bonus, and your youngsters have made my companion welcome. In short, I wonder if three onyxes is ample payment."
The patriarch's eyes flickered between greed and suspicion. "That's true, our kindliness is famous hereabouts. Still, a deal is a deal, and rarely improved by last minute alterations."
I drew forth the ruby and laid it in his palm.
"I'd intended this to be a gift for my paramour. The more I think about it, however, the more I realise she's proven herself unfaithful and inattentive on far too many occasions. It's worth a thousand times the agreed sum. Nonetheless, I'd like you to have it."
I backed towards Saltlick and eyed the netting. I could see the line of torches behind the patriarch, partly hidden by a rise but definitely closer. I had
a vague hope that he'd bring the gem to their attention, either by boasting or by trying to sell it, and that finding it might convince them to abandon their pursuit. But if we waited much longer, I'd be giving it to them in person.
The patriarch gawped at the glittering thing in his hand. The others had gathered around to stare with him. Only the children were unimpressed. He found his voice eventually. "Pretty though it is, this won't buy us grain."
"It's worth all the grain on the Hunch."
He continued more certainly, "Trinkets are all well and good for rich folks. For peasants, ready currency is the only useful sort."
I pointed past him. "If you can't appreciate it for its aesthetic value, I'm sure those gentlemen will take it off your hands."
He seemed uncertain, now, even nervous. "Are those riders?"
"Yes indeed. Maybe they'll require lodgings."
I grasped the netting and made to swing up, but he stopped me with a glare. Seeing no option, I drew out an onyx and tossed it towards him.
"Here, for your more pressing needs, though I feel less inclined now to speak well of Reb Panza's hospitality."
I clambered to Saltlick's shoulder while he was scrabbling in the dust.
"I can't say it's been a pleasure doing business. Still, I wish you a good night."
I pointed Saltlick towards the road, and we were gone before the patriarch could raise any further objections.
The road took us quickly higher, so that the trees and foliage thinned out and the boulders grew more rugged and pronounced. It swept up in long curves, doubling back on itself time and again. Its convolutions gave me a good view of the way we'd passed – and of the line of torches approaching in our wake.
I'd taken pains to impress our urgency on Saltlick, though I doubted he wanted to be recaptured any more than I did. He had redoubled his pace, so that it took all my strength to stay on his shoulder, and all my willpower not to throw up. I wasn't about to complain. I suspected now that the riders had deliberately idled through the day, taking a gamble that we would either exhaust ourselves or try to go to ground. Whatever the reason, it was clear they'd only begun to stretch themselves after nightfall. They'd covered a remarkable distance during the hour we'd wasted in Reb Panza. Even now, with Saltlick jogging at what seemed an outrageous speed, they were still gaining.
After a few minutes, the lights bunched together. That seemed odd, until I realised they'd reached the village. There was no illumination except for the torches, a performance of shimmering yellow dots on a black stage. Some spread out to form a wide circular border while the remainder drifted into the centre.
When, five minutes later, they were still in that pattern, I began hesitantly to relax. "Slow down a little," I told Saltlick, "I think they've stopped."
He did as ordered, and I continued to watch. It was dull entertainment. The dots in the centre bobbed and weaved, with inscrutable purpose. The outer circle held firm without so much as a tremor. After another five minutes, I decided that the chase was over for the time being. Either they'd recovered the ruby and were satisfied or they'd decided to camp for the night, confident in their ability to run us down in the morning. I faced forward, breathed a sigh of relief, and wondered if we might be safe to find a campsite of our own.
Steadily, though, a sense of unease crept back over me. I couldn't explain it at first. There was nothing to hear, no rumble of hooves. I decided it was something in the quality of the light. The sky seemed inexplicably brighter behind than ahead, as though the sun were rising early and in the wrong direction. We'd come to a region of large boulders, however, my view was obstructed on both sides, and I couldn't make out why.
Eventually, another turn brought us out near a ledge, with nothing beyond it but a steep decline. Then I understood.
There were the torches, not far behind us, fallen back into their original formation.
Now they weren't the only things burning.
Reb Panza was, as well.
CHAPTER 5
I was no stranger to being chased. I'd fled from my share of angry shopkeepers and incensed guards, not to mention the odd mob. But those occasions had been a breeze compared to the hurricane I found myself in that night.
