Nag Kath

by Gelansor

This is a sequel to The Lord of the Rings following a released prisoner at the beginning of the Fourth Age. He has to adapt to changes in his world and in himself as Middle-earth copes with life after the dark lords. All chapters have been loaded as of 2/9/2020. Reviews welcome. Thanks for looking, sh

31. Chapter 31 Downstream

Chapter 31

Downstream

~o~

Nag Kath walked back to the commons first and had considerably less trouble coaxing Lembas and ready food from the servers than he would have from the redoubtable Rosas. Then he said farewell to Kendar with thanks for shepherding him through Emyn Vierald. Finally he saddled and bridled Charlo and trotted back to the loading area in time to see the wagon rolling not a quarter mile ahead.

Avrendi was a different sort of Elf. Nag Kath supposed they couldn't all be identical. Nearly as tall as Nag Kath and even broader across, he could be a teamster for any race under Arian's sun. He even had the deep voice to persuade sulky horses. There were no escorts or spare driver, the advantage of not needing sleep.

As he pulled alongside, Tol Avrendi said, "Fine horse."

"Thank you. We have traveled thousands of miles together over the years."

"This trip will add another sixty. We will be there tomorrow at dusk, weather permitting."

"By your leave, I would examine the water flowing down the Tulengaur for trouble."

"I understand, but remember this stream takes us upriver of Pelargir. This is the southernmost source to the Anduin. Every drop of rain below us makes for the Poros."

Nag Kath said over a squeaking wheel, "I have separate errands. Wherever you go is fine."

Like most teamsters, Avrendi spoke richly and sometimes humorously of his journeys. Nag Kath could match him for places and wonders. They got along well. The carter was just contrary enough to not be offended by the strange half-Elven tagging along.

Night brought them to the mannish crossroads coming north from the Poros River. Nag Kath remembered that delta as the last harbor upstream capable of handling deep-hulled sea vessels. Captains could and did sail further, but catching a keel on the shifting bottom was on their head.

Elves don't camp the way men do since they only take a few hours of waking rest. They only stop when the ground is too rough to see at night and to give the horses half a night's sleep. Nag Kath made a fire for tea to go with Lembas and as much fruit as they wanted.

The driver was right, they made good time. Arriving well before dusk, the wagon reached a small go-down with a waiting sail/oar ferry docked at the pier. A clerk paid Avrendi cash, stevedores unloaded his crates and put three back on the wagon before he turned back for Emyn Vierald.

Nag Kath knew there were good roads on either side of the river. Getting across was the hard part. The captain said, "We might could put-in on the north side." A pair of silvers confirmed that and Nag Kath was dropped just upstream before the craft returned to the south bank, avoiding the deep channel pouring out the Sirith. He was in Pelargir by dinnertime.

~o~

On his last trip there was only time to find Lentaraes and organize passage to the sea. Nag Kath followed his nose to the nicer inns. There was a festival of some sort and accommodations were tight. That was fine by him. He liked festivals and still found decent lodgings with a stable for three nights.

Pelargir was one of the oldest Numenorean cities, constantly riven by disputes; political, economic and racial. Who ruled mattered because it was essential to commerce further up the river for both Minas Tirith and Osgiliath. Nearly a hundred thousand souls at its zenith, it still had nearly fifteen thousand rebuilding from the war.

The city center was nearly a perfect triangle splitting the Sirith River delta. The triangle had canals dividing the land into three arrowhead-shaped islands with an oval harbor in the middle. Two oval walls on the outer banks housed half the population and manufacturing businesses.

Evidently the festival was in a different part of the city with no revelry on his block. There was a good restaurant that had fresh blue Odar kept in tanks after being caught off the Ethir Anduin delta at the sea. Pretty women winked and smiled hoping to separate him from a few coppers. A tavern further towards the docks had good ale.

~o~

Nag Kath had only been on the north bank. That was where they docked last time and Lentaraes' home and mill were further up the east fork of the Sirith. The next morning, not indecently early, he walked to his friend's home. The same steward opened the door, not remembering him. The Elf said, "I am Nag Kath come to see Master Lentaraes."

The name rang a bell but something was different. The man hesitated a moment and showed him to the familiar room with the two drawings just off the entryway. Ten minutes later, a well-preserved woman in her thirties appeared and asked, "Who are you?"

Not what he expected but not offended, Nag Kath rose and said, "I am an old friend of Lentaraes. I haven't been here in seven years, thought I might catch him away from work."

"Work no longer weighs on his time."

"A life of leisure. I should imagine that suits him."

"He is dead."

Nag Kath kept his face straight. This was not a complete surprise. Miller Maedegon burned his candle at both ends. Before he could sympathize she said, "Can't say I remember you."

"I am Nag Kath, of Dale and Minas Tirith."

"You are not a bill collector?"

"Not hardly, Mrs. Maedegon. I am just passing through. Please accept my condolences for your loss."

She had to think about that for a moment then smiled, "Well, as long as you are here, can I offer you wine?"

"Too early for me. I could be tempted with cool tea."

She nodded to steward Vergere who disappeared towards the kitchen. Then she sat to his right, "I am Phylless."

"My pleasure, Phylless. When I was here last, Lentaraes was a bachelor."

She stifled a laugh and said, "No, Mr. Kath. He wasn't." That netted her his best raised eyebrow, said to rank middling among free-peoples. A maid brought the tea and was gone.

She continued, "We were married fifteen years ago. His eye roved. I moved back with my hard-put parents. Three years ago, the barley spirits finally did him in and I'm a widow, the only one, surprisingly. I don't cause his family any trouble at the mill and we came to terms. And now; what of you young man?"

Two days ago he was almost an Elf. Here he was a young man again. He would be honest with Phylless. Nag Kath pointed to his drawing of the playing girl saying, "I drew that when we were in art school."

She had seen the picture many times but rose for a closer look. Nag Kath thought she might be ready for reading spectacles. Phylless drank it in and whispered, "That was forty years ago."

"I take good care of myself."

She gave him a long look as she returned to the couch. "You are not a man, then?"

"Half-Elven. I was there right after the war. Our third friend Timalen still lives at the old school and makes the most beautiful things."

"Mr. Kath …"

"Just Nag Kath."

"Nag Kath, I cannot say I miss my late husband, but I would be interested to learn more about him. He is a sad mystery that even his family cannot fathom. I am friend to some. Will you be in Pelargir long?"

"Several days at least, possibly more. I have nothing pressing upriver."

"Would you come to dinner here tomorrow night? By then I can organize a friend or two who would be grateful to hear how the man who could paint the picture next to yours became as he did, that is, if it does not conjure painful associations."

He smiled, "Not at all, dear lady. If you can find them, I might be able to explain some of his other works."

She smiled, "Shall we say just before the seven-bell?"

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Back at the inn, it was time to find the healer Vellund Kieff. Healers had a guild but not a district. Midwives, herbalists and whatever else came with the designation stayed either to their islands or the two outer-circles. Mrs. Hürna had good luck here in the New Town so he asked the desk clerk and was directed ten blocks up the strand and then almost to the outer wall.

It did not take long to lose the luster of waterfront living. The healers were between squalid tenements and a lovely garden. Nag Kath was unarmed but a man who knew the town might be better protected. When he arrived he could see how Mrs. Hürna found her wares. There must be eight shops with herbs. There were the usual alchemists and soothsayers too, but some genuine business was done here. He stopped in several stores looking for the ingredients mentioned by Loniel, sold by skinny women. At the third store he got both.

The proprietress came forward and asked politely, "Is sir seeking something special?"

"Burney root and Red Colich, if you have it."

Few asked for those. She took mental inventory and said, "Colich I have. Can't help you with the burney."

"Then just a bag of the colich."

She went to a rack of mismatched jars and climbed a small ladder to fetch one off the top shelf. Pouring a measured scoop into a woven sack, she tied the ends and returned to the counter. He asked, "Do you know Vellund Kieff? I was told he was in your city?"

"Can't say I do, sir. That will be six groats for the colich."

He tried another avenue, "Are there practitioners here who can pull a delicate infection?" That would be the least physically taxing sort of inductive healing so the most likely to earn a confidential referral.

She shook her head and said, "Not anymore, on this side anyhow. Old Miss Esties died three years now. Hard life, that. You might try the Quarter of the Faithful." The woman was just naturally thin.

