Chapter 9
The Care of Princes
Flor was upset that he had to leave for so long. And she knew it was dangerous. He must float down the great river and take a ship to the other side of Belfalas. But she would be dutiful and keep his house while she waited.
Mrs. Hürna had never ridden a horse in her life. If needed, she would not get the gradual training Nag Kath's wives had either. Hopefully they would use public transportation, starting with a carriage to the dock just outside the remnants of the Rammas Echor wall. Ferries stopped here for passengers and freight on their way to the sea from Osgiliath. Their adjoining rooms were not even as large as his privy closet. She bought matronly clothes and set herself up as the respectable widow of the dearly beloved Nouram Tichbolder; purveyor of quicklime. The woman had a sense of humor. She was forty seven, thin like most healers and 'missus' was affected for propriety. Widows were treated better than spinsters. Nag Kath told her about Miss Quessan in Dale. She was purely a healer and could not conjure maladies. He had not spent much time with Mrs. Skilleth whose powers would have been stronger. Talereth did not come up.
She asked a lot about him. He gave her what he knew which confirmed what Rosaldie said; he did not know how dangerous he was. Most men would have lorded such abilities over their fellows for power or money. Nag Kath did not seem interested in either. She supposed that when one lives forever, there is no need to plan for the future. And he seemed to have plenty of gelt for day-to-day expenses. He did show her his ability to attract small objects to him. On water that talent was stronger.
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Please refer to the maps: Pelargir 1665, Pelargir aerial, Belfalas and Dol Amroth city for reference. /gallery/jHPlDU8
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Floating to Pelargir took five days. The Ferry tied-up at little towns or piers each night. Getting back up that river would be more complicated. Prevailing breezes worked against the river but weren't reliable. Other than the barges across Dunnish rivers this was his first trip on water.
Pelargir was and always had been a critical port. For the last two hundred years it was the crown jewel for control of the Anduin and fiercely contested by Gondor and Umbar until the war. Like the barge camp on a much bigger scale, this was where the river became navigable for different craft. Deep-water keels would catch more easily on the shifting bottom upstream, though it could be done. And the shallow-hulled freight boats could be tossed like gourds when they reached the sea.
After getting rooms at an inn near the deep-water ships, Nag Kath begged a day's grace to visit the city and see if he could find Lentaraes Maedegon. This was where his family had a granary all those years ago. Widow Tichbolder booked passage on one of the ocean vessels to Dol Amroth and did a little exploring of her own.
Pelargir was bigger than he thought. Questions and coppers changed hands until Nag Kath discovered the family still had a business on the Sirith side of the river delta. It was a good sized building. Folk brought their wheat or barley here and the Maedegon mill would grind it to flour for storage or shipment. A workman showed him to the office.
Mr. Maedegon was at home today. Would he like to try again tomorrow? Tomorrow Nag Kath would be on a ship so he asked where the home was. The foreman was not inclined to say until a tenner found his pocket. The Lentaraes he knew often had husbands or fathers in a lather so he understood the foreman's discretion.
The home was a mansion. He knocked and an elderly cove in livery asked him to state his business. "I am Nag Kath, an old friend of Mr. Maedegon just off the ferry on the way south. Is he at home today?"
"Mr. Maedegon does not see visitors without an appointment."
"Very wise of him. My name will either matter or not. I will wait here on the porch."
Unannounced guests were seldom so cooperative so the steward nodded and closed the door. Five minutes later, he returned and told the tall stranger to follow him inside. They made their way to a pleasant room that might have been a library but for the lack of books. A minute later, Lentaraes joined him with a beaming smile.
Middle-age had not been kind. The former ladies-man had put on two stone. His black hair was thinning. Nag Kath saw the damage of alcohol on his face and thought he caught a whiff of barley under hastily chewed anise seeds. "Why Nag Kath! If you aren't a sight for sore eyes?!" The miller nodded to the steward that he could leave and then sat down on a couch, gesturing that the Elf should do the same. "You are back! And you found me."
"I knew your family had a business here, and Tim said you had returned. It is good to see you. I think of you often."
"Thank you for coming. Are you staying long?"
Nag Kath shook his head, "Ruefully no. I leave tomorrow for Dol Amroth."
"I have wondered of you as well, and glad to see you weren't turned into a toad!"
That brought a true Nag Kath grin, "I wasn't as banished as I thought. It has been quite a tale with wizards, Elves, demons and some fierce fighting to stay alive. Good times too. Now I am a married fellow and do architecture for Gondor."
"They let you back, did they? Good."
"Lentaraes, are you still painting?"
The man's face fell a little bit, "From time to time. I'm afraid the family business has swallowed me up. And speaking of swallowed-up, can I offer you refreshment?"
"Cool tea if it is handy."
Lentaraes pulled a rope and the steward was back within the minute. "Cool tea, Vergere." He wasn't asked for that often. As the steward left Nag Kath saw one of his own pictures on the wall. "Ah, I had forgotten about this one." It was a small study of a girl of about ten drawing figures in the dirt. Next to it was one of Lentaraes' paintings of the third level prow-fountain. He did not see any that weren't of Minas Tirith and he did not ask.
Dissipated was the word. The man did something he did not like and had abandoned what he loved. Barley spirits often intrude on such conflicts. Changing the subject from art, Nag Kath asked, "Now what happened to Marlett?"
"Marletta. She moved down here with me but then moved back. The river was not to her taste. You know me. Women come and go."
