Giant Thief by David Tallerman

was so low that even the cloaked stranger had to hunch to pass through. He was still carrying a lantern in one hand. Its ruddy glow did little except lengthen and soften the shadows.
      "I don't like the phrase 'petty thief'," I said. "It makes me sound short."
      "At least you acknowledge you're a thief."
      "From time to time I've done things that might, to a cynical observer, be considered thieving."
      "And what would you call them?"
      "My livelihood."
      The cloaked figure laughed, a strangely pleasant sound amid such dreary surroundings. "Well perhaps you're something more than a petty thief, then. We'll see."
      He reached up to draw back his hood. I saw narrow features cast into sharp relief by the lamplight, a soft mouth, large, dark eyes, and a mane of even darker hair flowing past shoulder length.
      I stared, not quite able to close my mouth. Finally I said, perhaps unnecessarily, "You're a woman."
      "See? You're already showing insightfulness beyond your calling."
      "And I recognise you. You were in the battle, yesterday morning," I said, momentarily forgetting how I'd planned to keep my own presence there a secret. The image came back to me with sudden clarity: the rider at the vanguard of the escaping Castovalian force, black hair streaming past their shoulders. I realised, with astonishment, that the man beside her then had been Castilio Mounteban. "Now that I think, I've seen you before that too."
      "Marina Estrada," she said with a small bow.
      It all clicked into place.
      "You're the mayor. The mayor of Muena Palaiya."
      "And you are Easie Damasco, one-time resident of my noble town, who since then has made a nuisance of himself throughout most of the Castoval at one time or another. You managed most recently to fall in with the invader Moaradrid, and to fight against your own kinsmen."
      My mouth felt suddenly dry. I'd given nothing away that she hadn't already known. Mounteban's claim of omniscience began to seem a lot more plausible. "I was coerced."
      "That seems likely. You certainly left in a hurry, and with more than one thing that wasn't yours. Since then Moaradrid has shown an eager interest in your whereabouts."
      She took a step closer. When she spoke again, her voice was so hard and sharp that I could understand how I'd mistaken it for a man's. "For all that, you're only a small part of a very big picture."
      "Mounteban said the same. To me I'm a large part of a picture only slightly bigger than I am."
      She laughed again. This time it was a harsh, humourless sound. She set the lantern in the centre of the floor and sat opposite me, just beside the door. "There's more at stake than you realise, and there has been from the start. Who knows what your blundering has cost the Castoval?"
      "Whatever it is, I'll pay." Not wanting to be overly hasty, I added, "It may take a little while."
      "The question we have to ask, though, is 'Was it blundering? Or was it cleverness?' You can see how we'd wonder. 'Here's a man who's met Moaradrid himself, who's spent time in his camp and carries his coin, and now, conveniently, comes running into our very arms.' Don't you think we'd be suspicious?"
      I didn't like where this was heading. "I don't know about any 'we'. I couldn't run any further, so I came to Muena Palaiya. I asked Mounteban for help because I couldn't think of anyone else."
      "That may be true."
      She looked away, and paused to run long fingers through her hair. I noticed how tangled and unkempt it was, and then how it matched her whole appearance. The cloak was made for travel, and dirty and torn; smears of dirt ran down one side of her face, beneath a livid bruise only partly hidden by her fringe. There were grey bags beneath her eyes, and lines creasing their corners.
      The interrogation seemed to have ceased for the moment. Marina Estrada sat staring at nothing, struggling with a particularly stubborn knot. I took the