Giant Thief by David Tallerman Page A

opportunity to wonder what was going on, what it was they imagined I'd done. It was absurd to think I could be in league with Moaradrid, or that he would have gone to so much trouble for an ex-criminal bar owner and a provincial mayor. What were the two of them doing together anyway? The partnership seemed more than unlikely. Perhaps Estrada's enthusiastic stance against crime had been nothing more than a screen for her own corrupt dealings. Maybe she and Mounteban were lovers, united by their paranoid distrust and enthusiasm for kidnapping.
      "Amongst other things, you absconded with a giant." Her voice had resumed its normal, faintly tuneful tone. "Then you abandoned him."
      The question took me by surprise. "In a way, he abandoned me."
      "That's not true, is it?"
      "Well… 'abandoned' is a strong word. It was an amicable parting of the ways, with the hope that we might meet again one day. There were other factors, you understand. I never think clearly under the threat of imminent death."
      "You abandoned the giant and stole a horse. You soon managed to discard that too. After that, we lost track of you for a while. You were next seen making a clumsy break-in from the mountainside; lucky for you the guard had orders to leave you alone. You made your way to see Castilio, as we'd hoped you might. Now here we are."
      "And here is where again?"
      "You don't need to know that. In fact, until we're sure we can trust you, you don't need to know anything. We've given you the benefit of the doubt so far, for one reason only: you can be useful to us. Even then, there are those who think we should just hang you on the off chance."
      "Mayor Estrada, you're right. I could be useful. Under the right conditions, I could be extremely useful. With that in mind, what do you think the chances are of some more bread, this time with a little oil, and perhaps a cup of wine?"
      Estrada stood and picked up her lantern. "Come on, Damasco," she said, "I've something to show you."
      I sighed and hauled myself to my feet, only to nearly topple over again when I realised how numb my legs had become. Estrada offered me an arm to steady myself. I accepted it, and leaned against her until I was sure I had my balance. Her behaviour seemed overly generous toward a suspected enemy, a potential assassin even. I wondered how genuine her suspicions were, and how much was just a precaution born of circumstance.
      Whatever the case, she was quick enough to pull away once I'd found my feet. She led the way and I staggered after, with a fond glance back at my cosy cell. A sinking sensation in my bowels told me it would be a long time before I knew such peace and comfort again.
      Mounteban was waiting outside, and glowered at me. "Didn't I tell you he'd deny it?"
      "Perhaps because he's innocent."
      "Perhaps."
      We were in a low passage propped and beamed with blackened timbers, likely an old mineshaft. Estrada led off to the left, holding her lamp in front, and I followed, conscious of how Mounteban moved in close behind me. We soon came to a crossroads, and turned left again into a lower, narrower tunnel, which proceeded to wind back and forth for a considerable distance. We came eventually to what at first glance seemed a dead end, until Estrada stepped onto a ladder that disappeared into a hole above. When I hesitated, Mounteban growled, "Hurry up, Damasco."
      The ladder was sturdier than it looked. That wasn't saying much. With all three of us on it, it bucked and swayed with every slight motion. The climb took an unreasonably long time, and Estrada's silhouetted figure blocked the light from her lamp, leaving me in thick darkness. By the time I clambered out, my nerves ached to match my body.
      We'd arrived in yet another tunnel, this one apparently natural and faintly lit by patches of phosphorescent blue mould at intervals along the ceiling. Estrada closed and padlocked a hatch over the drop, and then led