The Elf said, "I moved to Dale and had a wife there for the longest time. A wasting took her. I have remarried, a woman from the White City."
Lentaraes thought back and asked, "As long as we are asking of old, how about the brunette you were seeing?"
"Kataleese? I don't know. As you say, they come and go." He did not feel that way at all, but this was not the time to discuss fidelity. Nag Kath stayed for lunch and more good-natured talk but after the meal, they said everything they could have. Nag Kath had a future. Lentaraes had a past. They met in the middle with promises to see each other again.
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Back at the inn, Widow Tichbolder said she bought remedies that were fresher than her own, cheaper too. Living nearer the sea had its charms. She also bought clothes more in the style of Belfalas. Nag Kath had not considered his own entrée into the closed world of Dol Amroth. By accounts high and low, it was an ancient and hallowed place with pretensions of Numenorean and even Elvish blood. As one of the principal ports of empire, the city and region were considered the nexus of culture. Some folk were pure Dúnedain, tall, proud warriors and fair ladies. New fiefs of the Reunited Kingdom now had Princes too, but this was the only Principality of old. Nag Kath had confidence in his adaptability and would sort that out when they docked. For now he had another four day journey to the river mouth and then six days at least, weather willing, to the Bay of the White Ships behind the peninsula.
Sea travel was interesting. They had to fight the breeze on the way west by tacking back and forth making the hull strain against the sail. The Elf spent much of the time on deck watching every move the skilled sailors made. The hardened men took a shine to the baby-faced lad and would talk to him between trimming the mainsail. They told him these were mild breezes and seas but that did not stop a few passengers from being violently ill. Mrs. Hürna was green about the gills for the first two days in deep water until she applied her own healing. Once the Mealö cleared the dangerous rock islands jutting southwest, they tacked northwest well into the bay before turning right and running with the wind to the mouth of the Ringol River.
Dol Amroth was on the tip of a peninsula. All of the people lived on the Bay of the White Ships because it was protected and relatively flat. The rest of the spur was defended by steep cliffs descending into pounding surf.
Their ship primarily carried cargo so they docked in the Commercial harbor quays nearest the mainland and found an inn nearby. Nag Kath's tried-and-true method was to stay in better than average accommodations and act the curious innocent. That might be harder here. Many of the people looked like him. He still dressed and groomed himself as a man but so did they. He had been told by someone that to get information you should either talk with the lord or the dock hands. He would start low.
That night he dressed rough and went to a sailors' tavern near the quay. Three weeks with men of the water gave him a base course in their life. The plan was to ask a few folk about where to stay and go while his ship was under repair. He did not know how tribal these sailors were. Nag Kath struck up a conversation with a nut-brown fellow whose thin hair was held in a knot using mast pitch. The ale was tolerable and the quarters close as forty men huddled against the cold.
The salt was just telling Nag Kath where sea-dogs could find companionship when three louts from across the room walked over insulting the sailor's mother, family and ship. The weather-beaten mariner never met his mother, but his ship was a thing of beauty and certainly finer than the privy buckets these dougshs bailed to keep from sinking.
A flying mug missed wildly but the punches were better aimed. Since the Elf was sitting with the man, a sea-dog threw a fist at him too. Very quickly, one of the three was thrown through the window and the other two just missed. Only the brown man saw the blur but everyone saw the result. Whistles sounded outside as half a dozen ribboned guardi burst into the room with truncheons ready for heads.
Sailors in the room squeezed away from the two at the end of the bar. One of the guards swaggered over to inquire who deposited their drinking companion into the Prince's street. They knew who did it just by the way the rest of the men were keeping their distance so Nag Kath said in a voice to suggest he was just out of leading strings, "Sorry sir, they said terrible things about my mother."
His companion would not let him take the blame alone so he added, "Called my ship goat dougsh too!"
The Guardi nodded grimly and said, "All right you two, I know just the place to sleep this off." They walked between the squad out the door to the local gaol. The Sarn't knew they were neither drunk nor at fault but they did not need to be breaking windows at tax-paying establishments either.
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Nag Kath had been in both better and worse cells. There were few gaols of mortals that could hold him if he really wanted to leave. Fourteen men were already in the single, barred room and the night was young. He would get some information and probably a bowl of gruel in the morning. His knife was confiscated but what little money he had was left in his pockets. It seemed the drunk-cell was known for Dukks games to keep the men behaved. His brown friend slid down the wall so Nag Kath did the same. "I figured you for a greenbottom, lad. But you settled those short-haulers and no error."
"A fellow has to defend himself, eh?"
"Just so! I'm Hondrus. Pleased to meet your acquaintance."
"Nag Solvanth. Did any of those punches land?"
"Nay, I got one in before you spoiled all the fun. Solvanth, northern name?"
Nag Kath looked at a man leering at him. These sailors get lonely. He answered, "Da got around." It was time to get to work. More loudly, "Pox is back in the Anduin. Glad to be out of there."
Several men in the tight cell heard that. One asked, "What kind of pox?" Men of the sea often carried or just missed illness that could devastate a community.
"They weren't powerful sick. Made men stupid." In here that might be splitting hairs but it would get the conversation going.
"A player at the dukks circle exclaimed, "In this town we call that ale!"
That got him some well-deserved laughs but another man, who did not look like he had been hauled in for abusing the barley, said quietly, "Word of that here, up the hill."
Over the crush was heard; "They's always simple!" to more laughs.