~o~

Before sauntering back, Nag Kath stopped at a shop with a newer sign for the Khandian treatment of soreness. Baths and houses of massage had long been in the west, with varying reputations depending on the areas massaged. But this was specifically for treating how the body was connected, a kink in the back could cause pain in the leg. Inside was a woman fitting the description with broad shoulders and powerful hands. She had no patients and seemed to work alone. He asked in Variag, "You are of the Viersh?"

Not what one expected from the mouth of pasty, blonde dandies. This was her living so she smiled and said in her same tongue, "I trained in Nûrad, best of sirs."

"I never got that far, but I knew a healer of the Viersh near Lhûg."

That was impressive. Of course, Viersh had nothing on Nûrad, but both schools insisted on the best. By Those Named, who was this creature? She asked, "Does sir need treatment?"

"No, I am fit today, but I am a great believer in your craft. If you will give me a few of your cards, I will share them with those who would benefit."

She could do that all day long and handed him four slips of stiff paper with her business and address written both in Variag and the common-tongue. The stranger read her name only shown in script, "Thank you, Beshugya. Oh, do you know of a healer named Vellund Kieff?"

"I am sorry, best of sirs. I am new here and keep to my store."

"Very wise. Best of fortune with grace of the Those Named."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Back at the inn he planned his search. Pelargir was a large place with few straight lines. Each of the five sections was largely self-sufficient because transporting goods could get expensive. A tenner sliding across the desk got the undivided attention of the clerk.

"Thank you, sir. We are in the New Town, the largest district. You would have seen something of the size on your errand. The far side is perhaps half that and largely manufacturing like breweries, livestock and trades. In the triangle, the western arrow is the Eärnil, seat of the Governor and the Marines." He added more confidentially, "Also known to those who provide commerce to their Lordships.

"The northern arrow is the Ancient Market, oldest of the three and seat of most Guilds. The far arrow is the Quarter of the Faithful where are found great honors done to our heroes, but there are warehouses and ships like everywhere else."

The Elf considered that and said, "I should like to see the better parts of all. Will that take me long?"

"On horse, no. If you walk at leisure and keep to the more orderly areas, I should think a day each, but that is only a guess." Folk largely stayed to where they lived or worked.

If the Ancient Market was site of most guilds, including the healer's guild, he would make that the afternoon adventure. Strolling up the lesser Sirith towards the Maedegon home he took the bridge across to the north arrow. This area was older because it was further from fire bombardment in river attacks. Wharves along the bank had the most shipbuilding and repairing of the three. Commerce was bustling. Men and women were hawking goods in several market squares as both locals and traders vied for the best price. A man was selling pretty birds in reed cages. Another had containers to fit the holds of ships.

~o~

The Healer's Guild was a shabby office near the northern tip of the arrow. He walked in and saw a girl folding powders into paper sleeves. She took a few moments to complete the one at hand and looked up without saying anything. Patients went to the healers directly and he wasn't a healer so she would let him speak first. "Good afternoon. I seek Vellund Kieff. I am told he is in your city." Nag Kath didn't say Kieff was a healer. Someone known to the Prince of Elves might not elbow his way through this rough-and-tumble trade.

The girl had no idea. Suspicious that things would be taken if she left, she turned and shouted down a corridor. When that produced nothing, she did it again. His ears caught the familiar 'shuuu, shuuu, tick, shuuu …' a cane steadying dragging feet. An ancient crone with a dowager's hump appraised him with piercing blue eyes. She looked at the girl and said, "Thank you. Off you go, child." And off she went.

Shuffling from the hallway to the counter took a long time and he did not rush her. After she perched herself on the same tall stool the woman asked, "How can we help you today?"

"I seek Vellund Kieff. I was hoping he might be in your fair city."

"He is a guild member?"

The Elf smiled, "I do not know. He is a friend of a friend but in this employ at last word."

"Hummph. We shall see." She hauled a heavy volume from under the counter, landing it with a thump. A ribbon marked the current listings. "Hummm, I don't see any Kieffs. There is a Kitelburn, but that is as close as I have. Vellunds … none of them either."

She shut the book and said, "Not in the guild. There's thems that work unofficial in the Enta Sirith. You go there, take a bully-boy alongside."

Nag Kath grinned, "I thought I would try while I am visiting. Thank you for your efforts. Do I owe you anything for your research?" That was a polite way of saying she had earned a tip.

Taking no time to consider; "Two groats a name with a two name minimum."

He handed her a fiver. As he turned to go she called, "If this Kieff shows, who do I say is looking for him?"

"Nag Solvanth, I am staying at the Navigator."

"Nice place. Good luck."

When the tall stranger left, the crone called her granddaughter back in. "Child, go fetch your brother."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

She said just before the seven-bell so he was there at quarter-of. Vergere brought him into the usual room where an older couple was sitting with goblets of wine. Phylless was in the kitchen so Nag Kath introduced himself. They were Dunnus and Keldja Maedagon, he being first-cousin to the deceased.

Phylless joined them about the time the steward brought a very full goblet of wine, said to be of Belfalas. It was excellent. Dinner was still cooking so they sat around the low table and his hostess explained, "Dun, Kel; Nag Kath was at the art school with Lentaraes many years ago. He agreed to come and tell us of the old days."

Dun might have looked like Lentaraes in their youth. He sipped his wine sparingly, which would explain some of the differences in later life. Setting his goblet down he said slowly, "Yes, he mentioned you, several times actually. You are an immortal?"

"So far. Your cousin was the oldest of three students right after the war. He took me under his wing at the Quastille School and helped me get outfitted when I was sent to Rohan. The third of us is still hale and a celebrated artist in the White City."

Lentaraes mentioned him too, an avid reader, yes?"

"Still is. His name is Timalen Brushta."

Keldja said, "That is your work next to his on the wall?"

"It is, ma'am. I was just learning. Then, as now, I often use different angles for the same subject." They both rose and went to the two pictures, gazing for a few minutes and returning to the table.

Phylless mentioned, "I did as you asked and had Vergere find two old folios. I can't say as I remember ever seeing them." She opened the larger volume. It held later work and was the worse for mold so she set it aside. The smaller was in good repair and older. On top was a Lentaraes' sketch of a fountain, one of his better pieces.

Nag Kath became the narrator saying, "That is on the fourth level of the White City, just north of the prow. He did that when I was there so that was probably the latter half of his stay. Two discarded sketches later they reached a frowning young woman eating a meal she did not like. The Elf laughed and recalled, "That is one of Tim's! He had romantic designs on her but she never smiled. Good thing. He married a lovely woman who smiles all the time."

Two more abandoned pictures brought them to the first sketch Nag Kath drew of the royals. It had been redrawn because he could not get her nose right but it was not as bad as he remembered. His description held back some secrets, "They are King Elessar and Queen Arwen the day I met her. The final work is in their quarters. It took three tries and I still have the middle one."

Who was this fellow who never aged and draws the royals? The next picture was a posed picture of a young woman with bare shoulders. Lentaraes said she came down here to stay, briefly. No need to mention that now, even though Phylless was not grief stricken. She said he strayed and probably had done so then as one true love replaced the last.

Nag Kath stated, "Her name is Marletta, don't know the last. She and her friends occasionally shared a pitcher with the art students." He seemed lost for a moment trying to remember the other two women. Kataleese came to mind right away since she looked a lot like the Widow Maedegon.

Everyone knew the miller's taste in women; good when he had a choice. Dun Maedegon sat back before the portfolio was completed and said, "Thank you, Mr. Kath. I think Phyll asked us because Lentaraes was a mentor to me as well. I was three years younger, son of a younger uncle, and he was my hero." Dun paused and then marshaled through, "He worked hard at a job he did not enjoy and fell into regret. We lost him inch-by-inch. Now I think I understand it wasn't the demon barley. It found him because he could have done this and did not until it ate his soul. Mr. Kath, could he have been great?"

"I think so. Our teacher was a Master, taught by a Master. Without false modesty, all three of us were talented, and all at the same time. We inspired each other, made us realize that we could capture scenes that would live on. The sculptures around the aqueduct are Tim's." Dun said he had seen them a few years ago. "When I was here a while back, I saw Lentaraes' disappointment but came again, in hopes he would find his way. I do not regret coming if you found this worthwhile."

The steward cleared his throat to announce the meal. Phylless rose first and said, "Thank you, now, let us talk of dreams come true!"

