Chapter Nine
Anardil strode swiftly towards the men's bunkhouse, with Halbarad at his heels to discuss last minute stratagems, leaving Sev to stand alone at the door of Alfgard's house. Fighting back the urge to hurry after him, she drew in a deep breath then released it slowly. There was no need for her to offer to pack his saddlebag or tag along after him as he did the task himself; however, there were other ways she could speed him on his journey.
Mindful of the hobbit lingering in the dark corridor behind her, she said, "Erin, if you would, scrounge about the kitchen and make up a pack of food. Mind everything fits in a small sack and can be managed without a knife. If I know him, he'll be eating in the saddle."
"Right away, Sevi, don't let him leave without it."
"I'll try," Sev replied. Stepping out the door and closing it, she started toward the barn.
The animals, still restless after the earlier excitement, poked inquisitive heads out of their stalls as Sev slipped inside the wide doors. 'Twas a blessing Alfgard, in his regard for their privacy, had sent most of his hired men to lodgings elsewhere, or even this chore would have been taken from her. And she must do something. Watching Anardil ride off into the darkness was not a task she would manage without something to keep her hands and mind occupied.
She paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the faint moonlight seeping in through the hayloft. Then, with an ease born of lifelong habits, she murmured soothing words and doled out gentle touches as she found her way to the tack area. Counting silently, she located the rack bearing Anardil's saddle. The sleek feel of the leather brought back Raberlon's words, "Found 'em this morning polishing up yer saddle and that of yer man's."
With a sigh, she lifted the saddle and made her way to Gomelfaex's stall. Who would have imagined orcs ever doing such things? Or making up plasters to treat a horse's leg? Sev shook her head then hefted the saddle on one hip and pulled open the stall door. On the other hand, who would ever have imagined a Gondorian Lord of Law calling an uruk to speak before the court? Or one of the Dunedain riding through the night to ensure an orc received justice? Add to that the matter of two ex-orc-hunters begging a room from Alfgard for the night to continue the discussion of how to keep the King's officials from testing an orc's guilt.
Hands occupied with the task of saddling, she allowed her mind to follow that train of thought. There were times that the way the world had been turned upside down became very hard to understand. 'Twas no wonder Anardil despaired of being able to meet the changes. If only there were some way to convince him everyone felt the same, even the orcs. But it was an understanding that, by necessity, grew slowly and could not be rushed.
"He who is convinced against his will, remains of the same opinion still," Sev muttered in Rohirric as she lifted Gomelfaex's bridle from the hook beside the stall.
Long ago, the saying had been a favourite of her father's and now seemed far too applicable to the current situation. But the arts of gentle persuasion and careful coaxing were never ones for which she possessed much talent. Her method was to doggedly repeat the same facts again and again; and if the other person could not be convinced of what was so obviously truth, she would more often than not throw up her hands and retreat entirely.
However, neither of her preferred techniques would benefit them here. Lord Valthaur controlled the courtroom, so speaking the truth would be of little use and retreat was not an option. Thus they set their feet upon the path of delay and worked to appeal to a higher authority.
Sev pulled a lock of hair from beneath the brow-band and leaned her head against the horse's neck to whisper, "Take care of him, Gomel. He'll need you to watch out for him."
"Your reason for gifting him to me now becomes clear."
With a frown because he had managed to startle her, Sev replied brusquely, "You set the guards you wish, Anardil, and I will set those of my choice."
"And grateful I am for your selection, meleth nín." Anardil smiled when she all but snatched his saddle packs from his hand and slung them behind his saddle. Slipping the loop of a small sack over the pommel, he added, "For your care of me in all ways. Mistress Erin says this was by your order."
"If I had the ordering of things, events would proceed in a far different manner."
"Peace, Sevi," Anardil said and caught her hand to draw her close. "Hal will need your practicality while I am gone, to keep Russ in hand and think up believable reasons for delays until I return."
"You expect me to come up with something that will pacify Lord Valthaur?" exclaimed Sev. "The man is a master of wordplay, and far beyond my abilities to confound. Misdirection does not come naturally to me; and no matter what excuse we give, it will not work for long."
"You will manage somehow, for you know you must."
Feeling that his trust in her was more burden than compliment, Sev sighed. "There are times I dearly wish I were the type to wring my hands and swoon at the least sign of trouble."
