least that the death cries of the man to my right might alert me to approaching danger.
I squeezed through a gap in two boulders. The narrow band of sand that clung to the base of the cliffs was silvery in the moonlight, rippled as oft-worn fabric. Beyond it, below the strip of lead-grey gravel that made the greater part of the beach, the sea frothed and seethed like an old man sucking at his teeth.
I’d overestimated the good my cloak would do me. Beneath the moon’s hoary glow, I stood out just as clearly as I would have clothed in the brightest motley. I considered scurrying back to the defence of the rocks, but what betrayed me was also in my favour, for I could see clear to the landed boat and its entourage of soldiers, and I could make out one of Navare’s men moving between them and me. Out there, at least I’d have plenty of warning of an attack – and I could think, without the stink of twenty waterlogged sailors in my nostrils.
Or so I’d imagined, anyway. By the time I’d reached the waterline, I was beginning to realise that whatever thoughts my exhausted mind might offer, they weren’t the useful, escape-enabling sort I’d been hoping for. It seemed the ocean depths had pummelled all the fight out of me, and I found it hard even to remember why I’d been so angry at Estrada. The truth was that I was at a loss. I’d failed at thievery, failed at heroism, and now here I was in the arse end of nowhere, staring death in the face once again and lacking the energy to much care. If there were any fairness in the world I’d be in a tavern at that moment, narrating my legendary adventures in exchange for cups of wine, and thinking fondly of the part I’d played in returning Saltlick and his people home.
A nice dream. But it had burned to nothing the moment Alvantes and Estrada had made their truce with that villain Mounteban, and now all I could do was wander down this beach grey as ashes, remembering it fondly.
I shook myself. No use in getting maudlin. I’d survived this far, and through worse than this. Maybe I’d never be regaled for my heroism, maybe the King would put Altapasaeda to fire and the sword, maybe Saltlick would never see his distant home again, but there would always be taverns – and surely that was enough to keep me going for one more night at least?
It was hard to see much past the turns of the cliff that closed either end of the beach, but I didn’t think I’d be swimming out. It crossed my mind that there must be timbers from our boat around, that perhaps I could turn one into a crude raft. A ludicrous plan; the water would be freezing by now, and there was no reason to imagine I’d fare better on the rocks for a second attempt. I turned around, stared back towards our rocky barbican. More realistically, once I’d recovered a little I might be able to climb that ravine in the cliff side. Yet the best I could hope for would be to snatch a few uncomfortable hours rest and make a try before dawn, and I doubted I’d get halfway like that. No, it would take more strength than I had to make that tricky ascent in the dark.
I could see no option except to attempt the fool’s errand I’d come out there on. I might as well make a try of it before I returned empty handed. To my astonishment, however, less than a minute had passed before my eye snagged on something that looked like bleached bone and turned out to be ancient wood, desiccated and salt-stained. After that, I began to hunt seriously, drawn by the prospect of a little warmth – and sure enough, Navare had been right. Some of my tiredness turned to enthusiasm as I chanced on more chunks of weatherworn timber, and for a while the quest fully absorbed me.
My excitement waned quickly. Aside from the first piece I’d discovered, nothing I found was much more than a sliver; we’d have a scanty fire indeed if the others hadn’t fared better. Still, at least I’d shown willing. I was beginning to regret the previous
I squeezed through a gap in two boulders. The narrow band of sand that clung to the base of the cliffs was silvery in the moonlight, rippled as oft-worn fabric. Beyond it, below the strip of lead-grey gravel that made the greater part of the beach, the sea frothed and seethed like an old man sucking at his teeth.
I’d overestimated the good my cloak would do me. Beneath the moon’s hoary glow, I stood out just as clearly as I would have clothed in the brightest motley. I considered scurrying back to the defence of the rocks, but what betrayed me was also in my favour, for I could see clear to the landed boat and its entourage of soldiers, and I could make out one of Navare’s men moving between them and me. Out there, at least I’d have plenty of warning of an attack – and I could think, without the stink of twenty waterlogged sailors in my nostrils.
Or so I’d imagined, anyway. By the time I’d reached the waterline, I was beginning to realise that whatever thoughts my exhausted mind might offer, they weren’t the useful, escape-enabling sort I’d been hoping for. It seemed the ocean depths had pummelled all the fight out of me, and I found it hard even to remember why I’d been so angry at Estrada. The truth was that I was at a loss. I’d failed at thievery, failed at heroism, and now here I was in the arse end of nowhere, staring death in the face once again and lacking the energy to much care. If there were any fairness in the world I’d be in a tavern at that moment, narrating my legendary adventures in exchange for cups of wine, and thinking fondly of the part I’d played in returning Saltlick and his people home.
A nice dream. But it had burned to nothing the moment Alvantes and Estrada had made their truce with that villain Mounteban, and now all I could do was wander down this beach grey as ashes, remembering it fondly.
I shook myself. No use in getting maudlin. I’d survived this far, and through worse than this. Maybe I’d never be regaled for my heroism, maybe the King would put Altapasaeda to fire and the sword, maybe Saltlick would never see his distant home again, but there would always be taverns – and surely that was enough to keep me going for one more night at least?
It was hard to see much past the turns of the cliff that closed either end of the beach, but I didn’t think I’d be swimming out. It crossed my mind that there must be timbers from our boat around, that perhaps I could turn one into a crude raft. A ludicrous plan; the water would be freezing by now, and there was no reason to imagine I’d fare better on the rocks for a second attempt. I turned around, stared back towards our rocky barbican. More realistically, once I’d recovered a little I might be able to climb that ravine in the cliff side. Yet the best I could hope for would be to snatch a few uncomfortable hours rest and make a try before dawn, and I doubted I’d get halfway like that. No, it would take more strength than I had to make that tricky ascent in the dark.
I could see no option except to attempt the fool’s errand I’d come out there on. I might as well make a try of it before I returned empty handed. To my astonishment, however, less than a minute had passed before my eye snagged on something that looked like bleached bone and turned out to be ancient wood, desiccated and salt-stained. After that, I began to hunt seriously, drawn by the prospect of a little warmth – and sure enough, Navare had been right. Some of my tiredness turned to enthusiasm as I chanced on more chunks of weatherworn timber, and for a while the quest fully absorbed me.
My excitement waned quickly. Aside from the first piece I’d discovered, nothing I found was much more than a sliver; we’d have a scanty fire indeed if the others hadn’t fared better. Still, at least I’d shown willing. I was beginning to regret the previous
Similar Books
