Giant Thief

by David Tallerman

  I leaped to my feet.

  "Marina? What is it? What's wrong?"

  I knelt beside her and made a show of checking her breathing.

  "She's only fainted," I said, with the assurance of one who'd been studying medicine all his life. I tried to glare equally at Panchetto and Moaradrid. "You should be ashamed of yourselves."

  My words brought a sympathetic murmur from around the table. I couldn't have cared less what those pampered lordlings thought, but it was vital no one try to interfere.

  Before anyone could, and I could see Alvantes considering it, I turned to Saltlick and said, "We should put her to bed. Will you help me carry her?"

  Saltlick nodded and lifted Estrada in his arms. It was oddly touching to see how gently he held her limp figure, a scene only slightly spoiled by the saliva dribbling from her lower lip.

  "Come on," I said, heading towards the entrance. Saltlick fell in dutifully behind me. Panchetto stood at the last moment and – failing to hide his attempt to regain the initiative very well – said, "Won't you wait while I call my personal physician?"

  "That won't be necessary. I'm sure she just needs rest and quiet."

  "Then I'll send one of my men to escort you." Panchetto motioned to one of the guards.

  "We can find our own way," I replied curtly, and was out of the room before he could say anything more.

  It was true, I'd taken care to memorise our route, and I made it back to our corridor without difficulty. I led the way into Estrada's room and signalled Saltlick to lay her on the bed. She grunted when he did so, mumbled something incomprehensible, and rolled onto her side. An instant later, the chamber echoed to the sound of snoring.

  Saltlick stood close by, gazing down. He turned to me and whispered, "Marina sick?"

  "Not really. I drugged her glass when I refilled it, but it'll wear off in an hour or two."

  "Drugged?" Now his voice was thunderous.

  "Keep it down! It was only a little. How else was I supposed to get us away from that insane party?"

  That threw him. I could see the confusion and anger battling across his features. Interesting as it was, I had to focus on the task at hand. First, I eased the medallion that Panchetto had given her from around Estrada's neck and draped it round my own. It was harder to untie the pouch at her throat, but eventually I pried loose the knot and it fell into my hands.

  I turned to find Saltlick glowering at me. "Stop stealing!"

  "I don't think so," I said. "Not when there's a whole palace of wealth up for grabs." I slipped the chief-stone from its pouch and held it up towards his face. "And not when I have my very own giant to help me."

  CHAPTER 18

  More emotions traipsed over Saltlick's features in the space of that minute than in the entire time I'd known him. The parade began with delight, as though he'd just rediscovered a lost friend. That segued into bafflement, quickly followed by alarm, a brief return of pleasure, something that was possibly shock, and finally, an expression of vague, bewildered horror.

  "How…" he asked. Rather than finish the question, he reached towards the stone. I wondered what I'd do if he tried to take it from me – the possibility hadn't entered my mind until then – but he stopped short of even touching it. "How?" he repeated, in the tone someone might use to ask how a loved one had died.

  I didn't want to imagine what his reaction would be to finding out I'd stolen the stone with his unwitting help, only to carry it about in ignorance while Moaradrid strove to recover it. And how would he like the news that Estrada had taken it from me, knowing what it was, letting the warlord think I still had it?

  "What's important is that I have it, and that makes me your chief. Am I right? You have to do what I say, even if you don't like it?"

  Saltlick nodded. I could tell from the way his shoulders sagged that he knew where this was going.

  "Excellent. Now listen carefully…"

  I gave him his instructions as slowly and precisely as I could, and then repeated them just in case. He looked more crestfallen with each word. I can honestly say I felt a little sorry for him. Moaradrid, Mounteban, Alvantes, that idiot Panchetto and perhaps most of all Estrada, they'd all abused me, tricked me or manipulated me in one way or another. Saltlick had never done anything more offensive than pick his toenails in my presence.

  I wasn't about to let sympathy get in my way, though. Not tonight, not when I'd made it this far. "You understand all that? Are you sure? Then get going, and don't foul it up."

  Saltlick lumbered out of the room with a last sorrowful glance towards Estrada's prone form. I listened as his footsteps receded down the corridor in the direction of the stables, and then sat on the bed to wait. Estrada made a small, complaining noise and rolled over. The sleeping draught had erased whatever care she'd taken for the party. Her hair was a dishevelled cloud, and a thread of drool still hung down her chin. It had given her face a sort of guileless quality in return. That, together with the moonlight streaming through the window, had smoothed away some of her sharp edges. I could almost see how a man like Mounteban might find her attractive.

  I shuddered. Better him than me!

  I stood and went out into the corridor. The lamps along the walls were unlit, presumably because the party was supposed to go on until much later. I felt sure I saw I saw a flicker of movement at the end of the passage, which disappeared the moment my eyes passed over it. A spy of Panchetto's? I hoped so. "I'll check in on you later, Marina," I stage-whispered. "Don't worry, I'll only be next door."