They did. Stories of Lentaraes surfaced, including philandering that Phylless did not mind. Nag Kath told of his short pants left by former students that never reached his feet. No one asked his origins and there was no discussion of his other gifts.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Not long after dark, the Maedagons were ready for bed and walked just four houses away. After bidding them a fair night, Phylless topped the goblets from a silver ewer, "Thank you again for that. Dun is a dear man and Keldja has made him a wonderful wife." With acceptance in her voice she added, "With no children from this house, Dun manages the mill now. He always did, honestly."

He took a sip and said, "Then some good has come from all of this. But we have managed not to talk any about you."

She got a faraway smile, "There is not much to say. I was a young bride, full of notions. We were in love and nothing was too good. Before long he would stay out late or not come home. When I visited my parents in Laur Iaur, sometimes other women's underclothes were washed and folded with mine."

She was sad but this seemed someone else's history. "Then he brought a new girl home to stay. I went back to mother and da's and worked in much the same business as the Lentaraes'. We make yeast for the brewers across the river. I knew as soon as Lentaraes died but a few weeks later a letter arrived from the City Clerk that I was to receive something, quite a bit. His shares belonged to the family but the house and an income were mine. They were not grudged since I get along better with my in-laws than he did."

She was unburdening. He would help. "And what do you do for the art of your life, Phylless? You must have leisure to pursue passions."

"Oh you are a silly man! I can't paint. I can barely sew and you want nothing to do with my cooking."

He did not speak. It was still her turn. "Very well, I like to ride. I have a small flower garden and I play a very ladylike game of Dukks."

"Dukks! He taught me Dukks. I was a miserable player. At first I could not understand how the combinations aligned, or why anyone would care. And I knew nothing of money. I confess; I am no better now.

Phylless took a sip and put her goblet on the table, "I have other passions."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

When she woke well after sunup he was sitting in a dressing chair wearing just a shirt. As she yawned and stretched, his eyes blinked twice and he turned his head towards her. Phylless lifted herself against the headboard and surveyed her lover with a practiced eye. Being an attractive widow of independent means meant she could do this, occasionally and discreetly, without commitment. Sometimes that meant explaining it to men who expected to stay. Now, what of this one? What did he say; 'nothing pressing upriver?' Seeing him in only a shirt reminded her why he was here. It was well into the morning when he promised to return and made his way back to the inn.

Thoughts of unattainable Elf doctors gone, Nag Kath washed in the basin and went downstairs for tea on the veranda. It was no sooner served than a young Subaltern with collar gorgets of the local marines approached him and said, "Your pardon, sir. Are you Mr. Solvanth?"

Who knew that here? The old lady did, but this lad was wasn't working side-jobs for the Healer's Guild. Very well, "I am. How can I be of service?"

The young man had the look of a Caladrion; tall, fit, promotable if he distinguished himself. He wasn't one to hem and haw either, "A gentleman of the Gobel Eärnil would like a word at your earliest convenience, sir."

Nag Kath knew a summons when he heard one and this seemed to intersect his search for Vellund Kieff. Legolas' implication was that he was a healer but, like most Elvish descriptions, there was room for leeway. He replied, "I can do that. Come along."

He collected his key at the desk and the two went upstairs. The messenger seemed a bit uneasy, as if part of the errand might happen after the pretty man locked the door from the inside. The pretty man left the door ajar and opened his kit bag for a few things. Then he looked at the subaltern and pointed at his sword, "Will I need that?"

It wasn't meant as if to ask if there was fighting to be done. Nag Kath was a Lord of Gondor which came with high military office, Dale too if anyone asked. If he was to be a soldier, it was customary to look like one. The Second Lieutenant had a marine saber on his belt. He nodded.

The lad didn't have a horse so they left Charlo in the stable and walked across the bridge closer to the turn of the harbor where Nag Kath and Mrs. Hürna stayed seven years ago. This island had stiffer walls on the outer banks sporting more turrets and wider walks. With enough arrows and ballista, you could rain death a long way into the Anduin or down on attack vessels. They were manned with professional troops who seemed quite sober.

As they walked, Nag Kath asked in his officer's voice, "What's your name, soldier?"

"Felim Houlmanath, sir."

"Unit?"

"Mobile fourth, under Timpeled, sir."

"What's this about, Lieutenant?" He promoted the young man half a rank for cooperation. It failed. "I wasn't told, sir. We are going to a public meeting place frequented by men of position."

The crossed a large, well-maintained maidan where a small horse troop was running close-quarter drills. It would hold a lot more soldiers than Pelargir had seen in a thousand years, including the ones that weren't supposed to be there. At the point of the arrow was the Governor's quarters which looked very grand. It might not be so comfortable when ships were lobbing fireballs over the walls. The two walked across the field to a private section of shops, restaurants and inns serving the high-trade. Houlmanath looked in, found who he expected to see and brought his guest inside. At a corner table in shadow was a middle-aged man with a mug in front of him. He waved the Elf over as the Lieutenant took his leave.

Nag Kath walked over without sitting and said kindly, "Are you waiting for someone?"

The fellow drawled, "I'm always waiting for someone. Have a chair."

Nag Kath took the only one and adjusted his sword. The man grunted, "Were you planning to use that?"

"My invitation wasn't specific."

"I'm Vellund Kieff. You Solvanth?"

"I am better known as Nag Kath."

"Dougsh! I thought I recognized you, not from your statue, mind!"

All tension was broken. The Elf laughed and slapped the table. That story would have to wait. "Prince Legolas said you were the man to see. I have determined the source of the poison coming down the Telengaur."

Kieff took a pull of his ale waiting for the rest. Nag Kath continued, "There is a lake in the mountains used to create the fell-beasts. It is still seething with sorcery. A landslide routed most of the water from the peak into it and it pours out foul."

That was unexpected. Kieff knew something of this creature as a builder and soldier but not as, well, whatever this signified. It called for another sip. A serving man walked over with a mug for Nag Kath. Kieff said, "Try the nuppers, little fish they catch in the rocks."

Nag Kath nodded to the waiter. Then he asked Kieff, "Is this the point where you tell me what you do?"

"Fair enough. I advise Governor Onathol. We've had some sick people, not plagued, but skittering awfully and ill at-ease. Kids and the old, mostly. Now you tell me it's the water." Another sip, "You know a bit about dirty water, eh?"

"Some."

"What should we do?"

That was a fair and important question. It deserved his best answer, "The taint is coming down the Telengaur only, from the main supply in the Düath. Putting that to rest will take armies and years. I'm sorry but there's nothing for it. For now, you have to keep people away from the mouth. Who commands on the south bank?"

"Faramir, but they trade here. That's where most sickness is found."

Nag Kath thought a moment and said, "It is diluted by the time it gets here but as you said, if hurts the weak first, both in body and in spirit. I can't prove it yet but I think it is very old sorcery from the north."

"Telling everyone to just pull-up and leave their homes will not be popular."

"How many?"

"Six, seven hundred there. Fourteen thousand here."

The Elf had his first sip of the ale. "Look, I can't tell you how to manage your people, but if someone let it slip that one of the dark lord's puddles was leaking into their river, you couldn't get a game of dice along the Telengaur."

"Point taken."

The little fish arrived. Quickly fried, they were eaten bones and all. Nag Kath imagined if they were not prepared right, a man would choke like a cat throwing a fur-pellet. With the dipping sauce, they were excellent. This was more a snack than lunch for a reason. Kieff said, "I think we should talk with the guv'ner."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Kieff tossed coins on the table and they walked into bright sun. A ten minute walk led back to the massive compound at the end of the parade grounds. Pelargir was the working capital of Lebennin. The state had five districts, largely determined by the rivers flowing either to the Anduin or the sea further west. Nag Kath had never heard of Onathol, which meant nothing. He would have been appointed by Aragorn from local stock. In keeping with other semi-autonomous regions, the job would require competence and inside knowledge of how to keep the local counties behaved.

Sauron's water was a drop in the bucket when the Anduin flooded in Lebennin's south delta. Lowlands further west on both sides of the river would be covered for miles from the same snow-melt that saturated Osgiliath. Plagues started here first. Pelargir was the capital because it was the first strategic point upriver with enough grade not to flood every few years. Kieff walked to the front steps among junior officers coming and going, looking as important as they could. There were more guards than Nag Kath expected, more in keeping with kings than a provincial administrator. They reached a pair of ornate double-doors. Kieff looked at the sword and said, "You can leave that with the sentry."

