Chapter 36

Family Reunion

~o~

On the second of March the two riders made for Osgiliath. Chûr had been there several times getting used to his mount, a mare called Hilli. She was faster than she looked, which was no accident. From there, they skirted the tip of Mordor past the Black Gate, this time avoiding the Dead Marshes.

This was new ground for the Elf since they veered almost due east towards the foot of the Nurukhizdin range bordering the western Rhûn. He knew above them well. He did know there was not a lot of water on this ride until reaching the tributaries of the Gathod some ten day's hence. They traveled light with a load of Lembas, ever nearer to the real thing, and water bags.

Chûr journeyed well. This must be luxury compared to his ordeal through Harad. Unlike most young men, he was not anxious to talk at the campfire. Nag Kath would draw him out, particularly on healing. Scars and proven ability to withstand pain were valued in Ûniarra Nûrn. His own father would serve them out as tests. In their first Kath Bath, the Elf saw marks on the lad's back that were not natural wounds. Perhaps his self-healing reduced them.

On their ninth day from Dagorlad they started crossing small streams making north from the Ened Lithui and two days later reached the Gathod, called something else by all the many people who had lived here. In three more days they reached the port city of Lest, Nag Kath's fourth of the four points on the star of the sea. The Gathod had considerable flow, even now before the snows of north Mordor began melting.

Lest was a curious sort of town. West of the river was Gondor on the map but the peoples were definitely Rhûnic, they used the eastern names, dressed and ate like their brethren along the eastern coast and grew the gureeq grain. Dorwinion lay above the small coastal range and wanted nothing to do with this part of the sea.

East of the river, where the town lay, was probably of Rhûn. Everyone here spoke passable Westron, though. With an assortment of tongues, the travelers could be from anywhere they wanted. Tonight they wanted to be in the one nice inn with a tavern downstairs. The wine was from the east coast and was good. There was also a very tasty red ale. Nag Kath had forgotten how much he liked it. There were no bottom fish offered.

Chûr wanted to see his mother but he was not driven. They spent two days strolling around the city of about two thousand. As always, Nag Kath visited the boat-builders who got good timber from the western hills. He used what he called his sketch-trap to attract onlookers and hint of things Orlo said. Folk were nice but he got no bites. The young man got appreciative looks from both men and women. So did Nag Kath, but he never noticed.

The Elf had to do his first bit of dissembling. Two days west was Yhammâs Fruhir. He wanted to see everyone there for fellowship and answers. But he could not just ride in with the Prince of Visitors. They crossed the range of hills forming the nose of Gathod and made camp on a stream not far from the hidden path to the retreat. Green wood made for a smoky fire.

When the Elf was in no hurry to saddle-up, Chur said, "It seems we are waiting for an invitation."

"We are waiting for an inspection. Your da was not beloved in these parts."

The youngster responded; "I suppose I should get used to that."

"Not for long. You are your own man now. People will either accept that or not. Do not let it affect your path. I will tell them all and they will give us counsel or not, understanding you are under my protection."

"Thank you for that. What should I know?"

"These are the people of Orlo. Your mother lives among them as well."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Later in the afternoon, two riders came from the direction of Mistrand. They could be ordinary travelers. They could have doubled around to give that impression. Tea was ready either way.

In Rhûnic one of them said, "Hello and good day. You travel easy to rest so early."

Nag Kath would do the talking. In Westron he said, "Aye, tea is still hot if we can offer you refreshment after your long ride."

The second man grinned and said in the common-tongue, "That is very convenient. I do not see how we can refuse."

The men dismounted cautiously but let the reins drop and approached from the other side of the fire from the seated campers. Nag Kath nodded to Chûr who handed each of them a tin camp-cup and filled it from the pan with Telandian, unusual this far north. It wasn't too hot to drink so both men took a long pull and sat in the grass around the pit.

The first rider said, "Thank you, friend. This is a blend we rarely taste here in the wilds."

The Elf replied, "It is one of my favorites. I learned to enjoy it many years ago."

The second man, older and larger than the first smiled and said by way of a question, "Then you must be much traveled."

