Chapter 46

The Blue Jewel

The Map Khand Topo might help here.

Im gur period com/gallery/jHPlDU8

~o~

From Kugavod to the first three weeks in Lhûg, Nag Kath thought he would have to ride to the back of beyond chasing the old sorcerer's cryptic clues. Lake Nennûrad was on the border of Khand and Nûrad. About two hundred miles due south, it would ride more like three for lack of a straight road. The lake was just east of the last and highest mountains of the Ered Harmal range that divided Khand from Nûrad all the way to Harad and then some.

In other research, it seemed the mountains were of the few, or perhaps the westernmost, that got more snow on the eastern side of the peaks; bad news for central Khand since Mordor stole the moisture from their side. Storms here came from the northern wastes rather than the Belegaer.

The lake was at the eastern foothills of the northernmost and tallest peaks which raged water the year around. A natural dam formed the headwaters of the River Kól, said to be not easy to ford even in the dry season now just ending. Nennûrad was in the Khanate of Pashir, one hundred miles on the Khand side of the peaks. They were Lhûg's southern neighbor and relations were acceptable.

Mrs. Puluogh was shown how to make such Lembas as could be mixed from local ingredients and Nag Kath said his goodbyes. The plan was to return before making west again, for what that was worth. The first hundred forty miles was on good road making for the sharp bend in the river at a place called the Temple of Kondri Odchi. There were shortcuts within forty miles but anything to do with temples got the Elf's attention.

The temple was before a modest town so he stopped there a few hours before sundown. There were no preservation societies here. The architecture could be two thousand years old at the oldest but possibly much newer if older designs were used. It had been rather grand with a main room about forty feet square and smaller rooms around three sides. A family of merchants sought shelter inside but thought better of it when the tall rider started inspecting all the nooks and crevices.

Nag Kath looked closely everywhere but especially the floor. The slates were laid at the same time. It gave no sense of foreboding. Used by squatters, it smelled rank but not fell. Water gave no signs.

~o~

Another hour's ride brought him to the River Kól. Reports were right that this would be very hard to cross. This was the outside of a bend forty miles long. Trying to ford in the strong flow would land you on the same side well downstream. There was an inn with a tavern serving edible fish and drinkable ale to merchants along the near bank. Other guests included fishermen who hooked or netted large fish and some farmers, about twelve men all tallied.

The tall rider had ale brought to all tables to commemorate his father's naming day. That prised all manner of conversation from the patrons, some useful. The trail to Nennûrad was poor for wagons, fair for horses. They traded primarily with Pashir to their west served by good roads. The northerner would find adequate water but should keep a full skin if he went far inland. Along the river itself were rivulets and the river was drinkable but sometimes hard to access.

One local man had been up and down that trail several times and said to watch for swamp bandits about halfway to the lake. They were farmers and fishermen unless a fat prize stumbled by. He had never been accosted but humbly admitted he wasn't worth the effort. The man did not know if they were archers.

From there it was another hundred and forty miles to the town. If there were bandits watching, they thought better of interfering. The river dipped forty miles from the city and the path cut straight so he was out of sight of the Kól for two days before regaining it at the town along the northern bank.

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It was a blue jewel, not unlike Bozisha-Kantû. Quite deep, a natural dam formed the sole source of the powerful river making east. The western side of the city did not climb the mountains like the Numenorean capital. There were perhaps ten miles of gradual slopes divided by strong rivers with fertile farms producing two crops a year. The north side was much the same.

He put the lake about twenty miles across at the longest. In addition to the creeks running directly in, a powerful river from below fed water in from peaks directly south and this side of a low-pass to the Khandian town of Alagoth perhaps seventy miles away. Smaller creeks in these hills made this the only place to cross the Kol for two hundred miles.

By now, former municipal architect Nag Kath had a good eye for size and folk. He figured the city itself had perhaps four thousand residents, so; not as large as Lhûg but the biggest place in this direction. The Elf arrived about mid-morning so the market still had another hour or two to go. Walking Nemren up the slight upslope, he saw folk trading cloth, wool, jewelry, and finished clothing. Closer to the water, women sang that they had the freshest fish, including some whoppers staring at passers-by. There were meats, chickens, vegetables and baskets of grain. Half a dozen kids gathered close, but not too close, to the giant horse flicking his tail at flies.