Nag Kath took control of the yarn, "What would cause a man to forget his name and purpose? It cannot come from bad water or rats in the grain."
Everyone in the room had something to add. One said, "I hear'ed the same. I don't think it is pox at all, some sort of sorcery!"
Before anyone else could change the subject, the beardless lad dismissed that as women's talk. A few at the card circle took issue. They hadn't seen the youngster throw three men across a room either. "See here, boy. There are powers out there waiting. I don't know about the Ethir, but round here, those old humors die hard."
Chastened, Nag Kath confessed, "I have much to learn. What would a fellow do if he was confounded like that?"
A man from the end of the circle said almost to himself, "There's them as know the old ways in the Old Town. Pretty lad like you shouldn't ask too directly, if you take my meaning."
"That is good counsel, my friend."
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Nag Kath did get porridge and a family of fleas with his research. He got his knife back too. A toy that small wasn't worth confiscating. Mrs. Hürna admired his dedication when he returned after taking the long way. He had a letter of introduction to Prince Imrahil but could not present it smelling like this. And there was still low work left. He made sure all the vermin went down the drain of the only bathtub on the floor.
The Old Town of Dol Amroth was old indeed. It was on the low side of a creek coming from jagged rocks ringing the outer city. These were mostly commercial buildings or apartment houses with many families. The better homes looked down from the hills. There were three of the usual healers and herb shops but they looked like they had been here a while. Mrs. Hürna was with him this time as they both felt for kindred, or other, spirits.
Almost to the Gate Town they both sensed something at the same time. She was the expert so he asked, "What is that?"
"Power. I cannot say good or bad. Sometimes it depends on who claims it. This way." They walked at a speed suggesting neither haste nor purpose past a warehouse with a wagon dock on the street side. A door down the feeling faded.
The mismatched couple rounded the block coming up the other side but neither of them noticed anything. They waited until getting a few blocks towards their inn before he asked, "Any other ideas?"
"Either one person with strong powers or more with middling."
Nag Kath needed a benchmark. "Mrs. Skilleth knew immediately that I was different. So did you and so did Gandalf. This I felt also. What is that sense?"
"Power. You said you draw from water so that is harder to tell. Earth is easy. Air somewhere near the center. Fire surprises."
The Elf observed, "I did not feel that in you."
"Haven't used mine lately. But these dougshs have."
He said practically, "I need a look in there but do not want to give myself away. Is it the people or the place?"
"People. I am no hand at throwing bad 'uns through walls. Bring your sword."
"In Dale, the dead witch threw fire. Gandalf worked in fire. Is there anything I need to know about that?"
They kept quiet as they collected their keys and went to his room. "Fire, eh? Doesn't mean the younger woman got it but yes, I know fire." Mrs. Hürna showed him a small counter-spell to deflect a burst. "Now, what is this 'fast' you talk about?" A second later he was standing beside her. "AHHHHH! Never do that again!" When her heart slowed she spat, "What was that?!"
"Birthday present from Saruman."
"He trained you?"
"He made me." Nag Kath asked how not to leave a trace of his own and she gave him another spell to say leaving a place. It would not kill it, but it should hide the traces among residual powers. Nag Kath realized that the witch of the capital of the world was probably the strongest left. There might be sorcerers and tricksters out in the hinterlands but that was hard work for little reward.
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By the half moon he returned to the building and slipped in the alley on the other side. The door lock was not complicated. Whoever was in here earlier could handle intruders cruelly. There could also be tripwires, both magical and real, to discourage the curious. He sensed none. These were confident villains. A single window gave him enough light to see. The large room was nearly empty but for a long table against the window wall with several small boxes of powders. He folded a sample of each into notepaper and then looked for hidden tells. There was nothing above. A cat yawned. That could be a bad sign but it was a real cat that gave him an annoyed glance before going back to sleep. He was out in ten minutes after almost forgetting his new spell to confuse the humors.
In morning light Mrs. Hürna looked at the powders. Two she knew as sorcerous poisons, recently cursed. The third was unknown. Nag Kath carefully watched her examine the contents. When they were done, he took her to a spectacle-maker and waited while the generously-compensated man crafted a pair that pinched the bridge of her nose. Those would have been unimaginable for her last month. Now they were essential. She was not so vain as to refuse.
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It was time to visit Prince Imrahil. The palace was not easy to reach. Dol Amroth was the shape of an egg dropped from waist-height. The citadel was on the plateau of an inner bluff and walled all-round – both for defense and to gather every drop of rain to supply the city fountains. This was the finest blend of Numenorean and Elvish design Nag Kath had seen in all his travels. Part of that may have been that it hadn't been destroyed often. He could spend a year sketching everything. Someday he might.
Learned men knew other ways but he entered through one of the sentry posts along what was called the Prince's Way and presented himself at the castle gate. The letter he kept in his jerkin. He gave the guard the pass of a King's Marshal with the white tree of Gondor inlaid in chloer wood sporting a small, red jewel at the base. It was supposed to get him quick access to the Prince. Nag Kath hoped the guard wouldn't keep it and tell him to shove-off.
The man called another guard over to hold his position while he waited in the kiosk for his Sergeant to return. That took half an hour. When Sarge arrived, he stared at the pass for a moment and made the gate on the double. "Terribly sorry for your wait, sir. This is something of a climb without a horse. Shall I get one for you?"
