XIV
The Imp

The journey to Crakehall where the Umbari had docked was easy enough, at every stop they'd received free lodgings and supplies, and Herumor didn't seem to mind when he ducked away during the evenings to sate his urges. A group of twenty redcloaks had been sent to guard him, as they had with Jaime, but where Addam Marbrand had lead Jaime's contingent Tyrion had received Gregor Clegane. Tyrion knew that the man's size and demeanor were an effective way to intimidate the Umbari, even if he made a poor traveling companion.

Though Tyrion knew it was unlikely Clegane and his men would do anything outright harmful to him he still felt it best to have a few more… reliable men nearby. Bronn had been an obvious choice, he'd proved he had enough loyalty to gold at least, and he'd taken a liking to the sellsword. If nothing else it would be pleasant to have someone other than Clegane and his men to talk to.

His next choice had been Timett of the Burned Men, but he'd refused Tyrion's offer, as had Chella of the black ears. They had decided to lead their people into the mountains to settle on the Westerland's new frontier. With Tywin Lannister's blessing and gold they hoped to build new settlements there, game was plentiful and there were numerous minerals to be mined if they desired it. It was understood that at some point they would bend the knee to house Lefford of the Tooth, but Tyrion had his doubts about how well the clans would adapt to a life without raiding. Then again he knew that there were similar mountain clans in the North who'd bent the knee to Winterfell… time would tell if a similar accord could be reached here.

Shagga, son of Dolf, on the other hand had heartily agreed to another adventure with "the halfman" as the clansmen had taken to calling him." The big clansmen had helped himself to the Lannister armory, taking two large steel axes that Tyrion was sure were meant to be wielded with two hands, as well as a shirt of chainmail and a new set of boots. He'd evidently been trying to convince the smiths to forge him a special protection for his beard, a "beardplate" he'd called it, when they'd been forced to leave for the coast.

The final member of their diplomatic mission was picked up at Crakehall itself. As they'd been loading the ships with supplies a small party lead by Lyle Crakehall, the strongboar as he was known, approached the docks. "Tyrion Lannister!" his deep voice boomed. "Your lord father has bid me to accompany you as your crier."

"A crier?" the dwarf asked, amused, "why would I have need of a crier?"

Crakehall shrugged, "a big voice for a small man I suppose, truthfully my father wanted me along as well, these Umbari are a seafaring folk and it's likely they'll be seeing plenty of the Crakehalls given our position."

Tyrion nodded, it made sense. "Very well Lyle Crakehall, I will accept your services as my crier on this diplomatic mission."

The strongboar grinned and bid his servants farewell, boarding the ship. He greeted Clegane quickly, they knew one another but there was no comraderie between them. He stopped to look at Shagga and Bronn. "A swellsword and a savage? Surely a son of Tywin Lannister deserves better-"

Shagga unslung one of his axes and let the heavy hilt clang against the deck, "Shagga has seen his share of knights come and go, Shagga is still here and they are not."

Crakehall's eyebrows rose, "spirited at least, I'll give you that much."

Tyrion cut in quickly, "You'll all have plenty of time to fight over who can protect me the best later, but for now why not help the men prepare the ships?"

Crakehall snorted, "sailor's knots and deck polishing are not work fit for knights… nor for a sellsword and a savage."

Shagga grunted in agreement, "Dolf taught Shagga many ways of making war, but nothing of the sea."

Tyrion sighed, "very well, I don't suppose any of you play cyvasse?"

"I'll pass" Bronn said, "had enough of playing that blasted game with you back at the Tooth, let someone else be your whipping boy."

Tyrion looked to Crakehall who just stared at him blankly, "I suppose Cyvasse isn't a game fit for a knight?" He got no response.

Luckily enough Herumor seemed interested in learning the game, though Tyrion wasn't sure he enjoyed spending time with the man from Umbar. He reminded Tyrion of Peter Baelish, smiling on his face and calculating behind it. He proved to be a fair player, and his skill increased as the trip continued until he managed to beat Tyrion as often as not.

It was on one day while they were playing a game where Tyrion was on the losing side that Herumor remarked, "tis good that we play with these ivory carvings and not with men, for any who were wise would have joined me already."

Tyrion frowned, "I don't suppose you're talking about the game are you?"

Herumor grinned, "no I am not. The hammer is going to fall soon, Gondor has avoided it's doom because the Dark Lord has not given them his full attention."

He gestured at the board, "playing out a losing match is a sporting thing to do, but in war men do better to go for the winning side." He studied the board and moved his dragon close to Tyrion's king. "Sauron will soon rule middle earth, the men of the Westerlands would do well to join with him lest his attentions turn your way. He will not be content to let a corner of the world be free of his dominion even if you seek no quarrel with him."

