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

41. Chapter 41 Swan Breeze

Chapter 41

Swan Breeze

The most useful maps for the next few chapters are; coastal Haradwaithe, Haradwiathe and Far Harad. This is now outside the realm of Tolkien canon from his original legendarium. Im gur period com/gallery/jHPlDU8

~o~

The Swan Breeze eased into the channel on July 18th. Captain Penandoth swung wide at the mouth and made due south for Harondor. After seven days of a favoring breeze, they turned thirty degrees to starboard about even with the Harnen river mouth. Still well to sea, the plan was to avoid Umbar altogether. They were friendly on paper, but stealth was better than diplomacy. Thirty-five leagues of sea between the Bay of Umbar opening and the Swan kept them away from coastal raiders.

The Peristonig brothers, Ubier and Udan, were from Umbar and kept one eye on the eastern horizon no matter what else they did. Their father left home under less than gracious circumstances. No one knew them from Durok, but they would rather not answer questions. Listracht taught them a few objections in Khandian to trick port authorities. Listracht was not a sailor but he wasn't sick either and learned things as they went.

The route would take them past the islands of Tol Ulaigaer. That was deep in Umbar waters too, but no matter which way the wind blew, they would have the faster ship. That would be a good place to take on fresh water. Questionable reports suggested the islands had some independence from the Umbari lords but that could be good or bad. A Navy harrier with bowmen and ballista would not be a fat target. They had Gondor, Belfalas and several other flags to run up the mast depending on the company.

The Swan Breeze had to fight the wind a bit more heading west and that came with a fair summer squall. The triangular rear sail was easily converted to catch rain for the barrels. That gave them the option of sailing between the islands and the mainland and not needing water at all, but a few leaks from the Swan's first long outing would be easier to caulk in the harbor.

~o~

Three weeks and three days after leaving Dol Amroth, the ship rounded the tip of the largest island and made due west for the capital of Erelond. Folk here called it Uialdur. Like most deep-blue islands, it was a steep mountain sticking out of the water. The west side caught more rain but the east had enough to service Erelond and a few smaller ports on the protected side of the rock. They anchored two hundred yards off the city in calm water to stuff oakum into the seams.

At rest, a lighter rowed by four-men came alongside offering fruit and water or they would go get other supplies in town. The Swan had water but the fruit was too good to pass. They also had an owner not nearly as stingy as most. Second Mate Kevland did the negotiating in Westron with Udan listening if needed. They bought all the fruit and ordered baskets of rock-crabs to be brought back that afternoon. Yellow Odar were biting off the lines so the hard biscuits could keep getting harder for now. Nag Kath had enough Lembas to last the crew a month if they ate it in Elf-sized portions.

From here, Penandoth sailed south southwest for the Cape of Mardruak. This was considered the end of the world for men of the north. It was also the last reliable map in the chest. From there down they only had rough drawings that did not show shoals or islands. There were rock islands off the tip of Mardruak so unless they sailed well west, they had to skirt those in sunlight. It was also only a week's sailing with a favoring westerly wind. In sunlight the coast varied from yellow to brown with occasional fields along meager streams.

First Mate Jeurgans made notes in his log about the wind direction, currents, tides near the coast and even what bait the fish ate along the way. They might have to fight the same winds the whole way back. Mardruak was also the first place men noticed new stars to the south as ones to the far north got closer to the horizon. The due-north Carnipal star was still visible but probably only had another several hundred leagues before it would be lost with the rest. Mate Kevland watched for new bearing-stars coming into view.

It was hot. They needed the breeze to travel and to dry their shirts after a hard day's work. Precious water was not used any but the most essential washing. At night, the aft sail was manned for enough speed to follow the wind but the mainsail was rolled. For entertainment, the crew told stories. Listracht told Nag Kath tales better then the Elf. Since a few yarns were proven, men tended to believe most of the rest. The Elf had not shown any sorcery but had stitched a few cuts that healed much faster than they should have.

After making the cape, the Swan Breeze turned ten degrees further east. From here they only sailed by the rear mast at night. This was still open-ocean but one of their dubious maps showed bare islands so those were probably there along with others not included. On this course, they should pass a bay larger than Umbar servicing the largest river of Harad. They barely saw it but that it was where someone had drawn it gave the navigators slightly more confidence in their charts.

~o~

Two weeks of blue-water brought them to another point and a sheltered river harbor called Ûrêzáyan. Penandoth order her anchored on a good sand bottom two hundred yards off the wharf and they waited to see who arrived. This time it was a military vessel perhaps two-thirds the length of the Swan. With both oars and sails, it was better suited for coastal fighting than the Belfalas harrier if one did not consider the sorcerer on board. They pulled to well within ballista range but were not aggressive. Their officer called in a pigeon combination of mostly Southron with Sindarin, "Good day, travelers. How can the Khan of Ûrêzáyan assist in your travels?"

That took a few minutes to translate between the Peristonig brothers and Nag Kath. Whatever else the Ûrêzáyani were, they were not Umbari. After the back-and-forth, the Elf interpreted for the Captain, "Thank you for your courtesy. We seek provisions."

"The Khan would know who visits on this fair day."

They had an answer for that if they could figure how to express it. That fell to Nag Kath who shouted, "We travel to Miraz where it is said are learned men." He hoped he hadn't said 'we come to burn your children'.

That took some head-scratching on the other ship. Finally the man shouted, "Perhaps we talk, yes?"

Nag Kath looked at Penandoth and said, "I will take the boat with a couple lads and make some sense of this. Keep bows to the ready but below the gunwales, eh?

Penandoth nodded grimly and muttered, "Charts."

~o~

The Elf's entourage included Dal, Listracht, Ubier Peristonig and Seaman Garhvies, who looked like he ate nails in his porridge. They dropped the skiff and rowed over to the Haradrim craft, climbing up a rope ladder and presenting themselves on deck. The northerners knew how to bow and did. So did their hosts. The three senior crew sat amidships on cushions with a like number of local men, one of whom looked much too old to be an ordinary sailor. He said little but it was clear he made the decisions.

Given a respectable time to ask, interpret and answer, the Gondorans explained they were going to the great gulf further south to trade and learn the lore of ancient ancestors. Nag Kath was very careful not to give any clues how they felt about the Faithful/Sauron question. Sailors seldom wore articles of faith unless one included small Ulmo medallions on lanyards should the great Vala Lord have to decide their fate. Those were in pockets now. No matter how one felt about dark lords, favor with the sea never hurt.

There was no telling how these people were ruled, but if the local man claimed to be a Khan, that implied he had more ground inland than just the city harbor. After an hour of pleasant conversation more about the northerners than Ûrêzáyan, the older man said something to his fellows. The officer considered that and said, "The Khan would extend his courtesy for your high-men to dine with him tomorrow. Does that meet with your approval?"

Nag Kath had a decision to make. He had dragged nineteen men with him to investigate a five-groat copper. A pure merchant would be asking what these folks had to trade. Since that probably did not amount to much, everyone smiled and the Elf said he would be honored. A day's leisure would allow them to prepare an appropriate gift for his Excellency.

The old man said something else after that was interpreted and the officer said, "Our ruler is known as Khan Feurhlan. A lighter will come tomorrow after mid-day."

Someone was getting promoted. The Captain and First Mate would stay right where they were. Second Mate Kevland was neither married nor skittish so he half-volunteered to be the ship's officer representing unspecified Lords of Gondor. Dal and Listracht would come and so would one of the Peristonigs for Southron. The brothers were now well south of old troubles and getting good pay for what to this point had been a pleasure cruise.

~o~

Now, what would the esteemed Khan of Ûrêzáyan like from the hold?

Picking through the crates, Athmandal started with a small pouch of the Halfling leaf, along with a pipe. There were several nippers worth of rings and earrings in the bag. One of a dozen fine Dwarvish daggers for just such an occasion worked well in Mordor so they would try one here along with a small box of fire-glasses. If those went over well, a pair of reading spectacles might too. Also in the hold was an assortment of presentation boxes. This was the first time they had been used but being nice to people they met was anticipated for a dozen times.

The lighter pulled alongside at the two-bell and the dignitaries climbed down the rope amidships where the rail was lowest. There were six oarsmen and a caller on the tiller. Neither side understood the other so the travelers sat along the rails and the boat made back to shore.

It was not much of a wharf but easy to disembark so the august representatives were led on foot along a surprisingly wide boulevard towards a white mansion on the hill. It did not seem the sort of place one with enemies would live. The wall would stop creatures from eating the plants but not anyone with a ladder. The gate-guard opened the door without a word and they were led into a very pretty garden still in full bloom with flowers none of them had seen before. Two door guards stiffened as they passed and the five found themselves in an entryway leading to a spacious main room with large plants, trees almost, in huge clay pots near open windows. Those windows were covered by a very fine screen mesh to repel stinging insects.

A steward stood with them wordlessly for a few minutes until a man dressed mostly in white with a sword and blue cap came in from a corridor accompanied by the old man on the boat. On cue, the Gondoran's bowed and stood ready to receive their host's greeting. Joining them from the other side of the room was a younger man with longer, oiled hair and good teeth; a ladies man as one might style one's self in Ûrêzáyan. He had some Westron and asked the dignitaries to step inside and make themselves comfortable on cushions facing an elevated dais The two counselors took seats on large pillows to the man's left. The pillow on his right was not used.

The lady's man introduced his superior as Khan Feurhlan to seated bows from the Swan crew. The speaker was Qhuerisj and the esteemed gentleman was Dur Ouranda.

This was Nag Kath's show so he introduced the other four knowing he would have to take their promotions back on the ship. Before any further discussion, could they humbly present an unworthy tribute to their lordly host?

Dal brought his small chest halfway between the two parties and opened it facing the Khan. Then he bowed and resumed his seat. An attendant from the shadows collected the box and placed it in front of Dur Ouranda who picked through the items.

This could go several ways; the man might be dismissive to show superiority. They could dig in like orcs eating the parlay pigs. What they got was genuine interest in the practical things, especially the fire-stones. After explaining them, it would not do until their hosts took one outside to burn holes in a leaf. Judging the way the exalted looked at the leaf, Nag Kath thought he would risk the spectacles saying, "My Lord, the small leather case has fire-glasses for one's eyes."

Ouranda found that and removed the delicate silvered frames. Nag Kath made dumb-show of how they fit. The counselor put them on and his eyes got as big as saucers. He pulled his hand in and out of focus and smiled, reluctantly handing them to his Lord. Feuhrlan would try them at his convenience.

~o~

Dinner was Odar and mutton with local grain, vegetables and fruit to follow served around a low oval table. No alcohol was included. In the course of the meal, Nag Kath said they were scholars seeking wisdom said to be archived in the great gulf eighty leagues south. That could be touchy. They could be here to scout how to bring an invasion fleet. Great Lords of the north would not bother with Ûrêzáyan but these lads might have allies along the Gulf of Harad who wouldn't appreciate collaboration with infidels.

They were lucky. Ouranda said through Qhuerisj that the high Sayers of the great gulf were largely in Bozisha-Dar, the furthest interior river delta of the gulf. That was where the Kaintug (King's Tongue?) was still spoken. Other records were kept in the Bûr Esmer river mouth but they were of new speech. Of course, no one of repute would look along the southern gulf coast, it being inhabited by persons of low intelligence and character. Second Mate asked, "My Lords, have you sea charts of your recommended places?"

The three Haradrim consulted each other and Qhuerisj said, "Our navigators will provide you with one after breakfast. So; they were staying the night. That almost got complicated when the last course was served by two stunning young women identically dressed in sheer garments of pale green. After two months at sea, the sailors had trouble keeping their eyes inside their heads. The women, not much more than girls, brought a small bowl to each diner. It was some sort of long white grain with spices and sugars in a milk sauce and would have been delicious if anyone was paying attention.