"Nay, Sergeant. I'll stretch my legs." That meant the Sergeant would not ride either. The entrance started with an outer bailey on a pleasant dome of a hill leading to the inner bailey gate. Inside the second were perhaps two dozen small buildings that Nag Kath supposed were either servant homes or the craftsmen who keep the residence up. Both paths were less than a quarter mile combined. The Sergeant must have given a secret sign because the stockade doors opened before they got there. The long hall led to the castle itself which was an old-style square with corner turrets and the keep along the cliff wall.
As with every trip to the mighty, Nag Kath was seated on a bench while functionaries bustled, sure they had their Lord's most important task. His did. Only ten minutes later, he was shown by two guards as tall as him to a sumptuous office. The Prince was sipping cold tea. Nag Kath bowed and waited.
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Prince Imrahil was cut from the same cloth as the other Numenorean descendants; tall, handsome, gray-eyed and looked like he could handle himself in a scrap. He also did not suffer fools gladly. Nag Kath knew he was in his early eighties, so younger than Aragorn but showing more wear. The man cleared his throat and said in a soothing voice, "How can I help my Liege?"
"I have a letter for you and a personal report to follow, My Lord."
The man took the envelope over to a desk near the window and broke the seals. He either read slowly or read it several times. Never entirely servile, Nag Kath wondered if he might have gotten a better price for two pairs of spectacles yesterday.
Finally, the Prince looked up and said, "It seems you are both the messenger and the message. Come sit down." Nag Kath made himself comfortable in one of two chairs facing the desk. "You have personally seen this, this business?"
"It seems beyond coincidence."
The Lord did not want snooping from the White City. He and Aragorn were very close in peace and war. But like his fathers before him, the man had free reign in this majestic land. "Very well, I will assign private guards to assist you, in accordance with our laws."
"That won't be necessary, sir. I am here because I work quietly, without traces."
"No exceptions, young man. What will you do now?"
Nag Kath thought for a moment and said, "I understand the restaurant next to my inn cooks the blue Odar fish to perfection. I will dine there tonight and book passage home."
The Prince was not used to being addressed thusly. Though not a man quick to anger, being sassed by a beardless boy would never do. "I think I have heard about enough. Give my respects to our liege when you return!"
The Prince's tea mug flew across the desk into Nag Kath's silver palm. He was not sure the magic would work, but since it did, he could not seem surprised. Nag Kath gazed at the surface and said, "Imagine sorcery so foul that a man's son will cut his eyes out to escape visions that are not there."
In his Elf Lord visage, Nag Kath looked at the shocked Prince and finished by saying, "Your friend offered you his hand. Thank you for seeing me, Your Highness." He rose and bowed. Once out the door, Nag Kath whispered the name of the inn to the attendant.
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"Well, you showed him who's boss!" Mrs. Hürna wasn't sure whether to be angry or pleased. She glowered at Nag Kath for the next clue.
He was philosophical, "How many times have you pulled a hangover from a man who got drunk the next night?" He looked at her seriously, "Some cannot be saved. I played my cards. We will see what he decides. Either way, you get another four Florin when we reach home. Now, are you ready for blue Odar?"
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He expected a soldier. What he got was a thin man of average height and a face no one could remember five minutes later. Nag Kath knew he was a complete professional, and very dangerous. There wasn't much to talk about. Mrs. Hürna was needed this time. They bowed before the Prince in a more formal hall. Nag Kath introduced his associate by her real name and Imrahil led them to a lovely, small room with windows facing the sea. Tea was served as they sat. When they were alone the Prince said, "You do not play fair, Nag Kath."
The Prince saw his first grin, "I am quite charming when you get to know me."
"Let me hear the report I would not listen to yesterday."
Nag Kath started with Dale long ago and brought it to the dead witch in Osgiliath. Mrs. Hürna and he then explained events since. It was rehearsed and went quickly without question or comment. The Prince then began a painful and personal story, "My second-born is a fine man, now 45 years old with a lovely wife and two girls approaching marriageable age. All three of my boys were taught to be leaders that our people can respect. All three have made me proud."
Prince Imrahil took a long draw of the hot tea and sighed, "Six months ago Erchirion started acting strangely. He could not remember things. He got angry over nothing, which is not like him. Two months ago it got much worse. His daughters are frightened. His company has changed as old friends are neglected."
Mrs. Hürna gently interrupted, "Sir, was this occasioned by a more common malady for which he sought aid?"
When Nag Kath turned his head to hear the woman, the Prince saw his Elf ear for the first time. Imrahil recovered quickly and said, "I do not know. An infection on his arm was slow to heal. My family is hard to hurt. He has not mentioned it."
Nag Kath followed with; "This is a deeply unfair question but I would like you to consider if your immediate family line failed, who are the likely successors, especially men who would act reluctant at the honor. Whoever commissioned this is already cultivating support. I don't need to know now, but please think about it."
The Prince nodded.
The blonde man continued, "The fellow who came today; I expect he is more useful than big, noisy soldiers. Might he serve in compliance with your laws?"
"I was right. You do not play fair."
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When they were leaving the palace Mrs. Hürna asked, "So, we are working for Elessar of Gondor to protect the line of Dol Amroth?"
"That about sums it up."
"I asked some questions about you before we left. You are pretending to build the water line from Mordor?"
"No, that is my day job, but a man needs hobbies."
Mrs. Hürna thought this preposterous Elf was the very definition of the saying; 'the best defense is a good offense'. "So, what is next?"
He smiled, "That is why you are here. Tomorrow we're going to heal the son."
