LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 4

Back in his offices, Lamont Gudaren studied the full set of documents very carefully, astutely reading between the lines. He’d thought Luvet would make a perfect undercover agent; he had a clean record, and he was such a bookworm and rather dull academician. He was least romantic, a tedious oaf (boor, fool, klutz); so how did he get so enmeshed with Disaidun Agripe? Who would have thought Ceroz had it in him to do what he did. What really went on in that boat would be anyone’s guess? He’d read Zunrogo Tugo’s brief report also, talking about another disappointment.

 

01- PM LAMONT GUDAREN 10-JP

Lamont’s thoughts turned to his most pressing problem, his nephew Yekav. Personally, he didn't care much for the boy.  His ward was a constant source of disappointment and now a definite liability.

“That idiot nephew of mine, Yekov, is sure to be implicated in this crime, though it seems to be only indirectly.  It may take some doing but I still have influence enough to extricate him from all blame.”

Lamont Gudaren would have said good riddance to Yekov, but in view of these recent developments, for if he did not take certain measures in time to nip this in the bud, Lamont knew that there would be far reaching consequences (repercussions) for him.

The charges were based partially on the truth, this proof had been furnished to him, within a detailed report he had commissioned earlier on, by his operatives (agents).  If Lamont wanted to get well ahead of Egil Viggoaries and his cronies, he could delay acting on this no longer.

“All avenues must be blocked; all incriminating evidence eliminated at the source before the cursed eunuch Egil gains any real advantage. Yekov (his troublesome nephew) will eventually be exonerated, but this will be the last time I’ll go through this much trouble for that dastardly boy.  A fatal hunting accident while visiting his half-brother Keigo Ro in Kensu Province… Hmm… that shouldn’t be too hard, to arrange. “

Having settled on the handling of the problem, Lamont Gudaren dispatched his trusted secretary with the appropriate instructions to ensure that the cover-up was carried out immediately, without a hitch.  The matter now settled, he leaned back in his plush chair and wearily closed his eyes.

This whole business with the boy, mounted upon his other concerns, had irritated him a bit too much.  At times like these, he was happy he had only two female offspring.  They were quite beautiful, too, like their mother.  He was hopeful for their future prospects, but they were still too young for him to include them in his machinations.

 Lamont opened his eyes and stared at the stack of documents that demanded his perusal and signature.  Every day was the same.  However much he delegated, his workload still seemed to increase.  There were never enough manpower and funds to allocate, to deal with all of it satisfactorily.  In view of all the extravagant expenditure, especially those of Royal Family’s, the State funds were fast being depleted.  The treasury accounting records showed a consistent, mounting deficit year after year.

 Owing (due) to a summer drought last year in the western provinces and floods along the lower Yawjun River this spring, the government granaries were at only half of the level (capacity) they should be at this time of the year.  Yet with the new military campaigns, the lavish architectural projects, the bribes that must be paid to assuage the rampant corruption, the fiefdoms granted almost at random, the taxes already a burden, perpetually mounting, he wondered, where would it all end?

 As a matter of fact, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren was at his wits-end trying to find a plausible solution to the failing economy, the rampaging deficit, and at the same time to procure adequate funds for the military and the growing demands for the so-called necessary expenditures incurred for the benefit of the state.  The only partial relief came after the advocated wars when the much-needed tribute was finally paid.

How much longer could they sustain this appearance of a strong nation?  The system was rotten to the core.  But would he dare to let any criticism slip through into any of his reports?  His Highness was most intolerant of any failings, any weakness.  Even the Censorate Bureau, the Treasury Department, the Imperial spies, and Internal Security had all acted as if one body, collaborating with him to obscure these findings, stalling for time until a solution presented itself.

Despite all seeming appearances, his own personal finances were in no great shape either; at least not in the kind of plateau (area of stability) he would like it to be. 

“Ah!  But I have had a few lucky breaks now and then, haven't I?” He stood up, clasped his hands behind his back and slowly strolled over to the window.