That course concluded the meeting. The guests rose to bow as the Khan took his leave with Ouranda. Qhuerisj's men showed the sailors to individual rooms with comfortable cushions on the floor over woven mats made from swamp reeds. The morning amounted to no more than a bowl of the same grain served plainly, fruit and local tea. As they were leaving, an attendant brought a tube which presumably held some sort of chart. Nag Kath would not offend by opening it until he was back on the Swan.

Penandoth and the Elf unrolled the sheet as soon as they got below-decks. All the other three did was talk about the girls which wound everyone on board all the tighter. Perhaps they would find a city on the gulf that did not observe Gelansor too strenuously.

The chart was useful but probably not to scale. It had been copied in the night. What mattered was showing the cities of note along the northern coast of the great gulf all the way back to Bozisha-Dar. It was a little like the Rhûn with deep river inlets defended by sharp peninsulas like fingers into the ship channels. None of the southern coastal cities were shown, if there were any. Were they hostile or stupid?

It was still more detailed than the charts of Lord Éomander's book and similar from here to the mouth of the gulf, about twenty degrees south southeast west. A collection of dots off one of the fingers suggested they weren't found for the next fifty leagues. A gift of fruit baskets was appreciated. It was enough that some was dried in the sun for later or it would spoil in the heat. Sailors often have trouble removing waste with a diet of hard meat and grains so this was considered medicinal as well.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Another weeks' sailing brought them to a thumb of land Counselor Qhuerisj called Belazhn. That was the turn into the Gulf of Harad. All things considered, they got here sooner than expected. They hadn't seen a single hostile ship. No one scowled at the two places they stopped. The weather was fair and there had been no serious accidents or deaths in a business that could deal them with blinding speed.

But that should have been the easy part. If the new chart was any good at all, there were two bottlenecks where fleets could pin them to the shore or issue small craft from harbors, maybe both. This gulf was three times the size of Elvish Lhún with many more inlets, coves and outright bays for corsairs to hide.

Penandoth and Nag Kath spent time on deck as the Swan made her way along the coast towards the thumb. It was open water for about thirty leagues inside the gulf but narrowed to a pinch between peninsulas from north and south to get to the next two thirds of the way. They made the turn into the waterway and lazily looped along the northern coast.

There were a lot more than lonely Dwarves staring at the ship. The first tense moment was when a smaller merchantman of Umbar design passed them outbound. Men on deck nodded as they often do and neither vessel changed course. Fish liked their bait but there were also strange creatures with long limbs that shot through the water in large flocks. Men tossed nets off the transom and snared a few for the pot. Too tough to eat as they were, cook smashed them with a mallet before adding them to the stew. Other large fish swam along the surface, just out of spear-range, and blew water from holes in their heads.

~o~

Real trouble started after passing the pinch and riding the upper coastal waters. Two ships from the north and one coming from the east converged on them. The Swan had the wind behind and the other ships had to tack for position but it was still three to one. The two vessels from the north depended on wind as well but the larger one had a single square sail and what looked like fifteen oars to either side. She was a fighter, and no error.

Penandoth had his mates call for bows to be strung but kept out of sight. The floating shields were ready to mount and the ballistas had been in place since they left home. There was a ramming nose on the galley, no sign of smoke for fire arrows yet.

This was one of those points where it might pay to see what the locals could manage. The deeper they went, the harder it would be to get out again. They had no idea if the men who governed this vast water-land were in accord or if each city-nation along the shore made its own rules. Losing the two sailing ships would be no trouble. Turning hard would take them out of the galley's range.

Nag Kath said, "If you think it wise, let us learn their intentions."

The Captain nodded. He ordered the Swan to tack slightly starboard, giving the galley a clear path by. If she shifted towards them, they would turn hard and see how far Northman arrows could fly. The galley held course but slowed. So did the Swan. Two hundred paces away, the galley shipped oars and drifted forward so Captain Penandoth took in sail to pass slowly, about eighty paces between them. A man in pale colors climbed the rigging and shouted over in a similar tongue to the Ûrêzáyan but with more emphasis on the Sindarin.

"You sail the waters of Khan Nurvahl. What is your intention?"

"Nag Kath said in Sindarin, "We make for Bozisha." That was taking the chance these lads were friendly. The Swan flew the colors of Dol Amroth for all that meant here. It would not be long before the two coastal ships reached them. Putting on sail fast gave them another five minutes before it was time to leave. One word and it would happen. Men watched the galley for smoke or heads failing to stay low.

~o~

They saw both. Whatever these men thought of Bozisha, they would help themselves to the Swan. A fire ballista was lit on the galley and shot towards their sail. It missed, but now they had the range.

Men clipped the shields to port and took position with their bows. All that was rendered moot when the Elf stood on the rail and unleashed a fearsome bolt of fire from his hand. It seemed to burn a swath along the water across the middle of the galley. Men below decks screamed as smoke billowed out of the oar ports. A second flame headed directly for the man who hailed them, burning the clothes from his body. Without Gandalf's true fire-bringing, this was more fireworks than weaponry, but the galley was not going to loiter finding out. Except for the burned ports, they pulled for their lives towards the closing sail-ships that were now veering hard to either side.

If the Swan crew wasn't already about to regret all the fruit in their diet, one of the galley sailors dousing the fire on deck suddenly flew overboard and skipped across the chop like a flat stone until he smacked into the side of the Swan Breeze. Men pulled him out of the water as the wind filled their sails. Other than some bruises and coughing water, he was intact. Penandoth ordered, "Bind him below-decks. We will have words shortly."

With their pursuers bringing in sail and the galley facing the wrong way, the Swan sailed due east leaving the locals in the horizon. Story-time was different tonight. Nag Kath sat down with his bowl of fish stew and said to those not navigating, "Good work lads. I think we should hear what our guest has to say."

Seaman Curisau said, "With due respect, sir, I would like to hear what the DOUGSH happened this afternoon!"

Listracht commented, "That was an interesting combination, Your Lordship."

That was what everyone else was thinking so Nag Kath answered, "I am a wizard, probably the last. I am going to our destination to see what is left of Sauron's tools. If I find them, I will destroy them. I made an example of that galley so when we leave, those folk will be less inclined to interfere.

"I cannot say what to expect as we get near the river mouth but I suspect people there are much more like those of Dol Amroth than the Southrons. They were the last King's-men. Does anyone know who they were?"

One man offered, "The Faithless."

"Right. It is said that the Faithful and the Faithless battled again down here. We do not know who won. My guess is the Faithless, but the ships we saw today are probably just pirates. The Captain and I will get the prisoner's views on that shortly. Anything else?"

~o~

The Harad was escorted out of the stifling bilge and tied to a pylon. Seaman Gharvies took the gag from his mouth and gave him a long drink. He had fouled himself below and had a wicked weal on one side of his face from hitting the ship. If he could die right now, he would.

Udan Peristonig was with the Captain, Listracht and Elf away from the other men on deck. Nag Kath asked in Westron, "What is your name, sailor?"

When that got nothing he tried Sindarin. The man understood some of it but it wasn't until Udan asked in Harad that he said, "Voulshuh."

"Why did you attack?"

Voulshuh was confused. They gave him a drink. No one had bent his fingernails back or tied stones between his toes and twisted the string. There were many ways to make men talk and he had seen none of them yet. He said in a Southron dialect, "Captain says to burn sail."

Penandoth was interested but knew their primary need was for who was in charge here so he deferred to the Elf for questions. Nag Kath obliged, "Who commands?"

"Captain Hughl."

"Who commands him?"

That question didn't stick. Nag Kath tried again, "Who is Lord on land?"

There was no answering that. It was as Nag Kath thought when asked why his Uruks were in Gondor. If you say, the boss will take a week to kill you. If you don't, this lot uses you for bait. Better later than now so he said, "Dourouthu of Ajesfa."

Penandoth asked "Where's that?"

"North, north harbor on peninsula."

The Elf asked, "Where is Bozisha-Dar?"

"East."

Penandoth; "How far?"

"So far, we never go there. Hard men, good ships. Duneishda!"

The Elf took the lead, "Dunedain?"

That was a stretch too far for deckhand Voulshuh.

Nag Kath did not come from the interrogation school of Belfalas sailors. This man wasn't going anywhere. He couldn't get away. He obviously was not willing to die withholding information out of loyalty to his loving Khan. As far as the Elf was concerned, he was the newest crew member who would share everything he knew for a considerably better outcome than he deserved. Nag Kath said as much to Penandoth who saw it the same way. Udan was deputized to be his new friend.

Udan wasn't too sure about that, but he interpreted. Nag Kath took a piece of paper out of his pocket with Fûl on one side and Orlo on the other. The stunned sailor did not respond to either, even after a flash of yellow from the Elf. Penandoth said, "Cut him loose and get him some food."

~o~

Later; the interrogators sat near the prow, Penandoth with a small clay pipe of the bribing pipe-weed. After a good puff he asked, "That little trick with the yellow?"

"A confusion spell. Not a good description as I do them, but it will be hard to get out of his mind. I need that man to tell us what we're sailing into. If we get a chance, someone closer will be better, but I am not expecting many volunteers.

"All is on plan. We sail into the river mouth with goods for sale like any merchantman and see what they have to trade. A curiosity, yes, but we've seen half a dozen ships minding their own business already. We find out if Sauron or the Witch-king has any real power here, not claiming it or aligning with old demons, I mean summoning powers of old."

Listracht wondered, "Then what?"

"One of us dies. If they get me, sail home and collect your money." Nag Kath grinned, "But not before."

Voulshuh settled in fairly well. He ate like he hadn't been fed in months. He might not have, but more than the slaves pulling oars. Men on board were careful with their deck knives. When a sail-tie worked loose, Ubier ordered him up the rigging to secure it and was obeyed with fair competence. After a few days, the man thought he might live.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

The Swan Breeze took their time getting across the middle wide zone of the gulf. They faced a second pinch point to enter the third which seemed rather spacious past that point. The hills to the north were getting greener. Capt'n anchored in a group of islands on the boot-toe of the peninsula to see what kind of commercial traffic came and went. Elf eyes on the nearest rock scoured the water for merchantmen plying this route. Men used the time to swim and wash their clothes. The ship was perfect; new enough not to be rotting and fully broken-in.

Two days later, a convoy of three ships sailed past them into what was called the Bay of Miraz. The lead ship was a fighter under sail with oars shipped. The two behind were cargo-craft low in the water carrying as much sail as they could. Penandoth eased the Swan out three leagues behind them just like a child following his big brothers.

Made for speed, the Swan only hung enough sail to keep in sight of the convoy. The next day, the fighter took the rear-guard to watch them but they maintained their pace. It was a long trip. This leg of the gulf was fully sixty leagues from the pinch to the river. Part of the reason for following was to appear one of the pack. Another was to see how they navigated shallows. Sizeable islands dotted the north coast and came in from the south protecting the huge bay of a large river.

~o~

On the third day, the experiment was put to the test. Two war galleys were moored off the furthest southern island. The convoy sailed past with the Swan Breeze ten miles back. Men on the decks looked at the sleek design but no one ordered them to do anything. Voulshuh muttered, "Duneishda."

Udan explained that to Nag Kath. "Warriors. Old, fierce, not Harad."

The Elf asked the prisoner, "Do they speak your tongue?"

"Yours." The prisoner wanted nothing to do with the Duneishda but knew he was staked to the ship with the man of fire. It was said men here could do likewise. They set anchor along the northern bank to consider the next move. The convoy had continued but the gulf was getting tight and there was no reason to rush. Chances were good another flotilla would be along soon enough if they wanted company. Ships in groups of twos and threes passed them in the morning. They seemed ordinary enough.