Lake Nennûrad had several inns serving the quality. He chose the Helivar with its own stable. If it was nice, he would extend the stay. That night he did not wade into existing conversations with men at the taverns. He was looking for symbols first; some fell, some fair, risking strong opinions from the few who knew them. The first day he went to the lake's edge to see the boats. They were similar to the craft of Mistrand. The prevailing breeze was northwesterly so most vessels had triangular sails to tack against it back to the harbor. There were no docks. Since the lake level never changed, men dragged their boats up enough not to float away and tied them to stakes like horses. The exceptions were houseboat where people lived all year. Those were kept to the east of all other boats for cleanliness.

Nag Kath wandered the market again, this time without the eye-catching horse. He was still interesting to children ranging from shoeless to fairly well-dressed. His trek took him to one of the better neighborhoods. It was more to the eastern side of the lake and town but not elevated like most favored Dalish districts. The largest homes had stout fences with no obvious guards. There were temples and other places of observance but not in a dedicated quarter like Pelargir. One of the larger structures had what looked like the remnants of a Fûl symbol chipped away, probably within the last century. They would not all be as obvious so he would inquire.

~o~

In Khand, even border-towns like this one, there is a large civil administration. It is where men of higher birth than brains can find employment but there are usually a few who have a modicum of both.

He walked into the Khanate office for the district and told the desk man he was here to study the temples and architecture of this magnificent city for a volume. This was not one of the bright lads. It took several minutes to find one. Nag Kath repeated his interests and was shown to a small office towards the back of the building near a real window.

Mr. Jhelland said politely, "To be sure, you are interested in our older buildings for a report?" Reports were usually given to important people, often reporting on less-important people who had done something wrong.

The tall stranger smiled slightly and reassured, "Purely for scholarship, best of sirs. As my people and yours learn more of our heroic past, men wish to know how they reached their current homes. Their buildings can tell us." He fumbled in his pocket for the gate pass to the northern Khan's library. It had nothing to do with this or the local Khan, but it was on official stationary and recently dated.

Since it was nothing to Mr. Jhelland if the man wanted to spend his money here, he said, "A worthy notion, Mr. Solva … Solvansh. How can my humble office assist?"

"It would help me if there was a map of old buildings. I don't need to enter them. This is more about their design and inscriptions. If none such exists, a lad who knows the city well can earn a few coppers showing me around."

The clerk stood and went down the hall for a moment, coming back with a folio. He opened it at his desk and filed through a few sheets until coming to an old one that showed the city long ago. Without comment, he gave it to the northern scholar. This would help, and Nag Kath knew the protocol saying, "Thank you. Mr. Jhelland. I would like to make a copy of this. Do I pay the administrative fee here?"

"If that is convenient. For a friend of the Esteemed Khan Sulem-Doth, I should think a silver coin will cover all of the necessary taxes." Such a coin found its way to the desk and disappeared. The man left with plenty of time for Nag Kath to make his copy with a quick peek at a few of the other pages.

On the way out, he would keep his eye open for a Brenen.

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Before lunch, he stopped at the store that had been a temple. They sold weaving supplies like looms, along with the metal and wooden parts to make them work. This area got a supply of fabric from further south made from little fluffy balls that grew on bushes. Strangely, folk said it needed sandy soil. There was plenty of sand when you got away from the foothills.

An older woman and a rather pretty younger one took turns helping customers. When business was slow, they made decorated weavings on their own looms. Nag Kath remembered seeing these types of pattern in Ûbésêsh but not in northern Khand. It is difficult for a man to look like he needs something in such a place but he had to try. The older woman rose from her bench and asked, "Is sir looking for something?"

"A gift for my niece. Her mother is now teaching her such craft in Kelepar and I know Nennûrad is commended for your work."

Whether she believed him or not, he seemed a paying customer. She spoke to the younger woman and said, "Karlalla will assist." Karlalla rose after completing a pass. These were large looms with levers to shift the long threads up or down every other strand so the cross threads would lock in place after every pass. They wouldn't be cheap either compared to women knotting them by hand.

