was determined not to walk away from this without something to show for it, and grabbed a handful. Underneath the papers was the tantalising glint of gold. Lots of gold.
“Come on,” Kacha said from the hole.
But there was gold…
He scrabbled in the chest but only came up with more papers. One of Egimont’s men fired. The bang was deafening inside the hovel, and something scored a hot line along Vocho’s arm, almost making him drop the papers. A sword ran Egimont’s man through from behind. As the man fell with a look of terminal surprise, Vocho caught sight of Dom, idiot face bemused as though startled he’d got hold of the right end of the sword. Vocho was certainly surprised.
Dom saw Vocho with his mouth hanging open, sketched a wave and called, “This is quite fun, isn’t it? You go, I’ll catch up! Get the horses ready.”
“What in hells…” Vocho said before he lost any words he might have said.
“Don’t know, but getting the horses seems a bloody good idea,” Kacha said. “Come on.”
Vocho hesitated. Getting out seemed like a good plan, but… but gold.
Egimont roared towards them, but Dom was either craftier than he looked or, more likely, too clumsy to have much hope of living very long or impressing Kacha. He tried a dashing swish of his blade, got it caught up in his own cloak with the point sticking straight up and staggered in front of Egimont, forcing him to stop, or stop having a face.
“Go!” Dom called again. He got his sword untangled and despite everything looked as though he was enjoying himself immensely, but there were more of Egimont’s men on the way. Vocho didn’t need telling again – he might be reckless but always tried to make sure he wasn’t entirely stupid. Still, it only took a second to grab two bars of gold and shove them inside his shirt, where they bulged and swayed alarmingly and made him run like a hunchback.
He grabbed Kacha’s arm and dived through the hole. It led to part of what had once been a kitchen garden but was now a jungle of raspberry canes and blackcurrant bushes gone wild. Vocho crashed through, Kacha right behind, cursing her dress, which kept getting caught on twigs. In the end she ripped the skirt off and to hells with it. At least she was wearing a decent set of bloomers.
They reached the corner of the hovel and peered around. Three men lay groaning in the mud. Two more weren’t groaning. Another sat propped against the wall with a silly smile on his face – concussed if Vocho was any kind of judge. No sign of more, though by the sounds coming from the ruined doorway, at least two were still inside backing up Egimont.
“Dom did this?” Kacha whispered.
“I think so. I’m not sure it was entirely on purpose though. Come on.”
They drifted across the muddy yard, keeping to the shadows of the barn and sty before nipping inside the stable. Kacha’s horse greeted them with a whicker and a kick to the door of his stall that would have broken bones.
“Have you still got those stupid papers?” Kacha asked as she grabbed for the bridles. “Just leave them, and let’s concentrate on getting out of here. I’ve got half the bulls anyway, and some of the rings.”
Vocho looked down at his hands and was startled to see that yes, he did still have the papers. Ten thousand bulls reward, and whatever was in the chest must be worth ten times that. He’d left behind maybe five thousand bulls in gold and a whole mess of papers, but he wasn’t about to throw perhaps a fortune away. He shoved them inside his shirt with the gold. Time enough to look later.
They hurriedly bridled the horses but didn’t bother with saddles – not enough time. Kacha’s evil-tempered bastard tried for Vocho’s leg with its teeth as he went past, but missed, and they kicked out into the yard just in time to see Dom strolling out of the farmhouse like he was looking forward to a picnic. Vocho was bloody annoyed to notice that he didn’t have a speck of muck or blood on him anywhere. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.
With a clumsy flourish Dom saluted Kacha with his blade, sheathed it and whistled for his own horse, which sauntered out from behind a blackcurrant bush, as indolent-seeming as its master.
He swung up into the saddle. “I think we should be