It was late when the hunt began in earnest, the moon near its apex. It was hard at first to separate the weaving torches from the conflagration of Reb Panza. It was hard to see anything much. The wind was from the north, and it wasn't long before a great cloud of stinking smoke had enshrouded us and the area all around. My eyes smarted and wept – though in truth, that was caused by more than just the smoke. I had a sick feeling rooted in my stomach, half numb horror and half disbelief. Why had they destroyed Reb Panza? It made no sense. Had the people been in it when it burned, those giggling children and their ancient guardians, the patriarch with his preposterous moustaches? And there was another question, even more urgent-seeming, which my mind kept returning to despite my efforts.
Had it been my fault?
Saltlick laboured on beneath me, feet pounding the dusty road, breath escaping in violent gasps. I'd lost track of how long he'd been running. I couldn't imagine what was going through his mind, or what pressures were tearing at his body. Behind us, that chain of fires commanded the near horizon. All I could see were flames weaving in the foggy darkness; but my imagination was eager to complete the scene. I saw a hundred riders, arrows notched, scimitars bared, grim determination on their faces. I saw their leader urging them on, screaming threats of grotesque punishment and promises of outrageous reward to the man whose blade first drank our blood. I saw my death encroaching, inescapably.
The wind rose, the smoke began to break up. The air still stank of charred grass, and at first retained a hazy thickness, lending an unreality to everything. Then a light rain began, and it was as though we'd been travelling within a chamber of grimy glass that was suddenly washed clean. The stars seemed very bright, the trees and rocks glistened. The bobbing torches behind us stood out like pinheads on a black velvet cushion.
That sight brought me back to the moment. I told myself that the men pursuing us must be insane, that they'd set fire to Reb Panza for no other reason than a love of destruction. It need only be the work of one madman, in fact, and the rest were simply following orders. There was no reason to think it had anything to do with me. Moaradrid's army probably burned villages every day. The best I could do would be to escape and carry word of their atrocity.
The issue settled, I tried to get my bearings. I wasn't sure how long had passed since we'd left the village. It might have been an hour or four. We didn't seem much nearer to the distant lights of Muena Palaiya. The town would have to be our destination now, if we could possibly make it so far. We were travelling southeast towards it, though the road continued to twist back and forth, never running straight for long.
Thanks to that serpentine course, a strange relationship began to form between our pursuers and us as the night wore on. They would draw very close, but be below us. Boulders, scrub bushes and loose shale littered the steep slopes between steps of the road. Their horses stood no hope of cutting the distance that way. Archers attempted shots, and some flew close enough that I heard them whistle by. I was convinced one of those shafts would plunge through my body, or wreak some catastrophic injury on Saltlick.
Yet it was probably at those times we were safest. Occasionally a glimmer of orange would be extinguished, as a rider tested the incline and went tumbling into the dirt.
At other times, they relied on their advantage of speed. There could be no doubt they had one. Even with Saltlick travelling at his fastest, they still gained steadily.
How long could the horses keep it up for? They'd been galloping for hours, and their brief break at Reb Panza hadn't been enough to rest them properly. We had a slim advantage there. But then horses were built for speed and stamina, and giants probably weren't.
By the time I got my answer, dawn was smudging the horizon like a drunken whore's rouge. Saltlick had slow
ed to a jog, and was weaving between the verges of the road. His pace had been slackening for the last two hours, and I'd been helpless to do anything except hang on and mutter occasional words of encouragement. The riders, forced by the expediency of not running their mounts to death, were slowing too. Even the archers had lost some of their fervour. The chase would have seemed comical to an observer: a bend in the road would bring us within sight of each other, a few arrows would be fired half-heartedly, only to clatter into the dirt behind us, and another turn would separate us once more.
Nevertheless, nothing in the situation made me hopeful. Saltlick would grind to a halt eventually, and I'd have to continue, alone and on foot. My pursuers were sure to be faster, were vastly more numerous, and probably weren't half crippled with bruises. I didn't stand a chance.
Then, as we turned yet another corner, an alternative suggested itself. A large estate stood directly ahead, back from the road, a two-storey villa surrounded by corrals and outhouses. It was one of the many prosperous farms that clustered around Muena Palaiya. A line of lemon trees stood between it and the road and behind I could see fields of corn, with orchards mounting the hillside beyond. Either its owners were already in the fields or they were still lazing in bed while their labourers did the work, because it was past dawn and no lights shone.
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