She bowed and said, "Sir is interested in a gift for a young woman. May I ask her age?"

Her sheepish customer replied, "I think nine, but that could go a year either way."

The tall man slowly walked along the goods as she followed trying to pin-down what the girl knew and his budget. He was from far away so it had to be portable. There was a carpet in the middle of the slate floor. He knelt and folded back a corner and said, "Now, what is needed for this type of work?"

At the risk of losing a sale the flustered young lady tried; "That is a much different sort of loom than we sell, best of sirs. Ours are more for clothing."

As if he hadn't heard a word, the customer pulled the rug up as far as it would go without upsetting a cabinet and wondered aloud, "Yes, how does one get the pattern to show on the top side but it is just knots on the bottom?"

"After the plain weave is complete, those are added in by hand, best sir."

He carefully put the rug back over original stones and said, "Ah, now what is this?"

"That is a shuttle, sir. Thread is attached to it and one slides it through the weave, growing the length with each pass. Let me show you." She returned to her seat and stepped on a foot treadle raising the lower threads and lowering the top threads. Then she passed the shuttle through and with another step, changed the long threads to the way they were.

"I think that would be a marvelous gift. These seem much better made than I have seen." He was right. These were carved of tighter wood and painted or finished for ladies of the fine neighborhoods. The tall stranger added, "You had better give me two. Her sister is but two years younger and I may not be this way again."

Sale saved, the customer left with two weaving shuttles at three groats each. The young woman watched him walk away longer than she might have before returning to her work.

~o~

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~o~

Nag Kath hadn't been entirely honest when he told the administrator he didn't need to go inside the buildings. He would either pay for the privilege like at the weaving store or visit when no one knew. That could be a lot of places. He had been looking for temples. The warded hut in Kugavod was too small for a pig pen. He wandered back to his inn for a closer look at the sketch of old Nennûrad.

That evening it was time to play simple. Purposely arriving at the tavern as it filled, he took a seat next to several better-dressed men at a long table not meant for games of chance. Dinner was one of the large fish, baked with local spices. Ale was the only drink with alcohol so he got one and minded his own business, eaves-dropping on conversations around the room.

At a certain point in life, a sizeable number of men need a few hours away from their wives. These men may use language not spoken before their wives and daughters, sometimes of wives and daughters. They refine old glories over time. Some drink a lot, some little. They do business. They share secrets. Whatever the reason, they come to places like the Lake Heron when the sun gets low.

The tall man asked for another ale in a strong Rhûnic accent. It was unusual but not sinister. He was obviously not from around here and now they knew where. That area was not known as a bastion of piety but it was not unreasonable when he asked the man next to him in fair Variag, "Excuse me, best of sirs. So as not to offend, where does one pay his respects to the gods and Valar of your city?"

He wasn't specific as to which gods or Valar or barbarian spirits he meant. The fellow took a pull of his own ale, his third by the Elf's count, and instructed, "Hard to say, young man. Now men of the court visit the Shrine of the Khagan's Blessing, Khagan Uzbiesh, mind, not the one from the war."

The lanky foreigner considered that and said, "Perhaps one that honors the old ways. My father was very traditional."

The old ways hadn't gone so well down here. They might have been different where this fellow was born. A man across the table offered, "You mean the Valar?"

"I do not know them as such but here they may be called as Those Who are Named."

A third fellow next to the second said, "Try the prayer altar across from the cooper's. There's thems what goes there on Wednesdays." The man had seen Northmen there from time to time and it might be helpful.

That got him a good smile. "Thank you, best of sirs. I will remember to light the candle a day before."

~o~

Wednesday was two days later. It is not easy to loiter where men are shaving staves from dawn to dusk with nothing to eat, drink or leer at. On one pass he took a buttered loaf to the stone alter and started eating. No one hurried over to proclaim sacrilege. While there he looked for carvings or Northmen, getting neither.