  I went back into my own room, looking everywhere but where that glimpse of motion had been. Once inside, I checked there were no gaps around the edges of the door-curtain where suspicious eyes could peek inside. Satisfied that I was safe from observation, I moved to the bed. I stripped off the sheets, as quietly as I could manage, and piled them on the floor.

  I spent the next few minutes knotting bed sheets end to end, and then testing the knots as well as I could without making undue noise. At the end of that time, I had a rope about the length of the room. I secured one end to the tail of the bed frame, which was of solid wood and easily heavy enough to bear my weight. Then I piled the sheet-rope back onto the mattress. If I was disturbed, it might pass unnoticed in a pinch.

  It wasn't the most original scheme I'd ever concocted. Sometimes, though, the old tricks are the best, and it certainly beat trying to smuggle a rope into the palace.

  Now came the difficult part. I've never been good at waiting, and those next few minutes passed with all the speed of a mouse through treacle. I'd wracked my brains for a means of surreptitiously manoeuvring Saltlick from the stables to where I needed him. I could have done this with half the dramatics if only I'd had an assistant who was willing and, perhaps more importantly, smaller than an outhouse. In the end, all I could think to do was leave as much time as I dared risk. I hoped Panchetto didn't consider the giant interesting enough to keep a proper guard on and that the presence of a known thief in his palace would focus his attentions.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the temple gongs ringing midnight. It was the sign I'd given Saltlick. My first impulse was to rush to the window. However, it would take him some time to leave the stables and work his way around. I forced myself to creep over, trailing my improvised rope behind me. I counted to thirty. When there was no sign of him, I did so again, more slowly. Still nothing. I tried to remember the names of every woman I'd slept with and then, realising that might not pass as much time as I'd like, their hair colours and idiosyncrasies.

  Nothing. He wasn't coming. He'd betrayed me, his friend and chieftain. Or else he'd been caught, in which case the guards would arrive for me at any moment. Perhaps the oaf had simply fallen asleep, or…

  A grotesque shadow jutted into the strip of courtyard below. It was followed an instant later by Saltlick's lumbering form. I'd noted before how ill suited to stealth he was. Watching him creep along, I thought of a tree trying to fall silently.

 
Still, I couldn't help but feel glad when he saw me and waved. Once he stood beneath my window, I motioned for him to stay where he was.

  It was a moonless and pitch-black night, as I'd expected it would be. Everything I'd seen of Panchetto's security led to me to believe he didn't take the threat of burglary very seriously, or rather trusted too much in his unscalable outer walls and well-guarded gatehouse. As far as I'd been able to tell, there were no patrols. If one did happen by then the darkness was deep enough to hide Saltlick from all but a deliberate search.

  I tossed the rope down and watched its loops bounce free against the wall. Hopefully the night would hide that too; I was glad the servants had opted for linen of a rich purple shade rather than, say, brilliant white. It reached about halfway to the ground, which was ample for what I had in mind. I clambered onto the ledge and swung down, gasping at the chill night air and momentary vertigo. The rope gave a fraction and held. The bed gave the faintest squeal but stayed in place.

  I allowed myself a small sigh of relief and climbed hand over hand down to the next window. I could feel Saltlick's eyes on me. I couldn't guess whether he was thinking of my safety or willing me to plummet to the ground. I swung onto the sill, dropped lightly to the floor, and hauled the remaining rope in after me.

  The room beneath mine was just as I remembered it from earlier in the day. Another couple of steps and I'd have fallen into the sunken bath, which had been drained since I'd last seen it. Panchetto's fat guest was evidently still at the party, and likely would be for some time yet.

  That didn't mean I wasn't in a hurry.

  My eyes had already adjusted to the dark, so I set to it immediately. There wasn't much furniture in the room: an inset wardrobe like the one in my own chamber, a set of drawers with elaborate carved legs and wrought-metal handles, and small cabinets to either side of the bed. I turned up a little loose change, a silver amulet set with carnelian, and a couple of silk scarves. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

  I crept to the drape over the door, lifted one edge and peeped out. The passage was unlit like the one above. I flicked a coin against the wall and waited. When two minutes had passed and no one had come to investigate the sound, I felt satisfied the corridor was unguarded. Why would it be? There was no one to defend against but the thief-in-residence, who for all anyone knew was asleep in his own bed.

  There were four rooms to either side of the corridor. I searched them all. After a few finds akin to those I'd made in the fat guest's room, and one chamber containing nothing of any value, I was starting to become despondent. Then number six turned up a brimming moneybag and some jewelled earrings that justified the night's work by themselves. I glanced briefly into the last two, conscious of the time, and returned to my starting place. I'd been dropping off my takes as I went along, and the result was a glittering heap beneath the window.

  I leaned out and tapped the wall until Saltlick looked up. I held out the first moneybag, gesturing that I planned to drop it. He raised cupped hands over his head, and I let it fall, fully expecting him to miss it and it to explode on the cobbles with a noise loud enough to stir the whole palace. Not so. He snatched it deftly from the air and placed it at his feet, just as I'd instructed. He managed just as well with the next two, and the last few articles I tucked around my person.