About lunchtime, a smaller, single merchantman came their direction hugging the bank. It saw them and stopped. A harrier in the Anduin mouth was the poor-cousin in those fleets but it was a capable pirate in the Bay of Miraz. The merchants were trapped. Turning back exposed their flank. Going on took them perilously close if the Swan Breeze wasn't friendly. She seemed to be waiting for a group to join.

Listracht, Penandoth and Nag Kath, who started calling themselves 'The Three', agreed they should have a word. The Swan put on just enough sail to pull slowly fifty paces off her port side and drift. Men gathered along the rail. No weapons were displayed. The Elf stood on the rail holding on to the rigging and called in Sindarin, "We would like to talk."

In the same tongue, after a thousand years of separation, the deck officer yelled back, "About what?"

"Discussing cargo. I will come over in a small boat."

The Captain of the Phaezael thought if the man volunteered to be a hostage, he could hear his tale so he shouted, "Come aboard!"

The men of the Swan Breeze were now sure that the Elf was mad or had eggs of brass, probably both. Dal and Listracht got the job of rowing him over and all three climbed the rope ladder. The master, a tall man here at six feet, walked up to the travelers and said, "This way." Dal stayed with the boat.

The tillerman left after a wink and the two men sat on a bench along the stern.

"Well, you are here."

"Thank you. We are heading to Bozisha for the first time and were attacked some leagues back by a galley and two one-masted huraugh. I want to be sure of my welcome."

"Huraugh? Not ours."

"That is good to know. So we are not confused for enemies, what is the way to present ourselves at the harbor?"

The Captain had now decided this lot wasn't here to take his ship so he could cooperate. "Use the orange dock. State your business. The harbormaster will ask a few questions. His wife is fond of jewelry."

Nag Kath leaned forward a bit, the universal signal that a more confidential question was coming. "There is another concern. Being from foreign lands, we do not want to be insensitive to the customs of this fair port. Who rules and does he have strong religious views?"

Captain Estanfurar thought that a very foreign question indeed. Like all civilized men, they believed in the Valar, headed, of course, by Melkor who had now reclaimed mastery after Sauron was murdered. A man needed a sense of fitness. The blonde northerner with the impossible accent brightened noticeably when told, obviously pleased that men here understood the nature of Those Named, unlike the swarthy race that attacked them.

The smiling blonde asked, "Should we be asked to explain ourselves, who rules the lands of the Bozisha, best of sirs?"

"Lord Ar-Gimilzôr."

"A Khan?"

Estanfurar stared at him as if he was not as bright as he first appeared. Relenting he said, "King. Khan is a Harad term. You will not find that appreciated here."

The tall man stood and said, "I cannot thank you enough. We would disgrace ourselves for lack of consideration. Oh, the corsairs were just off the second point on the north; two huraugh hugging the coast and the galley in deeper water."

Captain Estanfurar thought that a fair exchange. The greenbottom was rowed back to his ship and the merchantman dropped sail to deliver their cargo.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Melkor!

They rowed in silence.

Melkor!

Listracht and Nag Kath exchanged enough glances that Dal started doing it too.

Melkor! Why Melkor? Dal asked, "Something is new?"

The Elf said, "No, and yes. A very old player has come into the game. It is probably nothing. We need answers."

Athmandal knew that meant to keep his thoughts to himself.

~o~

The Swan Breeze added sail as soon as they were on deck and the skiff hauled onto its mounts. That evening, Listracht, Penandoth and Nag Kath sat on the fo'c'sle and smelled the breeze. The Captain said, "I know the name. He was Morgoth, yes?"

Listracht pulled out of his reverie and said, "They say the most powerful and terrible being to ever stalk the earth. It took all of the Valar, men and Elves to barely beat him. I don't know much more. He was said to be destroyed well before his servant Sauron came up in the world.

Nag Kath added, "I suppose it matters more what he is to these people. The Captain said Melkor now leads the Valar. We know better. We will need answers and those might be a while in coming."

Listracht said, "Like in Mordor. There is true power and there are those who claim it, both dangerous. Nag Kath, can you feel such things?"

"I think so. Here is our new plan; the Ship is now the Fûl."

Penandoth asked, "The Fool?"

The Elf grinned, "Close enough. Please have this carved onto new prow boards before we dock." He gave him the two-sided sheet. "From now on, we are exactly what Mr. Listracht and I claim to oppose. We are of the Yvsuldor, followers of the Witch-King of Angmar. He was Sauron's servant. Sauron was Morgoth's servant. If this Ar-Gimilzôr wants to outrank us, we will admit the error of our ways and ask his instruction. This may help since we will seem willing converts to higher authority." He made a note to hide all of the Tar-Palantir nippers since he was a bitter enemy of those who became the King's-Men.

Nag Kath continued, "From now on, I am Nag Solvanth, the arrogant, witless son of a savvy Pelargir merchant. I have small powers in the service of the Witch-King. Captain, you are exactly as you seem, trying to turn a profit with side orders to make something of me. I will become entranced by the new order of things here and you must tolerate it because you get a large bonus for returning me to my loving family alive.

"Mr. Listracht, you are also my father's counselor or servant at need and will stay with me trying to talk sense into my thick head. At other times, you will be the High Visitor while looking for Orlo."

The right-living soldier said, "Methinks the disdained south bank is the likely wager for those chafing at Lord Melkor's kindly rule. If they are here, they will be watching the ship."

The Elf closed saying, "Captain Penandoth, keep a sharp eye for little harbors where you can lay up while the foolish son wastes your time. Make it comfortable and out of the way. You will be in charge of the bribes. We were just told the harbormaster's wife is fond of jewelry."

The Captain told woodworker Soldient to carve new name boards. Nag Kath took a candle to the bilge for a small ballast stone and spent the next morning chiseling strange markings into one side.

~o~

Like others in this gulf, the river harbor was a long funnel of mostly mud banks with occasional rock outcroppings. There were settlements on both banks with a small island nearer the south. The newly-named Fûl followed a small galley past it and saw two small patrol boats come to intercept them. Penandoth ordered them to bring in the sails and they drifted as the boats rowed alongside.

A young man called from the deck in the curious Sindarin dialect, "You are new here. State your business!"

Nag Kath replied, "We are men of the north come to trade and pay our respects to Lord Ar-Gimilzôr."

That seemed to be the right answer. The fellow talked with someone on deck a moment and said, "Continue to the orange dock on the starboard side with the other deep water craft. Speak to the Harbormaster."

Nag Kath asked, "What is his name, best of sirs?"

"Benigrautha. He will find you."

It was still several hours with the breeze in their favor. Both mates were watching the wind closely wondering how to tack their way out in the tight bay without getting within ballista-range of the banks. They saw a number of merchant vessels but it wasn't until they made the main wharves that they saw more war ships. Two sail galleys were moored before what they took to be the orange dock. Eighty feet long and broad abeam, they would be serious customers if they caught you downwind.

One was empty but for the deck guard. The other was fully crewed and they stared to a man until an officer told them to get busy. Second Mate Kevland noticed out-loud, "I count three ballista on this side and another up front. If there is a ramming spike below the line, it is hidden to my eyes."

~o~

The orange dock had a large sign on pier posts in that color. It was in Sindarin but written in the fashion of Adûnaic, an almost Dwarvish block style. It wasn't long before a retinue of well-dressed officers arrived. One must be Benigrautha. A herald announced formally, "Prepare for inspection."

This was anticipated. There were no references to any of the Valar on board but there were a few hastily painted symbols of the Witch-King where they would be found. As arranged, Penandoth approached with a bow and said in Westron that he commanded.

The Harbormaster seemed piqued. Nag Kath heard him tell his officers something to the effect that these peasants did not honor the proper tongue. His most senior man tried in a pigeon version of Sindarin and Westron not unlike the language Nag Kath's comical scholar reputedly spoke in Mordor. He proclaimed in dramatic fashion, "This is Harbormaster Benigrautha. He will inspect your cargo!"

A nose rub from the Elf had Penandoth smile and say, "Certainly, sirs. Mate Kevland, take these fellows below."

Only two of them went. The more soldierly two stayed on deck and made obvious mental notes of the curious vessel. Crew on deck treated them no differently than customs-men at any other port-of-call. The ship had conspicuously nothing hidden or reasons to seem furtive.

Below deck, the Harbormaster ordered a crate opened. Crew dragged it into the light of the open hatch and pried the top off revealing fine wool fabric, thought to be scarce here. The man felt it carefully and ordered it closed. As if it came to him then, the mate opened a small chest containing some nice but not expensive necklaces and earrings. Benigrautha grabbed a handful with no effort to get matching pieces and stuffed them in his inside robe pocket. Never changing his expression, they made their way back on deck. The next senior man said, "The docking tax is ten rhules."

Since they knew money might be different here but likely based on the Numenorean currency everywhere, Penandoth had First Mate Jeurgans bring a locked box with a scattering of silvers and groats on the top tray. The functionary pointed at one of the silvers and held up both palms with all fingers. There were nine silvers on the tray so the mate scooped them up and Penandoth pulled another with a few groats from his pocket to round-up the total. A soldier tacked a wooden sign to the dockside rail showing the ship had been inspected and the party climbed down the boarding plank without ever looking back.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

It was time for the owner's indolent son to taste the fruits of Bozisha-Dar.

Nag Kath slipped off the ship in broad daylight, expecting to be followed. He made no effort at stealth. From the harbor, the city stretched almost due east along the river-mouth. Buildings were not built for large swings in the tide but some showed high-water marks at almost head-level.

Most structures were a cream white in varying states of upkeep. The commercial docks were largely single-story go-downs but the businesses and later homes in the better section often had two levels. Flowers were everywhere. People were too. They stared at him, which was not unusual, but he was closer to them than the Haradrim. He smiled back. For the most part, the better-dressed looked like men of the north, which he supposed they used to be. Southrons were clad with more of that influence but they did not look particularly down-trodden.

It wasn't until he got within a quarter mile of what must be the palace that he saw his first temple. Nag Kath slipped inside. A keeper was on a stool, avoiding direct sun. Next to him was a small, wooden bowl on a stand. The Elf dropped five lonely groats in and the fellow nodded with the trace of a smile.

There were no windows. Come to that, he hadn't seen many walking up. It was like the inn in Tharbad where you used louvered shutters or they were wide open. Elf eyes helped in the darkness. A small altar was on the long end. Nag Kath bowed to it, hoping that showed proper respect and then looked for marking or symbols of the reigning power.

He found one. If the Elf was going to act the ignorant tourist, he would start now. He asked the attendant in Sindarin, "I am visiting. What is this table, sir?"

The fellow answered, "The Place of Return." He was more understandable than the lords of ship-bribery.

Nag Kath continued, "And this symbol, good sir?"

The man looked askance and decided it was an innocent question. "The Valar, of whom mighty Melkor is supreme."

The Elf pulled a match from his vest pocket and thought better of scratching it on the mighty Melkor's stone so he struck it on his boot to ask the man of the symbol. He must have never seen a match before and it was almost out before he pointed to the highest lord's glyph inside the ornate design. Nag Kath gave the man his own match. He broke the first and tried four times with the next until it lit but that was the pinnacle of his day. With his other hand he dragged a fingernail along the dark one's line before the match got too hot. The Elf bowed and gave him a dozen more matches for his pains.

~o~

Walking up the street the homes got larger. So did a pair of what he took to be the local guardi. They stared but only nodded, unmotivated to assert arbitrary power in the hot sun. At what he thought might be the twelve-bell at home, Nag Kath found a restaurant that smelled like baked fish. He took a chair inside for a look at the city moving around him. There was no menu. You got what they cooked until it ran out. The meal was the long, thin silver fish they had hooked off the back deck for the last week. It was spiced, including something that made the mouth warm like the sauces of Yhammâs Fruhir and tasty, served with the same little white grains of the southern sea coast and a green of some sort. The cool tea was green and quite weak compared to the darker brews of home.