Another lack was local lads like Brenen or Tumlen. Travelers here seemed to have their own children run errands. On the way back to the inn he saw a tavern with hitch posts in front. At the desk he said he wanted to make a reservation for the window table and asked the inn to send it over. The man whistled up a slovenly lad with a runny nose to deliver the note. Nag Kath would eat there tonight but keep looking for his next Tumlen.

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After a week of looking under rugs and buying things he didn't need, Nag Kath took Nemren along the western side of the lake, fording half a dozen streams until the area opened to a large area of farms between the eastern and southern peaks. There were no inns or businesses until he reached the road from Alagoth over the low pass. He took a room for the night and let Nemren eat real grass for the first time in too long.

Southern peaks ran almost to the river feeding the lake with strong flows. Rain falling here was always snow if you looked high enough. Upstream was a known ford where folk of Nûrad crossed. With no bridge or ferry, it was brisk. On the other side, he looped back to the southern lake and was pleasantly surprised to find a small outpost of the kneading healers beside a farm town.

The tall, blonde rider got stares from those outside, those inside and those who hurried out their doors. Approaching one of the strapping lasses, he said, "I am known to Ventuub of your teaching. She helped me with an old injury."

The woman still stared but went to fetch a more senior member in a nearby hut. That lady walked over and said, "You honor us sir, but she has long gone on to healing among the Khandi."

"That is where we met, the last time only four months ago. She is well and continues with a woman of the Viersh."

"They are honored as well." He wasn't sure how much. They seemed like competitors, wherever Viersh was. The woman asked, "Do you seek relief now?"

"Yes, I have trouble from back pain. Perhaps I can take your care and rest after long travel."

Without ever breaking a smile, she walked into her hut and returned with a woman aged about between herself and the youngster saying, "This is Fhûlar. She will attend you."

With the same accent as Ventuub the healer said, "If you will come with me, best of sirs."

~o~

Guilt was not an emotion Saruman bred into his Uruk-hai. At times like this, Nag Kath felt it. He came to protect people from orcs and trolls and a variety of monsters but he was here under false pretenses. The woman showed him into another modest hut and had him remove his jacket and shirt. Lying on her table, he showed her where he felt old troubles. It was unusual that a man could even reach that part of his back. He assisted, but not enough to show silver. It felt good. I would feel good if his back wasn't injured. She relieved his muscles too and he drifted into waking rest.

It seemed like a moment later but it was about half-a-bell, judging by the sun. He said groggily, "I think I should have another healing tomorrow or the day after. Who do I see about that and your payment?" He had to poke around for symbols here too.

She smiled less timidly than the other powerful healers he had met and told him to take that up with the Thourah who introduced them. The Elf walked outside and stretched before going back to the first hut and asking the older woman about accommodations and groats.

The village just east might have rooms. Inventing a number, the woman said it would be four groats for each session. He gave her a tenner and told her to keep the change. That wasn't good for a smile either. Leading the horse over to the village he got a room with a farmer for a groat.

~o~

There wasn't much more to do than sketch and watch Nemren graze. Farmers put a couple lads at the nearest gardens to keep the horse from the winter cabbage. About the same time the next day he reported to Fhûlar for another treatment. On the table, Nag Kath asked her about Ventuub, who seemed about ten years older. Fhûhar met her before she left. The Elf asked, "Do you go where the Order says?"

The healer considered that and replied, "Sometimes, and with permission, but someone recommended her. They said there was need."

Trying not to betray real interest, Nag Kath followed, "I am glad she was able to serve. She continued learning from a woman who is very old and now she comforts her learned mentor." The next question mattered, "Who suggested she serve in Khand?"

"A person of the town. He came here for care, though one of us lives right there." She stopped for a moment wondering, "Now, what is his name?"

"Perhaps the healer there knows?"

"Probably."

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His back felt great. Most graduates of this school went into the world. If one could make it to Pelargir, having one in nearby Hanvas Tûr was not unreasonable. Being recommended to go there specifically was even better. As good as his back felt, he thought he would seek additional treatment after returning to the inn. There was no healers' guild. When the desk man asked about his trip, Nag Kath winced, "Good, but I jarred an old back injury. Are there healers here who can help?"

"One of the women who does such care is near the water above the boat yard, a large female with strong hands."