Anardil chuckled and wrapped his arm about her waist. "If you think that will cause Lord Valthaur to call a delay, you are welcome to try, my dear; but he is more likely to believe you wrung someone's neck. Only don't start with that orc. I would like another chance to question him."
Eyes gleaming, Sev asked, "How about Cullen? I'd gladly wring his. The toidi."
Sobering, Anardil said, "There are pieces still yet missing in this puzzle, Sev. Be careful with whatever you devise. Keep it simple, and keep it quiet - the fewer who know what is true and what is false the better. Even amongst those we deem friends."
She leaned back to study his shadowed face. Once again, he wished her to acknowledge the world was filled with people who were neither wholly good nor totally evil, and accept that it was not dishonourable to use artifice to bring the truth to light. Such were the lessons this man of shadow expected her to learn. Under the directness of his gaze, she gave a jerky nod.
"As you say, Anardil. I will do my best."
"As will I. Beginning with making all possible speed."
Though her fingers ached to clutch him to her, she found the strength to murmur, "Wes tu hal, min leof" and lift her face for a swift kiss before he led Gomel from his stall to the far doors of the barn. A last glance and a lift of his hand, then he was gone, vanished in the darkness with the ghost-grey horse following quietly at his heels.
For a moment, she simply stood drawing the familiarity of the barn about her like a warm cloak. Then she clasped her hands together tightly and bowed her head in thought. Simple, yet believable. What possible excuse could be contrived that would create a delay of several days?
Without conscious thought, she began to pace the wide aisle of the barn: back and forth, over and over. It was indeed too bad her hangover remedy had not poisoned Osric; then he would have been too sick to testify. Now, of course, it was too late. He had already spoken. The delay must come from someone who had not yet been called to speak. She, Horus, Bevin and Evan were the only candidates, and Anardil had warned to be cautious in her choice of conspirators.
Thinking over the evening's events, Sev re-examined all of the suggestions made so far for delay. Slowly, she began to see a possibility that could last as long as they might need, and be of such a nature that few would wish to question the situation. Men especially would feel uncomfortable speaking of the topic, though she suddenly realised she did know one man who could recite volumes upon the subject if requested.
A few more trips across the barn and she had outlined a plan, narrowed it to the two who would need to know all, and conjured an excuse to separate those two from the others. Again blessing the courtesy, which had removed so many of the stable's men from the household, she left the barn.
xxx
October 26- On the Road to Emyn Arnen
Pre-Dawn
A man riding long distances on horseback found himself with time to think, and a man alone in the dark had even more time than usual. Not that the dark itself disturbed this rider, though a prudent man kept his senses alert, since the wilds of Ithilien still held perils for the unwary. However, even whilst Anardil's senses read the nuances of the night above the steady drumming of his horse's hooves, his mind gnawed restlessly at his concerns.
Foremost among these was the object of his night-time ride, a shadowy stranger named Margul. The man comprised a puzzle whose pieces scattered like shattered glass, but puzzles were Anardil's stock in trade.
Who was Margul? A wealthy merchant of Minas Tirith, whose gentlemanly elegance and impeccable tastes made him welcome in any noble house of Gondor. What is more, his acumen in business was such that he could procure rare and valued goods that no one else could, and his clientele included the noblest families in the city.
"And now he's a fugitive," muttered Anardil. "Bearded and disguised, by Sira's account, and living … where is he living?"
Margul clearly did not reside in the village, for strangers could not long escape notice in the close-knit community of Henneth Annûn. Thus, he must be in hiding. But if so, where did he shelter? How did he eat? Who were his friends?
"Khint," Anardil murmured. "But how? Gomel, we need to look at what we've got."
His horse twitched one grey ear, but never slackened the steady drumming of his pace. Body moving of habit in time with the horse's long stride, Anardil spoke softly again.
"Margul certainly could have done business with Lord Valthaur … but he would have no traffic with an underpaid clerk. In fact, Khint does not even appear on the stage until now. Margul's link to Valthaur before … was Cullen. Cullen delivered a parcel for him last spring."
Anardil frowned, watching the grey ribbon of road un-spool before him, feeling the ceaseless beat of Gomelfaex's hooves echo in his bones. "But why would a purveyor in exotic goods entrust anything of value to a dull-witted farm boy? And what could Margul find in Henneth Annûn that Valthaur would want that couldn't be found in Minas Tirith? Unless he was just testing the loyalty of his little spy."