 “Mmm! “The sweet scent of rare orchids rose from the courtyard to regale his nostrils.  His eyes fixed themselves to the upright, solid lines of the gingko tree in the center as his thoughts moved on to the upstanding Under Secretary Lenny Sukzor, a man well respected by the Sovereign for his integrity, his strong character, efficiency resourcefulness and his no-nonsense frankness.

In the crunch, it was Lenny Sukzor who could be counted on to diligently carry out the most difficult and delicate jobs that all others shunned for fear of failure. 

 

02- LENNY SUKZOR (2)JP

Lamont Gudaren grinned wryly as he thought back to how the Under Secretary had, quite unexpectedly, disclosed in Court the entire amount of the bribe he had personally received from the emissaries from Kontu, forcing the rest of the Court bureaucrats to do likewise, though Lamont doubted their accuracy of the count, after all, even he had concealed a few small items.

Earlier on, against the advice of many of his well-meaning associates and good friends who had strongly advocated that he gain maximum benefit from the emissaries' offer, Lenny had ruffled few feathers by seeking the Prime Minister Lamont's good council on how best to refuse the gifts secretly lavished on him and return them to the delegation from Kontu.

“Hopefully," Lenny had hemmed and hawed at this point, making an outward show of humility, "this can be done without stepping on any toes, instigating any ill will or triggering any diplomatic incident."

In his heart of hearts, Lamont Gudaren had always disliked the man and thought of him as too ambitious, too pretentious, a tiresome boor and, an instigator of unwarranted troubles if nothing else.

 At the time, he had almost petulantly (sullenly) dismissed him, for his audacity, which would have been a grave mistake on his part. Meanwhile this irregularity raised his suspicions. “Since when, and for what reason our bold, no-nonsense Under Secretary has become so circumspect and elliptical, all of a sudden?”

 Prudently Lamont had at first been rather evasive with his response; but then on second thought, he had concealed his true feelings and his immense annoyance at the upstart and had pretended to acquiesce, with him. Lamont had very graciously then promised to intercede diplomatically on Lenny's behalf and handle the matter of returning the bribes for him. 

Admittedly, that was a bothersome trifle but in the end the benefits he would reap would certainly exceed all expectations.

Lenny Sukzor, not concealing too well his disappointment, suddenly had a change of heart (mind).  Bowing low, he’d profusely apologized for his thoughtlessness in troubling Lamont; then asserting that it would be way too troublesome for Prime Minister and therefore not wishing to impose, stated that, however hard it might be, he would personally handle this matter.

In retrospect, Lamont saw now, this was an underestimation of the man.

 Alas, he’d regretted since then, not anticipating Lenny's next move and upstaging the upstart, by his returning the bribes in a timely manner; for as it happened, Lenny Sukzor had shone like a bright star from that time on, in Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek's estimation; hadn’t he?

“No matter,” Lamont shook his head, but his face grew long and a dark, as shadow fell over his eyes.

“Well, that's water under the bridge now; a missed opportunity is a missed opportunity.” Lamont shrugged; but then his spirits lifted as he thought, “Oh well, at least it wasn't an entire loss. I still got a piece of Lenny Sukzor’s good fortune.”

Lamont picked up the top document and perused it, “This one can wait.” He disdainfully set it aside.

His thoughts reverting to Lenny Sukzor, “Hmm, it turns out he was way too shrewd and certainly far-sighted. “Lamont admitted to himself.

Or perhaps he lacked concrete proof and hoped to delicately forewarn me and the others of the impending disaster.  That may be why he sought first my unneeded advice when, with that glib tongue of his, he could have at any point in time, resolved the matter himself. 

The Prime Minister considered for a time this well-calculated, politically astute move on Lenny's part.  “No, I'm giving him way too much credit.”  He perfunctorily dismissed (rejected) the notion; still, what had transpired next, with an unexpected turn of events, had been a boon.

“It’s that devil Egil Viggoaries that rendered me this great favor, despite him.”

 

03- EGIL VIGGORIES -9JP

The thought of his nemesis seething in rage brought a fresh broad grin of satisfaction to Lamont’s lips.

“I, myself, could not have thought of a better plan than this stroke of luck.  Always plotting to undermine my efforts, it serves that mongrel- dog right that he should now stew in his own juices.” The Prime Minister gloated.

