That being the case, I had to assume he knew where I'd be heading now. He might even be moving to cut me off. Perhaps that should have changed my plans, but I was too battered and fuddled to formulate any sort of plan. If I was to survive another night, I could think of only one solution. It was indescribably unappealing — but marginally better than letting Synza bury a knife in my throat.
I'd followed the stall keeper's directions without any conscious attention. Ahead of me was the Fourth Orphan. Though the crowds were thinning with the press of evening, there was still a fair amount of traffic past its entrance. Even if Synza was on my tail, I had to hope that would protect me. I lurched through the throng, across the yard and inside — all without being murdered. Steadying myself against the door frame, I called to the serving girl, "The man I came in with earlier… is he here?"
"He's taken a room upstairs. Third from the stairs." Her eyes stayed on me. Bruised, dripping with the detritus of smashed fruit, I must have made quite a sight. "Do you need me to call a guard?"
"Just an accident," I told her. "More my fault than his. Should have thought about where I was going."
That at least was true.
She didn't look entirely convinced, though. Fortunately, a patron at the far end of the bar chose that moment to call for wine, and I took the opportunity to limp upstairs. I made my way to the door she'd identified, rapped three times.
It took Alvantes a while to open up. When he did, it was with an expression of caution that, recognising me, he changed rapidly to disgust. "I didn't think you'd dare return." Then, registering my appearance, his eyes narrowed. "What in the Hells have you been up to?"
"Alvantes… it's Synza. I know you know the name. Mounteban sent him after me, and he's been on my tail ever since Altapasaeda. I thought I'd lost him…"
Alvantes's blow was so sudden, so unexpected, that it carried me off my feet. It was all I could do to stop myself tumbling over the balcony. Instinct made me tense for another attack. Only when seconds had passed and none came did I dare look up.
Alvantes hadn't moved from his spot. His fist hung tensed at his side.
"You bastard," I mumbled, massaging my jaw, "what was that for?"
"All this time — you put us all in danger. You put Marina in danger. You'd have led a killer to the King's very door if he'd let you. Why didn't you tell me this straight away?"
I hoisted myself to my feet, keeping a careful distance from Alvantes's still-clenched hand. "Because you wouldn't have done a thing. In fact, you'd have probably left me somewhere for him to find, with a note thanking him for all his hard work."
"You damned fool," he said. "Is that what you believe?"
It wasn't, of course. However much Alvantes disliked me, I knew he hated a career killer like Synza more. "All right. What could you have done? How exactly would you have protected me?"
Alvantes's expression changed, the anger ebbing abruptly. "Get inside, Damasco."
I did as instructed — though warily. The room was spare, the only furnishings a narrow bed, a small chest and a single chair. I sank into it, almost sobbing as my battered muscles relaxed. "You didn't answer my question," I said.
"You're right. There probably wasn't anything I could have done. Synza's not just some twelfth-onyx thug. There were a dozen murders in Altapasaeda I suspected him of, but I could never find one shred of evidence."
"If you're trying to make me feel better, it's not working."
"I couldn't care less how you feel." Alvantes massaged the bridge of his nose furiously, sank onto the end of the bed. "As if things weren't bad enough."
"Cut a long story short. If you've no intention of helping me, just say it."
"Of course I'll help you. Whatever's between you and me, I keep my promises. I told Marina I'd look after you and I will. Damn it, though," he added, a new note of tension entering his voice, "if only you knew how you've forced my hand."
Before I could even think to ask what he meant, Alvantes was back on his feet and pacing to the door.
"Wait," I cried. "You're not leaving?"
"Unless you want to sit here and wait to die, there are things I need to take care of. Lock yourself in."
"How long are you…"
The door slammed shut behind him.
I scurried to slam the bolt into place. After a moment's thought, I went back for the chair and jammed its back against the door. Then I closed the window shutters and bolted them too. I considered upending the bed across them, but it looked excessively heavy. I sat down in the chair instead.