It was another quarter-bell before the lunch patrons arrived. Most seemed to be shop-keepers with enough authority to leave for a while. They stared at him too but not suspiciously and not very long. Most shoveled down the modest helpings and were out the door at the last bite. One fellow past the age of gainful employment savored his lunch and smiled.

Nag Kath smiled back and asked his server the charge. It came to five groats. Groats were called groats. He added a couple to show he was pleased and walked back to the ship with his head full of notions.

What a curious place! He thought it about ten thousand souls, including four or five small harbors lining the route. There were probably more of them further in as well. He would look. There were elements of clothing that seemed northern but more colors, perhaps more natural dyes or lighter fabrics? Women were not covered head-to-toe as they were in farmlands to the north. Most wore shawls either over their heads or as scarves. He got a few relatively brazen appraisals from ladies who usually traveled with several others but not with male protectors.

Men were seldom armed. He left his sword on the ship. Soldiers wore long-swords. He saw only three bowmen, all staying close to a wall Nag Kath did not investigate.

~o~

This land was said to worship the darkest of dark lords but it seemed like the Khandian capital with fish. Nag Kath knew a bit about dark lords. People did not seem ready to flinch at the whip of old Sauronic lands. They might change their tune about good-old Melkor after hauling sacks of grain to Gorgoroth. Melkor was a tormentor of Elves, primarily, since men were in just the early years of their development. The Elves took their records with them so that was conjecture.

Of all those left in Middle-earth, only two knew what Melkor looked like before he was Morgoth, and one of them lived alone in a forest. As he got closer to the wharf, Nag Kath noticed a temple he hadn't seen on the way up. A peek inside woke no attendant so he hurried over to the altar and rubbed charcoal over a sheet of thin paper for the outline.

The crew seemed none the worse for the wait. Fish was cooking on deck when he returned. Mate Jeurgans said an occasional guardi-looking fellow wandered by but didn't scowl or act important. They timed his rounds. Another ship docked just behind them. Men carried sacks or boxes along the pier to wagons at the gate pulled by some of the sorriest donkeys of Harad. Mostly things were carried by people. Several men with baskets held by a strap around their necks offered fruits and cakes. They were darker than most Nag Kath had seen and spoke something closer to Southron than Elvish. Sad for the crew; one thing no one seemed to carry by any means was ale.

That evening, Listracht said, "Well, this is different than Mordor. From what little I know, Sauron told the King's-men to worship Morgoth. Some came to Middle-earth as conquerors, some came faithful to the Valar and most got a dunking for their trouble."

Nag Kath laid out the tracing for the senior crew and Listracht to see and asked, "Seen this before?" He traced the Melkor part with his nail.

They shook their heads. Penandoth said, "That Harbormaster does more than check bowlines. I would wager he is more of a lordling than in the mud-flats of the Ethir.

Second Mate Kevland agreed, "Aye, his da landed soft."

The Elf said, "I wasn't watched at all. We need to attract some attention - let this harbor-man earn his keep. My thoughts are; we have some loud, smoky ritual to our lesser Witch-King and sell a few of our wares in the market and see who notices. Sayer Listracht, how would you like to be the High Visitor onboard for observances?"

The bald man grinned, "I can't think of anyone more qualified."

Nag Kath kept exploring the town. Efforts at conversation were stillborn. Two days later they stage-managed a production that would not challenge a proper Catanard but drew a crowd. Listracht donned a hastily-sewn outer cloak of different symbols and began loudly incanting amidships an hour before sundown.

Pinches of firework powder were put in bowls and lit with a punk every so often causing small, colorful bursts of light with large, annoying puffs of smoke. The crew gathered around to repeat calls Nag Kath had coached them in the Black Speech. Pronounced by men of the west it sounded nothing like the original, but it didn't sound like anything else either.

It took nearly half a bell for the local authorities to arrive. The Harbormaster must have gone home but his night-man was spoiling for a fight. Any kind of fire, never mind blasphemous fire, was discouraged on a wharf of wooden ships. The fellow trooped up with half a dozen guardi and demanded, "What are you simpletons doing? This is a dangerous!"

Nag Kath said, "We observe the ritual of Fûl to honor the dark servant, sir."

"What nonsense is that?!"

"Once per week, at the end of the day of atonement, we are called to respect he who still holds power over the earth."

The official barked, "Do this again and we will see how high you float!" The man turned on his heels with the toadies flanking. Men on the ship just past an empty berth seemed to be smiling.

Listracht slipped his vestments over his head and said, "Someone noticed."

Penandoth quipped, "I suppose that makes me the merchant. I'll have a couple lads take some of our nicer things and find a market stall near the lordly. In my humble experience, there is nothing the high ruler hates as much as those beneath him gaining fine things he doesn't have."

Listracht thought of the women he saw walking by and added, "Have them cut a good price for the ladies. I suspect they squeeze low fruit in the merry port of Bozisha-Dar."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Crewmen Yeltzyr and Ubier Peristonig went to market. One was tall and fair, the other short and swarthy. They had one of the right languages and none of the wrong ones. Their instructions were to spend a day or two finding the nicest market square in the city, bribing the square master or guild if they had such things here for a space and selling an assortment of useful or decorative items to the fancy including; jewelry, fine woolens, fire-glasses and reading spectacles. At Mr. Solvanth's recommendation, that included boxes of matches and they should light a few to attract attention.

Both of their efforts worked in one fashion or another. The morning after the theatrical flashes, a middle-aged man in immaculate clothes wandered by the Fûl one too many times. He was stern, dangerous and had no business among the barefoot stevedores. In the meantime, Yeltzyr and Ubier had a gay time misunderstanding people who would not take no for an answer. The matches were a sensation. Yeltzyr had a briarwood pipe and a pouch of leaf, occasionally lighting-up by dragging a match along the paving stones or flicking it with his thumbnail. They burned holes through pieces of straw with the fire-glasses. Men gathered to try the absurd face-wires that let them see things the way they had as youngsters. They sold everything they brought by lunch saying they would return tomorrow. The men knew they found the right market when one woman bought a necklace and matching earrings made of Garvas stones and walked off without asking the price, leaving her female attendant to count out the silvers. Money talks to money so the word would get around.

After the display in the market, they could have sold goods off the back of the boat but the crewmen went back to the same stall, bribed the same guildsman and opened for business. This time they brought some of the better jewelry.

The news was out. A number of important men and women gathered and the crowd parted for them as the first viewers of the day. The sailors enjoyed making a hash of the language and negotiations but were told not to come shipside until they sold all their wares with promises to return next week after resupplying. That's how Lentaraes would have done it. Slightly against instructions, they could not discover if folk wanted to trade ale for their merchandise.

~o~

The following morning, the grave official returned to the ship as the crewmen were leaving for the market. This time he had four men along who looked a sight more disciplined than the guardi trying to avoid daytime sun. The man called from the dock demanding to see the Captain.

Penandoth walked amidships and said he was Captain in Westron, which was the only tongue he had. As planned, neither of them could make sense of the other so Listracht was summoned with no success. With a roll of his eyes, Nag Solvanth was collected from below.

The official repeated himself, "You are asked to explain your desecration of the high lord the other day."

The Elf replied, "We are followers of Fûl, Lord of the Nazgûl."

By the man's arrogance and assurance, this could only be the high priest of whatever passed here for lore. He said, "That is a blasphemy! High Melkor holds sway here, as all men know!"

Nag Kath held his chin, "We are come from the north where servants of the Witch-King still have visible power. Our understanding is that Melkor was destroyed."

The man bristled, "You could be boiled alive for such lies."

It was time to set the hook. Nag Kath considered that and told a waiting crewman to produce the bilge rock before saying, "See here is one of Yvsuldor's stones." He took it in one hand and it glowed just enough silver to be seen in daylight.

In an attempt at reconciliation he added, "If the servants of the greatest lord return to his further his purpose, perhaps we are in accord, mister … ?"

The man said in a huff, "That remains to be seen. Be here when I return tomorrow!"

With that he turned on his heel and led his hard soldiers up the quay.

Listracht watched them go and chuckled, "He's in arse deep. Did you see his eyes when your hand lit-up?"

"Umhmmm. High Visitor Listracht, I think we should prepare to see the sights of Bozisha-Dar."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

That evening Listracht and Nag Kath slipped off the ship and followed their noses to a workingman's restaurant. There was ale, in only the most charitable use of the term. It was not served until after sundown. Listracht puckered his face, "They could have left this in the donkey."

The Elf had a sip and made less of a frown but took a pull of his tea directly. After swishing his tongue in his mouth, he said, "I wish I knew more of these Numenoreans. For a time, they ruled supreme. The book said some of the Nazgûl were their most terrible sorcerers. So how did they end up down here?"

Listracht ventured another gulp and said, "They kept losing. I am more interested in how they think Melkor walks the halls of Valmar. I should think he is clanking his cup in the gaol."

The Elf thought about that. "This Lord Ar-Gimilzôr has some of the same questions. Let us discover if he has rocks of his own. I might even have a nipper of the original bastard. Do you suppose they will sell us that little cask to take back to the Swan?"

"The Fûl?"

"Of course."

~o~

It wasn't until nearly high-sun that the Arbiter returned, this time with six men. He ordered Nag Kath to come with him. It would not do without his Sayer. Both men tried to bring cargo swords but the guards weren't having that.

The train walked without another word all the way to the area Nag Kath thought was the palace on his first excursion. Guards clad much like those of the Gondoran seventh stood at a series of three gates. They opened the doors on sight and the Righters and Arbiter's men trooped to a grand, white-stone mansion reached by thirteen fanned steps. It opened onto a room not unlike the entry in Orthanc except for more open windows and cream-white stone. The Arbiter spoke briefly with a man also in robes with a blue cap who retreated down a corridor. Their man walked back over jutting his chin in importance.

The Chamberlain or Herald returned after a while and nodded. The guests, Arbiter and all six guards followed him to a throne room of white but with black stone fittings. On the seat of power sat an old cove also wearing black with a crown of silver, possibly mithril. One gnarled hand gripped a miter in his lap. He leaned forward to better see the men brought to his justice. They both bowed deeply and stood at civilian-quality attention.

The Arbiter formally announced, "Most High, these are the men who defamed our lord Melkor!"

The ruler nodded and the Arbiter took his leave. The guards stayed.

For a few moments the old man did nothing, finally, he curled his fingers towards him to bring the two men closer. In Sindarin he said, "So, you think to bring your backward ways to the last of Numenor?"

It was up to Nag Kath from here, "Nay, my Lord. We serve he who serves the highest of lords."

The old boy took some time clearing his throat but asked, "And who might this servant be?"

"He is the Witch-king of Angmar, sir. His strength grows in northern lands against weak Elessar."

"Why come you here?"

Nag Kath said with some hauteur, "Now that King's-men retake our lands, we come to trade and see which of our kin remain loyal servants."

The man was still for a long time. On the wide range of possibility, the lord was a true believer and devoted to restoring the rule of their chosen Ainur. On the other, he was a ruthless despot using age-old terror to cow his peoples. Nag Kath would try to be useful either way but his main purpose was to see if the old man had his own glowing rocks.

The Lord grew angry, "How dare you surmise!"

Unbowed, Nag Solvanth said respectfully, "The Yvsuldor makes his power clear to us. Forgive me, high sir, we come in common purpose. May I ask how Lord Melkor makes his will known? Perhaps these ARE his tools, wielded through those who keep them."