The rhythmic pressure of the horse's ribs against his legs spoke of Gomel's exertions, so Anardil slowed him to a fast walk and settled in his seat. "Ah, Gomel, I'm missing something. Where does Khint fit, in the path between Margul and Lord Valthaur? Or is the path only between Khint and Margul?"
The slower clop of hooves was swallowed in the dark shadows of leaning trees, and a chill breeze rattled dry leaves. Nonetheless, a corner of Anardil's mind simply noted and catalogued each sound as simply the whispering of an autumn wood, the voices of the wild that he knew intimately as his own heartbeat. He and Gomel both cocked an ear to the sharp clatter of a falling branch, but then the patter of tiny hooves marked the flight of a solitary doe.
Anardil's voice barely rose above the rustling of the trees when he spoke again. "Cullen is just a tool ready to the first hand that picks him up. Khint is the real link in the chain. Cullen was to watch for a signal from him, but he never got to hear why. Khint communicates with Margul, he speaks to Lord Valthaur, he speaks … he surely must speak to Ham and Tom and Osric. By Isildur's beard!"
He thumped the heel of his fist to his saddle pommel. "Who, then, is Khint's true master? Russ has a point, there. I've no doubt that Margul could buy Khint's loyalty. A clerk does not make the best wage, and after all, the potential victim, Nik, is only an orc. I'm certain Margul has small fortunes hidden in a hundred rabbit holes all across Gondor. But where is Lord Valthaur in all this? Could he be so complacent, or else so trusting, that Khint could be in league with Margul, and Valthaur none the wiser?"
Again the former Ranger scowled, for however corpulent the law lord's body, the mind it housed was sharp as any blade. Nonetheless, he knew that long trust could sometimes breed negligence.
"Is Khint that clever? Although you know, Gomel, sometimes the powerful don't really see the little people under them. For that matter, we didn't even see Khint influencing Osric and his mates, and that was right under our noses."
After a time, Anardil mused aloud once more. "Questions, Gomel, too many questions that beg answer. Khint is clearly in league with Margul, but I simply can't draw the connection to include Valthaur. He almost sank the entire case for orc-rights, when he spoke for the opposition last spring. But that is his reputation - a powerful advocate and a formidable opponent - and he has been entirely even-handed with Nik. Either he is blind to Khint's behaviour, or he is willing to risk his position, his good name and thirty years of service, while he pretends to hear a case that his own clerk is undermining. Ah, Gomel, lad, there are just too many pieces missing. Let us hope Lord Faramir can grant us time to find them."
He shifted his seat and nudged the big grey once more into that long, reaching trot. The dark ranks of trees swept swiftly to either side, and ever and anon iron horse shoes struck sparks on the stony road to Emyn Arnen.
xxx
26th October
Dawn sifted coldly from the crags of the Ephel Dúath. Somewhere in the house, a child cried and was answered by a woman's soft tones; platters rang, crockery rattled and the smell of baking bread wafted along the corridors. But these signals of a new day remained unnoticed by the tall, dark-haired man standing head bowed before one closed door. Even the bright rays of the rising sun failed to penetrate his cocoon of concentration.
Only the opening of the door and the emergence of Sevilodorf pierced his trance, and he lifted his as-yet-unshaven chin in hopes of seeing some relief for his worry. But shoulders sagging with weariness, Sev pulled the door closed and met Darien's anxiety with a shake of her head.
"He is no better, but no worse either. The fever continues. Nothing Linnet has on hand eases it for long. Evan and his brother arrived early, wondering why you did not return last night. I sent Evan to Master Banazîr for additional herbs."
Darien felt the small fragment of hope he had clung to drift beyond his reach. "What could bring such a condition on so suddenly? Horus was well enough upon retiring."
"Aye, and for all we know, he might be right as rain on the morrow. Fevers are strange things, though this one…" Her voice slowed and she chewed upon her lip, only to shake her head again. "If I did not know better, I would almost say it was… but it couldn't be."
Exercising immense control, the Silverbrook lord persisted, "Any suggestion is worth considering, lady. What do you suspect?"
"'Tis but a children's ailment, and not so virulent as this fever."