I realised I was shaking. Despite how I felt about Alvantes, I'd have given every coin I had left to make him come back. But he wasn't about to. Perhaps he never would. All his noble talk could easily have been a lie to rid himself once and for all of the irritation that was Easie Damasco.
Damasco? I can't understand it, Marina. He was perfectly fine when I left him.
No. I couldn't expect any help from Alvantes. And Synza surely knew where I was. What were a bolted door and a shuttered window to a master-assassin? Yet there was nowhere else I could go either, nowhere that would be less dangerous.
I was trapped. I was alone.
All I could do was wait.
CHAPTER NINE
I didn't think I'd sleep. Not then. Not ever again.
Yet as the night wore on, so my thoughts began to muddle and turn in on themselves, the darkened room becoming more of a blur. The next I knew, I was being woken from shapeless nightmares by the sound of hammering on the door. I lurched to my feet — or tried to. My bruised muscles were in no condition for swift movements. The chair spun sideways, and I ended up in a heap on the floor.
I crawled to the door on hands and knees and tried to listen. There was nothing except silence now. I didn't trust silence. In my mind, it shaped itself around a small, gaunt man, and the glistening blade he held in one lean hand.
"What are you doing in there? Open the damned door, Damasco."
It certainly sounded like Alvantes. "How do I know it's you?"
"You'll know in five seconds' time when I kick it down."
Maybe it was possible to imitate Alvantes, but imitating an angry Alvantes was a stretch too far. I dragged back the bolt and opened the door.
Alvantes pushed past me. "Are you ready to leave?"
I could see that the passage outside was doused in gloom, with one lone lamp burning at the head of the stairs. "It's still night," I said.
"An hour before dawn."
I took a moment to digest that fact. "Yes. Of course, I'm ready. I never even had a chance to unpack my saddle bags."
"You won't need them. We're leaving the horses here."
I couldn't help noticing that even as he said it, Alvantes was dragging his own bags from the chest in the corner. If he was aware of the hypocrisy, he gave no sign.
In all that had happened, I'd forgotten the mystery of what Alvantes was hiding. Now, as he hoisted the bags over one shoulder, I could just discern the faint bulge I'd noticed before. Should I be lucky enough to survive the next few minutes, it was something I'd have to investigate. Now that we were apparently stuck together, it wouldn't do for Alvantes to be keeping interesting secrets from me.
As for myself, I had everything I really needed: my rucksack, what little money I had left and the clothes on my back. "All right," I said. "I'm ready."
"Follow me then. And try to keep up. We don't have much time."
I did as I was told, keeping close to Alvantes as he marched along the balcony, down the stairs, out through the door of the Fourth Orphan.
The moment we stepped into the open air, my heart began to hammer. There were no street lights in this portion of Aspira Nero. Beneath a cloudy and moonless sky, the shadows were thickly black. One glance showed me countless places Synza could be hiding.
Perhaps his earlier attack hadn't been as reckless as it had seemed, but it certainly suggested he'd relaxed his standards. There was no reason to think Alvantes's prese
nce would deter him. In this darkness, Synza could kill me a dozen times before Alvantes even noticed I was gone.
I stayed near as we crossed the courtyard and turned into the street, trying to keep in Alvantes's line of sight — a next to impossible goal when I had no idea where we were going. If Aspira Nero was mazelike by day, it was doubly so at night. All I could gather was that we were heading downward, which meant we were travelling roughly west. I struggled to construct a mental map of the town, but it was hopeless. Between pain, tiredness and my basic lack of knowledge, I was helplessly disorientated.
Only when we came out into clear space through a gap in the buildings did I realise our objective should have been obvious. There were only two routes across the border, and only one lay to the west. In fact, I should have guessed the moment Alvantes told me we were leaving the horses. Before us lay the dockside.
The harbours of Aspira Nero were almost as large as those at Altapasaeda, and more impressive in their way. Though the low stone wharfs and occasional wooden jetties were basic enough, they were home to craft far grander than the skiffs and barges that dawdled along the southern portion of the river.
