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Authors: David Tallerman
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as I let go of the lever, even as I flung myself forward, Saltlick was in the gap. I came up hard against his leg, bounced backwards. As he crammed himself through the too-small opening, dust billowed round him. Loose bricks tumbled past his feet, piling in the diminishing gap. Beyond the door, it sounded as if the entire barracks was settling to fill the hole that Saltlick had vacated.
“No!” The door was still open a crack, but I didn’t think for a moment that I could squeeze through – or if I could, get past the rubble on the other side. “No no no!” When Saltlick only hung his head contritely, I rounded on Estrada. “This wasn’t our deal!”
“Fine. I’m sorry, Damasco,” she said calmly, “but what’s done is done, and you might as well make the best of it.”
Did I detect that familiar look in her eye? That look that said, I know you better than you know yourself, so why not just let me decide what happens? “You planned this!” I hissed. “You want me dragged into this ridiculous expedition of yours.”
“Why would I possibly want that?” Estrada asked – and before I could begin to formulate an answer, she’d set off to catch the buccaneers and guardsmen, who’d already pressed on without us.
“I’m leaving,” I muttered. “First chance I get. I won’t be pressganged into another of your suicide attempts.”
In the immediate future, however, I had no desire to be left amidst the rapidly descending darkness. I hurried after Estrada, just as my exhausted lantern sputtered out the last of its life. As Saltlick shuffled behind me, bent almost to hands and knees by the low ceiling, I heard a crunch that could only have been its annihilation beneath a giant foot.
When I drew near to Estrada, she glanced back and said, “When you were making all that noise, Damasco, you said someone was coming. Did you mean the Palace Guard?”
Amidst the horror of realising I was caught up in another of Estrada’s hare-brained schemes, I’d almost forgotten the far more immediate danger. “I gave them the slip,” I lied, “but it won’t take them much effort to pick up my trail.”
“And Lunto and his men?”
“I don’t know.” Not quite a lie this time, though I had a fair idea. The likelihood of them fighting their way free from a palace full of highly trained soldiers was remote, to say the least. Still, I wasn’t quite ready to admit that – not to Estrada, not even to myself. “I’m sure they’re fine. You know Alvantes.”
“So what went wrong?” she asked.
Yet again, my brain automatically resisted the honest answer; it was the suspicion in her voice that changed my mind. Just because she was right, it didn’t make her assumption that it was my fault any less insulting. “A misunderstanding,” I said. “To do with a few of the Prince’s personal effects finding their way into my possession. I could have explained it easily enough if anyone had cared to listen, and if Alvantes hadn’t started swinging his sword around.”
“Oh Damasco, you didn’t .”
“Didn’t what?” I snapped. “Commit a victimless... I won’t even use the word crime . A redistribution of no-longer-required wealth.”
“I thought you were past all that,” Estrada said, sounding more sad than angry.
A part of me wanted to explain my motives in precise and comprehensive detail, to point out how her meddling had done nothing but bring the Castoval to the edge of ruin, to propound my new understanding that so-called heroism brought nothing but trouble for all concerned. But even if she listened, what good would it do? “It seems you were wrong,” I replied sullenly.
Estrada shook her head – and the disappointment in that gesture cut me more than I’d have imagined it could. Then, as if she’d already dismissed me from her thoughts, she called to the next figure in line, who happened to be one of Alvantes’s buccaneers, “We need to hurry. We have company down here.”
He made some
“No!” The door was still open a crack, but I didn’t think for a moment that I could squeeze through – or if I could, get past the rubble on the other side. “No no no!” When Saltlick only hung his head contritely, I rounded on Estrada. “This wasn’t our deal!”
“Fine. I’m sorry, Damasco,” she said calmly, “but what’s done is done, and you might as well make the best of it.”
Did I detect that familiar look in her eye? That look that said, I know you better than you know yourself, so why not just let me decide what happens? “You planned this!” I hissed. “You want me dragged into this ridiculous expedition of yours.”
“Why would I possibly want that?” Estrada asked – and before I could begin to formulate an answer, she’d set off to catch the buccaneers and guardsmen, who’d already pressed on without us.
“I’m leaving,” I muttered. “First chance I get. I won’t be pressganged into another of your suicide attempts.”
In the immediate future, however, I had no desire to be left amidst the rapidly descending darkness. I hurried after Estrada, just as my exhausted lantern sputtered out the last of its life. As Saltlick shuffled behind me, bent almost to hands and knees by the low ceiling, I heard a crunch that could only have been its annihilation beneath a giant foot.
When I drew near to Estrada, she glanced back and said, “When you were making all that noise, Damasco, you said someone was coming. Did you mean the Palace Guard?”
Amidst the horror of realising I was caught up in another of Estrada’s hare-brained schemes, I’d almost forgotten the far more immediate danger. “I gave them the slip,” I lied, “but it won’t take them much effort to pick up my trail.”
“And Lunto and his men?”
“I don’t know.” Not quite a lie this time, though I had a fair idea. The likelihood of them fighting their way free from a palace full of highly trained soldiers was remote, to say the least. Still, I wasn’t quite ready to admit that – not to Estrada, not even to myself. “I’m sure they’re fine. You know Alvantes.”
“So what went wrong?” she asked.
Yet again, my brain automatically resisted the honest answer; it was the suspicion in her voice that changed my mind. Just because she was right, it didn’t make her assumption that it was my fault any less insulting. “A misunderstanding,” I said. “To do with a few of the Prince’s personal effects finding their way into my possession. I could have explained it easily enough if anyone had cared to listen, and if Alvantes hadn’t started swinging his sword around.”
“Oh Damasco, you didn’t .”
“Didn’t what?” I snapped. “Commit a victimless... I won’t even use the word crime . A redistribution of no-longer-required wealth.”
“I thought you were past all that,” Estrada said, sounding more sad than angry.
A part of me wanted to explain my motives in precise and comprehensive detail, to point out how her meddling had done nothing but bring the Castoval to the edge of ruin, to propound my new understanding that so-called heroism brought nothing but trouble for all concerned. But even if she listened, what good would it do? “It seems you were wrong,” I replied sullenly.
Estrada shook her head – and the disappointment in that gesture cut me more than I’d have imagined it could. Then, as if she’d already dismissed me from her thoughts, she called to the next figure in line, who happened to be one of Alvantes’s buccaneers, “We need to hurry. We have company down here.”
He made some
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