40
GIANT THIEF
a giant on it or some such. Probably glass or perhaps clay. If you could bring it to me then I’ll be on my way.” Neither of them moved so much as an eyelash. “Damn it,” I cried, “this poor creature has an enflamed gastric distension, and while we’re standing here talking it’s only going to get worse.” In a flash of inspiration, I slipped my knife from where I’d been keeping it in my boot, and nicked Saltlick’s shoulder. He grunted irritably. “Do you really want to be responsible for that? Do you want to be the one cleaning up the mess when it finally bursts?” I thought I saw the slightest hint of concern pass across their faces. “What does it look like again?” asked the leftmost. “A bottle. Of medicine.” He nodded, and ducked inside the tent flap. A minute passed, and another. Clattering sounds echoed out to us. The flap twitched, finally, and he stepped out. He held up a rounded flask of grey pot. “Oh dear,” I said, and sighed with theatrical exasperation. “Kneel, Saltlick.” He obeyed, and I climbed down the netting on his back, trying hard to look as though it wasn’t the first time I’d done it. I strode to the guard, snatched the flask from him, and waved it in his face. He actually flinched. “Do you know what this is?” “Medicine?” “No. Not medicine.”