"Indeed. Though I have only been here once before, some nine years ago. I recall sheep pastures where I stayed, and also many songs and verses of those wiser than myself. Then I rode further east."

The first man, who Nag Kath figured was very fast at need, wondered, "It sounds a very fair place to be welcomed."

"I would seek such a welcome, but I travel with my young friend. One of his parents is a woman of Lhûg, a place of right-living. The other parent; less so. We would not impose."

By now they knew exactly who the tall blonde man was. Considering the work he had done below, they would take a chance on the lad. The bigger man said, "Let us go to find such hospitality."

That should have done it but Nag Kath said, "His safety is on my head if this needs to be considered in council."

The man laughed, "I think you will be fine."

~o~

They were Verandad and Tholas Thune. Chûr was introduced by his full name which caused no alarm. It was two hours back over the ridge and into the west-facing valley of such beauty and peace. Yhammâs Fruhir

looked exactly the same. The stream where he soothed his burned mouth burbled as it had. The travelers waited with their horses while the men went into the Ghurate.

Grandol Zoldan himself walked out to bow saying, "Nag Kath! We always thought you would come again."

"Thank you Ghur Zoldan. This is my friend Vanteg Chûr. We travel southeast along my old route."

The graying elder showed them inside. He was the only member of the leadership in just then which was for the best. The Elf's exploits, including the trolls of Pelargir were known here, nothing like saucy gossip, even in the halls of the learned! Chûr smiled but kept quiet. He was concerned about his history but decided to follow the Kath's advice and hold true to himself.

That came quickly, "Ghur Zoldan, my friend is the son of Chûran of Lhûg, a woman who helped greatly in the battle. His father was the Assured, and he has some of the same abilities, now devoted to higher ideals."

The Ghur displayed no concern at all. "Splendid! You remember hearing that one of our strongest adherents was among those you battled all those years ago in Dale, now among ancestors who will have welcomed him warmly." He turned to Chûr, "Young man, I hope your visit will help you find peace."

The Ghur asked more generally, "Nag Kath, do you seek other things from your stay?"

"Yes. I know quite a bit more than I did. But as is the nature of knowledge, that only means more questions. Perhaps we can take our ease and learn from those who observe more carefully?"

"You shall, you shall! But first, I think a fine meal. Word will already be abroad of your return. Tonight you shall see a few old friends."

They eat early here. There were no major observances tonight but there were always Sayings and small group conversations, some were specific, some free-flowing depending on the characters. Dinner was mutton, of course. They had forgotten what Nag Kath ate but there were plenty of other foods he liked.

The old friend was the merchant Prestigir who was a permanent resident now. He taught lore of the wider world, mostly practical things but also of right-living as found there. Chûr knew what Nag Kath knew about right living but had only heard that source. He struggled with Rhûnic so Prestigir changed to Khandian which was almost as widely spoken here.

Early to bed, early to rise; they ate their porridge and hiked over the small hill to the pasture overlooking the Bay of Lest. Animals and crops grown here provided cash and trade goods that could not be made here. Donations paid for most things. Yhammâs Fruhir had a few right-living supporters who had done well in the world.

Sadly, Lorist Brestegir had gone to his ancestors two years before but the blind Sayer and poet Criszal was still here, now too old to travel. Nag Kath approached him. He did not know if the man had been told of his return or just remembered the light tread but he greeted him by name. The Elf introduced Chûr. The first of his recitations would start soon as people were already gathering. They all looked as hard at the two as they could without staring, one was famous, the other exotic. The young man's parentage was not widely shared.

Criszal used Khandian, his home tongue, today. Chûr was fascinated, closing his eyes and slightly swaying to the cadence. How could one man make such a beautiful sound? He had heard the singing of individuals and groups in Minas Tirith but that was entertainment. This was music of the soul. A long poem of loss, forgiveness and restoration followed.

~o~

It was understood that Nag Kath's first meeting with the Ghurate must be private. Chûr wandered around the main buildings and sat by the brook for a while. People smiled but no one bothered him. This was a place where one could be alone.