Onathol looked more like a Northman than a Dol Amroth exquisite. Elf eyes put him at upwards of fifty, not quite old enough for the war. He was having a heated discussion at a conference table with four other men; two soldiers and two civilians. The governor did not seem pleased. Kieff and Nag Kath waited by the door. After about ten minutes, Onathol scowled their way but returned to his conversation. He did the same after another ten minutes and then all stood as he dismissed the soldiers. Passing by, one of the officers rolled his eyes at Kieff.

The guv'ner stared at his next problem and growled, "What is it?"

Kieff offered in more stately tones than over nuppers, "I bring a gentleman about water on the Ithilien side, sir."

"What?!" The guv seemed a little hard of hearing, distracted, perhaps.

"We are here about water coming from Ithilien, sir."

"Approach."

The two walked to the regulation five paces and stood at something resembling attention. Onathol went back to his civilians for a while longer. While he did, Nag Kath looked at Kieff. There was nothing to tell his official function, if there was one. Kieff worked on the quiet side of rule. He was a big, if not tall man, late thirties, with a decidedly military bearing. That was not shown by anything in his clothes. Clean and expensive, they had no markings of rank, unit or even country. Soldiers of Gondor, officers certainly, had a small white tree sewn somewhere on their tunic. Nag Kath also dressed as a civilian but learned from Shelturn to keep a variety of lapel swatches in a pocket for quick impersonations.

The governor and his assistants were wrestling with a property dispute between two land barons along the Sirni. Against every known rule, they had both called-up their local militias to enforce grazing rights. Bloody peasants!

"Kieff, what is this about?"

"This gentleman is here about troubles with the water from Ithilien, governor."

Onathol looked at the Elf and said gruffly, "Are you here from Prince Faramir?"

"No, sir."

After the two fools on the Sirni, the governor was in no mood for pretty young Dunedains. He asked, "Then what are you to me?"

In his Elf Lord voice, "I am Lord Kath to you and I am here on the ruby pass of King's business!" He never gave it back after visiting Dol Amroth, figuring it would come in handy for days like this. "If you want to know more, I am buying the first round at the Navigator on the six-bell." With that he nodded to Kieff and collected his sword outside the door. It worked with Imrahil so he tried it again. Nag Kath chuckled imagining Kieff's face as the apoplectic guv'nor realized he had offended the wrong foreigner. Their error, everyone's error, was that he didn't need anything they had. He would risk his life for a good cause, but folk had better be polite.

After theatrically stalking out of the mansion, Nag Kath slowed and had a better look around the grounds. Homes, buildings and fittings on this arrowhead were up-in-the-world compared to the Ancient quarter and most of the east crescent. The maidan was now empty except for a few horsemen breaking-in young mounts. He got back to his inn around three.

~o~

As good as his word, Nag Kath later laid a nipper on the bar as the sixer rang and said, "Drinks until that runs out, less a couple silvers for yourself, good man." The Navigator was a nice place but not exclusive. That gold would go a long way. He got an ale for himself and walked out on the veranda where this all started. Kieff was sitting in one of the chairs with curved rails underneath so one could rock back and forth. Nag Kath sat in the same sort of chair next to him, lulling like a baby crib.

Kieff got a cup of wine with the Elf's largesse and took a dainty sip. Talking to the river he said, "I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed that."

"Me too, a touch of Catanard. Did he settle with the yokels?"

"No. But sending our troops in makes things worse. A few of my lads will bring them both in by their ears in a day or two."

Nag Kath had a long pull of the local tan and smacked his lips before saying, "I did what I came to. My only question is why did Legolas send me to find you? I was expecting a healer."

"Like you, I am more than I appear."

"We will leave it at that. But know this; I am a friend in need. Something tells me we will do more than irritate local grandees."

"Then we will share wine again."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Nag Kath stayed in. It was Catanard Thursday at the local taverns. In competent hands it could be a thing of beauty. Here it was cats on a fence. With talents in alchemy, he would have turned their ale into barley spirits and sent them home by quarter-eight.

As planned, the Elf rode Charlo up to Phylless' home after breakfast. She and her niece shared a spirited mare kept in the granary stables. The Widow Maedegon was quite fetching in her snug riding habit. Cook packed a basket of luncheon foods and two flasks. Without saying much they picked their way out the northeast gate and into the countryside. Fertile ground beneath valued farms stretched for miles around the outer wall giving way to fields and forests. Phyll knew the road and set a good pace until they reached a pretty stream off the beaten path.

Nag Kath carried lunch and Phylless unstrapped a large blanket from the back of her saddle. The Elf explored the bag and said, "Let us see; what have we here?" As he sorted through the food, his date uncorked the smaller of the flasks and poured two small goblets of local red wine, handing him one.

Seeing he was arranging the viands in the wrong order, Phylless took charge and started piling meats, cheeses and sauces on slices of bread. He said, "No meat for me, please."

That meant more for her so he got the pickled cabbage. Phyll put another slice of the hearty peasant bread on the top of the stack and they started eating. Two bites later, the insides of Nag Kath's meal squeezed into his lap. She looked over and cried, "Oh, you are hopeless. Here …" gently reconstructing it and showing him to hold it from the back.

He looked at the stream and said, "I have caught a lot of fish in places like this."

He asked, "For fun?"

"Dinner. Much of my life has been spent on the road. Most roads follow streams and they provide." He grinned, "When they want."

The woman put her head on his shoulder. "You must have a thousand stories." She had no idea of the world outside of Pelargir.

He wasn't Kath of the Water in the granary district. Where would one even start with those tales? "Well, I gave the governor a piece of my mind yesterday. Not a mannerly fellow, the guv."

Phylless took her head off the shoulder and looked him in the eye. "No, a rather hard man. Can't say as I blame him. People drive him mad whining about their little problems. What took you to Onathol?"

"Tidings from friends in Ithilien. It seems the timing was poor."

She sympathized, "The man is surrounded by Princes and yet even with more land and people to mind, he is a provincial governor."

"It seems he did not pick his parents very well."

She seemed pleased, "I did. Ma and da are still fine, thank you very much. They want me to sell the house and move back to the west bank. I wish they would retire and join me. The Lond Iaur is a place of business and holds no attraction for me, but all their friends are there. Coming here to the gaiety of the Strand offers them less than a good game of Dukks with the Heraldas."

"How long does it take to get there?"

"If I take Missy and scandalize the older widows I can get there in a bell. On foot; all morning."

"How about by boat?"

"Nasty currents. You would need stout oarsmen to pull all the way to the point and then take your luck hitting the right pier on the way down."

"Tell me about the monument in the middle of the harbor. It seems a relic of better times."

"Between the arrows?" He nodded. "Something from Numenor. Pelargir is governed by lords of commerce now. It will take a great captain to justify rebuilding it to glory. There is good fishing around the edges, though. They are little fish that we fry and eat whole."

"I had some before marching out of the governor's office. Very tasty."

She put her head back on his shoulder. There was a sense of freedom coupled with sadness that this strange creature would leave. She wished he didn't think he had to spin these absurd yarns to impress her. At some point she wanted a steadfast man. She did not especially want to train one, though.

Phylless pushed him down on the soft blanket. They were not here to eat.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

By day they explored the city. By night he explored her appetites. Unlike Osgiliath and Tharbad, more of Pelargir survived. More history was intact. Except for the rocks, Dale was not even a hundred years old. Most days, she would walk with him. He liked the Quarter of the Faithful for all its tiny gardens and birds. He sketched her in a couple of them. Nag Kath enjoyed women at all ages but their thirties seemed especially good. They still had all of their charms and passions without girlish thoughts, most of them, anyway. And they were past unrealistic expectations.

Things got more interesting on their second trip among the Faithful. They were strolling when his head snapped towards one of the temples like a flag in the wind. Nag Kath became deathly still, she thought almost like a wild animal as danger or prey approached. His face changed too with a gravity she had not seen before. Very quietly he said, "Please wait here. I will not be long."

The Elf trotted silently over to one of the smaller row temples and crept around to the open door. This was more like a mausoleum but there was no inscription above the door. More interested than scared, Phylless stood as asked, seeing her lover stand across the doorway. He seemed to radiate a pale light for a few seconds and then fade … a glint of sun? Then he strolled back and they resumed their walk.