Business was brisk. One man was receiving attention and two more were on an uncomfortable bench out front. The Elf would stop by when they left. He had lunch at another new place looking for secrets. Most of the old buildings from the city map had been destroyed one way or another. If there were wards, they were hidden under new floors.

Nag Kath liked this little city. People seemed relaxed. There was enough to eat. No one seemed desperately poor. Grinding poverty bothered him. He had been sent to heal but did so in large ways. That mattered little to the hungry. He saw the attractive woman from the loom shop going home and she smiled.

The healer's door was shut so he knocked. A minute later, a woman who looked a lot like Nenwûla answered and asked how she could help. Without mentioning having just been across the lake, he said he was hoping she could see to his old trouble. It was past quitting time but this man was new and might not come back like a townsman so she told him to come in and lit an oil sconce next to her table.

"Thank you for staying open. I know your work is tiring."

Somewhat surprised she asked, "You know our work?"

"Yes, to the north." Then he was quiet. She would ask again.

Nag Kath explained where he had been injured and she probed with strong, sensitive fingers around the bone, deeply enough that a man would typically squeal. He just took it in and said that was the place. Then it was his turn to be surprised. She pressed down hard and they both heard a loud pop. For an instant he thought there had been damage and flooded the area with his own healing. If it glowed, she did not notice.

Matter-of-factly she observed, "Roughness had built around those bones. They should be looser now."

He said; "Hmmmmm" and meant it.

Miss Veintshu was a bit better-heeled than the others of this discipline, which made sense since she was out of the school and not working at a retreat. Her home was modest but clean and her clothes were new. As Nag Kath hoped, she said, "Our care is not always known to the north, best of sirs."

"There are not many, I will admit. I knew Velluub near Lhûg."

"Oh yes." She dug a finger into the Elf's lower back that nearly had him howl. "She went five, no six years ago."

Trying the same tack here he asked, "Did your order send her?"

"No, once we complete our studies, we go where we like. I am from here and my brother repairs boats."

It was time, "That is a far from here. Perhaps she knew someone there."

"Someone who comes for healing told her of a great Thourah there who was elderly and wanted to care for her patients."

The Elf stretched in comfort and groaned, "Well, I should like to thank him because she helped me just as you have done."

"Not him, her. A woman of the Phaul district, Mrs. Xhurrag-Ledj." The healer said proudly, "She comes to me now."

The Elf relaxed completely, "Then she is in good hands."

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The Phaul district was the oldest of three wealthy neighborhoods. Another was merely three hundred years old and the latest from after the war. Here was where he needed a Brenen or Tumlen to discretely ferret-out where the woman lived. From end to end there were sixty homes, about half with walls. There was no mail service in Khand outside of official documents and what influential people could slip in the pouch.

If he couldn't find a lad, he would have to borrow one. The Elf went to a shop that sold fine shawls and scarves made of the puffy balls and chose one a woman of any age could wear. As he was paying he realized he was late for an appointment and pressed, "This is for Mrs. Zhurrag-Ledj up the hill. Can you have this delivered at an extra charge?"

The proprietor was absolutely sure that could be done. Many things in his shop were purchased by family or servants. Two groats more seemed quite reasonable and the esteemed lady would receive it before the end of the day.

~o~

She did, but not by a lad. The old man who delivered it reminded him of the lamplighter in Trum Dreng. He knocked on the gate of the walled home, was admitted and left a few minutes later clutching a copper. The fellow hadn't been manhandled or questioned, except maybe to ask who sent the anonymous gift. Another delivery man might be treated as well. The Elf was lucky that there was an empty home across the street. The neighborhoods had a number of second or third homes for families of the capital and inner districts to escape the heat in summer. It had a front window and a back door. Other than a few Lembas crumbs, it was like he wasn't there.

A stout woman and a younger man left every market day holding baskets they brought back full. Someone else let them in the gate. They had no horses or stables around back. On day three, he thought he got a look at Mrs. Zhurrag-Ledj. She left in the afternoon with a strapping fellow poorly concealing a dirk just short enough to not qualify as an illegal sword. Her first stop was to call on a friend a block closer to town for an hour while her bodyguard kept his eyes open. Nag Kath could not tell if this was an ordinary precaution or related to secret activities. Other women of means had attendants too but this one had been a soldier.