His patience beginning to fracture, Darien rubbed the greying hair at his temple where a vein visibly pulsed. "Forgive me, Mistress Sevilodorf, but you are not normally so reticent with your opinions - would you please speak your mind."
Patting his arm as if soothing a child, Sev answered, "Mumps, my lord. Though I must consult with Linnet and possibly Master Banazîr, there is the chance it might be the mumps. Evan mentioned you had experienced a recent outbreak at Silverbrook. You left home nearly three weeks ago?"
"Yes," responded Darien, frowning in confusion.
"That's the proper span of time. You have had them yourself? You will need to check whether your other men are immune or Horus will have company in his misery." Sev waited long enough for Darien to nod, and then turned to walk away. "I must go and give the cook instructions for a soothing draught. When Evan comes, send him to the door with the remedies he's brought. Make certain he knows not to come inside. The fewer people exposed to this the better, for it might not be mumps."
"Wait, please." Darien's hand halted just short of touching Sev's sleeve. "I can scarcely recall having them as a child, but Mistress Linnet was not overly concerned about the young child. Nor do I remember the goodwives of the Silverbrook treating mumps as other than a simple ailment."
"For a young child, 'tis a simple thing. Even in a youth of Evan's age the disease runs its course within a day or two and is rarely more than a nuisance." Sev's mouth contorted into a sympathetic expression. "But - recall the discussion at supper - for a man of Horus' years, the effects are often … strengthened."
"What effects?" began Darien, trying to remember what was said earlier. His thoughts were interrupted by Sev's groan.
"Blast it all, it never rains but it pours. The hearing." She touched quick fingers to her brow. "It was driven from my mind by the necessities of tending Horus. I suppose I'll have to get all togged out in that nmad velvet tunic and go explain to Valthaur why Horus will not make an appearance today. Consider this, Lord Darien, the gods have provided us that which we sought. In this much, we may look upon this event as fortuitous."
Darien stared at the back of the departing woman then fixed his eyes on the closed door. Withered - the word returned to him, and a brief shudder ran down his spine. If he had been worried when Horus' fevered thrashing woke him before dawn, he now felt intense fear for his friend. At best, Horus suffered a disfiguring disease; at worst, he might be in the throes of a fatal illness.
The niggling suspicion during his exchange with Sevilodorf, that the woman seemed to be almost enjoying herself, evaporated completely as his concerns drove him to wondering which of his other men might be at risk.
xxx
Eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep, and feeling that the small amount of patience she possessed was best reserved for her forthcoming meeting with Lord Valthaur, Sev released the reins upon her temper.
"Why think you that he will believe either of you over me?" she declared to the duo confronting her. "No matter who takes the news to him, he will seek verification of Horus' illness, and I am the one most capable of satisfying his questions."
Throwing up her hands, she let loose a stream of Rohirric, which caused Captain Halbarad to wince and the stoic Alfgard to regard her with disapproval.
"Those are not the words of a lady," her fellow countryman admonished.
"I am no lady. I am a healer who is being kept from my patient by the stupidity of protocol and the blathering of toidis who should know better." Stabbing a finger toward the window of Alfgard's private office, she exclaimed, "The morning is passing. To my mind it is better to seek an audience with the man and make our excuses before the time appointed to appear. The sooner, Lord Valthaur sees the truth of the situation, the sooner I can get back to what I should be doing."
"Will he not be suspicious of this convenient illness?" Alfgard asked, when Halbarad seemed disinclined to intervene.
From a shadowed corner of the room, Celebsul's soft voice joined the discussion. "For whom is it convenient? Judging by the anxiety of Horus' friends, it is anything but. As for Lord Valthaur, most likely he will view it as inconvenient also. Yet, we will not request a delay."
Sev stared open-mouthed at the elf, then folded her arms and glared. "I will not sit all day in that stuffy little room listening to the same story told over and over while Horus lies ill."
"Nor will you be required to do so. Up to this point, Lord Valthaur has taken pains to demonstrate the even-handedness of the hearing, thus he will offer the delay himself. Once he has verified the truth of the illness."
Sev tapped her fingers upon the embroidered sleeves of her tunic. "I am not to ask for a delay, merely inform the court of Horus' illness."
"Yes. If you manage to request his opinion upon the situation, it might make an even better impression."