That night he was more urgent and forceful than before. She enjoyed it but knew it was related to the temple. After a while she lay across his chest and asked, "Can you tell me what happened today?"

"I will when I know. Where I can buy a hundred dried gourds ... big ones?"

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

"Help me understand; you want me to row these across the river and dump them in the Telengaur?"

"Exactly. Half at first light and half at dusk."

"And that's it?"

His tall employer said, "That's it. The gourds are in that man-cart. Use the lighter-colored ones at night. Here is a silver. The second will wait for you at the inn tomorrow." The boatman collected his son muttering the whole way that people were losing their minds.

~o~

The next day after breakfast, Nag Kath walked through the Eärnil, across the drawbridge and put a blanket down on the rocks of the Faithful Quarter breakwater. A few hours later, he saw gourds passing by. Water from the southern rivers washed out into the channel and stayed close to the north bank, the same channel ferryman wanted to avoid fighting upstream. None of the gourds got closer than a hundred feet from the edge.

Well after dark he saw the second flotilla. They got nearer this time, two of them actually washing up and knocking against the rocks. He collected the one he could reach and held his knife against the side. It glowed the faintest blue. He cut a hole near the top to fill it with river water and then sat on a public bench until dawn.

The sense of foreboding was gone from the little stone building until he sprinkled the water over the floor. Faint black and green mists swirled about the flagstones until finally joining and snaking out the door.

~o~

Oh, Witch-King! Fish-wights weren't good enough? Will you escape your dungeon one drop at a time? Nag Kath threw the gourd back in the river. At the governor's mansion and said he wanted to speak with Vellund Kieff on a matter of great moment. The guard wasn't disrespectful but he took his orders from other soldiers. This was no time to pull rank. A faint yellow beam hit him in the face as the tall stranger said, "You will find Kieff instantly and ask his presence at our restaurant. Do you understand?"

The guard nodded very slowly, as if trying not to. Then he stalked off to a low building near the maidan. Nag Kath had tea and porridge as soon as the restaurant opened. Kieff came in half an hour later after convincing the soldier that he had actually obeyed orders and should resume his post with pride.

"That was quite a trick."

"Sit down, I'll tell you about it. What have you heard of me?"

"You're a wizard, an orc, an Elf and a fair shot."

"It's all true. Have you gotten the governor's attention yet?"

"Not really."

"You might not." The Elf explained; symptoms of the water, Elvish cures, temples with no inscriptions and how gourds float.

"Douuuugggsh!"

Nag Kath smirked, "That's how I see it. Does Prince Legolas trust you for good cause?"

Kieff stiffened a little. He was a fine soldier, true and smart. His reaction said what Nag Kath needed to know. The Elf asked, "Will you do what I ask no matter how absurd it sounds?"

"Yes, as long as I do not betray my land."

"No risk there. I need someone to quietly buy up as much burney root and red colich leaves as they can from the herbalists. Then I need every gourd and fishing-net float you can lay your hands on, enough to fill several four-man skiffs. Last, I need to talk with the City Manager in charge of the Faithful temples along the breakwater, particularly who made them and when."

Kieff saw nothing traitorous in that. He asked, "What about Onathol?"

"I need you to slip a few spoons of the burney root into his tea and feed him a small handful of the colich leaves. After you clean him up, tell him everything."

~o~

Phylless had not seen her Elf in a couple days and wondered if he flew the coop. It would have been a more amorous reunion if he hadn't shown up smelling of rotten pumpkins. A tub of soapy water cured that but he had to wear Lentaraes' clothes, mortifying the household staff while his togs were pummeled into freshness.

Back at the governor's mansion, a much different conversation ensued; "You want me to drink root tea and eat kokis leaves?"

"Red Colish."

"Why?"

"To purge sorcerous waters from your body, sir."

"And this from that delicate flower you dragged in here the other day?"

"Kath of the Water and Mordor. He is the delicate flower who spitted Frûnzar. King Elessar sent him on this mission personally."

The governor was a brave man and he trusted his King. "What will this medicine do to me?"

"Cleansing, I believe, sir."

~o~

He got that right. That afternoon Kieff was summoned before his Lord who demanded, "Explain why I should not have you staked to a honey tree!"

This was expected. Kieff cleared his throat and said, "Sir, can you remember needing to speak to the Tanners Guild tomorrow?"

"Of course!"

"Could you remember that this morning?"

The governor walked over to his favorite chair and collapsed with his feet sprawled out wide. He looked to his tough advisor and said, "Tell it all."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

After his bath, Nag Kath's day went much better than the governor's. Phyll put her head on his chest and said, "Pumpkins?"

"Those and gourds and whatever else I could find that floats with the tide."

"Why? I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want, but why?"

"Do you want the long story or the short?"

"The long. I need to regain my strength."

He told her of being a sorcerous demon who could divine dark magic. Black humors were flowing from dead servants of Sauron and poisoning the water along the edges of the triangle. He would try to find what was drawing it here and then probably lead an army against the orcs of Angmar, in that order.

If that didn't get him kicked out of the house, nothing would. She thought he was being absurd to avoid something less flattering, but it did give her time to regain her strength.

In the same position an hour later she declared, "As dire as your news is, I have some of my own. It is my thirty-eighth birthday next week. Every year, my parents come over to visit along with friends from the west bank. It is a gay time and I see folk I love. If you aren't fighting orcs, I would be honored if you were here."

He looked at her and replied, "That would be lovely. What day?"

That was much too easy, "Wednesday, the twenty-eighth. All of the preparations are made."

"I will need a good tailor."

She looked tenderly into his face. "You will come? Thank you." They dressed and went downstairs. Her servants were used to the occasional man hurrying out the back door before sunrise, women in the master's day. This fellow … this fellow was different. They could see the attraction. Phylless was still a beauty and dare they admit it, her well-being didn't depend on making Lentaraes happy. Come to that; neither did theirs so they would thank their lucky stars.

~o~

The Elf went back to the inn and paid for another week but brought most of his things and Charlo to the granary. He told her it was a matter of state business and the mill workers could make what they wanted of it. She was writing follow-up invitations with secret notes about what presents were needed for the other guests, a bit like Hobbits; Pelargir birthday parties.

For no particular reason he looked at her list and his blood froze. Fourth from the bottom was the last name Dystran. He had mercifully forgotten. Flor was back in the White City but Helien was buried somewhere here with her blood father. He felt he could regain a piece of his soul if he could pray her peace.

"Phyll, can I tell you a sad story?" She listened quietly, one time fighting back a tear. Phyllis only met the cousin a few times and not his stolen woman or child, but Glendis would know all of it. Yante and Glendis were the bedrock of their family, just as Dun and Kjelda were for the Maedegon mill. She would know where the child lay if anyone did, though it might rip her heart out to say.

~o~

This had to be handled before the party. The next morning Phylless walked the six blocks to the Dystran mongery. A comfortable house was nestled behind it. Glendis answered the door herself and invited her old friend inside. Glendis comforted Phyll rather than the other way and explained where the father should go. Come the party; Phyll should not give it another thought.

Nag Kath rode out the old north gate to the vast cemetery serving most of Pelargir. Directions were a jumble of zigs and zags. Two of the graveyard lanes had the same name but he finally found the unmarked plot between two family stones. One stone was fairly new.

The weight of what a man cannot do fell from the heavens. Helien deserved so much better, so much better from everyone in her little life. A horrible combination of fear, longing, obsession and hubris brought them here to this desolation. He sat. He wept. He wondered if he would ever lose the guilt. Then he decided he mustn't. This should not be forgotten. Forgiven maybe, but never forgotten.

He got back to Pyhlless' house at twilight, hitching Charlo out front. After Effiel let him in, he gave Phyll a kiss on her forehead and said, "I do not think I will be good company tonight. It is likely someone from the city office will want a word tomorrow at the inn. I just came by to tell you how brave you were. I will honor that as long as I live. Expect me in a couple of days or I will send word."

She waved goodbye wondering if she would see him again.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

The next morning, a runner said the city man would meet Nag Kath at the temple on the twelve-bell. He got there early and watched the water lap against the break-wall. Ellerd Fondiscar arrived early too. He was told this was important. The Elf walked up to him outside the door and introduced himself.

"Ah, good afternoon, Lord Kath. I hope I am the right man but my instructions were a bit vague."