Then they went to a store that sold spices. That was one of the first places Nag Kath visited looking for clues but didn't see anything dangerous. Most folk in the west would have the cook attend this but here you had your own family blends, closely guarded secrets. That only took a few minutes. Her final stop was at a candle shop, also a place one sent domestics. She was in a quarter-bell and left with a small bag. He went in a few minutes later and seemed to be looking at his shoes before buying a few candles of his own.

The night after, he got his break. The strapping fellow left after dark and quietly made his way to a large house near the administrative offices. Waiting in the shadows while another man left, he was admitted in the gate. Judging by lamps moving in the upper rooms and soft music below, men were being entertained. A powerful specimen, he was there at least a bell. One his way home the guard walked into a strong confusion spell. Five minutes later Nag Kath was over the back fence to visit the man's employer.

She was in her fifties or a well-preserved sixty. As she went into her bedroom she sensed him and started to leave when he said, "I must ask you to stay, Mrs. Zhurrag-Ledj."

She answered calmly, "My man may disagree."

"He is unavoidably delayed, ma'am, else we could not talk about the benefits of healing. Please take the chair nearest your candle."

She did very slowly and said, "What kind of conversation can we have if I cannot see you?"

"A brief one. Perhaps others will follow, at your pleasure."

"We shall see. What do you want?"

He answered, "Please, look at the paper next to your candle." She unfolded the sheet and studied it. Her face betrayed nothing. Then he asked, "Are any of those familiar to you?"

She folded the sheet, "I have nothing further to say to you."

"That, ma'am, was the correct answer, even if untrue. The symbol in the upper right is Orlo, who I represent. On the left is Fûl, which I try to destroy. The bottom-right is of a sorcerer I do not know and the last was inlaid on a ward in Rhûn holding fell creatures beneath the ground. I believe there may be something like that here and would not see it opened.

"My name is Solvanth and I am at the Helivar. If anything I said has meaning, I hope to hear from you."

She would certainly question her strong-man when he returned for some sense of her guest. Nag Kath maintained the room at the Helivar but moved Nemren and a few things to a modest inn across the street.

There was no mad rush of Guardi the next morning. People came and went. He recognized most of them. Late in the afternoon, he walked into the Helivar and asked if there were any messages. The proprietor thought a moment and said, "Yes, sir. A note."

It was sealed with a stamp he did not recognize. Inside were the sigil and the word 'wait'. Nag Kath kept the room across the street but was in or about the Helivar for the rest of the day and the next. A short man in working clothes came by in the afternoon with a package. As he walked by he said, "We should go." Nag Kath let him leave before following.

The fellow took a route no one would use if they wanted to go from here to there. Nag Kath never got too close and watched for watchers. When the man reached his destination, he opened the door of a small home where none of the places across the alley had windows and waited for the Elf to catch-up.

Inside he walked to a pot of tea and said, "Mrs. Zhurrag-Ledj wanted to thank you for the scarf."

"It seemed the least I could do."

The man handed him a mug and said, "My name, for our purposes, is Dourdhan. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Solvansh. Please, make yourself at home. We will be joined by another shortly. No reason to all arrive at the same time, is there?"

"Less crowded."

Dourdhan took a chair ten feet away, not unlike the safe-house in Bozisha-Dar. The room had an oiled-paper window above street level and two candles waiting to be lit after the remaining sun. The fellow took a sip and said, "I am afraid you will have to do most of the talking, Mr. Solvansh. We were not expecting you."

The Elf chuckled, "I find that often, Mr. Dourdhan."

~o~

They sat in silence for only a few more minutes when Mrs. Zhurrag-Ledj opened the unlocked door and locked it behind her. She looked at the visitor in slightly better light and said, "Now I can put a face with the name. Thank you for coming, Mr. Solvansh."

Dourdhan offered, "There is fresh tea, my dear." She helped herself and sat to Nat Kath's left. Letting her settle, the man added, "I was about to ask our guest his purpose."