Inside: "Welcome back, Mr. Kath."

"Thank you, Ghur Vrenstides. You do not seem any the worse for wear."

"My wife would disagree, as is her prerogative. You are well preserved."

Over the next two hours, Nag Kath gave them a complete history of his adventures, starting with leaving here and the Mordor coup up to his return with the son of the King of the Visitors. The lad had small powers, completely undeveloped. He contended that with the right education, he could become a useful member of the larger community. There were a great many questions, some concerns and, when they could not stand it anymore, how did he stab the troll between the eyes?!

A younger Ghur he had not met, and who seemed to be of the Rhûn/Khand borderlands asked, "Mr. Kath, did you think to leave your young charge here for our training?"

"Nay, Mr. Inuld. We first go to see his mother. He was taken from her as a babe. Bringing them together will salve the hurt for both. I think the Ghurate of Hanvas Tûr will want a look at him too. There is, or was, a healer of some power there when I was. She may help him develop his touch. Then, it is his choice of how to live, though I would hope he will come back here many times, enriching his understanding. Given his harsh upbringing, he might have been bitter but I sense someone waiting for a gentle hand."

Another Ghur new to him said, "I think we were agreed to treat the young man well before you came in. Please stay for a time. We can explore the origins of our order and let Chûr take his ease."

They were there another ten days. Chûr never missed hearing Criszal in the morning, and often his afternoon song. He went to the large group meetings after dinner. That was a confusion to Nag Kath on his first trip but with a fairly good grounding in Variag, he understood quite a bit. The Elf wondered if his enthusiasm was helped by the shy glances of a comely young woman. It is not hard to sense when someone will look your way and avert her gaze just in time. She was caught flat-footed more than once, smiling one time. He put her at eighteen and always in the company of her mother, who looked less than pleased.

Nag Kath met with the Ghurs and others about Orlo. They were fascinated by the inverted symbols used as a ward for the river trolls. He showed them his sword, still deadly serviceable but not the elegant etched weapon to hang over the fireplace anymore. When Chûr joined them, he spoke in great detail of the glyphs, how those powers were intended to blend according to the size and placement of the symbols. The lad admitted it never seemed to work but now that he knew there had been those capable of wielding them. Only the fanatics were sent out from the Nûrnen but they did not always have the tact or intelligence to state their cases.

The Elf also wanted to know a lot more about Gelansor, its origin, its purpose and, especially, how it coincided with magiks in their past. It did seem that prophets came to them in those three days more commonly than not but records were poor, always handed down orally if there were survivors. He brought his Variag copy of the Dol Amroth packet.

The day before they left, a woman expecting a child in two months began having pain in her womb. Nag Kath was called urgently with his apprentice. In this part of the world, it was unseemly for men to attend women in such distress but time was of the moment. The Elf had her disrobe in her home and sat behind her as she stood, slowly sliding one hand over her belly with the other on the small of her back. Chûr watched the silver of his hand meet the yellow of her skin as the yellow retreated to her flesh. Nag Kath discovered a vein had become restricted and opened it with stimulus. She was weakened but did not lose her balance, nor was she embarrassed or self-conscious. The pain would take some hours to fade. Nag Kath thought she would be fine.

As they walked to their quarters before the last dinner here, Chûr's eyes were as wide as Florin. He knew how babies were started because the older Visitors were serviced. He had his own Feast experience. But those girls were removed if they conceived. Here was a young woman, as her husband had taken her, but well along with the precious life yet to come. She smiled at both of her healers as she dressed. That was the same smile of the girl at the holy day last summer, never the false smile of the pleasure women brought for the senior Richterns. It was the smile of a woman taking her joining to creation. Could he do that? He wanted to know more about women!

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

There were women in Mistrand! Some of them called to Chûr offering more than he could imagine for but a few coppers. After the wonder of their patient in the retreat, their pretended moans did not appeal.

There was no taint of the west here. Westron was uncommon, people were darker and occasional horses seemed to be wearing sheepskin coats. They stayed at a nice family home just east of the river with a right-living supporter told of their coming. As planned, they toured the boat-wrights looking for the old man in the picture.