The man grumbled, "I will consider this. You will stay here until I summon you." He gestured to the guards who allowed the visitors to bow again before escorting them to the far wing of the palace.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Listracht looked around the quarters and said, "How is it that the nicest place I've ever stayed is a prison?" Their lodgings were not where his Lordship tossed scofflaws. A large central room beautifully appointed in carpets was between separate bedrooms. Nag Kath would have no trouble getting out of the third-story window but no one else could without a rope.

As the sun set, two women brought platters of food. Not nubiles of Ûrêzáyan; both were stout gals with flat faces who kept their dispositions to themselves. Still, the meal was edible. Nag Kath checked both plates with a quick wave of his hand for poison before they ate.

Listracht had no trouble gnawing his half chicken to the bone. With a belch he said in Khandian, "Nag, we've seen a few troops and the guards, but I haven't heard so much as a squeak from line soldiery."

"You are sharper than me, my friend. I hadn't noticed, though even a light Marine fleet could make short work of those two pig-boats facing the wrong way."

Listracht had some of the white grain and said, "I wondered as well. I must say, this Bozisha-Dar is a grander place than I've ever lived. Do you suppose the poor folk are kept out of view?"

"Maybe with the soldiers. That river mouth goes much further back. Now, when I should have been paying attention, I thought of our lord, all wrinkled and wan. Had he so much as a Dwarf Ring, he would be a more impressive figure."

Listracht said, "Let us consider that he is made to look like the king and the true villain watches from elsewhere."

"That or they are the last of their kind, keeping Southrons from the door with the craft of greater sires. This foolishness with Melkor, I need to discover if there is cause."

Listracht looked around his cell, "One thing is certain, someone is paying the bills. This hovel is a sight fairer than Sauron's old haunts, except for the women of Khand, not that a right-living man would know of such diversions." He grinned.

The Elf reflected, "We will give and get. Do not forget I am a witless merchant's son here to be made a man. Tomorrow, Captain will seek what these folk have to trade. From what I have seen of most women here, he needs to get those lads away from the city, somewhere where they can enjoy the hospitality discretely."

~o~

The next day they were called before the seated ruler. This time, a younger man sat in a lower chair next to him. The face was quite different but the hair reminded Nag Kath of Shurat Maedos with the shock of white against jet black. He was modestly but expensively dressed in dark clothes and wore no hat or cap. He also wore no obvious emblems of lordship.

The old man pointed at Nag Kath with a wizened hand and said, "You will show me the sorcery you claim from your Lord's device."

Both travelers looked at each other before the Elf said, "Your pardon, sir, we were not told to bring it. It is but a common Yvsuldor stone, though. My servant can collect it and return here."

The old boy talked with the younger man quietly and said, "We will consider that shortly. Before then, why do you claim it has power from the Angmarach?"

"I beg pardon, sir. I do not know that term."

The elder seemed frustrated, "Angmarach! Servitor of Angmar!"

"Oh, there are battlefields of his dead waiting in spirit form to return at his call. They grow more active each passing day. Friends in Rhûn, Khand, Mordor itself prepare for instruction. Folk can see them."

The next line was crucial. Nag Kath had to be respectful but also hoist something of a challenge against these men's assertions of a resurrected Melkor. "The Angmarach is giving us plain tools, perhaps for his own purpose or perhaps to further his highest Lord. What signs have you seen here, sirs?"

In Dukks, that was enough of a wager on strong cards that opponents either had to match the bet or concede the hand. Their own Arbiter had seen credible sorcery or they wouldn't be here. In the parlance of the game, when not playing with ladies present, it was time to 'check the eggs'.

The Numenoreans choices were slim. They could bluster and claim their lordship did not require them to make their case to ignorant foreigners. They could threaten to return the visitors' heads to their ship. They could make any number of excuses, but anything less than backing their claim was weakness. They probably also wanted to know else what these Visitors had in their bag of tricks.

The younger man spoke for the first time with a more difficult accent than the elder. "Please excuse our lack of courtesy, esteemed guests. Your appearance was unexpected. Indeed, you may be a rivulet that creates the river of awakening long sought. Have your man return with the stone. We will see how it comports with such craft as we possess."

Nag Kath translated that for Listracht along with telling Penandoth to stay in port unless the authorities made that uncomfortable. Listracht bowed as a servant should, a reliable disguise, and then bowed to the host before shambling out the double-doors. The man with the white blaze stood and said, "While you wait, you may follow this man where food will be served." His nod served as dismissal and a rather pretty male door guard walked Nag Kath to a small meal room down a new corridor. Now, had this lad some measure of Elf?

~o~

The table would seat eight but he was the only one there. It might have been a quarter-bell before two servants came in with covered trays of food. Nag Kath seldom ate lunch but would have some of whatever it was in respect. What made this interesting was; the servers. They seemed to have elements of orc in them, the way they walked and the way their noses flattened against their faces.

Nag Kath gave them a farm-boy smile and took his pen-knife out of his pocket to cut his meat. It showed no blue. Were they part orc? Had they been cleansed as he had? They didn't seem surly enough for real orcs so he thanked them with a nod and took the cover off the first plate.

It was good too, and far too much to eat even half. It came with the same weak green tea that probably all peoples made in one way or another to boil drinking water. The room had no ornamentation. That was unusual. Most rooms in a palace seen by any but the staff had art or paneling or something to suggest it wasn't a barn. When he finished, he walked to the one large window. It faced east, a different direction than last night's quarters. At this height he could see a huge swath of genuine forest stretching as far as the horizon. That would explain how they controlled shipping in the Gulf of Harad, food too. It did not seem an ominous wood.

Waiting, he thought he might do more than seek evil. These people claimed to be the purest survivors of the greatest mannish civilization, the height of navigation, celestial observation, counting and governance. Most craft dated well before Sauron's influence. The quest must take precedence, but Nag Kath would also study good things that had been lost to men of the north through all the many ways men lose things.

A less orcish attendant walked in and told him to return to the throne room. Listracht was looking suitably servile and bowed wordlessly before handing him the bilge-stone. Nag Kath appeared to study it for a moment and ostentatiously picked a piece of lint out of one of the carvings as his hosts walked in. They received bows from the Yvsuldors before sitting in their same places. The old man said harshly, "So then, this is the device you claim brings you closer to the Angmarach?"

"Yes, my Lord. Forgive me, sirs, but we do not even know his name. Have you heard it in your scholarship?"

The younger man said, "Ar-Balkumagân, thought dead in battle against the Elessar."

That was a mouthful, young man! Nag Kath did not know his Numenorean kings but he knew from Éomander's book that 'Ar' meant ruler. And that this fellow said so suggested he sought information. The Elf made a show of repeating the name to Listracht so he could rummage through the cash to see if there was a nipper or Florin with his likeness.

Nag Kath asked, "May I approach the dais, noble sirs?"

The old man waved him up. Nag Kath walked close enough for the seated Lords to inspect his rude carvings in the stone. This was not his better artwork but a fair match for the stone he destroyed. The Elf said, "Fûl for power, patience, last is war, each in the proper measure." He handed the stone to the geezer who hefted it like a bilge rock and gave it to the younger man.

The younger man did try to divine power but appeared to make nothing of it. Nag Kath felt a thin surge. Before he lit the counterfeit stone, he would be far enough away so the man couldn't tell what was stone and what was Elf.

The old one rasped, which seemed to be his speaking voice, "What does it do?"

Nag Kath had days to position his demonstration. What worked in Mordor might work here. A narrative would emerge that this hallowed stone signified the Witch-King's presence among the patient. The intensity gauged the effect. Of course, he could light the plate he ate on the same way, but these men didn't need to know that.

The hook was that it was only a search beacon, not a coming. Visitor servants sought similar talismans to combine the humors. Men of the north with small powers to transmit the source weren't uncommon, but he was the only one on this boat.

Taking the stone back, the Elf walked back to where he originally stood and looked around where the ceiling met the walls as a show of positioning himself correctly. Then he raised his hand and made the bilge-rock glow with his normal silver summoning. It was brighter inside than it had been on the docks.

Nag Kath borrowed from the comic wizard in the Catanard, staggering slightly and ending the light, putting his thumb and fingers to either side of his nose. Sure the Lords were watching intently, he handed the stone back to Listracht and said somewhat unsteadily, "I sought confirmation that King Ar-Balkurmagân has presence here. This was stronger than I have felt before. Perhaps he is near ... Your pardon, good sirs. I … I must rest now."

He waited until they nodded and then unevenly walked back towards his quarters led by his faithful man and two of the guards.

~o~

His servant laid him in the same bed, saying in a solicitous voice, "That was a proper goat's breakfast, revered master. I thought the old boy would pee himself."

Nag Kath looked at him and said feebly, "Your tongue will get you banned from better taverns. What did the youngster do?"

"Nothing."

Listracht started taking his master's boots off. Nag Kath thanked him by saying, "Then he is our man. I think he has some power. Next we must see what he thinks it will bring." The Elf leaned back with a pained groan while his servant put his boots at the foot of the bed. Listracht looked for tea. Finding nothing, he walked outside and gestured drinking to one of the guards who waited until an attendant walked by to have him fetch some.

The right-living soldier said in soothing tones, "So, how long before you are recovered if I am asked, Mr. Solvanth?"

"I need a quiet look around here tonight. Tomorrow morning I should be right as rain. What news of the ship?"

Capt'n broke out a cup of wine last night and a little pipe-weed. Men are patient but they are still sailors. Bosun's keeping them on board. First Mate is wandering the markets seeing what these folk sell themselves and what they might like."

Nag Kath leaned back in the bed with feigned exhaustion saying, "We have lovely serving wenches."

Dinner was brought by the same men with orcish faces. Just to see if they could speak, Nag Kath asked as squire of the manor, "You, what is this meat called?"

The creature came over and said with mannish teeth, "That is flesh of the boar, honored guest."

"Is this from here in your homeland?"

The server answered, "It is from here, but my homeland is far to the west."

Were they the folk to avoid? The Elf grunted his understanding and the two northerners were left with their thoughts. As soon as the door closed, Listracht said, "Ugly as the back of a …"

"Charity, right-liver. Remember the lessons of Dostrenes. I thought they were orcs but they aren't. Let us wait until dark."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Even barefoot, Nag Kath had trouble keeping quiet on stone floors. He confused the door guard and crept down the hall to the throne room. It was unguarded. The thrones themselves had no humors. He got no sense of power in the room at all. Sneaking down the corridor the men came from was also cold and also devoid of any art or decoration. About to return to the room, he passed one smaller annex that did have a number of wall-hangings. The window let in almost no moon. The best he could tell these were more stern Numenorean Kings scowling for posterity. A look in daytime would tell more.

The next morning, servant Listracht told the guard that his master was recovered and could attend their Lordships. Half a bell later, fresh guards brought the two men to the throne-room. After obeisance, Nag Kath said, "Your pardon, sirs. That was difficult. The stone tells the presence of the Witch-King's spirit. It was strong but also seemed to be seeking something on its own, as if drawn to a kindred power."

The younger man, "So, you are a vessel for this stone?"

"Only that it may pass through me. A more experienced Sayer could tell you more than my sorry effort."

The old man this time; "What does it seek?"

"I cannot say, esteemed sir. This is new. Does your realm have artifacts that could draw the stone to them?"

The old man growled, "Give me the rock. I will see what it brings!"

They seemed to be expecting a fight. Nag Kath shrugged his shoulders and told his servant to deliver the ballast-stone. The Lords walked down the far corridor and left the visitors standing. After an hour, with both Visitors straining not to laugh out loud, the Lords of Bozisha-Dar returned. The old one said, "This is a fraud! The stone has no power."

The question was if he knew or was bluffing. Knowing was much more interesting so Nag Kath would pursue that line of defense. "I do not think it has any power of its own. It passes power through humble persons like me. Since it is of no use to you, can I interest you in a supply of fine woolens?"

