Er-Mûrazôr stood in front of the makeshift table that served as a desk. Every part of its surface was buried under ledger books, reports from the frontier, and scraps of paper on which he'd added long columns of numbers.
Ships sailed on the tide, and the Royal barge was due to leave this afternoon. Finished or not, his report to the palace would be on it. Er-Mûrazôr skimmed the dozen pages. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.
"How long until the tide turns?" his private secretary was beginning to look anxious.
"Within the hour. But I only have to sign it and attach the seal."
He bent and signed his name and titles, then folded the sheets into quarters and tied the bundle with red tape. Halwn melted the wax. Halwn tipped the ladle over the knot, and Er-Mûrazôr imprinted the crest of the Royal House of Númenor into the cooling wax.
He had fifteen minutes to spare and one more thing to do
"I'll take it down the Royal barge myself. We're done for the day, you can go home."
The little secretary beamed, then gathered up his pens and scurried across the square. When he'd gone, Er-Mûrazôr sat down at the table and dipped a quill into ink and began a second letter to the King.
Dearest Father,
I wish you were here to see how the walls of the city have risen from the bare rock, as white as sand and at least two stories tall.
From Umbar, the whole of the mainland is open before us, unimaginably vast. It's so different here than it is at home. During the day, the breeze is fresh and cold, but at night it comes from the desert and carries the scent of roses and mint.
He wrote more, nothing important, just small news about the farmers' market that morning, and that the blacksmith had started making things for the fishermen. Nothing exciting, just details of day to day life. When he finished, he folded it into a square and sealed it with his signet ring.
He stacked the letter on top of the official dispatch and headed down to the harbor. It was a fairly substantial hike, but faster going down than coming up. Even so, when the path ended at the quay, his calves were burning.
The harbor smelled of salt and sea air. He could tell high tide just by the aroma, the mud flats were underwater right now, and so were the dead fish.
A slim, fast boat of the sort used for smuggling, or possibly to outrun pirates, was moored almost directly in front of him. The deck was higher above the quay than a man is tall. Only the heads and shoulders of the men showed above the rail, but they appeared to be stowing gear as if when the ship were preparing to sail.
The Royal barge was tied up a little further along the quay. Crewmen waited by the pilings where mooring ropes as thick as a man's wrist held the great vessel in place. A wide gangplank led up to the barge, dragging back and forth as the barge lifted and dropped.
Waves slapped against the side of the quay. Er-Mûrazôr mounted the steeply-inclined ramp, then stepped onto the deck and summoned the ship's captain.
"I have an official dispatch for the King." He gave the dispatch to the Captain.
"Is that everything?" the captain asked.
Er-Mûrazôr almost gave him the letter, but hesitated. The Royal barge would reach Armenelos in three days. If he sent it by the smuggling ship instead, it could be at the Palace by late tomorrow afternoon.
"No, that's it." He put the letter away.
He left the Royal barge and went to the smugglers' ship. Men moved around the deck, preparing to sail.
He cupped his hands to his mouth. "You there. I would speak to you captain." One of them looked at him with mild interest, then returned to what he was doing. "I am Er-Mûrazôr, Captain of the Haven. I would speak to your captain."
Every one of them froze. "My noble lord, our captain will attend you right away." Er-Mûrazôr had spent more time at sea than on land. He didn't need help climbing the rope netting that hung over the side, but he accepted the hand that was offered.
A crewman pointed down the companionway. "Our captain is below." Between decks, the space was cramped and low-ceilinged, dark and suffocatingly hot. His eyes adjusted. At a crude table sat a wiry man of middle years with a thatch of iron grey hair.
"I'd like you to deliver a letter to the Palace at Armenelos." The captain waited. "There's a silver penny in it for you, and another on delivery."
Footsteps clattered down the rungs of the companionway. The captain looked up. Er-Mûrazôr turned around, and there was Halwn. balanced on the lowest step with something in his hand.
"Oh hullo, Halwn. The usual arrangement?" asked the captain.
Halwn's face froze. He turned away, so that Er-Mûrazôr couldn't see what he was holding.
Er-Mûrazôr grinned. "What's that, a letter for your sweetheart?" He really shouldn't tease the little clerk, Halwn was a family man with a new baby at home, and that his only sweetheart was his wife.