When the healer had Nag Kath examine his own memories in Pelargir, he took a peek at the Orlo's face again. His subsequent drawing was so like the original that it did not help at all. He could not remember ever having done the same subject long after that didn't have material differences. That was the face he was meant to remember. Finding no Orlos, new or old, they thanked their hosts and started the ride into Khand. It was still a long, dull trip but now spring, much greener than in summer when the grasses dried. They visited the Temple of Lókuthor. It held no more sense of power or malice than the last time. Perhaps he had found his rest. The river between Dingarthir and Lhûg was fuller. Nag Kath showed his companion the wonders of fooling the large trout with clothed hooks. No one used those here and the fish had no defense. They ate well the whole way.

~o~

Oh, please let her be here! After all this time, there was no guarantee she still lived in Lhûg. Nag Kath gave his name to a new maid and asked if the lady Chûran was at home. Now he could do it in serviceable Variag.

The woman looked at him suspiciously and said she would ask before shutting and locking the door. He took that as a good sign. Chûr seemed relaxed but the Elf was sure he was roiling inside. A few minutes later the door opened and the woman showed them into the same room he remembered so well. She offered them seats but they remained standing.

Chûran came down the stairs as elegantly as he remembered, her face a little tighter but still a picture of beauty in the east. The woman looked only at the Elf. He remembered her vision was weakening. The three bowed and she smiled sweetly before saying, "Hello, Mr. Kash. Welcome. I did not think to see you here again."

There was no reason to be coy. He replied, "You asked if I saw a young officer that I should save him for you." Then he turned and gestured to Chûr.

It would not have been permissible in her former life but her jaw dropped before she could cover it. Then she glided to the young man and put her hands on either side of his face, very like her face. Mouth still open she looked at Nag Kath and back to her smiling son.

Neither of them said anything. Breaking the impasse, Nag Kath said, "I am sure you need to catch-up. I'll see you tomorrow."

Chûran remembered her tongue, "You might find scholars at number 40, Vue Örath, best of sirs."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

40 in the Örath quarter was nearly back to the river so he climbed on Charlo and walked him down the high-street. There seemed little use to move from one squalid building to another but who knew what had happened since the collapse of the rogue Hurm? He knocked on the door. It was immediately opened by a lad who might be here for a lesson. The Elf jested, "I am here for my tutoring."

The boy opened the door wider and asked if he had had tea. Cool would be lovely. Nag Kath asked, "Are you here alone?"

Boys do not admit when they are undefended so he answered, "Others are close by." When the tall stranger took a chair and his chipped mug, he wasn't so threatening. No one had told him to expect a stranger.

After ten minutes, the tall blonde stood up and examined the meager library of the Lhûg School of high learning. The boy got a bit more anxious but sat on his stool reading something. On the wall was the sheet they stole from Ûniarra Nûrn with origins of right-living. That was one of the reasons Nag Kath came. He studied it intensely, losing track of time until the door opened and Lurgsh walked in.

"By the sandy balls of Nûrad! Look who darkens our door!"

The two men embraced with the warmest smiles. Corporal, Captain, Scholar and soldier Lurgsh had put on a few pounds and his full head of curly hair was grayer but there was no mistaking that smile. The man turned to the boy and said, "Antonsh, can you get our guest some tea?"

The Elf said, "He got me some. Get some yourself and tell me why in the world you are still here."

"Fair enough! I will do so!" That was the voice he imagined the man lecturing bored students in larger classes than one would ever see here. The lad turned on his stool. This would be far more interesting than rules of protocol.

Lurgsh began, "It all went well. We got home safe. Shelturn stays at Hanvas Tûr but I see him, ummm, twice a year for a beverage. Idgshtok lives here. He married a big gal whose father runs a barrel smithy. He's got two kids …"

Antonsh corrected, "Two and another in the oven."

"There you have it. He drives them around and sells them to ale'ers and anyone else who wants them."

Nag Kath rejoiced, "We will close a tavern in short order with our stories!"

