And before he knew it, before he could stop her, Quintana let go of his hand and suddenly the crowd swallowed her. He went to shout her name, but knew that it would alert those around him to discover who was in their midst. He shoved his way through the crowd trying to catch a glimpse of her, but everyone looked the same in their greys and their browns and he wished for the awful pink dress so he could find her, protect her. But the crowd surged forward down the Citavita walls and Quintana disappeared with it, leaving an emptiness inside Froi that he could barely comprehend.
He went searching for Lirah at the inn by the bridge, but found only Arjuro.
Arjuro ushered him into the miniscule chamber. It was almost as if they were charging for broom closets these days.
‘Is it true? About Tariq of Lascow?’ Arjuro asked, his voice ragged with emotion.
Froi nodded. ‘Where’s Lirah?’
‘Next door.’
Froi left the room and knocked on the door adjacent, but there was no answer.
‘Lirah,’ he whispered, not wanting anyone to make the link between their guest and Lirah, the King’s Serker whore.
‘It’s Froi,’ he said. ‘I need to speak to you.’
But there was no answer.
‘She’s not there.’
Froi spun around to see Gargarin leaning on the banister, holding his staff in one hand and a crutch under his other arm. His face was so drawn that it made Froi want to look away.
‘What do you mean she’s not here?’
‘She’s left. Gone. Don’t ask me where.’
Froi was stunned. ‘Gone?’ he asked. ‘I need to speak to her. Gone where?’
‘I said I don’t know. According to the innkeeper, she left not even an hour ago. For all I know, she’s probably halfway across the bridge by now.’
‘No,’ Froi said, pushing past Gargarin. ‘It’s too crowded. She would never have got across this last hour.’
Froi ran down the stairs and outside to where the stream of people passed the entrance of the inn. He tried to push through towards the bridge, but was shoved back.
‘Wait your turn,’ a man shouted.
Froi was desperate. He looked around and up to the roof. The stone of the inn was too flat to climb, so he pushed his way back inside and took the steps, two at a time. Gargarin was still there and Froi ignored him, grabbing a stool to stand on and reaching up to where there was a ceiling hatch. He shoved the stone away and climbed onto the roof where he spent the rest of the day, searching the crowd below for any sign of Lirah. He could see the queue all the way up the Citavita wall to the palace, but he was determined not to move until every last one of them passed him by. Arjuro joined him and they sat in silence, and then they heard Gargarin struggling through the hatch to join them. After hearing him suffer for some time, Arjuro stood and walked to the opening and dragged Gargarin up through the hole.
‘They’re idiots for leaving,’ Froi said, pointing to the people below, when Gargarin was settled beside them. ‘Do they think it’s any better out there?’
Neither of the brothers spoke. Froi leapt to his feet when he thought he saw a woman with Lirah’s rich long hair, but sat down again when he realised he was mistaken.
‘They’re leaving,’ Gargarin said, ‘because they know it will be a bloodbath.’
‘With the street lords?’
Gargarin shook his head.
‘If there is one thing a King and heir is able to do, it is to create agreement across the kingdom that the right person is on the throne, no matter how bad their blood might be. We no longer have that ugly luxury. So mark my words. Bestiano will return. He’ll come at a time when the people of the Citavita will be desperate for stability and peace. He’ll take up residence in the palace, kill a street lord or two for show. But then the Provincari will send their armies. The Provincari will never abide Bestiano or another Provincaro on the throne. So a battle will be fought here,’ he said, pointing to the people. ‘In their blood.’
‘Nice to see that you are still a regular prophet of doom,’ Arjuro muttered.
‘Nice to see that you didn’t heed my instruction to cross the bridge with the Paladozza people!’ Gargarin snapped.
‘Maybe Lirah did,’ Froi said. ‘Travel with De Lancey, I mean.’
Gargarin shook his head. ‘I was there to see the Paladozza compound off.’
‘And why didn’t you go with the mighty De Lancey?’ Arjuro asked.