She said, "I can't take a burst like I felt at that go-down."
"I will take the worst of it. You clean up."
"And you know how to do that?"
"Not yet."
This creature was infuriating. Wasn't he afraid of anything? "Assuming we live, what then?"
"We act when the witches begin the next summoning. Our new friend is going to lurk near that building and follow who leaves after their spell fails. Then we're going to find their friends. There will only be a few men who could hope to step in after they kill the Prince."
"You told me they are trying to kill his son."
Nag Kath kept up his pace, "They are trying to control the son. You have to get rid of the heirs so the fiefdom turns to you in time of need." At least, that was how Finrales tried in Dale.
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They turned at the first sentry post along the Prince's Way to the highest residential sector of the city called the Castle Quarter, just over the wall from the lower bailey. Nag Kath checked an address he had written on a scrap of paper and walked past it with the witch to that side so he could talk towards her while scouting the home. A house half a block across the street had an untrimmed garden. He knocked on the door. When no one answered they continued down the street and then came up the back alley to let themselves in. The home was decorated in Gondoran fashion, probably summer residents.
Nag Kath admitted, "I have already made two mistakes. One; the second son has been afflicted for six months but Mrs. Ingrall only died three months ago at most. I failed to ask the herbalist when the younger woman left. I just assumed it was after the murder. So either Dierdreth wasn't here for the start of the malady or she didn't kill the old lady. She might have nothing to do with this, but we know two witches are casting doureg spells in Dol Amroth … and it's not the flower guild.
"Second, the girl who was bewitched in Dale lives across the street. She is susceptible and the old woman probably knew she was here. Her name is Durnalath. She might have nothing to do with this either, but I'd like to see who visits. If you are wondering, I don't think she would remember me." He gently pushed her a few feet back. "We need to stay away from the window so the glare won't show our shadows."
Skilleth was wrong. This one had a mind like a bacon-slicer. He organized the last charge of the Revanthars. He was doing the same thing here. A few hours later, a rotund blonde woman came outside with a watering can to sprinkle Dalish belustra flowers in a window box. Wrong color blonde. Not dressed for home-ownership.
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Nearer to dusk, a man-cart arrived and the lady of Nauthauja stepped out handing the puller a coin. The burly woman opened the door as her mistress stopped to sniff the balustras. She looked happy as she talked to the servant with no shuffle in her walk. When it was dark, Nag Kath and Mrs. Hürna left quietly and returned to the inn. He described how the Thain's daughter shambled in her brother's house and could not focus. Not the same symptoms today. He would hold her in reserve, even if only to tell her that that woman responsible for her torment and her father's murder had gone to her reward.
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Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth was not looking forward to this. When Mrs. Hürna felt today's series of humors pulsing into the citadel, she nodded to his Highness; the signal for an attendant to summon his second son. In his quarters, murderous impulses began driving Erchirion against the deep love of his father. He fought them, but he was slowly losing. When told his revered father wanted him, Lord Erchirion pleaded indisposition, pain behind the eyes, could one of his brothers come instead? – anything to not be close while his madness was at its worst.
Very well, he would walk up the corridor to the meeting room. Nag Kath never let him get there. The man was boxed between guards on either end. One moment the Elf was standing forty feet away. The next he was holding the third heir's head with both hands creating a nauseous glow on both. Lord Erchirion uttered the same wounded cry as Durnalath and collapsed on the stone floor. Nag Kath staggered slightly and leaned over putting his head near his knees. Two guards picked the stricken Lord off the floor and took him to a ready cot. Mrs. Hürna was waiting there and completed the purge with only minor discomfort.
Forgotten, Nag Kath trudged into the room a few minutes later and looked at the folk gathered around the sleeping Lord. He slid down the polished stone wall the same way he had in the gaol a few nights before and smiled. The changeling had taken a massive blow of dark magic and passed it to earth. He had become a wizard – and he could probably throw that confusion spell himself now.
A minute after the Elf's hands were glowing greenish silver, two women and a man scurried out the back of the warehouse like scalded dogs. The thin, nondescript guardi's orders were to follow any male. His assistant was to stay with whoever else came out. If he had to choose; ignore the small woman with short dark hair. She was new to town and had no friends. The man ran to ground in a fine home in the Castle Quarter overlooking the Cliffs. The woman returned to her bakery in New Port. Neither made any attempt to disguise their route. Why would they? They were regular citizens of Dol Amroth.
As the Lord slept, Nag Kath unwound to his full height and touched Mrs. Hürna's shoulder on the couch. She was not that much the worse for wear. His plan was to pick their way back to the inn before dark. An attendant approached and said rooms had been prepared at the palace and would they like something to eat or drink?
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It took another week to tie loose ends. The local woman hanged herself. One might have thought she had guardi help but she was powerful enough to kill or maim the first few men through the door. Nag Kath and Mrs Tichbolder had a through look through the baker's shop and home. He learned even more about casting confusion spells. She pocketed a few items and the rest was burned. An employee at the bakery kept making tasty loaves sent to Erchirion's palace quarters daily as if nothing had happened, albeit with uncursed seasonings.
The man was Chief-of-Staff to Lord Runcïl, High Commissioner of the Magistrate, hero of the Ring War with an ambitious young wife. Imrahil personally doubted he had the charisma to assume lordship but it had to happen soon or never. Runcïl was told to have an accident while guardi waited outside the door. His Chief-of-Staff was not given the option.