Lurgsh appraised the Elf. Now with long straw-colored hair rather than black braids he looked a sight more imposing. His tale after the battle would wait until he took care of some business. Lurgsh, I brought someone with me. I never told you all this …"

"You never told us many things!"

"You can add this one." He shifted his eyes to the staring lad.

Lurgsh reached into his pockets and pulled a fiver. "Antonsh, go down to Kelub's and fetch us a baby-cask. Get some sweets for yourself."

That was a hard bargain. The boy would rather hang on every word but there would be enough change to get sick twice on the cane rolls it would buy. He took the coins and was on his way.

"Chûran asked me to watch for her son, babe of Nulvanash, not yet shaving. I saw him walk by us with the fording-Richtren but we had other matters at hand. He escaped and turned-up in Minas Tirith, of all places. I captured him and he is just a regular fellow, lived with me for a year. He has some of his da's sorcery. We just spent two weeks in Yhammâs Fruhir and I brought him to meet his mother for the first time.

"I figure he may have some use in Hanvas Tûr but I won't go until that's a proper invitation."

Lurgsh held his estimable chin and said, "I'll get someone out of here this afternoon. We'll hear tomorrow."

"I've got a note already written. It's in the saddle-bag. Now, what's all this?"

Lurgsh sat down and told his guest to do the same. "The school still isn't a real school but we filter people through for the retreat. Right-living isn't so dangerous these days. The Khagan hasn't converted, but we did him a good turn and pay our taxes. There's been no trouble from the Nûrnen."

The changeling offered, "I went back to Mordor from the west two years ago. There was old sorcery on our side of the mountains. I fought some trolls."

"I figured that was you, never did have a bit of sense."

"No, but I do stumble into interesting things, like one of those dogs who chases boars out of the bushes. This went deep into our old friends, and not the fool with the ring. Old friends."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

In the better part of town, Chûran was still staring when her son said, "I think I remember you, behind a lattice with purple flowers growing up the side."

She unfroze and smiled, "Yes, purple in the spring, orange in the fall."

Then she cried, cried for a long time. Chûr showed her to the couch and sat beside her. The serving woman caught none of the exchange and was not sure this was safe but stood by if her mistress called for help. What she did call for was tea, in a voice that broached no discussion. They held nothing back. He had been taught never to cry, so he didn't. Chûran did often but they were tears for all the hopes and fears and regrets of the life she had no control over.

~o~

The two scholars tried to find Idgshtok for dinner but he was in Kembril tonight and should be back mid-day. His gal might have been one of the muscle healers but was more fat than strong. She did have a gleeful gap-toothed smile and two little ones pulling on her dress for attention. She would tell her husband that something was brewing at the school.

Lurgsh said grandly, "I'll tell you this for nothing, Nag Kath, the Khagan met with the Bror just like we hoped. When he got back here, he cleaned house. Those two Visitors met their ancestors in short order and he tightened the chain on that second boy. I think he was jostling for heir-apparent until his taste in company did for him. The first boy is back in line and there's a third who collects butterflies far enough away that he is not considered a threat."

The changeling said, "I'm surprised he let the two-son live."

"It seems his interests in the Visitors were not political."

"Well then, we need to keep him and that scholar away from the Assured's son. He looks like his mother but likes women. One admirer got his innards rearranged for insisting."

"On the subject; Scholar Îonzuld sleeps with his ancestors. Just keeled over a month, six weeks ago."

Always curious, Nag Kath mused, "Any chance of a look through those books again?"

"Probably. The house is still open while his nephews sort-out their differences. I expect the handman could use a few groats."

"For enough of them, the collection might disappear."

"Always thinking of the higher good, Nag!"

By the time Idgshtok's wagon made it back home, Shelturn had returned himself with the message from Hanvas Tûr. And, of course, the lad was invited. There weren't any Visitors, other than the young man himself, lurking in the shadows these days.

