Free Giant Thief by David Tallerman

scratches, along with tears and briars in my cloak. The rumble of hooves behind me became steadily louder and then stopped, presumably as they inspected the area around my abandoned mount. A few minutes later, it began again with renewed vigour.
      I'd skirted most of the way round the open area by then. I could clearly see the reinforced wooden gates, still closed at that hour, and could just discern the figure of a guard on the rampart above. He was looking down and pointing, not in my direction thankfully.
      I'd also reached the point I was looking for, and decided to take a moment's break. It was a mistake. The instant I stopped crawling I sagged to the ground, overwhelmed by fatigue.
      At least I had a good view from where I lay. Through a gap, I could see out onto the grassy plain before the gates, where riders were massing. There might have been fifty already, with more arriving in a constant stream. Would they attack Muena Palaiya? Even with the garrison undermanned, they'd be hard-pressed. Those walls were sturdy and easily defended.
      Either way, I was in too much of a corner to consider changing my plans. Maybe they imagined I was already inside, but it was just as likely they'd decide to make a search of the area. I hauled myself to my feet and squeezed through the gap in the rocks behind me. It was alarmingly narrow at first. On the other side it opened out a little into a sort of slim crevasse. Familiarity guided my exhausted steps, for I'd been this way more than once before. It had been known then, in certain circles at least, as the side door to Muena Palaiya.
      The path – if path it could be called – crawled up and around the cliff face, which was less sheer at that point, a tumble of huge stones and jutting rock formations. At best the route was a narrow seam of loose dirt between boulders. At worst it meant sliding down perilous slopes of shingle or clambering over trees that jutted from the cliff face. I was in no shape for the endeavour. I soon noticed that I was leaving a snail-trail of scarlet over the white stone; my shoulder was bleeding again. I imagined myself tumbling over the cliff edge in a faint, and then bewildered townsfolk gathering round my broken body. The journey seemed to go on forever.
      What made the route so difficult, however, made it secure. There were only a few points where I was visible from the town below. When I eventually reached Back Way Rock, I was confident I'd made it there unseen.
      I lay flat on my face. I felt dizzier, and very muddled. Where was I? What exactly was I supposed to be doing? I decided I'd ask Saltlick, who I could hear behind me, chewing a mouthful of foliage. Memories jarred back into place. I recognised the sough of wind through leaves for what it was. The feverishness receded a little.
      I dragged myself to the edge of the crag, and looked over cautiously. The eastern wall of Muena Palaiya was built around and partly into the cliff face, and the advantage of Back Way Rock was that it projected a little way out over the parapet, beside a particularly gentle and uneven decline. It was possible to climb down from there and, with more exertion, back up. It was a well-kept secret amongst those of us who liked to come and go without interference. At least it had been the last time I was in Muena Palaiya; the guards might keep a permanent watch on it these days for all I knew.
      There was no one to be seen nearby, or anywhere on the eastern stretch of wall. A glance to my right told me why. What must have been the entire remaining garrison were gathered in a row on the northern wall around the gate, their helmets and cheerful blue cloaks bright in the early sunlight, staring down at some spectacle below. I could hear raised voices too, now that I listened. Was Moaradrid's force attacking? Their weapons weren't drawn, but perhaps that was only a matter of time. I decided to make my move, while they were otherwise occupied and I was