Tyrion moved a catapult, "A man who deals in such absolutes will find himself with many enemies he could've otherwise avoided, powerful men do not like to be troubled in such a manner."

Herumor stroked his chin, "Sauron is no man, the normal rules of politics and war do not apply to him."

Tyrion thought on this, "if not a man what is Sauron exactly?"

Herumor smiled, "he is many things, the greatest of Melkor's prophets and servants, the forger of the rings of power, and master of middle earth until the day until Melkor returns from the great void. He guided the people of Numenor before the Valar destroyed it in their jealousy. He returned in my father's time and we threw off the shackles of Gondor to follow him again."

Tyrion continued studying the board, "so Sauron is like our Seven then? A god worshipped?"

Herumor shrugged, "I do not know of your Seven, but Sauron is not a god in the same sense as Melkor… rather he is a powerful spirit, the herald of a greater being."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, "I suppose my original question stands, do people see Sauron walk the streets or is he only heard in prayers?"

Herumor seemed annoyed at the implication, "Sauron lacks physical form now, but his great eye has returned at the top of the Barad-Dur. When the one ring is recovered he shall walk among us again. Until then the nine Nazgul ferry messages for him."

Now Tyrion was beginning to get skeptical, "so the Nazgul are his priests then, men ordained in his worship?"

Herumor paused, "Not men anymore, like Sauron they are now deathless." He shuddered, "I have met one of them, Khamul the Easterling, second of their number. They have an unnatural air about them, one knows instantly that they are beyond this world."

Tyrion finally found his opening, with Herumor's dragon so far on his side of the board his king was exposed. "Victory in two," Tyrion announced. "Even when you have all but won it is still important to protect your rear weaknesses."

Herumor scowled looking at the pieces, he reached for his king and tipped it over with the tip of his finger. "Wars are seldom easily won by a masterstroke such as that, do you think a small man with a clever plan will be the undoing of Sauron the Great?"

Tyrion shrugged, "well if he'd like to play cyvasse I'll try."

After a few more days of sailing they reached Umbar, it was an impressive city with a great white tower overlooking the harbor. The architecture and dress of the people reminded Tyrion of Dorne. He turned to Herumor, "who rules here in Sauron's name?"

Herumor pointed to the tower, "the Two dwell there, I suspect you will be meeting them later."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, "two lords? How do they make decisions?"

The black numenorean shrugged, "Officially one manages the affairs of the city while the other commands our armies and fleets as Captain of the Haven. In truth both have the same amount of authority over all matters, Umbar has always had two rulers whenever she has been free of Gondor. I myself am named for one of our lords of old."

Lyle Crakehall walked up from behind them, "begging your pardon Lord Tyrion, should I start the crying?"

Tyrion sighed, "I suppose if you must."

Crakehall walked to the ship's ramp and in his deep booming voice bellowed loudly, "Presenting Lord Tyrion Lannister, Son of Tywin Lannister, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands."

Everyone at the docks had stopped to see this foreign lord's arrival. A small procession approached their boat lead by a man in shining black armor He looked much like Herumor, except where the emissary had jet black hair this man was as blond as any scion of the Lannister family. "Well met Lord Tyrion, I am Fuinor, Captain of the Haven and of the Two."

Tyrion smiled, "well met indeed, I am pleased to greet you on behalf of my father Lord Tywin and our King Joffrey Baratheon, first of his name." His eyes drew close to a group of tanned women wearing bronzed smallclothes, a few dangling red cloths, and nothing else. "And who are these lovely ladies?"

Fuinor grinned, "You will find we are not so strict with certain things as our wayward cousins in Gondor. These lovely ladies are to be your escorts and will room with you and your men."

Tyrion's small smile became a wide grin, "Well that is good to hear! You must remind me to return this favor if ever your countrymen come to the West."

Shagga roared with approval and ran down to sweep up one of the young women who giggled loudly as he slung her over his shoulder. "Shagga will take his chambers now."

Crakehall laughed, a great sound like a kettle drum being struck, "As much as we're all looking forward to it let's take a look around first." He turned to Tyrion, "I think I'm beginning to like the wild man."

A pair of the girls stepped forward, one with dark black hair and almond shaped eyes, another with the amber brown hair and olive skin that he'd have placed in Dorne back in Westeros. "We'd gladly accompany you to whatever you'd like to see first," they said in unison.

Tyrion laughed, "oh don't worry I'll be sure to take my time and see everything." This diplomatic mission was proving to be quite enjoyable after all.