Nag Kath said, "Come; let us sit here." They made their way to a bench across the road with good shade. "I want to know everything I can about who ordered, designed and built this temple, the one with no inscriptions."

Fondiscar was not yet curious why. People often wanted to know how a building was made so they could make one themselves. He cudgeled his brain and said, "You may be in luck. Houses and stores are built on private land. Sometimes folk keep the plans. It is nothing to the city as long as it doesn't fall down on someone else's property. But buildings on public land are documented for posterity. This temple is not so old. Many records survive. Is there anything we need to do here before finding them?"

There wasn't so the two waited for the bridge barge to Gobel Eärnil to close and found the hall of records alongside the parade grounds. The documents were probably saved from the numerous attacks here because they were in a building that must have been a fortress at one point. Archives could have been burned by any of the invaders over the years but no one bothered.

Unless you were higher up, only trained staff was allowed into the archives. Important papers had disappeared. Fondiscar must be fairly senior because the scribes and archivists were happy to please. He told one what he wanted and the man took a lantern back into the catacombs.

The city man and Elf waited quietly at a small table for better than a quarter-bell before the archivist returned with a lidded wooden box. He set it in front of Fondiscar, bowed and returned to the desk. The city manager opened it and said, "Hmmmm, this seems rather complete." He leafed through several sheets and continued, "The building was commissioned in 1377 in memory of family members lost to the plague the year before. The name of the man was, no that's not it, yes, here … a Mr. Yvsuldor ..."

"Bastards!"

Well I never! Fondiscar was mildly offended. Normally they would not even speak in this area but they were alone and the tall man was to be treated like royalty. The governor's language was worse so Fondiscar soldiered on, "Now here is where the extra documents come in. Hmmmm, this Yvsuldor insisted on using his own materials and laborers. We know because he had to pay the guild penalty taxes for not using their workmen."

It was time for the blonde man to say his own, "Hmmmm. Were the materials brought here from somewhere else?"

Fondiscar said, "It does not say. A closer examination of the stone should tell us though."

"Good, I will need to have an expert mason join me there to investigate. Can you arrange that?"

The request was a little outside of his purview but old Nagsram at the Engineering office was sure to know them all. Fondiscar nodded and made a note in his day-book. The stranger then asked, "Two more questions; one, does the record say who designed this structure and two; are there any other names mentioned in those sheets? Oh, sorry, three; is there any mention of how it was paid for?"

The Works Manager held his chin, "Hmmmm, no to the first, no to the third. There is this sketch of the floor slates but no name."

Nag Kath did not notice the pattern of the flooring stones when he poured the water on them. He thought while the works manager sat patiently, finally saying, "Mr. Fondiscar, it is very important that you do not tell anyone about this and if anyone at all should ask questions about that building, you are to tell Mr. Kieff at any hour of the day. Can you accept those terms?"

"I can, sir." As camouflage, the city man waved the archivist over and said rather more loudly than his first request, "I am sorry. This was the wrong address. Can you fetch the records for number six on the same avenue, please?" The man nodded and removed the box, bringing another within minutes. They made a show of examining the 'correct' file and thanked the clerk for his indulgence.

"I appreciate your help. Do you have any idea what a burney plant is?" Fondiscar shook his head as they strolled to the Engineering Building. It was another stout, former armory. Nagstram was abed with a recurring complaint. His assistant knew several stonemasons expert in local stones used long ago. The closest was only two blocks away. The assistant wrote an address on a slip of paper, and no, he had never heard of burney plants either. Fondiscar said to contact him anytime and went back to his duties.

~o~

Nag Kath found the mason's works by the sound before he read the number. Mr. Jool was a small man who developed powerful muscles hoisting large rocks where nature did not intend them. Pushing fifty, he was not inclined to give free advice to just anyone wandering by. The dented silver face of King Narmacil II changed his tune. Nag Kath told him to bring a hand sledge.

By mid-afternoon, the little walkways of the temple district had more strollers as workers completed their day. Arriving at the structure, Nag Kath asked, "Can you tell me where that stone is from?"

Jool looked closely for seams or minerals that might give a hint. "Not really. It is almost too pure to say it is from a known quarry. Someone spent bright coin for this. I have always thought it was well built."

The Elf said, "I would like you to knock a chunk out of a likely stone and see if it tells more."

Jool stared at him. This was an historic, sacred building. He had no compunction about sacred but there were laws against defacing public works. A silver memento of the good Steward Orodreth changed his mind. Jool chose a block with an exposed corner and hit it solidly with the pick-end of his tool. The practiced blow knocked a two-inch corner off cleanly. The mason picked it up and walked outside in the light. Shaking his head he said, "It is not from here or any of the quarries nearby."

"Mr. Fondiscar said it was nearly two thousand years old."

"Same quarries, same rocks. They never go stale."

The tall man took the broken corner to examine and said, "Thank you, Mr. Jool. I may need you again. No need to mention this little, uhm, accident, is there?"

"What accident, sir?"

As the mason turned to go, his customer asked, "Are you also in the business of funeral markers, Mr. Jool?"

"We do that." The blonde wrote out a note for a slate sized yea by so. Jool looked at the script and said, "Sorry, I don't speak this language."

"Just copy it as I have drawn." Two more kingly tokens found a new pocket.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

The Elf walked back to the Governor's home and told the same guard he had stunned the previous day that he was expected. The guard remembered nothing of it but was told this morning the tall blonde was to be escorted to the ministry offices at once.

Kieff was the local Rosscranith, floating between the courtly and the practical, otherwise he would have never gotten his Lord to take the purge. Kieff's assistant took him back to Onathal's office where the governor, Kieff and different soldiers and civilians were seated at the table, more calmly this time. Nag Kath approached and bowed. The governor waved him to an empty chair across from Kieff and said, "Haven't felt so empty in years!"

"A healing gift from the Elves, sir."

"So it would seem. I would like your version of what is occurring, young man."

"In the basest of terms; a fell manufactory of Sauron's was flooded in a landslide and now taints the main stream into the Telengaur. By accounts that happened last spring. You have seen the wasting along those shores. The current of the Anduin brings that water against the outer edges of your two arrows. I think it may be called here by foul craft."

One of the civilians asked, "Can you explain that craft, Lord Kath?"

"Forgive me, my inquiries continue, but there is a small temple in the row nearest the break-water that was built some eighteen hundred years ago. I believe it was designed, and built with materials brought from Mordor."

He let that sink in a minute. "I had a mason chip a piece off this morning." He opened his knife and passed the blade over the stone. It glowed the faintest blue. By now they all knew this Kath fellow had tricks he hadn't shown, hopefully would not show. He folded the knife and said, "I think that temple is drawing the tainted water to this side of the Anduin since it is more potent here than upriver.

"I also believe those floor stones are arranged in a pattern. My project for the next few days will be divining their meaning. Then, sirs, every one of those blocks needs to find the bottom of the sea, may Ulmo forgive us."

The other civilian asked, "And what of all the gourds?"

"Dump them at the river mouth at different times and months to see where that water flows strongest. If possible, drinking water for the city should come from the Sirith. It may take some years to destroy the tainted source. Mr. Kieff, did you discover what burney root is?"

The governor groused, "We bloody well discovered what it does!"

Kieff removed all possible humor from his voice, "The stinging nettles are used as tea to soothe the nerves of women at the end of their child-bearing years."

Nag Kath looked around the table and said to all, "Then I respectfully suggest that you grow as much of that and the red colich as you can in every window-box, garden and spare field. The effects will not be so … immediate … if taken in small amounts routinely."

Governor Onathal assumed his diplomatic role, "Have our friends in Ithilien been told this?"

"They know of the water and the effects but we just learned of the temple. I will return to Gondor shortly and tell my tale there too, sir."

The Governor said in lordly tones, "Then all that remains is to thank you for your toils on behalf of my citizens and others of this realm. If we do not see each other again before you leave, please give their Highnesses our best, Lord Kath."

~o~

Kieff walked him out of the room. As they shook hands, the Elf said, "I am staying with the widow of an old friend. She is hosting her own birthday party on Wednesday. I do not think she would mind if I invite a guest, and Mrs. Kieff if you have one. Number 315, Avenue of the Magil. I will be at the temple tomorrow if you need me."