If there was anything to this claim of Melkor, the insouciant peddler's son essentially said that the dark one could repay their truculence with wrath for delaying his revival. Gandalf explained Morgoth was relegated to the void, whatever that was. He clearly was not restored to the Valar since hated Arien still brought her sun to grace Middle-earth.

But the tall blonde also shined with power and said the stone sought something. If nothing else, there might be value in his pale, indifferent hand. The young man stood there either waiting to get his rock back or trudge to the ship and chalk a mark on his slate. And he could stand there longer than they could sit. Finally the old man said, "Return tomorrow for dinner. We have other things to discuss."

Second Mate Kevland welcomed the returning servants of Fûl effusively and had a man fetch fresh tea. After seeming to have nothing to do long enough to bore any watchers in the warehouses across the docks, the mates, Captain, Dal, Listracht and Elf gathered in a circle on the rear-castle.

Listracht gave his assessment, "If these lads have any pull with dark lords lost in the mist, we did not see it. Their guards are competent and sober. The fellow who brought me here and back yesterday seemed to know his business. Pikemen carry a dirk. Others carry full swords. I only saw four archers near the gate. The shifts change about every four-bells. It is hard to tell here. A determined party of a hundred could take the palace in surprise."

Nag Kath held his chin, "I saw some of the same things. What perplexes me is what I did not see; there were no hangers-on. I've been in every palace of the world now. All of them have men who seem to be waiting for orders or petition or deliver cheese, usually in each others' way. I saw none of that here. After you have conquered a place, rulers have to make sure the water pipes work and settle squabbling nobles. List, did you see any such coming and going?"

Listracht pulled his own bearded chin and answered, "A few more than you, but yes, there were no idle servants waiting on their Lord's slightest whim."

First Mate Juergans said, "We may have other interest from our little demonstration. A woman has walked past twice, paying special attention to the new name board with just the single glyph. She is unremarkable in every way, which makes me think that is meant."

Nag Kath asked, "What times of day?"

"Once after what might be the nine-bell and again nearing dusk. I will point her out if she returns."

Second Mate added, "About those bells, sirs, the days are getting longer."

Everyone turned to him so he added, "Not long past the little town we visited on the coast, the sun readings started getting longer, by about as much as they had gotten shorter further north. Might that be in hand with new stars to the south?"

Penandoth nodded and speculated, "Perhaps Varda travels differently here. I have noticed the breeze is more southerly at times." The Captain turned to both mates and said, "Let us ask other mariners of those winds and storms. As to trade goods, I could not get a look in those warehouses." Penandoth whistled and called, "Yeltzyr, Ubier!" The two deckhands trotted up and were told to sit. The Captain asked, "I think we know these folk will buy whatever we brought. Did you get a sense of what they have besides money?"

Yeltzyr nodded a moment and answered, "Same sized money as us, mostly the same coins. Didn't get a look at any gold. One man wanted to trade what looked a very fine linen or other weave for a quantity of fire-stones."

Ubier nodded too and continued, "It was the sort of fabric used in windows to keep insects from entering. The wealthiest of Umbar proper wear it gaily colored for it is light and smooth but very tough, made of cocoons, I believe. We watched the other stalls and peddlers with asses. They sold mostly food or fabric, the same sort of things you see everywhere."

Yeltzyr added, "Not a single weapon. Many folk carried small knives but no swords or bows. The soldiers, guardi, more like, seemed to be looking for them."

Listracht asked the group, "Any look at who is out after dark?"

Mate Kevland admitted, "Tierneis went out for vegetables and got back a bit later than planned." No one wondered why. "He felt a follower but he returned with a basket of greens and roots so no harm done."

~o~

One of the deck guards gave the secret whistle. So everyone didn't stare, Gharvies casually peered over the rail and saw a different woman carrying a parcel. She wasn't well trained. People on the wharf bustled. She seemed more strolling, but not dressed well enough for leisure. The Elf sneaked a peek. Turning back to the group as if he had merely been leering, he said to Listracht, "I think we need more vegetables."

The Righter nodded and silently padded down the gangplank with an empty basket after the woman reached the next ship.

Yeltzyr muttered, "I am glad he is on our side."

Nag Kath stretched his legs and changed the subject, "Tomorrow night I'm to present myself at the palace for dinner. List was right, if there is sorcery, it is hidden. I will go myself and let Listracht see what becomes of the curious shopper. He knows the ways of the right-livers in the north."

Listracht did not slip up the plank until high-night. Second Mate had the watch and woke Penandoth. Dal was awake too and they congregated amidships to hear the tale. The Righter reported, "That was almost too easy. She wandered up the alleys at the same pace then went in a door and out another on the street-side. From there she hurried the other way and was admitted to a home. The door opened before she got there so she was expected, though I heard no one on the rooftops signaling. It is an educated guess, but I do not think anyone has paid much attention to this lot in a long time.

"I had a look around; no symbols or other tells. A few hours later, a gent leaves from the back door and goes to a finer home southwest, up the hill a few blocks. I saw no guardi or anyone else interested in either of them." He grinned, "By then, it was too late to get more taters."

Nag Kath asked, "What of the new home?"

"I don't have your eyes, but it was a deal larger than most of the little huts on the way to the Lords. There was a garden in front. Were I a wagering-man, I think the right-livers found us. With Fûl carved in the prow, we are enemy now and need to watch for torches thrown into the sails."

Penandoth looked at Dal and said, "Tell Yeltzer and Ubier to take their wares door-to-door tomorrow along the warehouses. Let us see what else these folk have to trade, especially things not yet ready for delivery. Go with them and try to have a look at the smaller wharves we passed further west."

"Aye, sir"

Listracht asked of the Elf, "Planning to do some visiting of your own?"

"We leave at dawn."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

It was nearly full sun when Mrs. Oram walked into her garden room to close the shutters before the cooler air of night could escape. She saw Listracht sitting in one of the great chairs looking like he was waiting for breakfast. With a 'heighh!' she turned to flee and there was Nag Kath by the door she entered looking like he had already eaten his.

The Elf said quietly in her tongue, "Do not fear. We are not here to harm you. May we have a word with your husband?"

Bravely but unconvincingly she explained, "There is no husband here. You have burgled the wrong house!"

The imposing blonde man approached her. Two steps back was as far as she could go before she reached the hungry guest and debated whether to scream. The servants would arrive first and likely be killed. Then she would be killed as a witness. Nag Kath saved her further consideration by handing her a folded piece of paper and saying, "Give this to the husband who isn't here. We will wait patiently."

She took the note, gladder he had unblocked her way than what the message might say. Two minutes later, she returned behind a man still in his nightshirt and slippers carrying a curved sword. The northerners both thought him about fifty but in good condition. Nag Kath had taken a chair by Listracht. The husband glared but did not get closer. Finally he said, "This is an honest home. We have nothing worth taking!"

Listracht said in Variag, "He has not read the note." The Right soldier stood and approached to within sword range, "Here, use mine" handing the fellow a pair of reading spectacles. Holding a sword in one hand and putting on spectacles for the first time is not recommended. Finally, his wife took the sword while the villains watched so he could fumble with the unfamiliar spectacles and read the note. It was just the symbol of Orlo which he could have seen with naked eyes.

He looked at the intruders, at the note again and said firmly enough to be heard in the kitchen, "Ferishtand, tea for four, please." He nodded to his wife, still holding the sword, and whispered, "My dear, be at ease. These are favored guests."

Mr. Oram leaned the weapon against a corner so it wouldn't frighten the domestics arriving with tea and something hastily prepared to eat with it. He gestured for Listracht to resume his seat while he and the missus dragged wicker chairs over to join them.

No one said another word until a man and woman arrived with tea and a platter of thin crackers, only leaving after reassurance from their mistress. Then their host said to Listracht, "You are not who we expected, sirs."

Nag Kath interrupted, "Forgive me, sir. My friend does not have your tongue." The Elf had heard enough here to adapt to varied pronunciations but it was still a work in progress. We are followers of right-living from Gondor and Khand. Orlo suggested we lend such aid as we could."

"Orlo is a symbol, not a man."

"He is a spirit. I can speak to him."

The fellow ventured, "How are you known to him?"

"My friend is Listracht. I am called Nag Kath."

"Kath of the Trolls?"

In most other situations he would have hung his head but the Elf kept the initiative, "Yes, the same."

The woman said, "We are Heraldin and Sophiel Oram, at your service. What is your purpose here?"

Listracht knew Nag Kath would include him when it mattered so he ate the little crackers two at a time. Nag Kath answered, "I follow Orlo's invitation to visit. We had thought to find evidence of the Witch-King but it seems, the land is much taken with Morgoth." When they drew a blank he added, "Melkor. Now we must learn if that is a fraud of if there are remnants of either dark ones in these lands.

"Before I go any further, do not tell us of your friends in the event we are put to the question. For all you know, we are northern traders seeking goods to take home. If we need to meet again, choose a safer place."

They nodded between them as the changeling brought Listracht up to speed.

Nag Kath continued, "I would know this; what is this business with Melkor being leader of the Ainur? Has there been anything to suggest that is more than bluster from the palace?"

Heraldan answered cautiously, "Perhaps in the deep eastern forests. Know this, men of the north, Bozisha-Dar is the western edge of lands that go two hundred leagues inland along the river valleys. You will only see here what traders of the Unworthy may see."

Nag Kath gave that to Listracht and was asked to ask, "How does this sorcery manifest?"

"It is said; small pockets of power, as if a fog or smoke, beyond my ken."

They spoke for an hour. Listracht ate every cracker. In readying to leave, Nag Kath said, "I am to dine with two men at the palace tonight. One old in black, the other younger with a shock of white in his hair. I have represented myself as a minor sorcerer in the service of the Witch-King."

Sophiel, who seemed to have equal voice in right-living here, said, "The old one is an honored uncle who administers the city. The younger one is Prince Tarquin. You are interested in his father. Do not expect him tonight."

Listracht kept his eyes on the hosts and told Nag Kath, "They need to do better than strolling kitchen maids."

The Elf translated, "Someone who has not been to the docks needs to come by daily offering local trinkets guaranteed to bring good fortune to ignorant foreigners. Put messages in them and expect the same as payment."

Coming as no surprise, there was a better way out than the window they crawled in. It led to an alley behind the home. The two northern sailors continued north a few blocks before returning to the quayside road back to the wharf.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Anticipating lordly summons, Nag Kath had a suit of good clothes stowed in his cabin. Dal tried to remove the wrinkles. As usual, his long Elvish hair was pulled back in a ponytail over his ears.

In enough time to arrive before what seemed like the dinner-hour here, the Elf presented himself at the gate to barely concealed disdain. The gateman ordered a lad up to the palace while Nag Kath waited in the sun. The boy was back on the double and after a sentence the gateman realized he had delayed the wrong guest. He snapped to some sort of precision and showed the blonde through to follow the lad back up the walk.

The two Lords had already been seated. With them was a beautiful but hard-looking woman dressed in clothes of ancient form. In this heat they looked uncomfortable. She had an arched eyebrow to rival Tal's at her reddest. Across from her and next to him was a thin, middle-aged fellow in civilian dress. Bozisha-Dar was not a hand-shaking place. He nodded and said he was Mr. Rathbairn. Next to the woman was another, older woman whose face registered no expression at all. She was not introduced. This was not a social occasion.

His hosts knew why he was late and did not seem put-off their agenda. The old uncle said, "Thank you for joining us, Mr. Solvanth." Nag Kath was glad he hadn't used his real name. The right-livers did not know how the story of the trolls came to this land but it had, so it was good this lot knew him by his alias.

The old boy continued, "We are curious of your tale. Perhaps you can share your thoughts in this more cordial setting."