"Well, let's have it, then." The captain held out his hand.
Halwn went white. His eyes darted back and forth from the captain to Er-Mûrazôr. Very slowly, he handed over a packet of papers sealed with red wax, indistinguishable from official dispatches sent to the palace.
"What is that? Give it to me." Er-Mûrazôr ordered the captain.
Halwn's eyes were fixed on the captain. He moved his head almost imperceptibly, the tiniest shake "no". Er-Mûrazôr stepped forwards and snatched the package from the captain's hand.
The red wax held the royal seal, but there is no address anywhere on the outer wrappings. Er-Mûrazôr broke the seal. Inside was page after page of Halwn's careful script.
The Palace authorized two silver pennies to he spent on soldiers' pay, but he spent three pennies two farthings.
He flipped to another page.
The agreement requires any modification to the charter to be considered by the full Council of Captains, but he altered a regulation regarding duty shifts for sentries without first consulting the Council.
"What is this?" The cramped space between decks seem to spin. He sank onto a bench, his head between his hands.
There was the sound of feet pounding up the stairs and across the deck. Er-Mûrazôr dove for the stairs, crossed the deck in a few long strides, then leaped over the side onto the quay.
Halwn was nowhere in sight. Where would he have gone? The Royal barge. If he was in the pay of Er-Mûrazôr's brother, that was his best chance of safety.
A quick search proved the spy wasn't on the Royal barge, and now he had a significance head start.
Er-Mûrazôr looked up the hairpin road towards the walled city, and there he was, rounding the fourth of eighteen hairpin turns. Er-Mûrazôr took after him, his long legs burning up the distance.
He caught up with the little sneak at the twelfth turn. The man was standing with his hands on his knees, panting, unable to run any further.
Er-Mûrazôr couldn't believe the man would betray him. Halwn was his father's private secretary, he and Er-Mûrazôr had always been on good terms.
"Start talking, you worm." Er-Mûrazôr took a step toward him.
He took a shaky step backwards. "Please don't hurt me."
Er-Mûrazôr seized him by the arms. "Who sent you?"
The clerk shook with fear. Er-Mûrazôr struck him.
"Why are you spying on me?"
He dangled the little man backwards over the drop. The man's toes still gripped the white granite, but he was overbalanced. Er-Mûrazôr released the grip on his arms, or if he managed to struggle free, he'd fall to his death.
The man started to cry. "Please, I have a wife and baby."
"It's my brother, isn't it? Why is he spying on me?"
"It's not your brother who sent me, it was your father."
Er-Mûrazôr yanked him back onto the path and shoved him. The man fell to his knees, retching.
"Go down to the harbor. Get on the first boat that will have you. Don't go home to pack, don't tell anyone where you're going. Just leave, or I will kill you."
Halwn scrambled to his feet. The knees of his leggings were shredded, and one knee was streaked with blood. He tore down the path, running and falling and getting up again. Er-Mûrazôr watched until he vanished from sight.
He wouldn't really have killed him, the little secretary hadn't done anything wrong, he'd only acted on orders. But Er-Mûrazôr was so angry, he feared that unless the man was well away from here, Er-Mûrazôr might hurt him.
The corner of the folded document poked his skin. He pulled the packet from his tunic and looked at it again and saw what he'd missed the first time. The greeting addressed the king, not his brother the prince.
Hundreds of feet below, the surface of the harbor had the glassy look it did just as the tide turned. Soon, it would start to boil with the current as it flowed out to sea.
Men alongside the smugglers' vessel flung the last of the mooring lines onboard as they prepared to sail.
Just then, Halwn appeared on the quay, sprinting as if sea demons were after him.
Er-Mûrazôr expected to see him make for the Royal Barge, but instead, he flung himself at the side of the smugglers' vessel, which had just finished casting off, creating a widening gap of open water between it and the quay. There was an enormous splash, then a hand on the rope netting, and then the little clerk climbed up the side of the ship and disappeared from sight.
Halwn was traveling aboard the same vessel as Er-Mûrazôr's letter. Both would arrive at the Palace at the same time, Er-Mûrazôr's cheerful note about the future of the kingdom, and Halwn's damning report about Er-Mûrazôr's failings.