  I'd intended to tie the fat guest's sheets onto the end of my rope. Reassured by Saltlick's success and anxious for the passing time, I decided instead to climb as far as I could and drop the last distance. Sure enough, Saltlick caught me with hardly a jolt. I glanced at him with new respect. He was proving a capable partner. For a moment, I almost reconsidered leaving him when this was done.

  No. It would be better for both of us if we never set eyes on each other again after tonight. Saltlick could return to his tribe and I could go back to the life I'd been wrenched from all those days ago.

  I eyed the pile of treasure at our feet. This time there'd be a difference, though. This time I'd be rich.

  I spent a minute stuffing moneybags, loose coins, jewellery, scarves, and a fretted silver candlestick that had taken my fancy into the countless pockets secreted in the back of Saltlick's cloak. The formless garment combined with the giant's natural lumpiness hid them from all but careful examination, just as I'd intended. The padding I'd insisted on would muffle any suspicious clinking. Everything was going to plan.

  "Time to leave," I whispered, when the distant rap of approaching footsteps froze me to the spot.

  I held perfectly still for a moment, and then realised my right leg was jutting half out of the shadows. "Back!" I hissed, louder than I'd intended, and dragged Saltlick with me into the darkness.

  I pressed against the wall, pinning him beside me with one arm. Were we visible? I'd miscalculated. Only a blind man could fail to see a giant standing in that strip of gloom.

  The footsteps came closer. Perhaps my fear amplified them, because by the time I saw the patrolling guard I'd have sworn it was a carthorse bearing down on us. He was marching with stiff strides, halfway between the palace and the outer wall. He carried no torch, but his armour was so polished that it seemed to glimmer.

  He paced nearer, nearer. I could see his fingers closed on the sword hilt at his hip. Was he looking at us? Would Saltlick stop him if I ordered it? Running was out of the question. I could make out trace lines of hard features beneath his helmet. Nearer, still marching, staring into the night, glancing neither left nor right…

  Good discipline is a different thing to good guarding. He marched past without as much as a glance towards the walls. His steps were soon just a receding tap, tap, which quickly faded to nothing. All I could hear was Saltlick's hoarse breathing and the pounding of my own heart. When even that had steadied, I said, "All right. Let's go."

  I kept well within the shadow of the palace this time, drawing Saltlick with me. It took us a couple of minutes to skirt round the northeast corner to the front. I picked up the pace after that – I'd noticed earlier that the perspective from the gatehouse excluded most of the courtyard – and only slowed again when we drew near the grand main entrance. There was a pool of torchlight there, and I stopped on its edge. There was only one guard visible, and he had his back to us. I hissed a last instruction to Saltlick and stepped into the light.

  We were just a couple of guests, now, with every right to be where we were. I changed to a leisurely swagger, but the effort was wasted. The guard was talking with his colleague, who'd been out of view within the far side of the gatehouse. Neither of them looked round until the last moment.

  "Hello," I called, too loudly. "We're just, me and my friend here that is, we're just going to…" Most people are hopeless at feigning drunkenness. Those who aren't understand that the trick is to sound as if you're desperately trying to seem sober. "Well, we've had a couple of drinks you see, with His Highness, and we thought we'd head into the city to look for, you know, a different short of entertainment. I mean sort. I didn't mean to say we're looking for midget ladies. Although, if you know of any…" I winked clumsily.

  The nearer guard came forward. "At this hour? We have orders to search anyone leaving the palace after dark." He sounded unsure, and I noticed how his eyes were hovering over the medallion around my neck. I suspected the orders had really been search anyone who looks like they might be Easie Damasco. That was fine, just as long as they hadn't been told to detain us.

  "Certainly, officer," I said, "only too happy to please."

  At that, as per my instructions, Saltlick loomed forward. His face was mangled into an expression that suggested rage, toothache, constipation, or some unfortunate combination of all three. It wasn't exactly what I'd asked for – in fact, I struggled to stifle a laugh – but the guards looked suddenly very nervous.

  The one who'd spoken spent a few moments searching me, patting his way up from my feet to my collar with practised precision. He turned to Saltlick. If the giant's expression had sagged a little, that made it no less off-putting. Still, th
e guard was a professional. With a timid, "If you could kneel down, sir," he began his search.

  I held my breath.

  I needn't have worried. Even with Saltlick kneeling, the hidden pockets would have been out of reach to all except a remarkably tall and determined examiner. The guard was neither. The image that sprang to mind was of a blind man trying to calculate the dimensions of a statue covered in shit. His well-trained hands fairly flew over Saltlick's bulk, and the instant he was done he moved back with a sigh of relief.

  "Well, ah… everything seems to be in order. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of your night."

  "Thank you, officer," I said, leading the way out through the gates, "I certainly intend to try."

  I only let myself relax once we'd turned the street corner and were out of sight. Even then, it proved a mistake. My entire body felt like jelly, jelly someone had pounded with a hammer. I leaned against a window ledge and drew long breaths, until my knees stopped threatening to collapse.