"Certainly, Lord Ar-Gimilzôr." He now knew this wasn't the king but if it made these folk feel better, he would humor them. "Before I impose on your graciousness, may I offer a token of my people's respect?"

He could. The gift had been confiscated at the door so the blonde guest signaled the guard who brought the ornate box directly to Uncle. The man opened it and unsheathed an exquisite dagger done in a combination of Dwarvish and Elvish style, which are not easy to blend, with a fine polished blade of the Durinbard steel of the Blue Mountains. It was a Princely offering and showed these merchants had more than glasses to burn ants. Uncle passed it to the assembled except the traditionally-dressed lady. As they looked, Nag Kath said, "I am a traveling merchant but also a very minor servant of those who consider the Elessar's rule obscene. As the Angmarach reveals himself more forcefully, men reconsider their loyalties. Men like myself counsel them."

The younger woman asked, "Counsel in what way, Mr. Solvanth?"

So, she was more than furniture. There was a strong resemblance to the younger man. "The old ways are forgotten, My Lady. There are those who pass lore from father to son recalling better times. I am not one-such. I carry one of the stones to help our Lord find his allies." He added the slightest suggestion in his gaze afterwards. If he was a merchant's spoiled son, he would be looking for dockside companionship after long travel with smelly sailors. It earned him a nod as glacial as any She-Elf could have done.

Crassness established, Nag Kath continued, "You have a fair land, best of sirs, ladies. It seems green and lush upriver."

The older woman replied, "It is fertile."

A touchy subject! As she did not leave room to expand, Nag Kath shifted to his purpose, "I asked of the Lord Melkor onboard. He is not known to men of the north. It is said he was mostly of Elvish times and they are now returned to the west.

His lighthearted ignorance of the highest was sure to needle the old man. The old are attributed with patience and experience but as often as not, they have only the experience earned before their patience runs-out. The uncle growled, "He was the greatest of all Lords! How is it possible that the Faithful do not see what is in plain sight?!"

Pretending a modicum of contrition, Nag Kath said, "The records were all destroyed or taken by the Elves. Without Loresayers to guide, men rising from the ash make their own tales and, in the end, believe them." Part of that was to establish that he wasn't an Elf. In the north, they were gone. Down here there might be herds of them. It didn't seem a natural blend, but some of the old Elves were real bastards and might be exiled here with bad attitudes.

The younger man sought to reduce tensions and further his own enquiries. "I am curious, Mr. Solvanth; you made that stone glow. Is that a rare legacy of the Angmarach?"

"Not rare at all Lord …?"

"Targuin. A humble servant."

"No, not rare. The red-collared Ghoranduls supply them. They knew I was coming here and thought to extend their hand to unmet friends of old. I am of far northern folk and have some of the old Elvish language."

He knew that would rankle too. Sindarin was the language the Faithful. King's-men were relegated to it when their preferred Adûnaic was dissipated in the exodus. Nag Kath tried some of that, sure to butcher the pronunciation, "Gimlun bêl nakhat-ze 'nNê." They knew it was seminal but not what it meant so he added, "A star shines on the hour of our meeting." delivered with another slight leer at the ice queen. He would save the Black Speech for whoever lived in that forest.

When the final course was served, they could not get him gone fast enough. Uncle rose and thanked him for coming almost before he finished chewing. Nag Kath nodded and bowed. The next time they called, he would see their cards.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

"Not much, List. I am sure I created some interest and managed to mildly insult everyone around the table. A woman like our forest Prince was stunning but would frost your lips in the kissing."

Listracht and Penandoth agreed that there were three separate lines of attack. Nag Kath had the palace and points east. The Captain had to make this look like a legitimate trading run and probably lay up where the men could relax in ways sailors like. His excuse could be the exorbitant docking fees here in the city proper unless higher lords told the Harbormaster to keep the ship close.

Listracht had Orlo. Other than not speaking the language, he was born for intrigue. If this lot had any remaining connection to Khand, there might be those who spoke it or Plainstongue. Southron could be interpreted. The Orams were choosing their messengers now.

~o~

While the sailors returned to the Fûl, the palace host remained seated. Tarquin offered, "I confess, I do not know what to make of this creature. He is ignorant to a fault, but I cannot help but think he could have use for father. Wise uncle, what say you?"

"I agree. Sister?"

The plain woman considered before saying, "He is not what he seems, perhaps less than he seems, but you say you have seen sorcery from his barbarian hand."

Uncle confirmed, "Aye, he made that rock glow silver, but he said it was this Angmarach merely passing through. It drained him, which he said was unusual. That servant was a great King and began the King's-Men, very powerful. Thought dead, he was Sauron's ablest minion."

The beauty said flatly, "If we allow that this vulgar stripling conducts Ar-Balkumagân, the question is whether the Numenorean seeks to return as King of our people or in furtherance of his former employers. Myself, I am content if neither appears. Resurrected leaders of this world or the next always replace their predecessors."

Rathbairn, silent through most of the meal, was practical, "I suppose we should let this play-out. Ears in the market say they have useful goods to trade and seek like cargo to sell when they leave. What do we have that the uncouth northerners might fancy?"

The plain woman said, "You need to speak with a merchant, cousin. These men are of low station. Let them deal among themselves."

"Correct, as always, my dear. I will ask among friends in the city who can treat with them."

Tarquin advised, "Nothing quick, mind. Give me time to return to Bozisha-Kantû and speak with father." Older brothers can never resist goading little sisters, even ice-Princesses, "It seems the blonde stallion was sweet on you, Tsial-dra. Perhaps that furthers our interests."

A loving sister of the north would laugh or act appalled. This one glowered. Teasing her was not as much fun as it used to be.

~o~

The next day, Rathbairn spoke with Hu-Cirandal, master of the merchant's exchange. Bozisha-Dar did not have guilds in the western fashion but the same monopolies form in any economy. The fat old merchant sipped his constant cool tea and replied, "Yes, they have peddled things in the market, without a permit. They did pay the stall fees. Not much was sold but it went quickly.

"Their ship is built for high waves. It is worth as much as anything they carry. Consider that, friend. As to what they want, worm-farmers inland say their moths breed well this season. In a month, they may fancy cooler fabrics for wealthy backsides. I expect they have all the steel they want. Foods will spoil. Do you think they are interested in slave-women? They are in short supply, but this vessel cannot carry many and would entertain them going home."

Rathbairn inwardly winced at the idea of Dunedain females of any caste being shared among lesser men but he appeared to consider it. There would be appropriate women along the southern coasts that would be all the same to lusty navvys. That could wait.

The lesser royal had things to mull. He told the merchant to ask among his associates, who all stood to benefit. Merchant Hu-Cirandal would also quietly inquire among other associates how such a ship could be taken intact after leaving with saleable cargo.

~o~

Tarquin rode at a good speed, changing horses every ten miles at constantly maintained stations. On these flawless roads, he managed ten leagues and stayed at the royal houses where staff was always ready to serve. Even at this familiar pace, it was a five day ride through the bread-basket of his country to make the lake of his father, Ar-Gimilzôr.

The heir preferred the inland valley to the port. It was green and alive and full of things that ended when the sweet met the salt. He crossed good bridges made in the style of the men who ruled all of Middle-earth when it was worth ruling. They stood as proud reminders of what might yet be. To the north were the great forests of fine woods, both soft for building and hard for craft. In the foothills were bred horses like his fine Ignathe. Along the plain, all manner of grains and fruit and nuts grew twice each season along with the worm bushes.

As was his custom, a girl was brought to him at the last royal station. It soothed him, readied him for the scrutiny of the palace. He asked for the same lass as last time. She reminded him of someone.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Bozisha-Kantû rested on the lip of the great inland lake forming the headwaters of the river. At only two-thirds the population of Dar, it called to him, made him feel someday he would return for good. The city was defended by sand, not walls or moats. Who could get here with men and arms? Skilled troops were prepared for short notice and the militias of the farmlands were trained.

The guard at the palace gate opened before he arrived. His father tried to get Tarquin to come with bodyguards but riding home was the only time he was ever really alone. After bathing and changing in his quarters, the heir went to Ar-Gimilzôr's working office.

Father and son gripped each others' arms and smiled. They loved each other. King and Prince were mortal men who might only live one hundred thirty years, both long enough and short enough for love. The original Ar-Gimilzôr lived over two hundred. The strain had weakened in the blending and kin-slayings of the long march south.

They sat in familiar chairs, not the womanish pillows of the Haradrim. The King said, "Back in one piece. Tell me of your sister."

"She is well, sir. But she is sad. As much as she claims succor by the sea, it is not her refined life."

"Your grandmother was the same way. I have no idea how your mother was ever conceived. Say hello to her while you are here. Now, you were not due back for a month. Are there tidings?"

"More in the manner of questions, father. A ship unlike any we have seen before berthed a week ago. It is from Gondor."

The King leaned forward. Gondor was a famous and terrible place for the rulers of Miraz, rightly called 'Thân zîrân', Beloved Land, rather than its tribal Southron predecessor. Old names stick. He asked, "A warship?"

"It could certainly be used for that. This is a trader of things for housewives. No, father, it is the men who are of interest. They worship the Angmarach who is said to be gaining strength in the old Sauronic lands. He seeks a foothold there again.

"I would have had them whipped for heresy but one of them, a thoughtless young man, has some sorcery claimed to direct Ar-Balkumagân's attention. Evidently, the Witch-king seeks allies and the simple trader said he found something."

The King stroked his full-beard, "This man, what do you make of him?"

"Not much. He is a haughty and handsome fellow who freely admits he has limited strength. But a stone said to be fashioned by the Angmarach's minions was made to glow in his hand, before my eyes and Uncle Tourgsh. It was not a trick but we examined the device and could divine no power."

"So, it is the trader?"

"Or both. I teased sister that the rakish foreigner was interested."

His Lordship chuckled, "Only when we want him dead. You were right to return, my loyal son. What steps are taken while you are here?"

Lord Rathbairn speaks with local merchants for a successful but slow exchange of their wares. The sailors will grow tired of waiting in port."

The hereditary ruler of Miraz said thoughtfully, "So the question is whether we can use this sorcery to further our aims?"

"It seems little threat. They had a noxious observance of their faith that we discouraged. I wonder if this merchant has tools to help our own true Lord. Does the Angmarach come in service to Mulkhêr or to himself? The man knows nothing of his own past."

The King followed that thread, "It seems we would need both the man and the stone, you said stone?"

"A flat little rock with runes, eastern, I thought."

"How do we know he does not use this power to frustrate the Door of Night? That is the last entrance known and we have but a glimpse. If I were this Witch-King, would I want to fight an age to kneel before those safely imprisoned? He was a fell King of Numenor, said founder of the King's-men, before he was betrayed. Do we want him summoned to reclaim his old throne?"

Prince Tarquinbir said softly, "Tsial-dra wondered the same. That is why I come, father. This is your decision."

Ar-Gimilzôr said thoughtfully, "It seems we have time. Let us discuss this again in council. Will you visit your wife while you are here?"

"I think not, sir. One does not like being reminded of his mistakes."

"A man is allowed a few."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

The next morning, a shambling father and his young daughter walked along the docks asking crews of the ships if they would like to buy woven charms proven to bring luck, health and romance to men of the sea.

The child was about eight and not comely. Scars disfigured her face where even a scarf could not hide. At most ships, men simply waved them away. One threw a rotten peach at her. When they reached the Fûl, she was undaunted and told them of the great good that would come of the charms she and her mother wove to the benefit of sailors.

That should have been a difficult sale given her obvious misfortune, but one of the crewmen took pity and gave her a groat for her treasure. She ran gleefully to father with the precious copper. Men watching from other boats were either sorry she would have a difficult life or past caring.