It was agreed that after Idgshtok and Shelturn washed, they would collect Chûr and close Adlubb's wine tavern that night. The three local scholars already had a pitcher on the table when Nag Kath and the curious guest came through. Introductions were made. For a few minutes, Chûr had a faraway look at the speed of events. That was gone when Idgshtok clapped him on the shoulder and said in their home language that he was glad he didn't stab him.

They had a roaring good time. Stares of more dignified diners were ignored. Chûr, who had learned how to tell a story by now, gave a more entertaining rendition of his escape than he told the interrogating Elf. Only Lurgsh had seen his da get pushed down the cliff by the Captain. Rydovosh's men made sure he stayed there.

Chûr was held in some respect because after allowing for his father, his mother was the one who knew how to get in and what to look for. Then she spent a year at the retreat finding peace within her. Now, she had the son, he wasn't a bad 'un … and what happened to their next pitcher?! The map was lost. Nag Kath was proud of that map. As art it was third-rate, but as strategy, it should have lived on. When Adlubb and all his staff stood around their table, the men settled the bill and went home.

Shelturn was still a soldier and he was ready after dawn porridge of gureeq. So were the travelers, even if Chûr was still a bit red about the eyes. He was not a drinker, and did not drink much the night before, but still more than usual of the potent fruit wine. The route back seemed so familiar to Nag Kath. Even in this day of safety, Shelturn still rode off to the left towards the creek and they walked the horses up several hundred feet in midstream until leaving on shale chips up the other bank. Good habits die hard.

The Ghurs were on the porch like parents after a play with greetings and introductions all round. None of them had ever met Nulvanash. Chûr looked little like him anyway but they all saw his mother's bones. The stories told over alcohol last night were told again more thoroughly. Nag Kath was hoping to speak to folk and thumb through the archives. He also wanted to know what had been discovered of the Yvsuldor's original mission. He reminded all that the shamble of Nulvanash did not reflect the prior enforcers.

He saw Nenwûla of the Viersh. She had a husband! It would take three of him to equal one of her but beauty is in the eye of the suitor. Exaggerated stories of her horse purge were so funny that even she smiled timidly. One of the horses was Chûr's. He did not remember it so fondly. Nenwûla was one of the reasons Nag Kath came. If she agreed, and it was explained this was entirely her choice, the young man had some of the same gifts, the ones she might share. He was at a Saying now so the old conspirators could speak privately.

"I am honored, Mr. Kash. I do not know a great deal of this healing."

"You just do what you can for him. He is a raw talent, not powerful, but any talent should be on the side of right-living."

"If the Ghurate agrees, and the young man is sound, I will do so. I am no longer on the council. It was better for me to concentrate on my caring."

Nag Kath explained what happened to his back and the healer of Pelargir. She knew and respected the Nûradi school, wondering how one of them made it to the great river. He gave the healer a kiss on the forehead and thanked her for her courage.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Shelturn and Nag Kath left Chûr at the retreat and rode back to Lhûg for another look at those books. Lurgsh kicked himself for not doing that sooner but the great victory at the Nargil did not come with cash spoils.

They would visit the late scholar's home. Forgery was required. The same handman from the Mordor fraud opened the door, something he hadn't done much in the month after the funeral. Lurgsh, chosen for his commanding baritone, announced, "We have come for the books. Have they been prepared?"

The handman, no shrinking violet, said, "This home and everything in it is the property of the Tudsh family. I have received no instruction about any books."

Lurgsh turned to the tall, blonde, "Do I have the contract or do you?"

Nag Kath slapped his pockets and produced a rather official sheet that clearly outlined specific volumes they remembered from their visits, some of the framed documents and other items. He offered it to the handman and they both waited. It was signed by nephew Culhbrad the week before stating the estate had been settled. Culhbrad earned the role because his signature and chop were also on file at the city registry for a smaller property that had been granted outright.

The handman gave the sheet back and said, "This is most irregular. The other two nephews are not mentioned at all." So, the man could read. It was time to set the hook.

Lurgsh acted surprised, "I cannot speak to that. I just know we were to leave cash for the other two parties so the one could sell all the books."

"Cash?"

"Yes, it is written here, no, where's that other sheet?" They were good at this playacting.

