it was. Not the honey-wagon, thank the gods, but the cart into which they had
collected the garbage from several days’ worth of princely meals. Gagging, Lalo
wriggled deeper into the mass of turnip peelings and sour curds, soggy rice and
pastry crusts and meat trimmings and bones.
He thought grimly, As long as I can retch, I’m stil] alive…
The cart moved beneath him and he heard the stamp of a hoof on stone. He
realized then that not only was he alive, he might even escape, for if the horse
was hitched, it must be time for the garbage to be taken away. He waited,
breathing shallowly, for the endless minutes until he heard voices and the wagon
lurched with the weight of somebody climbing onto the driver’s bench. Then they
began to move.
Faster… Faster! Lalo prayed as he was jounced deeper into the reeking mass.
The clatter of wooden wheels on stone was deafening, then there was a pause, a
moment’s conversation with Honald at the Gate, and the duller vibration as the
wagon trundled across the pounded earth of Vashanka’s Square.
Then the cart shuddered to a halt. Lalo strained his ears for the night-noises
of Sanctuary, but heard instead shouting and the clamor of an alarm.
“Is that smoke? Theba’s paps, it’s the Palace! Leave the wagon, Tarn, we can
give the beasts their slops in the morning!” The wagon heaved again and Lalo
heard two sets of footsteps pounding back the way they had come.
He settled back down, realizing with wonder that for the moment at least, he was
saved.
And what will I do now? Zanderei would tell everyone that Lalo had killed the