The small woman took more doing. Her hair was short because she wore wigs of different colors. The slight, quiet man, who was correctly never introduced, spoke with his very capable number two and they got a good description of her face. After the first sweep came-up empty, he worked with Nag Kath to draw it. It took a few tries as the man cudgeled his memory for specifics but it was her to the eyelash when it was done. Nag Kath made several copies to share with folk who help prevent crime.
Dierdreth was spotted trying to book passage up the Anduin. Back at her modest rooming house, guardi were instructed not to take her individually. Two of them were sent flying on approach. She was of the air or water source. The witch would have done the same for the next two when a Gondor game arrow hit her in the back of the head through a small window. She could not think or speak but it still took her three days to die. On the recommendation of Mrs. Hürna, the bodies of both women were burned and the ashes scattered.
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As the embers cooled, she and Nag Kath had tea in the guest quarters of the palace. Other visitors ignored them. She mused, "I see it this way. The local woman had been in his head for a while but could not maintain a strong enough grip so they contracted with the gal in Osgiliath to boost the spell, maybe Ingrall, maybe this one decided she needed a promotion. This was no suspicious old Thain or his girl-child. Lord Erchirion was, and is again, a strong, capable man."
She took a long pull now that the tea was the right temperature and continued, "You took quite a shock. Two of them, working together, in the same city." She looked at the ceiling, "You know, back in the day, sorcerers of the enemy could speak to each other from afar. Those of us in the trade occasionally felt them."
He modestly admitted, "I am learning. The last time I tried to use a healing spell. My wife took advantage of my suggestibility." He smiled thinking of that. For the first time, the healer imagined that would have been pleasant. At bottom, Nag Kath was a nice creature. What kind she could not say, but like with Brenen, decent children can come from monsters.
The Prince joined them as they were finishing and invited himself to sit by the low table. Mrs. Hürna had seen his son several times. Nag Kath stayed in the shadows to not be too much of a shock. Ercherion was himself again and now repairing the damage to his family. One daughter was still not sure that daddy was to be trusted. That might take time. The Prince asked, "What are your plans now that you have done this service for my people?"
Nag Kath said, "I thought to stay perhaps another week and see your beautiful city. Mrs. Hürna felt that was a good time to recover and perhaps book more comfortable accommodations back home."
The Prince was expansive, "You will be declared a Knight and a Lady of Galador! I am sure we can arrange the proper ceremony in short order."
"I cannot thank you enough My Lord. Would you think it insulting if I accepted this honor quietly? The King may need such service again."
The Prince put his forefinger alongside his nose. "What then is next?"
Nag Kath said thoughtfully, "I should visit the woman of Dale and let her know that her family has been avenged. I hope she is past that though. And then I need to get Mrs. Hürna home and fulfill our contract."
The Prince was mildly embarrassed. He had not thought at all of compensation. Lordly folk, truly lordly folk, do such things for duty and honor. And he was lordly folk. Diplomatically he admitted, "Yes, I suppose there is that to consider. What would you ask for saving my family?"
Mrs. Hürna let Nag Kath speak since he was the paymaster, "Nothing for myself, Prince Imrahil." As she was on the verge of shouting; 'Simpleton!' the changeling explained, "I am a Captain of Dale seconded to King Elessar. Now, Mrs. Hürna here is working for me as a contractor of light against the dark persons she foiled."
Now she thought; oh, Nag Kath! Yes, never set the hook too soon. That gave the Prince room to maneuver. As if it was to be next out of his mouth, Lord Imrahil offered, "Please do not think this demeaning, Mrs. Hürna, but the Ladyship comes with a modest ten Florin prize and a home in the city. If you feel Dol Amroth would be served by your 'light', you would be honored." Runcïl's man's house came to mind.
"That is most gracious, My Lord. Perhaps I can give you my decision in a few days after Nag Kath and I have concluded our business?" Of course she would take it, but, as Nag Kath just showed, you never set the hook too soon.
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_~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~-_
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He had a chore, and not an unpleasant one. Knocking on the door instantly brought the hefty housewoman along with a tall, handsome boy to investigate. Both were smiling so he did the same, "Good morning. I am Nag Kath and I bring tidings for the lady of the house."
That was what salesmen said when they didn't know who lived there. This one was prettier and better-dressed than most roving tinkers so she replied, "And who would that be, sir?"
"Her name was Durnalath in Dale, though I do not know her married name here."
That earned him barely passing marks so she showed him into the main room and went to ask if her mistress was receiving. The boy kept smiling watch on the tall stranger. "Ma'am, there is a courtly visitor from Dale, a Mr. Kaff. He asked to see you."
Durnalath had not seen anyone from home in quite some time. She was sitting at her mirror applying creams and brushing her hair when the maid knocked. She looked up at her dear servant and said, "All right. But he has to wait a bit. It takes longer to make me presentable these days."
The maid knew it would be a long time before her mistress wasn't presentable. The years had been very kind to the lady of Dale even though her son was now nearly a man. Ready to face the world, Durnalath slipped her arms through the sweater and greeted her guest. She did not remember him at all.
"Thank you for seeing me. May we speak privately?"
"These are my son and my dear maid. Anything you would tell me you can tell them. But please, come in and sit." However much she wanted to listen, Agneath realized seated visitors need tea. It was always ready so she bustled back to the kitchen for a pot and mugs.