She took a sip and said to Nag Kath, "You asked me if I recognized those symbols. I still reserve my answer pending your reason for coming, sir."

The Elf conceded, "That is entirely fair. I hunt and destroy remaining tools of the dark ones. They are represented by a great many things but I included the sigil of the Witch-King of Angmar. In my work I meet folk of like sentiments but who more interested in creating better lives than the ones they inherited. They are symbolized by the opposite drawing."

He handed Dourdhan the sheet and waited. "In Kugavod I found a ward of their founder used to contain foul servants beneath the ground. It includes his and two others which are ancient Rhûnic. I have found those before. That mosaic also included the cartouche which brought me here. Then, there is yours."

"No secrets there, sir. That is Stámo."

Nag Kath said, "The good one of the north is used by those who call themselves right-livers. From what I know now, it is no great leap to believe Orlo and Stámo are one and the same." I made a drawing of him but he appears different to those few who have seen him. He has appeared only so often for thousands of years."

The Elf thought carefully, "Forgive me, but you must know of Orlo to the north. That is how I found you, Mrs. Zhurrag-Ledj."

"No, I have never heard of this person."

Nag Kath said, "Then how did you know to send the healer Ventuub there?"

"Mr. Dourdhan suggested it." She looked at him.

He shook his head, "Never heard of the girl."

They were confused and more than a little concerned. That wasn't the sort of mistake people like this make. The smile went to a chuckle to a Nag-Kath grin before he said, "Mrs. Zhurrag-Ledj, by any chance did he tell you that during the crescent moon in July?"

Not an easy woman to fluster, she said calmly, "I think it was summer."

The Elf kept his grin, "Then, ma'am, you met Stámo."

They talked quite a while without revealing anybody else's identity. There were others. Nag Kath explained he was looking for wards against more evil creatures and drew the warding spell on a new sheet. They had heard of Pelargir. In that story there were four trolls. He told them about the lost country and the mithril band. They had never heard of Melkor.

About the time he should leave, the Elf said, "It is possible that if there was such a beast here, he was released a thousand years after the ward in Rhûn was inlaid. You could help me by discovering if a creature sprang from nowhere in the city's past. If those wards are here, they should stay that way. I have the power to sense them but I have to be very close. If they were broken, the threat is past."

It was agreed that Mr. Dourdhan would be in touch. Nag Kath left first. On his way out, "I hope your man wasn't punished too harshly."

"He was more talkative than usual. That is an interesting skill, Mr. Solvansh."

~o~

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~o~

They met three days later at Mr. Dourdhan's home. It was in a pleasant neighborhood. Like the Righters in Thân zîrân, the property had been modified to get in and out by other than the front door. It was still largely Nag Kath's responsibility to explain and he accepted that. He told them of the retreats using different cities. She did not remember where she sent the healer. There was nothing like that here. They were their own version of Righters but without embracing the peace of lore and knowledge. Lake Nennûrad was an artery for troops coming up from northern Nûrad turning the corner directly into Mordor or further to Rohan. They had to be more militant because, unlike ancient Khand and Rhûn, the place changed hands often.

History explained; they got down to business on the wards. There was no lore of beasts besetting the town. There were no trolls or orcs in the central plains or deserts because there was nowhere to hide from long, bright sun. Nazgûl and powerful human servants saw to discipline if the Khandians didn't.

~o~

The next meeting was at a widow's home. She was brought to her main room seated in a wheeled chair by an attendant who served tea and left. Mrs. Walash was quite elderly.

Dourdhan was gentle, "Mrs. Walash, thank you for having us. Our guest is come from the north and interested in lore of our city. "Mr. Solvansh, can you explain what you seek?"

"Thank you, Mr. Dourdhan. Ma'am, I hope to find three symbols, probably on a floor but perhaps on a wall that hearken ancient times. Mrs. Zhurrag-Ledj, have you shown her the drawing?"

Mrs. Walash said in a clear voice, "She tried, young man, but I do not see very well."

The Elf reached in his satchel for one of Listracht's fire-stones and said, "Perhaps this will aid." He put it in her hand and said, "If you hold this near your best eye, the image will be larger."