Indeed, before he could fulfill his promise to Lenny of returning the gold to the emissaries, a sudden turn of events had dictated that he follows a different strategy and gain an invaluable opportunity to add a prized addition to his web of secret affiliates. Even though he had not moved thus far to collect on the debt, he was content with the knowledge that Lenny Sukzor was now his to do with as he saw fit. 

“Yes, Lenny Sukzor, with your unblemished reputation, I now own, your body and soul, lock, stock and barrel.” 

The Kontu emissaries had struck a favorable bargain, wherein they had agreed to take the gold itself back without any ill will but would, to mollify their Emperor, leave the rare gifts with their recipient.  Just before Lenny's gold was to be transported back to them, however, a disastrous fire, coincidentally started by lightning, had decimated (consumed) half of the Under Secretary's mansion.

Though the gold in question was stored in that wing of the building that was completely gutted by the fire, it would still have been salvageable with a little effort once the rubble was cleared.  And lo and behold, when they managed that, they found that the entire lot had simply vanished without a trace.

Lamont had suspected that arson was merely a cover-up for a robbery affected by the cooperation of one or two of Lenny’s retinues (attendants).  However, his subsequent covert investigation failed to uncover least trace of incriminating evidence at the scene.  This proved that the thorough job was executed by a professional group’s backing; one capable and powerful enough to affect covert, illegal transaction of disposing of a hot item, one such great mass (heap) of gold.

“Yes,” Lamont sat in chair by the window, “in some ways Lenny Sukzor is still naive. I could have perhaps prevented his open ended (unrestricted, indefinite) investigation and spared him from all that dire trouble; for all the good it did.”   As it were, from the first moment Lamont had heard of the fire, he’d guessed there was a deeper plot at the crux of it all, and it wasn't hard for him to deduce just who, considering the open altercation at Court Lenny had had with Egil Viggoaries just the week before over that trivial matter, the perpetrator (executor) behind it all was.  The eunuch was most notorious for his spiteful (malicious), vindictive nature and his greed, and hardly anyone else had the power to get to Chief Inspector Yori.

“No, that wasn't it, at all. “The Prime Minister quickly dismissed that feeble basis from his overall hypothesis (theory). “There was far more at stake here.”

Knitting his brows, he inclined his head and digressed, reflected on how the Chief Inspector had been a competent, reliable officer ever since Lamont Gudaren had handpicked him for the position.  Up until the fire there had not been any cause, not even the slightest reason to question Yori's integrity or competence.  For eight years of diligent work, he had maintained an unblemished record to his credit but in the blink of an eye that had all changed when, despite the hints of arson, he’d refused to consider any notions of foul play and had persisted in contending in his otherwise meticulous report that it had been lightning that had caused the destruction to Lenny's property.  Of course, Yori was a man who relied solely upon solid evidence to draw his indisputable conclusions, and in this instance all the facts available pointed to lightning as being the cause of the destruction. 

There were no irregularities to warrant Yori's suspicion, what else could Lamont have expected of the man?  The Prime Minister had even asked himself what grounds he had to suspect the Chief Inspector.

“All right then,” the Prime Minister quietly conceded. “There must be another explanation for Yori's unsatisfactory (botched, bungled) investigation of Undersecretary Lenny Sukzor's case. “

 “Perhaps I'm being too harsh, too demanding of the man's ability?” For even his (Lamont’s) own team of experts had failed to prove otherwise; as with all the findings, all the clues had tallied perfectly with the Chief Inspector's original report.  But Lamont Gudaren was innately (instinctively) stubborn official; for countless hours hence, he had poured over both the reports himself, meticulously examining every detail, scrutinizing every recorded fact and, even though it all came to no avail (even he could not detect any irregularities, no suspected insertions, or a single dubious statements) still, he’d remained most insistent on his suppositions.

The more everything appeared to be above board, the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach prodded Lamont to dig deeper, to investigate all avenues, even the seemingly innocuous ones, to expose what, at present, stubbornly escaped all notice.

 “Some elusive, incriminating thread would eventually link things up.  His hunches had not failed him thus far and it was inconceivable that they would do so now.”