Nag Kath sat on a rather low couch with his knees pointing up and waited to observe the forms for greeting Dalish visitors. After his tea was poured he said, "You may not remember me but I was the healer who excised the spell from you oh so many years ago in Dale."
Durnalath stared at him hard but could not place the face. He continued, "A fellow healer completed the purge and you returned to your family, for which I am pleased. I am here because the story has finally ended. The old witch who confounded you and your father is dead, nearing three months ago in Osgiliath. Her apprentice died here this week."
"I do not know how you have tended these cares over the years but this may help. That is all I came to say other than to wish that your life has been fair and full."
As he rose she said, "Please, kind sir, stay and finish your tea."
It was still too hot to drink but it smelled delicious. Durnalath confirmed, "Yes, my life has been fair and full. Mr. Kaff, may I present my son Caladrion. He will be commissioned in the Pointe troop after militia training next fall." Nag Kath turned and nodded his congratulations. In profile something floated to the surface, "Wait, I do remember ... it seems to me you moved in a blur, Mr. Kaff, and you have not changed a bit."
"You might remember me from King Bard's reception a few days before."
"Yes, forgive me. I was not myself." She was not embarrassed. Her son, maid and husband, now on duty, knew of her discomfiture and assigned her no blame. The conversation was boxed in a corner so Nag Kath changed the subject. "I have some liberty before leaving. Perhaps you can recommend places to visit in your fair city?"
Durnalath looked to her son who offered, "You might find White Town interesting. That is where the warships dock. Folk living there are the oldest lines in Dol Amroth, though I am afraid many of them only speak Sindarin."
Nag Kath had a long pull of the perfect tea. "That is where we first came into the harbor?"
Caladrion told him, "Indeed, the berthage is shaped like a thumb. I would be glad to show you if you care for company."
Nag Kath rose and reintroduced himself to get his name right when shaking hands. "I would enjoy that. Are you free tomorrow morning? I will be back at the Silver Flower later today, or I should be. I have a few things to attend first." He then looked to the lady of Dale. "I confess; one reason I came was to see that the villains had not included you in their schemes. It seems so. Would you like to be sure?"
Durnalath did not see that coming but she was a grown woman and daughter of a fierce northern Thain. She smiled sweetly; glad of her strong son and loyal maid nearby. "Yes. What do you need?"
Nag Kath sat next to her and gently took her wrist. His hands glowed their usual silver and hers the mannish pale yellow. It was over in seconds. He smiled and said, "They are done and gone. Enjoy long life in good health." He said goodbye and walked back to the castle to get his things and have what might be a last chat with Mrs. Hürna.
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She was sitting in the parlor of the palace guest wing with a cup of tea, now long cold. He sat down and observed, "Landed on your feet."
"Aye. Life is strange."
"Do you need me to see anyone or do anything when I get back?"
"Stop by the tent of Mrs. Probishar across from my shop. She has the key. It's paid through June and she can have it till the lease is up. Send me a letter if anyone discovers how the old lady died." Becoming much sterner, "Powers are seeking new hosts. I am stronger. You are much stronger. Those nitwits would not have been able to cast that spell twenty years ago." More calmly, "Bring your pretty wife here to visit. This is a place for pretty folk."
I'll be at the inn for two more days. Send a message if we need to talk again. I am happy for you, Mrs. Hürna …"
"Tsita."
"Tsita, it is. It looks like you have the town to yourself now."
"Haa! I'm retiring. No more salving piles for me! I will devote myself to good causes, like myself."
He kissed her on the forehead and collected his bag.
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_~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~-_
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Young Caladrion was there at eight. Nag Kath was still sleeping a little after the intervention so he had the subaltern join him for breakfast. He was a well-read lad and proud of both Dalish and Belfalas blood. The lines were mixing lately. The Prince's daughter was married to Éomer of Rohan. Their children would land on their feet too. Prince Faramir had taken a Rohirrim to wife. Ithilien could not hold many heirs. Goodness, his own step-daughter was a Princess and he was an orc! Vast swaths of the Morthond and Ringlo river basins were filling with farmers and settlers. It was only a matter of time before they married into the purple.
After the lad inhaled his eggs they walked a long half mile along the Quayside. There were three main harbors and dozens of coves on the protected side of the peninsula - many more directly across on the mainland. His ship docked at the Commercial Harbor claimed mostly by cargo vessels. Next was the Working Harbor which was largely fishing boats and shipwrights. Crossing an elegant bridge took them to the White Quay which was reserved for ships of war. Most of the fleet was on patrol but there were a few here for repairs or to let sailors start fights in less congenial areas of town. One ship was a large trebuchet platform. It was being scrapped for usable parts to build sleek attack vessels chasing recalcitrant Umbar pirates.
Landward was interesting too. Residences and shops were at a discreet remove from harbor business, fanning into the hills until they became too steep. These were the Prince's closest views of his city. Peoples of Dol Amroth were comely in general but on this spit of beach they were, well, they looked a bit like Nag Kath. Tall with generally darker hair but strong faces and more than a few were beardless. Were these the mannish half-Elven? There might even be a few Elves remaining. Blonde Caladrion fit right in. Store fronts one row deep in from the docks often had signs in both the common tongue and Sindarin or Sindarin only.
Pointing to a jeweler's store Nag Kath asked, "Caladrion, do you speak this language?"
"Enough to get by. Some here set great store in preserving old ways. They volunteer as loyal men for the militia but with their own Lieutenant."
