Crown Thief (18 page)

  "Commander… thank you for allowing us to travel with you. We can make our own way from here. I have a brief visit to make before I speak with the King."

  Ludovoco eyed him coldly. "I'm afraid that won't be acceptable."

  "It wasn't a suggestion," replied Alvantes, holding his gaze.

  "Nor is this. You'll come with us now, to the palace."

  "I came here of my own free will, in service to the King, and…"

  Ludovoco silenced him with an upturned palm. "Guard-Captain," he said, "I hoped this needn't become difficult, but you leave me no choice. Henceforward, it will be easiest if you consider yourself under arrest."

 
 
 
 

I suspected I was taking our detention better than Alvantes.

  Arrest, after all, was hardly a novelty. In fact, there was something almost comfortingly familiar about the presence of armed guards. Given the turmoil and uncertainty I'd endured in recent days, there was a lot to be said for knowing exactly where I stood.

  In credit to Alvantes, however, for a man who'd just had the fundamentals of his existence turned on their head, he was bearing up as well as could be expected. I'd imagined he'd pick a fight with Ludovoco, or start raving about his honour. Instead, he'd clammed up completely. His mouth was set in a jagged line; his eyes were the barest slits. He followed directions with only the most terse of nods.

  Ludovoco had made no attempt to explain our unorthodox treatment. My knowledge of local customs might have been meagre, but it didn't seem to make much sense. As we set out towards the capital, I amused myself with the possibility that this was what passed in Ans Pasaeda for humour; that at any moment Ludovoco and his men would break down in fits of laughter. As they marched us along the grand treelined boulevard joining harbour and city, I imagined giggling courtiers behind each tree. Drawing near the walls, I pictured the King himself leaping out, amidst general hilarity.

  Needless to say, none of those things happened. Instead, we were forced to wait while the sentries in the gatehouse, who must have recognised Ludovoco, laboured to open the titanic portals via some mechanism inside. That it would have been far easier to let us through the smaller side gate apparently occurred to no one. The impracticality and needless ritual of it seemed a clear indication of the authority Ludovoco wielded.

  While the gatekeepers struggled to make way, I craned my neck to gain my first direct impression of Pasaeda. Like Aspira Nero, the capital was built with its back to the mountain. Here, however, the diminishing crags split in a great crook that the city nestled within. From above, Pasaeda would appear as a rough diamond, with the fortifications completing the other two sides and this gate at its lowest tip.

  And they were most certainly fortifications. No other word would do. They were higher even than the ramparts of Aspira Nero, receding in a series of shallow indents with a tower at every junction. There was no point on our side that couldn't be observed clearly from left or right. I caught glimpses of men within the towers, and others upon the walls – more than I'd have expected of any peacetime city.

  Before I had time to wonder at that, the gap in the gates widened enough to admit us, and Ludovoco waved us on.

  It was dark within the gatehouse and the day was bright. I was half-blind as I first stepped into Pasaeda. All I could see was a collage of incandescent shapes. Slowly, my eyes focused. Still I found I was hesitant to trust them. It was easier to believe I was still dazzled than that anything made by the hands of men could be so splendid.

  I'd always thought the wealthier portions of Altapasaeda were the height of opulence. Now I realised that even at its grandest, Altapasaeda was only a shadow of the place it was named for. Here were no cramped alleys, no shabby markets, no homes that could possibly stoop to accommodate the poor – or if there were, they were well hidden.

  Every house within view could have competed with and bested the finest of Altapasaeda's mansions. The reason the city blazed beneath the morning sun was that every single wall and roof was startlingly white. Unlike the buildings south of the border, however, that whiteness wasn't the result of stucco or paint but of luminous stone. Every surface was then carved into friezes, porticoes and columned arcades, which in turn were enriched by subtle designs in silver and gold. Gates and sections of ornate ironwork offered glimpses into meticulously tended grounds, where lush blooms bigger than my head tumbled amongst wide-fronded trees and mammoth, wavering ferns.