Such was the vessel Alvantes was leading us towards. It might have been the biggest riverboat I'd ever seen. Even if it could somehow have passed under the bridge that rose to our left, it couldn't possibly have navigated the southern Casto Mara without scraping its bottom out on the shallower sections. Only to the north, where the river broadened and deepened, could such a craft be of use.
It bore a single sail amidships and a low, rail-enclosed aftcastle. I could see men moving on board despite the hour, and a small group clustered near the gangplank. As we drew near, Alvantes hissed, "Don't speak of the King. Don't bring up Panchetto or Moaradrid. Definitely don't mention the situation in the far north or the Bastard Prince."
"Who's the…?"
"Shut up. In fact, in general, keep your mouth shut."
One of the men on the dockside broke away to block our path. "Who goes there?" he said.
"It's Alvantes, with the companion I spoke of."
The man moved nearer. I saw he was dressed in uniform, though it wasn't one I recognised. "Just in time, Guard-Captain. Get aboard, please."
Alvantes hesitated. "Damasco, this is Commander Ludovoco of the Crown Guard… also captain of this boat, the Prayer at Dusk."
"There'll be time for introductions later." Ludovoco made no effort to mask the impatience in his voice.
Alvantes nodded, and led the way across the last stretch of dockside and up the narrow ramp. Ludovoco and his men fell in behind, and I couldn't help noticing how the sailors on deck stopped what they were doing to form around us. On that unlit deck, at that predawn hour, our welcome seemed more menacing than gracious.
As the gangplank was hauled up, Ludovoco said, "Come. I'll show you your quarters."
He led us through the leftmost of two doors set either side of the aftcastle, down a narrow flight of stairs and through another door off a claustrophobic passage. The room beyond was tiny, just big enough for the two bunks it contained. There was a hurricane lamp suspended from the ceiling, already lit. In its light, I got my first proper look at Ludovoco.
He was to the younger side of middle age, his dark hair shorn short beneath a skullcap, clean-shaven but for a thin moustache and a jut of beard beneath his sharply angled chin. His uniform was of fabric so starkly black that it seemed to eat the light, relieved only by the flash of silver insignia at his breast. He wore a sword, slightly curved, though not so much as the scimitars favoured by Moaradrid's plainsmen. It didn't look remotely ornamental.
In short, he cut a daunting figure — and his manner did nothing to allay the impression. "Somewhat spare," he said, in a tone that made it clear he wasn't the least concerned with our comfort. "We're a military vessel, not prepared for guests."
"We're glad of whatever you can provide," replied Alvantes, matching our host's tone of bare civility note for note. "If our mission weren't of the utmost importance, we'd never have imposed."
"If it weren't, you'd never have been allowed to. Now, as I'm sure you'll appreciate, I'm needed on deck. May I ask that you confine yourselves to quarters for the time being."
It wasn't a question, and Ludovoco didn't wait for an answer. He stepped out, shut the door behind him. I almost expected the click of a lock, but none came; at least we were trusted to do our own confining, it seemed.
I sat on the lower bunk. "Your friend doesn't seem too pleased to have us along. Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"I doubt it is. But it's the only way to ensure Synza can't reach you."
"So who is this Ludovoco?"
"He's a commander in the Crown Guard. They're something like Altapasaeda's Palace Guard, though with a broader mandate — and of course, far greater territory. Within their jurisdiction they have absolute authority, answering only to the King himself."
I gave a low whistle. "That's a lot of power. No wonder Ludovoco doesn't go in much for manners."
"He's doing us a favour," said Alvantes. But he sounded sceptical. As was so often the case lately, it was obvious there was more here than I was seeing.
I was too tired to riddle it out then, though, and trying to get straight answers from Alvantes was wearisome at the best of times. It could wait until morning. I lay back on my bunk and pulled the single thin blanket over me. "Well," I said, "I suppose it beats another day on horseback."
I slept a broken and murky few hours' sleep, unable to find any portion of the hard bunk that didn't make my damaged flesh hurt more. I was almost glad when Alvantes clambered down and relit the storm lamp.
With no portholes, it was impossible to judge the time of day. However, sounds of activity from the rest of the boat suggested it was well past sunrise. I sat up, kneading swollen eyes, to see Alvantes looking down at me.