Nag Kath could tell the youngster respected their views but though them quaint. He was right. This might be time to act like a real Elf. "Do they have a library or archives in this community?"
"Aye. That's it right there." He pointed to a very Elvish two-story that would be trellised in flowers come spring. Dol Amroth was temperate. It was cold in Gondor and freezing in Dale right now but they were strolling with light jackets.
With a grin that would mortify any true Elf, Nag Kath said to his guide, "Do you want to have a little fun with the keepers of the flame?"
The young man started with a smile that became a grin and a nod.
Nag Kath instructed, "Let me do the talking. And brush your hair over your ears." They walked up the steps into a spotless lobby of fine polished stone. A tall, scholarly fellow with lank hair and spectacles was reading a book at the central desk. Nag Kath approached and said, "Good morning sir. I would like to do brief research in your archives, if that is allowed."
The fellow painstakingly bookmarked his place before looking up and sniffing, "The archives are for subscribers."
"Yes, I am sure they are. But I have some haste."
"I am sorry for your poor planning but rules are rules."
With a face of consternation, Nag Kath turned to his young assistant so his pointed ear was exposed to the haughty librarian. In Sindarin he said softly, "Keeper Logass assured me there is still a copy left in Rivendell if these are unavailable. Perhaps Lord Tumlen can obtain it ere he sails. Can you get there in time?
Caladrion would describe this moment to his grandchildren and ad-libbed as well as a pea-under-the-walnut-shell huckster beside the mithril gate. In passable Sindarin he answered thoughtfully, "I think so, My Lord, unless the Swan Ship sets forth earlier than planned."
"Well, that is always our risk." Turning back to the overawed librarian, Nag Kath said, "I respect your requirements. Thank you for your time." With that, the last of the Eldar dejectedly walked to the door.
The man rose and pleaded, "Sirs, I am granted certain discretion for unusual circumstances. Perhaps, well, can we keep this between us?"
Nag Kath appeared to consider that as if lives hung in the balance. Then in his Elf Lord voice he absolved the librarian, "Thank you. I am particularly interested in the spells of the White Council and healing humors of the Second Age."
"Right this way."
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There wasn't much new but one spell that made no sense in Imladris became much clearer. Nag Kath was tempted to ask if any remnants of the Nuralth were enshrined but the poor man was flummoxed already. The Elf probably could have had the Prince himself walk him down here to grant all privileges. This was better. There is a certain confidence in managing things yourself. The two blondes walked away until they were out of earshot before roaring in laughter.
"So you knew ma in Dale?"
"Didn't know her. I met her at a party when I was investigating sorcery. She had been possessed by the dead witch on the orders of a villain on the council. Your uncle survived by the skin of his teeth."
"Are you a real Elf?"
"Mostly, but I have always lived among men." He grinned, "Elves would not have pulled a fast one on that poor scholar." Slightly more seriously, "See here, I have to visit the Prince before I go. You seem a bright fellow, should I mention you?"
Caladrion did not seem awestruck by wizardry and Elves. "My father is a Captain in the Marines and has pulled a few strings already. I don't suppose it would hurt if you can slip it in the way you got a look at those books."
He was a sharp one. "I will see what I can do." At the inn they shook hands and Nag Kath said, "Use my name if you ever get to Gondor or Dale."
Caladrion nodded and waved goodbye.
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_~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~-_
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The trip back was much the same as coming except the ship did not have to go as far out to round Belfalas. The water was rougher. Nag Kath had gathered enough sea knowledge to help pull sail when they were broadside into the waves. The old salts were quietly impressed how fast he could get up and down the ratlines. This was the sort of ship that persons of quality traveled on in season. His bed was in what they called a stateroom and had a thick glass window. The only other passenger at this ill-advised time of year was spewing or in the privy most of the voyage so they only spoke in passing.
He stayed aboard the ferry past the Rammas dock so he could see how the aqueduct was progressing. It was about where it should be and folk were glad he was back but knew better than to ask where he had been. Nag Kath had a discreet question for the Osgiliath Gravediggers Guild. Theirs was not of the guilds that sponsored wagons in local parades but they took it seriously. Some did no digging at all. They prepared the dead for burial, arranged funerals and saw to memorial stelas with the masons. Folk with no family often sewed a fiver in a seam to afford the nearest digger and a pine box.
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The Guild member to the healing district was Elber Ghoodis. Nag Kath approached him as he was loading coffins into his shed. "Excuse me sir. I was hoping you could help me find my aunt. Her heart was failing and I was away since summer. I fear the worst. Here is her picture." It was drawn from memory this morning but any picture of a loved one was cherished in this land.
Elber did not fit the profile of the lean, grim undertaker – more like Manager Sepulvath with fewer teeth. He looked at the picture, careful not to defile it with his fingers and mumbled, "She looks dead already. Know where she lived?"
Nag Kath replied thoughtfully, "It was the building across from the feed store on Vu Addis. I don't recall the number.
"Hmmmm, yeah, couple months ago maybe. Pauper's service. The city pays for those."
"Oh, that's terrible! She hadn't done well but, oh, I do wish I was here." Now for the reason he came; "Was it her heart?"
"Maybe, but her tongue was blue. Might have eaten something rotten. I'm sorry mister, she was pretty dry when they found her."
Nag Kath handed him a fiver and said, "Where can I pay my respects?"
"Paupers take the barge to the quicklime pit outside the south wall. Not where I'd visit in those boots."
He sent Mrs. Hurnä a letter via King's Post.