Accepting this subtle rebuke for her behaviour, Sev clenched her fists but moderated her tone. "While I am humbling myself before the mighty oliphaunt, what will you be doing, Master Celebsul?"
"Tending your patient, of course, given that I have no fear of contagion." The elf offered a small smile of encouragement. "Also tending, with the aid of Captain Halbarad, to those whom the delay most strongly affects, Nik and Russ."
"Bear-minding." To her own surprise, Sev mustered a wry smile in return. "Between the two of us, I think you may need the most luck."
xxx
Leaving her chief witness, the old healer, Master Banazîr, comfortably seated in the hall, Sev allowed Captain Tarannon to escort her as far as the door to the barrack's mess hall.
No sooner had Tarannon opened the door, than a strident voice exclaimed, "Captain Tarannon! Mistress Sevilodorf! This is highly irregular! Court does not convene for another hour! I must insist that -."
However, Willelmus' protests at this interruption to Lord Valthaur's breakfast sailed over Sev's head, her attention gripped by the opulent contents of the table.
It seemed strange how a hobbit and a High Lord of Gondor could be so similar; both having apparently brought comforting mementos of home with them on their journey. The silver saltcellars, polished tureen, and embroidered napkins were not standard equipment for Rangers' quarters. Certainly none had been evident yesterday when the petitioners and witnesses enjoyed the hospitality of Tarannon and his staff.
Dragging her thoughts away from wondering why a man needed six different jars of relish, Sev ignored the flappings of Willelmus and directly addressed Valthaur. "My lord, believe me, I would not come before you on a frivolous errand."
When Valthaur's opaque gaze settled on her, she resisted the urge to tug at the hem of her formal attire like an errant child. However, it was Khint's presence at table that most set her nerves a-jangle, and she kept her eyes carefully fixed on the face of the law lord. Too much attention to the culpable clerk with the bristling eyebrows would surely be noted.
"Nay, Mistress Sevilodorf, you are not a frivolous woman." Valthaur motioned her forward. "Have you broken your fast this morning? Willelmus, another setting."
The chamberlain bustled to a large basket and drew out a place setting. The highly decorated plate, napkin and polished silver utensils all matched those already on the table.
When Sev took only the smallest of steps forward and halted, the Gondorian lord smiled and patted the chair Willelmus drew to the table. "Come, I insist you join me."
"Pray forgive me; my hesitation is out of concern for you and your associates. I have no desire to pass Master Horus' illness to any of you."
Immediately Willelmus' prim nose wrinkled in distaste and Sev felt certain that protocol alone kept the man from drawing an elaborate handkerchief from his sleeve and holding it before his face.
Meanwhile, Khint the law clerk leaned back and looked down his stubby nose at her. "How is it, madam, that a healer of your consequence is unable to put a name to this illness?"
Forced, now, to meet the clerk's sharp eyes set beneath those extraordinary brows, Sev attempted to banish any sign of indecision from her response. "Sir, my experience has been restricted to those ailments and injuries common to a holding of the Mark; while I have heard of virulent southern fevers, I have never seen them myself."
"Might this condition -." The clerk's emphasis on the word caused Willelmus to purse his lips, though Sev noted that Valthaur maintained a bland expression. "- Be common amongst the Haradrim and of a swiftly passing nature?"
"I pray that is the truth, sir." Sev clasped her hands before her, more to keep from plucking at her hems beneath this battery of stares. "But when faced with an unknown fever of such extreme consequence, I find myself wishing to err on the side of caution."
"And what in your opinion would be the course to take?" Valthaur stretched out a plump hand and selected a sticky bun from the small tower beside his plate.
Turning thankfully away from the piercing eyes of the clerk, Sev responded, "That, my lord, is far beyond my power to judge. I know nothing of the proper protocols or requirements. Only that you seek to discover the truth. Master Horus has essential information and is in no condition to appear."
"And you are unable to estimate a time until the Haradrim recovers?" Khint's tone twisted the words into subtle mockery.
Forcing herself to ignore the man and speak only to Lord Valthaur, Sev said, "Forgive me, I am only a simple trader of herbals. However, knowing my limitations, I took the opportunity to consult with a man of far greater knowledge and training. Master Banazîr served many years in the Houses of Healing in the Sixth Circle of Minas Tirith, and is well versed in the diagnosis of southern fevers and their possible complications. He has graciously agreed to give you the benefit of his knowledge."