"We should show our faces on deck," he said. "Damasco, if you only ever listen to one thing I say, let it be this. Be careful around Ludovoco and his men. Don't engage with them if you can help it. One wrong word could put us both in grave danger."
"I'll be on my best behaviour," I said. "Better still, I'll be on your best behaviour." I tried to sound glib, but I couldn't help wondering what exactly we'd swapped Synza for. There'd been definite unease in Alvantes's voice.
On deck, Ludovoco greeted us with a curt nod. "Good morning," he said. "I won't be assigning you work, but please take care to stay out of my men's way."
I glanced at Alvantes, wondering if this suggestion of delegating labour to the guard-captain of Altapasaeda was as much a slight as it seemed. If it had registered, Alvantes hid it well. "Perhaps the upper deck?" he asked.
"That would be suitable. One of my men will bring you food when they eat."
I followed Alvantes up a near-vertical flight of stairs. As he must have observed, there was no one on the small aftcastle deck. He picked a spot upon the horseshoe of balustrade that ringed its edge and sat with his back against it. I followed his example, choosing a point as far from him as possible.
And that was how we spent the day. Within minutes I'd come to two obvious realisations, which only grew more apparent as the hours wore by. Being on a riverboat was boring. Being on a riverboat with Alvantes and a crew that made no secret of resenting our presence was the most boring thing imaginable.
At first, I found some distraction in watching Ans Pasaeda go by and noting how its sights differed from the scenery back home. Unfortunately, in most ways the answer was barely at all. The fields looked like Castovalian fields, the trees like Castovalian trees, and the dim purple hem of mountains far to the west looked very much like the mountains that bordered the Castoval. Even the farms and small settlements we passed were only a little dissimilar, built mostly of unplastered yellow brick with pale thatched roofs. The only significant differences were a sense of wide-open space the Castoval could never offer and the wheeling white specks in the sky far to the east that marked the presence of the
ocean.
After a few hours of having my mind turned steadily to mush, I asked Alvantes, "How long until we reach Pasaeda?"
"Perhaps two more days," he said. "Assuming this wind holds."
I groaned inwardly, cursed my own survival instincts. Would it have been so hard to let Synza kill me? Better that than death by scenery.
I'd realised by the second day that if I didn't find a distraction I'd undoubtedly go mad.
At first, I entertained myself by wondering at all the things Alvantes might have hidden in his saddlebag. Perhaps it was a rare treasure he'd stolen from Panchetto's palace. Perhaps he was a spy, sneaking documents to shadowy conspirators in the Royal Court, or was bolstering his meagre guard salary by smuggling rare contraband. Maybe he was really an assassin like Synza, with some outlandish weapon stashed for the one moment he'd need it.
While the possibilities I came up with offered brief amusement, they were all absurd — which only made me more determined to satisfy my curiosity in a more practical fashion. However, that line of thought led me quickly to the second of the day's insights.
For guests, we were being treated an awful lot like prisoners.
It took a while to sink in. Though Ludovoco and his crew lacked manners, they weren't without discretion. Hour on hour, however, it became more clear that whatever the business on deck, someone always had an eye trained in our direction.
What did it mean? Would Alvantes have been foolish enough to fill Ludovoco in on my career history? Had my notoriety crossed the border into Ans Pasaeda? Yet the attention didn't seem aimed specifically in my direction; quite the opposite in fact. Perhaps it was just that Ludovoco's service to the King had made him unduly paranoid, even towards his own. After all, being guard-captain of the Castoval's only city might not carry much weight to an Ans Pasaedan.
As it turned out, both questions came to a head late in the afternoon. We'd arrived at a junction in the river, an almighty confluence of fast-flowing water. The Casto Mara (called the Mar Corilus here, according to Alvantes), continued east towards the sea, already twice as wide as it ran anywhere in the Castoval. To the north-west, it was met by another river, narrower but still impressive, known as the Mar Paraedra. That was the course that would take us on to Pasaeda.
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