The old woman bent over and took the glass away from her face towards the drawing in her lap. It still took wavering back and forth but she grinned saying, "Yes, it is clearer now." When she started to return the valuable object he told her to keep it with his compliments.

Her eyes and hearing were nearing the end of use but she still had all her wits. As Nag Kath had been taught, she started slowly and softly, "In the third month I will be ninety seven. I hope I have made a fair accounting of myself. When I was a girl there was such a marking. I cannot now remember the symbols but there were two or three, woven like these.

"Life was difficult then. Soldiers were not long returned from terrible war in the west. They fought among themselves for food and women. The Lord's residence was sacked and abandoned for long years. Where his hall stood was a circle of fine stones like your picture."

Nag Kath did not want to give her a clarity spell, but he did ask, "Your pardon, Mrs. Walash, may I draw another message for you to see."

He make a large, quick sketch of the original Witch-King summons as drawn for the Pelargir pit before Orlo's lads changed it around. She waited patiently and seemed to enjoy using her new glass saying, "This is my new eye, Mr. Solvanth." She said it correctly. "No, I know this symbol in the middle. Soldiers bore it on their shields. That is one I will never forget.

"I was born the year after the bad soldiers left and only those of our esteemed Khagan were here. When my sister and I were little, we would go with friends to the ruins and imagine we were fine ladies attending high courts of yore. There were imaginary musicians and dancers and singers reciting great tales as they attended us!" Mrs. Walash smiled sweetly, "Forgive me, children. My memories of then were fonder than my parents'. Then came the peace. The residence was rebuilt the year I married. I remember because I fancied being wed there. I do not know if the floor was covered because I have not been invited back to my princess court."

The four enjoyed finger-foods with their tea and left Mrs. Walash with fond memories and her new eye.

~o~

They returned to Mr. Dourdhan's home which was only a five minute walk. Nag Kath went inside and put his hands on his hips, looking at the ceiling. It would have been better if the sweet old lady remembered a stinking hole in the floor. They sat in his main room. Mrs. Zhurrag-Ledj said, "I have been in the place. All of the floors have new slates. That is the Khan's residence, though he is almost never here. His sons come every other year, or so."

She looked at the Elf and cautioned, "If you are thinking of a midnight visit, it is always guarded."

"That poses no problem. The risk is that the mosaic underneath is disturbed. With new stones over the top, we are that much the safer unless sorcery is used. Please, tell me of our friend the Khan."

Dourdhan explained, "Khan Feddigh-Hoh is fifty-eight, fourth in his line after a distant uncle met his end in the Gondor. Most of the land on the northwest bank of the lake is his personal property with a large lodge. Khanate holdings are his fief from the Khagan. The man has but one wife and two concubines, among them producing two sons and some daughters. His permanent home is Pashir. As Mrs. Zhurrag-Ledj said, he is seldom here. I believe his health makes the journey difficult."

~o~

That night the mansion had a guest. Hoping the new hall was on top of the last one, the intruder gently walked over it and poured a small skin of water in the middle of the room. With a wave of his silver hand, he saw the tell-tale green and black mist rise. A guard making his rounds a few minutes later stepped in the puddle. He looked up and would remember to have the steward check for leaks tomorrow.

The next day, Nag Kath told them, "It is the same cleft stick as in Rhûn; if the Khan believes me, he will probably have someone dig up the floor while his family is not here. I think you need to let sleeping dogs lie and hope one day we find what is keeping these creatures alive."

Dourdhan muttered, "I am not sure I am glad I know." He had a sip of tea, "But I am glad to hear that other lands are vigilant."

Mrs. Zhurrag-Ledj agreed, "Mr. Solvansh, you have seen more of the world than us. What do you make of the situation?"

"Sauron and his ring are legend. The Witch-King is dead but has left us two beast-pits, maybe more. I call that victory. Consider an embassy to the north, see how they do things. The retreats have long had a care for how to heal and live with one another now that the boot is off their necks."

Dourdhan said, "There are always political matters, Mr. Solvansh."

"The largest matter left, good sir. The Ghurs above know that game better than me. I will return through Pashir to advise them which way the wind blows in Khand proper."

~o~

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