‘Because I had unfinished business.’
‘Of course,’ Arjuro said. ‘You decided to stay around so the street lords could finish off their business with you? Because from what I can see, there’s still an arm or bone in your body that they didn’t break!’
A head appeared through the hole in the roof and Froi recognised the innkeeper’s wife.
‘We’re shuttin’, so come inside, Priestling, and tell your friends to pay for a room or go elsewhere,’ she said.
‘Did the woman in the fourth room leave a message?’ Froi asked her. ‘Say where she was going?’
‘She didn’t need to say where she was going. Out of the Citavita, that’s where she was going.’
She disappeared inside.
Gargarin struggled to his feet and looked down at Froi. ‘Join the line tonight and get out of this kingdom by morning.’
‘I’m not going anywhere!’
‘Until when?’ Gargarin snapped. ‘Until Lirah comes back and leaves you a message? She’s gone. She’s been a prisoner on this godsforsaken rock since she was thirteen, Olivier. She’s not coming back.’
‘Froi,’ he shouted. ‘My name is Froi.’
He leapt to his feet, wanting to hurt Gargarin for not even getting that right. ‘And I’m not pining for Lirah. You are. I just wanted to see her face so I could tell her that I hate her!’ Froi grabbed Gargarin by the coarse cloth of his tunic. ‘I had a life with people who I would die for! You’ve all ruined everything. I despise you,’ he spat.
‘You’re supposed to despise him,’ Arjuro muttered. ‘He’s your father.’
‘Shut up!’ both Froi and Gargarin shouted.
The innkeeper’s wife appeared again. ‘Out,’ she hissed. ‘I want you out.’
Scowling darkly, the three of them made their way to the opening. Froi grudgingly shoved Gargarin down, holding him by the back of his undershirt until Gargarin’s feet touched the ground inside. Froi followed and the innkeeper’s wife stood before them, a broom in her hand.
‘The Priestling can stay only because I don’t want another curse befalling this house,’ she continued in her furious tone. ‘But you two, go. That beautiful woman and her precious boy must be grateful to be halfway across this land rather than putting up with any of you.’
The three of them exchanged looks as the innkeeper’s wife walked away. ‘What boy?’ Froi asked.
‘Out,’ she ordered over her shoulder.
Arjuro went to follow, a question on his lips, but Froi dragged him back, waiting for the woman to be out of earshot. Suddenly, he understood the truth.
‘We dressed Quintana in Perabo’s clothes,’ he said quietly. ‘So she would be mistaken for a lad.’ His eyes met Gargarin’s. ‘She came to Lirah and now they’re both somewhere out there.’
Gargarin’s eyes were cold.
‘A good thing. It’s best we all go our separate ways. There’s nothing left for us here. Nothing left for you.’
Froi nodded, bitterness in his heart.
‘You’ve made your thoughts clear, Father,’ he spat.
Gargarin flinched.
‘You have no place here, Dafar of Abroi,’ he said. ‘It’s time for you to return to your people.’
Part Three
Quintana
Chapter 24
Six weeks after Froi arrived in the capital to kill the King of Charyn, he crossed the bridge that would mark his journey home to Lumatere. Turning back to look just once, the Citavita seemed ghostly in this morning mist, half-concealing the strange cluster of rocks with their secret worlds beneath. He couldn’t help but think what would happen to Perabo and all the cave dwellers who had intrigued Quintana that day they spent together. Or those in the castle who were too unimportant to be counted on the death list. Did the cook and the servants and the farriers survive? Did the street lords take their bloody revenge on the soothsayer, aligned to the King for so long? How long would the soulless cutthroats control the lives of all those innocent people? He had heard news that one of the street lords had run off with the ransom of three hundred pieces of gold and the ruby ring, leaving his companions with not a penny. Froi had learnt early in life that there was no honour amongst thieves and, judging from the thirst for blood of those who had murdered the palace dwellers, he could only imagine the fate of the traitorous thief when his former companions caught up with him.