Sev turned and motioned to Tarannon who yet stood at the door. With a nod, the Ranger Captain stepped out, to return a moment later with the plump, white haired apothecary. Leaning heavily on his cane, the elderly man refused the Ranger's offers of assistance and made his way forward at his own slow pace.
When he finally reached the floor before the table, Banazîr said pleasantly, "'My lord, if Mistress Sevilodorf says that a man may not rise from his bed to perform a duty, then that is the case. Her intolerance for malingerers of any kind is well known."
"Be that as it may, sir," once again Khint spoke for his master, "what can you tell us that would aid this court?"
Unperturbed, the aged healer thoughtfully tapped a crooked finger to his lips. "First, from the symptoms the unfortunate man may be suffering from a combination of ailments."
"Pardon me, Master…" Khint paused and appeared confused until Willelmus whispered the apothecary's name. "Ah yes, Master Banazîr, but is your knowledge of these symptoms based upon hearsay?"
The apothecary leaned heavily on his cane and repeated, "Hearsay?"
"Have you examined the man yourself?"
Drawing himself up as straight as his arthritic limbs would allow, Banazîr fixed the law clerk with fatherly disapproval. "Lord Valthaur, you would do well to teach your underlings finer manners."
Valthaur waved one podgy hand between wipes on a linen napkin. "Excuse him, Master Banazîr; it is Khint's good fortune to be of a healthy constitution. He has no acquaintance with your reputation within the Healer's Halls. Pray forgive any slur upon your reputation and indulge us with the full details of your examination."
"Indeed, I will, sir."
With a dark look at the impudent law clerk, the elderly apothecary proceeded to give a detailed recounting of how he had been called out not long after sunrise to the establishment of Alfgard of Rohan. There he found the Haradrim in the throes of a powerful fever. Further examination revealed the presence of swollen glands. Upon questioning, the man's exposure to bolgur, also known as mumps, had been revealed.
Lord Valthaur spread a layer of butter upon a thin slice of dark bread, and added a dollop of honey precisely in the center. "Then your diagnosis is a case of bolgur - a relatively mild ailment. Master Horus should be well enough to speak tomorrow or the day after, so long as proper precautions are taken to reduce the spread of the disease."
"Oh no, my lord," the apothecary cried. "There is also evidence of secondary ailments. And, while a trifling complaint in the young, bolgur poses extreme danger for a mature man."
"How so?"
Sev kept her eyes demurely downcast until Banazîr completed a graphic description of the unfortunate affects bolgur often had on the adult masculine anatomy. Then, unable to resist, she glanced from beneath her lashes and was forced to bite her inner cheek to keep from grinning at the sight of the impeccable Willelmus standing pale faced and hunched forward in a protective posture and Khint tight lipped with a faint look of pain. Valthaur alone appeared unmoved.
"It is to be hoped that Master Horus experiences a complete and speedy recovery," the Law Lord proclaimed upon the apothecary's cessation. "Will you be seeing to his treatment yourself?"
"Mistress Sevilodorf and Master Alfgard's wife are quite capable of dealing with the situation, though I will be available if matters worsen." Banazîr's weathered face smoothed into the contentment of a man in his element. "A fomentation of muellin leaves and lobelia applied about the neck will reduce the swelling of the glands, while bitters of bayberry bark will aide in cleansing the stomach. That is the best course, but if he experiences discomfort, one could also try a tincture of -."
When the aged apothecary appeared ready to launch a recitation of treatment alternatives, Lord Valthaur interrupted, "I am certain Mistress Sevilodorf wishes to return to her patient." Then directing an avuncular smile toward the Rohirrim woman, he added, "If there is anything I can do to assist you, madam, do not hesitate to call upon me. Pray keep me informed of Master Horus' condition on a daily basis."
Dipping a curtsy, Sev murmured, "You are kind to offer, my lord."
"Do not paint me too kind, lady; my interest is in the procuring of the truth in this tangled tale." Valthaur's several chins arranged themselves into an expression of prim severity. "But not at the risk of a man's life. Khint will post the notice of postponement within the hour. I trust you will inform Lord Darien."
"Yes, sir."