The tall blonde produced another note on the same paper. "Ah, here it is. The sum of three parts in four of a Numenorean Florin was to be left here against the delivery to a buyer in Nûrad." He gave the handman the second sheet. To make things more fungible, Lurgsh added, "We have but two of the grooved gold coins and will have to pay the rest in silver. Is that agreeable?"

That was very agreeable. Threes, as written in local script, were notoriously easy to change to twos. The handman had long experience in such household finance. Two nippers for the out-of-town nephews and ten silvers, one for cook and the rest for the handman's pending retirement.

Lurgsh said solicitously, "Please sign here." The lot was loaded onto a cart that looked suspiciously like an ale wagon and anchored the school's library for many a day.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

After another week of scholarship, Nag Kath waved goodbye to his friends. He had collected on the hope of meeting them again in a better place. The young sorcerer would have to find his own way from here but he could not ask for better guidance. Chûran was radiant. If the Elf wasn't married, he might have stayed longer. He had one more stop that would take him out of his way. Nag Kath could not get it out of his head there was a secret waiting in the imaginary garden. He would visit the Bror.

Long trips didn't bother the changeling at all. No one bothered him going by the horse-lands of the eastern Rhûn. Soldiers stared. Long after Frûnzar stole most of them, horses were watched more closely than single riders. A few men at the changing stations still did not eat the whisker-fish, but then, Nag Kath did not prefer them either.

Five miles from Kugavod, a half-troop of trained riders intercepted him to ask his business. He said he was paying his respects to Bror Dulgov. More westerlings did these days, but not coming from this direction. He was escorted to the same place in the city compound he had always gone and a robed retainer took him back to the original waiting room. After he told the man his name, he was moved to the barred room of the last visit. Dulgov did not take pointless chances.

"And how are you, Lord Kath?"

"I am well your Excellency. Please forgive me for coming unannounced."

"Your timing was good. I leave for my summer palace in a week. What brings you here?"

"I was in the region and heard a piece of historical art from my homeland might be for sale. Then I will join a merchant train back to the Celduin."

That story might not hold if he came from Mistrand but no one told the Bror. The man got closer to his side of the bars and asked, "What is this I hear about trolls on the river?"

"An old sorcery, forgotten in time. There may be more of them about."

"It pays us all to be vigilant. Do not forget the art tax."

Nag Kath was sure he would not come to terms with the seller but said he would report any such transactions.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

The next morning he left Charlo at the inn and walked to the old compound. Someone had stacked a pile of firewood in one corner but it was as abandoned as it had been. Nag Kath combed the grounds. The little huts still held only spiders. He looked inside for any glyphs or tokens. He had not spent much time in the center so he slowly walked where the flowers and vegetables had been so carefully tended.

Nag Kath wasn't sure what he was looking for, something different, something that did not belong here. After two hours in the sun, he decided nothing would come of it.

That was when the orc stepped on the rake of remembrance. He looked at the hole in the wall with the winding trail towards the center of town that his little guide discouraged him from taking the last time. What had Orlo told him in this very place? He cudgeled his brain until he remembered the old boat-wright's politely declining Nag Kath's offer to help him escape;

"Remember in leaving, you can not always take the straight path."

The path was grown-over with weeds. He put one foot in front of the other and slowly walked back to the inn. A hundred paces towards the palace he felt the token, something he would not have noticed then. A minute of brushing away dirt showed a copper coin, now brown from age. Had he been meant to see this the first time? It was the same size as a fiver but had only a single symbol he did not recognize.

In the main street he approached a moneylender, distinguishable by his yellow cap. The ignorant foreigner inquired, "Excuse me sir, I was given this in change. Is it the same as a five-groat coin?

The man took it and looked at both sides carefully. He shook his head and said, "No, same size, but the ruler ordered them all gathered many years ago and melted to bronze for battle. A few might be here or there but this is only the second I have seen. I will give you a five-groat westerling coin for it."

"Thank you, sir. I shall keep it as a memento of my inattention."

From here he made straight home. Dale would be an easy trip but he told Phylless this was a spring and summer effort.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~