Nag Kath collected Charlo at the inn and slowly walked him up the strand to the industrial sector at the north of the eastern circle. Rhythmic clopping of hooves helped him concentrate. A farmer once told him that spinning maple pods mostly set root the same season but a few would lay dormant for years. The man thought against a terrible flood or blight, the tardy seeds might wake after danger. Was this temple a late seed? Some thought that of Nag Kath.

~o~

Mr. Yvsuldor! Not original; those servants of darkness. If there were more buildings, they probably looked the same. Back to the Witch-King, always back to him, was he the original Mr. Yvsuldor? He might even be the Dark Lord the men of Mordor thought was Sauron. Wraiths did not explain themselves. But the Witch-King commanded the servants. When the Elf returned to Gondor he would beetle in the archives.

Phylless was pleased to see him. Letting him choose his time of unburdening she simply said, "Come inside. Wine?"

"Just cool tea, thank you." He grinned, "And perhaps another bath."

He said little at dinner and she did not ask. That night, he was gentle. She liked that too. How could one man be so different? In her selective experience, men did not vary their preferences. Afterwards he said, "I took the liberty of inviting another guest to your party, a Mr. Kieff."

"Kieff?!"

"You know him?"

"Of him. You move in higher circles than the grain trade."

"Then you will be pleased to know I patched things up with the governor."

Fascinated, Phylless teased, "Then I suppose you must go visit the King."

One of Nag Kath's blind spots had always been gentle taunting by the gentle sex. Unfazed he answered, "He will be expecting me, and I have fresh tidings." Trailing off, "Perhaps I can catch him in Lossarnach."

A younger Phylless would have answers. This Phylless had other interests.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

After breakfast Nag Kath rode Charlo to the temple. When he got there, Kieff and Subaltern Houlmanath were waiting, dressed as city workmen. An assortment of picks and pry-bars lay outside the door.

"Good morning, gentlemen. You may be a bit ahead of me. I need to sketch all of this exactly as it sits and do some calculations. Lieutenant Houlmanath, I don't suppose you brought a bubble-level?"

"Must have slipped my mind, sir."

"Could you have a look?"

"Aye, sir." He was off, but not all the way back to headquarters. Each arrowhead had its own surveyors, as required by the guild. He would borrow a level only a few blocks away. Nag Kath sat on the bench across the entrance and started drawing the structure, extending the lines from all four corners. Before he finished that, he flipped to a new page and drew the shape as if seen by a bird. That done, he and Kieff measured the outside walls.

Houlmanath came back with a level like the long-range models Nag Kath's lads generally used for water. He lined it parallel to the sides and later the front and back, then measured the distances of the extensions. The structure was slightly out of square. To do that the builder was either incompetent or very good. He suspected the latter. The soldiers measured all of the other exterior dimensions while the Elf went inside to draw the floor-stones.

There was unknown craft here too. After eight years of watching every size stone moveable by man and beast, he had a good feel for masonry. The center of the floor had a finely bordered circle about twelve feet across. Some of these flagstones inside the round had been broken, making them harder to place evenly. There was no sense to the flow, not yet. Houlmanath 'borrowed' two street lamps so the men could see inside the small single room. They searched every inch for writing but found none.

~o~

The men nearly got as good a purge as the governor when the island works manager stormed in and barked, "No one told me about this!"

Workman Kieff looked unconcerned and replied, "Special job for Mr. Jaoubert."

The city man recognized Kieff, looked around the inside by lamplight and knowingly said, "I'll keep my lads away. Enjoy the day?"

"Mebbe two."

They were done inside until Nag Kath could make sense of the floor pattern. He had shaded each interior floor slate in gray to see if that helped discern a flow examined in better light. He crossed his eyes to see if clarity hid decoys. The men did the same. No one made anything of it so Nag Kath climbed on the roof while Houlmanath went to the restaurant for nuppers, bread and cheese. Nag Kath asked him to bring the mason back with him.

That did not take long and the four sat down at a nearby table. Kieff brought a large jug of cool tea made, he promised, from Sirith water. The Elf started and the two soldiers would follow his lead. "Tell me, Master Jool, you said that building was made well. How so?"

He took a pull of the tea and replied, "The way the blocks are joined. There are no gaps. They were smoothed on all sides before ever they were stacked. That is still done now but it raises the price."

Kieff followed the thread, "Could such stones be prepared elsewhere and brought here knowing they would fit?"

"Certainly. That is how most do it, just not this well. It is much easier to surface stone in the shop at the right height than work it uncomfortably in the rain. The barge brings it close and wagons do the rest." He chuckled, "My guild would not care for that."

Nag Kath had given Houlmanath a topic to raise; "Sir, the floor seems of poorer craft than the walls."

The mason shrugged and said, "I wondered about that. Maybe they used all their money and had to make do, lots of little bits or leftovers from other projects?"

Nag Kath thanked him for coming. Jool took a handful of nuppers to eat on the way back to his shop leaving the government men contemplating the afternoon. The Elf rose and said, "We had better take a look under that floor."

~o~

Houlmanath was ready to have at the slates with a vengeance. Kieff grabbed the handle of his pick-bar and said, "Steady as she goes." More gently, the young man stabbed the grout holding the center stone and then sliding the flat underneath to pry the edge. Kieff used a pick to pull it up from the other side.

By lamp and sunlight they saw a host of fist-sized spiders furiously squealing and shrinking into the dark ooze. It smelled like old death. All three stumbled outside. Nag Kath sucked tea into his nose and mouth and blew it out before holding his breath to replace the stone.

A minute later they were sitting back at the table. The Elf was trying to get the sting out of his nostrils when he asked, "Does the soil of the Faithful usually stink like that?"

Kieff hacked then chuckled, "How dare you impugn our fair city? Lieutenant, challenge him to a duel!"

Houlmanath was still rubbing his eyes and scraping his tongue against his teeth. He managed, "Not our finest temple, is it?"

Nag Kath said thoughtfully, "Not a temple, a grave. But whatever lies below is not quite dead."

~o~

Appetites gone, they left the nuppers for the seagulls. There wasn't much anyone could do without considerable thought. Men with strong stomachs might be able to destroy the building but the very stones were tainted. Who knew what was underneath and what they were waiting for? The short-term plan of minding drinking water and cleansing was good advice anywhere. Kieff decided to put a few upright citizens at nearby business on the payroll reporting who visited regularly. Nag Kath had what he needed for the King and would see Kieff at the party.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

After reeking as the pumpkin king last time, the Elf went back to the inn for a double bath before presenting himself at the Maedegon home. He never did get new clothes but still had an extra set rolled tightly in the bag that could be cleaned and smoothed in time for Phylless' thirty-eighth.

She curled next to him on the couch and asked, "Can you tell me now?"

Nag Kath looked in her eyes and said, "Yes, and excuse me for being so distracted. There is an old poison from the fell lands that is leaking into one of the rivers in Ithilien. Some of it makes its way here and folk have fallen ill, not deathly, mind, but off their feed and slow of wit, me too, but less than most. The government has been very capable and they will try to get people to use the Sirith water until the mountains can be cleansed."

In his same believable tone he added, "I would ask you to keep that between us. Distress only makes it worse. Folk will get through this."

She asked softly, "Can you tell me about the little girl?"

With difficulty, "I am having a marker made for her resting place. It is more for me than her, poor thing." He brightened, "Now, we have three days before your celebration. I am at liberty. What shall we do to pass the time?"

~o~

The next night they saw a melodrama, a bit like Catanard with less singing. The main players were the usual dastardly male villain, beautiful but witless lass, even dimmer hayseed suitor and a female troublemaker who got all of the funny lines. The actors were local amateurs. Most people in the audience knew them and sang the familiar songs. Folk knew when to hiss or cheer as schemes unfolded. One poor man who had not seen parody before stood and shouted, "Do not take his word, for he is a scoundrel!" Nearby patrons assured him this was not actually happening. He took it well and would buy the first round at the Tall and Wide after the evil-doers were shown the error of their ways.

When he and Phylless weren't together, Nag Kath scoured the bookstores. A lot of written lore passed through Pelargir over the last four thousand years. Given the financial insecurity of travel, some documents were traded for coppers along the way. And the city did not have a vibrant scholars' guild to make sense of them. He wasn't sure he could either but there might be pearls among the dross.