Sev suppressed a sigh of relief as Tarannon stepped forward to lead her and Banazîr from the room. She had long known Willelmus to be an insufferable prig. Now having witnessed Khint's behavior, she felt convinced the clerk could well conduct devious plots without any reliance on his master. Of the three, Valthaur alone displayed courtesy and fair-mindedness. In fact, in contrast with his officials, the law lord …
A voice stopped and turned Sev and her companions as they reached the door.
"Ah, one final question." In his cultured and reasonable manner, Valthaur asked, "Mistress Sevilodorf, where is your partner in trade? He did not accompany you here this morning?"
Sev regarded the man blank-faced and replied in what she hoped were even tones, "He was called away, my lord."
Why did he ask this of her? Being privy to the Grand Council of Gondor, Lord Valthaur was well aware of Anardil's true business as a King's Man. Being chamberlain to Lord Faramir, Willelmus, too, knew the truth. But Khint should not have been advised of such information.
"A dangerous business riding the roads at night," the law lord observed. "It must have been a matter of much importance."
Backed into a corner, Sev uttered what was the first complete falsehood she had spoken to the man, "I would not know, sir."
"Very well, my dear, give him my regards upon his return."
"Yes, my lord."
Then, seeing the man return his attention to the bowl of fruit at his side, Sev hurried from the room.
Emerging onto the covered porch of the Rangers' Headquarters, she strove to keep her thoughts from showing and waited while the ever-silent Eberle all but hoisted his master into a pony cart.
"Come, Mistress Sevilodorf," Banazîr said, removing the lap rug his apprentice had tucked about his legs and motioning her closer. "Let me return you to Master Alfgard's. I assure you I have no fear of contagion."
Though certain, that the rapid beat of her heart was visible for all to see, Sev managed to meet the apothecary's gaze directly and reply, "Sir, as with all true healers you place your patient ahead of yourself. You have done much already to set my mind at ease. I have never seen a case quite like Master Horus'."
"Nor have I. He has contracted a most interesting form of bolgur. All the classic symptoms along with several that are rather unusual."
The intelligence shining from the man's dark eyes made Sev itch to glance around and be certain that no one paid him close attention, but she swallowed and nodded.
"Aye, that is what confused me at first. But I will heed your recommendations as to treatment and pray that Horus makes a swift recovery."
"The muellin and lobelia will work nicely. Now the morning is wearing away, will you accept my offer of transport?"
Pointing across the road to where Lugbac and Neal waited beneath a large oak. "I fear my escorts would object."
Banazîr squinted, then nodded in recognition. "I quite understand. I am certain they are only following their orders."
Sev sighed, relieved to have the conversation shift to a safer topic. "Aye, so I've been told."
"A man will always seek to guard that which is most precious to him." Banazîr smiled as Sev's cheeks flushed pink. "Do not deny him that, my dear."
"I will try, sir. Thank you for your assistance this morning."
"You are quite welcome, do not hesitate to call on me again." With a nod toward Tarannon standing in the shadows of the porch, the apothecary signalled Eberle to move on.
Wondering how she could possibly maintain this masquerade for the entire time Anardil was gone, Sev motioned the orc and the young smith to join her. Then she turned to Tarannon.
"I take my leave of you, Captain. Word will be sent this evening of Horus' condition."
Tarannon swept her a shallow bow. By no word or sign had he given any indication of disbelief at her tale. A circumstance that provided her with a modicum of hope that what had been established thus far was believable. Keep it simple, Anardil had said. He just hadn't explained how to do that when so many people were involved. Ah, well, having started down this path of misdirection, she was fated to continue it. If only she could set aside the fear caused by Valthaur's final enquiry. An enquiry that let her know their movements were being watched. Had that been the only purpose, to see her response? Had Valthaur thought to trick her into an emotional outburst? To discredit her by making it seem she was overly emotional? Whatever his reason, she would need to report his question to Halbarad. Let the Ranger Captains exchange information, she had more than enough to do at the moment.
Awakening to the fact that her escort was standing before her with puzzled looks, she said briskly, "Let's go. Master Banazîr has given me directions for a decoction he believes will aid Horus."
Flanked by her escorts, Sev strode quickly along the main road toward the turn off to the stables. So entrenched was she in her thoughts and so busy were the orc and the man in keeping up with her that none noticed the bearded man trailing them.
xxx
TBC …