That night, Seaman Sendarid had a loud run of luck playing dice on the rear-castle. He lost a few hands but in all, he must have squeezed his fellows for nearly a silver. Friends exclaimed that he had never been that lucky.

He still hadn't.

The next day, no one threw fruit at her but did not part with their coppers until she reached the strange foreign ship. Sendarid and another sailor stood ready for all the good luck they could buy. Again, she thrilled at her good fortune, showing her crippled father two groats this time. Neither of them won big that night but they didn't lose as badly as poor Bosun Ibernig. He bemoaned abandonment by gods large and small and the next day bought two charms, thinking to skew the odds.

Her name was Nieschdrul and she was obviously some sort of Southron, hardly worth the notice of anyone in Bozisha-Dar. Different sailors purchased according to the roll of the dice but on the days she came, she always sold one or two of the little reed charms to friendly foreigners who could not speak a word of her tongue. In today's exchange she offered thanks by saying, "Eleven Du Canalth. Ten-bell." Then she waved and offered to change the luck of sailors on other ships.

~o~

Nag Kath and Listracht slipped off after dark and split up to approach the address from different directions. The Elf climbed a handy wall to a rooftop to see if anyone was watching. They weren't, supporting Listracht's claim that the local guardi or Arbiters weren't interested. They hadn't spotted anyone watching them onboard either. The dice charades were to entertain lurkers. Games were played for real but charm buyers would cry victory for a few rolls they did not win.

There were no bells here. You were supposed to know where you needed to be, and why would anyone make noise when decent people should be abed? After an hour, a Khandian owl hooted and the two sailors converged on a modest home along the fishing wharf further west. There was no secret knock. Listracht rapped his knuckles and Mr. Oram opened.

Inside were another man about forty and the first woman who had noticed the fell glyph identifying the foreign ship. They sat on pillows arranged in a circle in the single large room after Listracht peeked through the shutter.

Oram said, "Thank you for coming. I have told my associate of your work." No names. That was the arrangement. The woman sipped her tea. "Here is what we know; the heir rode east six days ago. It is earlier than usual so it may have to do with your arrival. Men are asking about your cargo to purchase in bulk. There really isn't anything here you don't have in your home except the fine fabric of moths in the lowlands to the east. It will not be ready for a month. If dyed, twice that."

Nag Kath said, "That suits our schedule. We will need mooring away from the main docks. Sailors are not suited for long stays onboard in a port."

Oram spoke to the man next to him about that and the fellow said a friend's dock was available. It would be no cheaper but more private. Nag Kath translated that for Listracht. These were probably Righters. The Elf applauded their devotion but was mostly interested in the Witch-King. Hopefully women and wine might be available to the fallen.

Nag Kath held the floor, "Now, we come to search fell remainders of the Witch-King. He is dead but still holds power, like the One Ring of Sauron. Ghosts walk his graveyards. Howls and screams are heard near rivers. There are creatures that steal the lives of the living. Is there any of that here?"

The woman spoke for the first time. Both sailors wondered if she came from considerably higher station than her garb suggested. They might not even recognize her in better cloth. That was the point, they supposed. She said, "No, and we look. Though, it was not known that he was slain. Can you tell us of that?"

~o~

Between them, Nag Kath and Listracht gave the short version of the Pelennor, the Mordor campaign and Dwarf Ring, the Orlo symbols turned upside down and Orlo himself. In closing Nag Kath said, "The Witch-King is not quite dead. If there is no sign of him here, I need to know what the King is trying to do with Melkor. He was consigned to the void nearly seven thousand years ago. Of many possibilities, three stand out; one, the dark lord was not fully imprisoned. Two; this King thinks he can get him out and three, the king is making it all up and the threat alone keeps him in power."

The woman said, "There have been … disturbances to the east where Ar-Gimilzôr holds court. I felt them." That was news. She was not skinny enough to be a commercial healer.

Listracht had been thinking of this for a week and asked Nag Kath to say, "Forgive my friend. He wants to know if a change of ruler is wanted. Both of our experience was that the world of Sauron was unimaginable terror and pain, a second Morgoth at his worst. Yet here, people are fair and not slaves and seem to enjoy their lives. Trying to make it purer invites disaster. Would you risk that?"

The younger man said, "If so, that is a great feat. Many have tried to take the throne here. A few succeeded, but they had men-at-arms and support in the counties. You have one ship two hundred miles from him."

The Elf translated that for Listracht who spoke back to him in the tongue of the Balchoth. That went back and forth for a minute until the tall blonde man said, "If I gain the palace, I can slay him and his family without a sound."

Somehow, they believed him.

Penandoth would ask of the right-liver's friend about mooring the Fûl. Nag Kath would inveigle an invitation or summons to the inland capital. Their communication process would remain the same.

Listracht asked the Elf to say something for him. "Sir, if you use a touch of vellet powder in your daughter's scars, they will stick to her face better."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

The Peristonig brothers knew about the worm fabric. It was impossibly expensive, tough as leather and yet allowed the slightest breeze through. It could only be made by certain worms on certain bushes and only masters could do any of the dozen steps needed to make it glorious. If they could lay in a stock of it, they would be rich beyond the dreams of Oakenshield.

What could be had in Middle-earth came from the lands of Chey where Sauron never stopped the rain. It came in well-guarded caravans along the southern Duath and found grateful homes before ever reaching the west.

Ubier and Udan were promoted to worm-wool negotiators and would start asking. The right-living council, a Ghurate had they known, would also make inquiries. A discrete local merchant would go-between at an office to be rented with a few silvers the Elf left with them.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Well to the east in much more comfortable surroundings, the King's council was called by a Herald. It included the Prince, Ministers of the Purse, Army and Security, the vice Minister of the Seas since his superior was always in the western capital. Then there was Heuldarn, a gentleman who was known by the unhelpful title of Elf-Friend. A scribe took notes. Prince Tarquin was asked to summarize his report to his father.

Incomplete knowledge divided this tight group and the larger assembly into two camps. Each was given time to speak. The older, more conservative view was that the tiny window created by the first Black Numenoreans into the void should somehow be used to recall the dark lord known to be seething there. As his benefactors, they would reclaim the vast lands denied them by the Faithful and all the swarthy, lower-men defiling them now. It was their due. If this man-child merchant had skills to open the pin-hole wide enough, he should be brought into service.

The other camp was that of the Princess to let sleeping dogs lie. Miraz was a nice place and they were in charge. Who knew what a lord of unlimited power and wrath would do to them if he was loosed on the world? He might turn them to orcs or slaves and they would deserve every day of it. Now we find the north is stabilized enough to have commerce with better men than the ones in-between.

The Prince was neutral on the matter. Fiercely loyal to his father, he would comply with any command. On the other hand, he would not mind being the eventual ruler of this benign slice of Middle-earth, removed from the strife and immense anger that had bled the rest white. After saying as much as he had to, Prince Tarquin listened.

No conclusions were intended. The King simply said, "That is all for now. In two days, at the same hour, give me your advice.

A furtive glance to Heuldarn had the man trail those leaving. He paused at the door and returned to stand by his King who said, "I would hear your thoughts sooner."

"I think we need a look at this sailor. It might be no more than we feed and pleasure him. Then we send him back to port or he dies."

"And these powers my son has seen?" Ar-Gimilzôr gestured for him to sit.

"May I speak my mind, Sire? The King nodded. "For five thousand years, the men of Numenor have been squeezed and chased to this place far beyond any reason for folk to bother. We control the food and timber which gives us mastery of the gulf. We could stay here, small and content, for that much longer.

Heuldarn rose to the moment, "Then you would be the next of the Kings who thought to reclaim your heritage but did not. Events to the north seem to have fallen our way. Bring this peddler. See if he can shake the pillars of heaven and help return the lands we once ruled." No matter how the council fell on the matter, Ar-Gimilzôr had already decided he would be the last king content with exile in this the age of men.

~o~

Tarquin decided not to see his wife. Tanûerv was a vision as a child. She danced and sang and greeted folk of the forest in grace. He married her for love with his father's blessing and she would become Queen of this fair land one day.

A year after the wedding, she fell into fog, a curse, the Seers said. Two years later, she seldom recognized her husband. The extraordinary physical comfort she could bestow was forgotten. They had no children. They had no life. For six years she had lived at a home above the lake with ladies who must bathe her and brush her hair and make her wear clean clothes. Sometimes they had to feed her by the bite like an infant. Poor Tenûerv flitted from room to room seeking those who were surely observing and telling others of her every thought. She begged them to release her to the forest so she would be quit of them with grace restored.

The King ordered them divorced five years ago. His son had not remarried. Somehow he needed to endure the tragedy. Pressure was mounting to produce an heir of his own, or several. At some point, another marriage would join him with a broodmare of the nation's continuance. All hope of fair Tanûerv would be lost.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

The meeting in two day's time went as planned. The house divided about in the middle with the Prince taking no position. The King decided that the sailors would be brought here for further assessment. As soon as the daily messenger reached the port, the ship would be watched and not allowed to leave.

By the time the man got there, the ship had already been moved to a new dock a half mile from the city wharf. The docking would not have been large enough for a Captain who insisted on orderly loading of cargo but it had other advantages. Against all known right-living tenets, several young women found their way to the apartment building just off the main road along the quay. Men on leave might visit them from time to time, even the married ones. One of their wine barrels mysteriously found its way to the same building which was rented with the dock. Nag Kath would square that with Orlo when next they met.

The haughty merchant's heir took an apartment in the heart of the city with his long-suffering servant. If the lower-orders needed to amuse themselves while they completed their business, who was Mr. Solvanth to interfere? Women in the same trade made him offers he could refuse. The servant discretely lost his Guardi trail for such a trip but generally let them follow where he wanted to be seen.

Nag Kath bought some of the worm-cloth garments. They were very comfortable. Yes, with enough of this, Penandoth could turn a profit. The swords might have to be dumped in the inlet before they unloaded the trade goods.

The messenger from the palace requested the merchant's presence the following morning. This time they met in a reception room, the one with the portraits. While they waited for whoever summoned them, both men took a quick look at the paintings. They could have been painted last week or five thousand years ago, no different than the Kings on the arch in Dunland.

Both visitors turned when the Uncle came in with a pair of guards who positioned themselves by the door. Betraying no opinion of his orders, Uncle said that the King would welcome his fellow believer in the old ways and invited Mr. Solvanth and such staff as were needed to the eastern Capital with dispatch. So, this had reached the point where the old boy needn't pretend he was in charge.

The right-livers had already explained it was a comfortable five-day ride, two weeks there and back if things went well. One of the soldiers said horses would be ready for them after breakfast at the palace gate.

There wasn't much to discuss. Nag Kath and Listracht had no choice and the Uncle didn't know they actually wanted to go. Their personal possessions were already in the apartment but Listracht went back to the ship for a few things and a word with Penandoth.

Theirs were a couple of fair horses. Other than swayback donkeys in the market, not even soldiers rode in Bozisha-Dar. Nag Kath got a gelding which was a good fit after needing help adjusting the Numenorean stirrup buckles. Listracht got a mare. He had not ridden much. A troop of six outriders went with them. They wore no plate armor and only thin-mail about the torso and sleeves. Helmets were a bit like Gondor's with eagle wings above the nose-guards.

With no more than the Sarnt saying, "chik, chik" they were off at a canter. After two hours, Nag Kath knew Listracht would need some embarrassing sores tended. That is a difficult gait for an inexperienced rider to time correctly. The Righter would be bowlegged tomorrow.

The road was better than any but the ceremonial paths in national capitals. Accommodations on the way were nice too, but it was clear these facilities were not for everyday merchants. They had their own guards while the troopers slept in nearby barracks. As servant, Listracht had a cot in the master's room. The man took his healing with grudging grace and Nag Kath let him have the bed.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~