Shops of the three triangles were routine and expensive. Shops of the eastern circle had been picked-through by the vendors of the triangles. But in the workingman's western side of the city, shops were not so neatly specialized, or even identified. Some places sold anything they thought they would bring a groat. Many the owners did not even read. Nag Kath developed a pattern of walking in, asking if they had books and staying or leaving depending on the answer. He could tell by the paper when books were written and by whom.

On the day of the party, the royal cards fell in order. A shop that must have been a warehouse had the sort of owner who was sure everything he offered was made of Florins. Nag Kath thought he must own the building because there was no possibility of him paying rent and never selling anything. The Elf poked his head in the door and asked, "Do you carry books?"

The old boy shouted, "Of course we have books. Big ones, small ones, all kinds!"

Walking in he realized he had the only eyes in the city capable of reading big or small books inside the windowless hall. With the same bonhomie he rejoined, "Then let us see them!"

The proprietor was within ten years on the wrong side of a hard fifty. He was putting some of his stronger wares near the door and wandered up looking for something in the pockets of his apron. It wasn't there so he used his hand to arrange his hair and then said, "Books? I know we have some, or we did …" a hand to the chin brought no clarity. "I could make you a very good price on several bolts of linen!"

"Perhaps another time, good sir."

"Books? Books! We have all manner of books. Let me see …" The man scuttled down the darkest corridor in the building and shouted out, "Here we go … no, don't suppose you need a Gondoran tent? It was never used in the war!"

It was nearing the three-bell and time to get clean for Phylless' celebration. He had no sense that this fellow had or could find anything written but this was the last shop on the block so he gave him the benefit of the doubt. The shopkeeper tipped a crate over with a muffled 'dougsh' and then called, "How about these?"

Nag Kath walked back and looked at several bound volumes in both Sindarin and Quenya, not much the worse for wear either. They were mixed in with an assortment of papers, other books in Westron and who knew what else in the near blackness. The crate itself measured about two feet by a foot and a half wide by that tall and was half full. The Elf looked at it and said, "How much?"

"How much for what?"

"The books."

"Which ones?"

"All of them."

The man adopted his horse-trading approach and said thoughtfully, "Well, I have to take them out and see. Some of these are very valuable, you know … yes, I have refused high offers from many for such treasures!"

Nag Kath knew the game. He really didn't care what they cost but the man had to tell him the opening price. He did some chin-holding of his own and said, "Why don't you take a look. If my boat is delayed, I can come back on Friday and you can tell me what you decide."

Paying no attention, "That's right, high demand for such things among the lordly in Eärnil! Someone might snatch it from right under your nose."

It was time to go. Nag Kath figured there were ten or twelve books in the box, imagining the proprietor thought the same. He said, "It is hard to see in here but what do you have, twenty books in there? At ten groats each that's five silvers. Let's call it four."

"Four! Impossible!"

The unconvinced shopper said, "Most of them are written in a foreign tongue."

"Someone will read 'em."

"Then let us take them into the light and count them out at twelve groats each."

The shopkeeper would lose on the exchange and said, "Six! And not a groat less!"

"You drive a hard bargain, sir. Five it is. Can you put the top back on for me?" And hide how many books the simpleton had actually purchased? Sure, he could slide the top back in the groove.

The hoodwinked customer counted out five silvers, and not a groat less, dropping them into the waiting palm. The fellow counted the coins twice but did not bite them. Then he smiled and said, "How are you set for linen?" After setting an undignified pace through the Ancient Market and across the bridge to his inn, the Elf changed into the last of his clean clothes and was only slightly late to the gala.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Like Nag Kath did on Syndolan, Phylless hired an organizer. Two of her three interior servants were older than her parents. It was better to hold someone else responsible for broken plates. He came inside with a couple who smelled of the leather trade and used his height to find his hostess. She saw him first and came over to gently take his hand in welcome before veering to untangle poor Mrs. Emerlawn's scarf from the foot of her chair.

Lentaraes left her a large house but it was better suited for intimate gatherings; few large rooms near the front and the kitchen in the far back. No matter; people were talking, drinking quite moderately and seemed to know each other. Folk smiled at him and he kept repeating this was such a lovely gathering until rescued by Phyll. She led him to an older couple who looked a bit like her, "Mother, father, this is Nag Kath who knew Lentaraes."

The sharp-eyed yeast millers both smiled and mother said, "It is good to meet you, young man. Are you enjoying Pelargir?"

"I am, ma'am (he never asked Phylless' maiden name). I had business in the government block and the good fortune to meet your daughter."

Da said, "Are you here by boat?"

"No, sir. I rode from Ithilien and will return to Minas Tirith from here."

"Good lad! You need some ale."

The Elf was handed a mug at the beverage table and when he returned, her folks were talking with old friends not seen since last year. Phyll took him firmly by the elbow towards people her own age saying, "You handled that well. They are very protective of their little girl." Nag Kath wasn't sure how ardent she would be tonight with her parents two doors down the hall but he could be very patient.

~o~

There was a lull in the conversation when Vellund and Mrs. Kieff handed their hats to the hired doorman. Folk thought they knew who he was and that was confirmed when he clasped Mr. Rothelburn on the shoulder in fellowship. His pallid missus wasn't so sure about all of this. Like many of the city quality, she had been drinking Anduin water for the last year. He wondered if this was the after-effect of a heaping dose of burney.

Phylless was prepared to discount her lover's fanciful imaginings in exchange for his physical charms so actually seeing one of his claims come true was a bit of a shock. They made their way across the room to shake hands with the Elf who said, "Good evening, you must be Mrs. Kieff."

She was trained to respond correctly, "Yes, I am."

No offer to use first names. Very well, "Mr. and Mrs. Kieff, may I present your hostess, Mrs. Phylless Maedegon?"

Kieff bowed and said he was honored. Phyll took him by the arm with the missus following to the counter and found them two cups of a fine Lebennin wine. That was his preferred drink and he had a quiet hand in its popularity. With the Umbar brigands whipped, their local vintage was making a dent in the Dorwinion market upriver. Phylless lived well up the Sirith but if the silly Elfling had actually told truth about the Eïthil grandees drinking polluted Anduin water and this poor woman among the first to purge, their hostess could sympathize. "Mrs. Kieff, can I interest you in cook's lovely leavened crackers?" They were as bland as oatmeal, just the thing to calm a roiling stomach. The woman took several.

Kieff looked at him and said gleefully, "You need to change your name back to Solvanth for a couple weeks until order is restored."

They clicked glasses and both said, "To health."

~o~

Another of Kieff's acquaintances stole them away leaving Nag Kath and Phylless alone until Mrs. Dystran approached, smiling but cautious. Her husband was only a few seconds behind. Their first impression of the towering blonde was a drunken description of Yante's cousin being sorcerously dragged across a restaurant and choked near death. This one was a strapping lad but did not seem murderous.

Phylless had prepared for this moment, "Yante, Glendis, please meet Nag Kath who is visiting from the White City." All shook or bowed according to sex and custom. They both remembered Florice, the stunning, miserable woman whose baby died shortly after she arrived, how she would walk the strand crying and talking to herself. They remembered Irvien, drunk as a pirate, ready to win his next fight after being humiliated by Flor's seedless husband.

And now here he was. Yante and Glendis also knew something of Phyll's tastes and realized that if this creature had not fathered a babe, it was not for lack of effort. Yante said, "Welcome to Pelargir, Mr. Kath. I am sorry your visit could not be without sorrow."

"Thank you, sir. I took the liberty of having a stone carved for Helien's resting place. I hope you do not mind." They had not thought of that and had no trouble believing Irvien had neglected it.

Glendis said, "Thank you, Mr. Kath. It was a time of upset."

Mr. Kath smiled, "Please, this is a time to celebrate our Phylless' birth. Let us continue in that spirit. Now, as I understand it, you trade in …?" All four of them thought that well handled.

~o~

No one was completely sure of the tall man and glamorous widow's relationship but guesses were close to the mark. Her parents had a splendid time seeing many of the same people they saw on their side of the river and retired early. The Kieffs weren't far behind them, she the worse for wear. He said to Nag Kath, "Might be a good idea for you to stop by the guv's before you see the King. Fondiscar did a little digging of his own."

Kieff gave him a wink and a bow to his radiant hostess before escorting his wife out the door. He was here to deliver that message and she was here because he was here. A brave woman. Phyll just stared at her lover. The governor? The King? All those laughable yarns about poisonous water and pumpkins?!

Her parents were sound sleepers and didn't hear a thing.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~