  I continued to gape as Ludovoco marched us through the city streets, all thoughts crammed out of my mind by the desire to soak in every detail. Who could have imagined there was so much money in the world? Truly, the thieves of Pasaeda must live like lords.

  Then again, maybe thievery in Pasaeda might not be such a lucrative career after all. There were armed guards everywhere, all robed and turbaned in the same smoke grey the gatekeepers had been wearing. On the face of it, they actually seemed to outnumber the populace, for aside from their presence the streets were all but deserted. We saw only a few passing rich folk, travelling without much apparent sense of purpose on foot or horseback. Men and women both were dressed in long pale-shaded robes much like the guards, though in their cases jewellery and the obviously fine material set off any hint of austerity.

  For people who lived amidst such magnificence, they didn't look particularly grateful, or even very happy. Certainly, they were quick to look away whenever their eyes chanced on Ludovoco and his men.

  Which made it all the more startling when someone nearly rode into our small convoy. The guards snapped to attention and Ludovoco looked furious – at least until he recognised the rider. The man was advanced in years, though well preserved in the fashion only wealth could accomplish, and dressed in robes of crisp crocus yellow. He was flanked by two guards of his own, their outfits a more muted shade of the same.

  Something about him put me in mind of a tall water bird, perhaps a crane, and his voice – a little high pitched and warbling – did nothing to dispel the image. "Commander Ludovoco," he cried gladly.

  Ludovoco considered the new arrival with barely stifled distaste. "Senator Gailus."

  "And who's this with you? The aspect seems familiar. Do my eyes deceive, or is that Furio Alvantes's boy?"

  "We're accompanying Guard-Captain Alvantes to the palace," replied Ludovoco, leaving no doubt in his tone as to whose business he considered the information.

  "On royal affairs?"

  "Are there any other kind?"

  Gailus gave a shrill chuckle, though there'd been no hint of humour in Ludovoco's question. "Not for the likes of us, eh?" He trotted his horse leisurely around our little gathering, as though we were street sellers and he was appraising our goods. "If I didn't know better," he said, "I'd think you had our friend here under armed guard."

  "Under escort," said Ludovoco.

  Gailus chuckled again. "It so happens we're also riding to the palace. We'll accompany you."

  "Of course," said Ludovoco. The look he gave Gailus said,
Since we both know I can't stop you.

  As Gailus fell in beside us, I noticed how his men exchanged hard looks with Ludovoco's. What enmity had we stumbled into now? I saw from Alvantes's face that he recognised this Gailus, but nothing gave me the impression they were friends or allies. This day was worsening by the minute – and it had hardly started well.

  That conclusion had barely crossed my mind when Gailus proved it beyond doubt. Turning to Alvantes, he said, "I'm sure you appreciate that Commander Ludovoco is merely doing what he deems necessary."

  "I've no doubt," said Alvantes. He even managed to sound like he meant it. Ludovoco, meanwhile, stared straight ahead. The only indication he was following the exchange was a nerve ticking rhythmically in the corner of his eye.

  "The fact is," continued Gailus, "these last days have seen a dearth of information from across the border… no news even from our dear Prince Panchetto. Commander Ludovoco has been waiting in Aspira Nero, so I hear, to try and gather information."

  "So I understand," Alvantes agreed.

  "Until now, he's only been able to send back rumours, all disturbing. If his behaviour seems heavy-handed, I'd ask you to bear that in mind."

  Ludovoco had had enough. The nerve in his eye gave one more compulsive shudder and he said, his voice like frosted iron, "If I may, Senator, Guard-Captain Alvantes will be thoroughly debriefed once we reach our destination."

  "A polite way of telling an old man to mind his own business."

  "I would never tell the senator what is or isn't his business. I'd only ask that he be careful how he speaks of mine."

  Gailus chuckled once again. "I'll say no more."

  After what I'd seen, I doubted very much that Gailus would be able to keep his word. It seemed I'd under estimated him, however. He trotted alongside us, his men to his left, and his only lapses from silence were to give one of his characteristic gurgles of mirth, as though his mind was still digesting whatever aspects of his conversation with Ludovoco had so amused him.

  With the show apparently over, at least for the moment, I turned my attention back to the marvels of Pasaeda.

  At the point we'd reached, a barricade of temples cut off the residential districts from the palace, just as in Altapasaeda. Though these were infinitely grander, their decoration was fundamentally the same. Festooned with flowers, perfumed with incense, hung with birdcages and strung together by arches, they formed an immense hive of worship that must have traversed an entire quarter of the city. Statues representing the gods loomed in every recess and burst forth from every prominence. Weird minglings of men and women with animals, birds and fish, which held the most unlikely things: a child's rattle here, a bucket or a three-pronged sword there. Some I recognised from Altapasaeda, many more were new to me; all were bizarre and terrifying.

  It was a relief when we eventually broke through to the district of the palace – at least until I got my first proper look at it. Nestled deep in the crook of the mountains, its monolithic grandeur was the final move in Pasaeda's game of architectural one-upmanship.

  The palace struck an unlikely compromise between splendour and defence. Somehow, it managed to be half plaster and glass confectionary, half unassailable fortress. In contrast to the rest of the city, it was also a riot of garish colour. Every window was stained glass, every roof a mosaic, every wall illuminated with bright curlicues or murals or clutters of interlocking geometry.

  It should have been chaotic – and it was. Yet it didn't seem to matter that nothing matched when every column and balustrade was a masterpiece in its own right. The palace crept – in layers of roof and archway and balcony, through endless juts of tower and spire and cupola – up the sheer face of the cliffs, like an ornate beetle clambering to safety.

  All told, it made the palace in Altapasaeda look like a dung-collector's cottage. I'd never wanted to steal anything so badly in my life.

  As we drew close, however, the fortress aspect of its character grew more apparent, and by the time we entered the palace grounds I felt more intimidated than impressed. We were ushered through a gatehouse in the outermost layer of defences, across a courtyard as big as many a Castovalian village, through another gatehouse, down a wide street bordered by tiers of exquisite garden, into yet another gatehouse in yet another set of walls into
yet another
courtyard – where Gailus left us, drifting off towards the stables with a jovial "Goodbye!" – and up a flight of marble stairs, through enormous double doors… until I found myself, at last, within the palace itself.

  By then, I'd had my fill of marvels. My head ached to match my feet, and I barely glanced at the colossal hall we'd ended up in. I chose to stare at the floor instead, which was mercifully plain, at least in comparison with everything else.

  It seemed too much to ask that someone would offer us lunch, or at least a cup of wine. Minutes passed, punctuated with low-whispered conversations between Ludovoco and the palace staff. Just as I was sure I'd topple over, he ushered us on towards a small, draped archway.

  Before we could pass through, however, a voice called, "There you are!"

  It was Gailus – and I couldn't escape the feeling that he'd been waiting for this moment, though I hadn't seen him. He trotted over at a leisurely pace, to Ludovoco's obvious frustration.

  "Off to the reception hall?" Gailus asked. "Why don't I take over from here?"

  Ludovoco tensed. "Take over?"

  "I'm a friend of young Alvantes's father, as you're no doubt aware. Since I agreed to hold my tongue on affairs of state, mightn't it be reasonable to ask for a minute to discuss affairs of family?"

  "Alvantes is in my custody," said Ludovoco.

  "He must pose quite a threat if you daren't leave him alone for even a minute."

  "Not so far as I know."

  "Or else be determined to escape?"

  "There are… protocols."

  "One minute, Commander, is all I ask. Your men can stay close to ensure our friend the guard-captain does nothing uncharacteristically treasonous."

  Ludovoco froze. It was clear he wasn't used to being talked to this way. I suspected a part of his brain was already busy plotting harsh reprisals.

  The rest of him, however, seemed paralysed by the unfamiliar prospect of conceding defeat. Eventually, he tipped his head. Without a word, he led us through the curtain, down one long corridor and another, and off into a much smaller room, which I took from its sparse furnishings to be some sort of antechamber.