04- CHIEF INSPECTOR YORI

 In truth he’d been rather fond of Yori, as much as he could be of any subordinate.

Despite any proof, on a mere suspicion, Yori's life had been expediently forfeited, so coldly that, even now, the Prime Minister shuddered when he thought about it.

“But it couldn't be helped.”

 Lamont’d dreaded losing him but no sooner, unbidden; names of several possible successors had come to mind.  There was no shortage of competent men to replace him with.

Lamont clenched his fists and angrily turned his eyes away from the gingko tree to follow the tall intertwining hedges that skirted a winding pathway which snaked behind a man-made mountain. Going over, he quickly signed the other document he’d set aside. “There, it was done. Yori replacement would be Halsten Stig”

He stroked his beard, suddenly saddened by the thought of what must inevitably follow.

 Perhaps that fool Lenny had inadvertently, without malice, unleashed this series of events; but the Prime Minister still held him partially to blame.  Why couldn't he have been straight with Yori?  The proof of Yori's innocence had been obtained long after his accidental death.  All that could be done had been done for his wife and surviving child, to ease Lamont's conscience, and the financial burden was added to Lenny Sukzor's still unsettled account.

 Why should the Under Secretary be spared from the consequences of his actions?  All because, when Yori had asked to receive the statement of account of Lenny's losses, the missing gold had been purposefully withheld from the list.  Lenny had remained apprehensive about the idle gossip that could flame the belief that he had instigated arson himself to keep both his integrity and the gold.

“So, he feared above all that his impeccable, precious reputation should be tarnished.” Lamont disdainfully pursed his lips, reflecting on how the Undersecretary’s arrogance, for such a trifle, had wasted a good man's life. That, however, had been the one weakness that had rendered Lenny Sukzor vulnerable to him and at the same time, landed them both in deeper trouble.  At least that was what he had allowed the seeming consequence (upshot), to be generally known.  Fortunately, he had been awakened to the underhanded ploy of his nemesis who, also perceiving this weakness in Lenny; he had no doubt engineered the theft of the gold, not just to discredit the Under Secretary, but also to snare the Prime Minister as well, once Lamont had stuck out his neck for, in support of Lenny. And mistake number two; to extricate himself from this trouble, he had pushed his team to a more in-depth investigation into the case.

 

(END OF SECTION 4) 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 33

Disaidun Agripe (ended) stopped her reminisces (recollections) and then stood up to stretch her limbs that had gone gradually stiff in her squatting position.

 “This is intolerable. How much longer do I have to wait before I see some action?” Mumbling to herself, Disaidun paced back and forth in the restricted space then, stopping, she pinned her face up against a peep hole between two deck planks and strained her ears to the sounds up above.  Aside from the creaks and groans of the rigging, all was deathly still.  She jerked back, suddenly aware that the irritating, muffled noises from their cabin had as well, totally ceased (stopped).

“He does not deserve this pain.  In fact, it would have been more merciful if I had stuck a knife between his ribs or poisoned him.”  Disaidun inclined her head. 

01- DISAIDUN AGRIPE

That would have been his fate in any case once they had gone ashore in the next port.

She had no other choice, she told herself, for Ceroz being so besotted (love struck), he would never have left her voluntarily.  He had to be forced.

“That’s right, you brought this on yourself.  Having no backbone, sooner or later you would have been preyed upon.  If not I, then another would have come by to summarily end your worthless existence.” 

Despite her denials, however, she did harbor some compassion, some fondness for Ceroz; for he had always been most loving, attentive, kind, and sensitive to her needs, an ideal husband (spouse) in fact, if it were not for his cowardice. 

“Why couldn't he be a bit more like his half-brother, Zohuj Kez?” She sighed.

  For even without a man's equipment, Zohuj had demonstrated more masculine attributes (trait) than Ceroz.

It suddenly dawned on her that she had not heard the brat's squalling either, not since last night, or an uncertain dread crept into her heart.  “Had he smothered the baby in his anguish?  Well, it is better than drowning or being ….”  But then angry feeling took hold, that and, sheer contempt.   

“If he did that…that alone proves just how spineless, how pathetic he is!” She huffed angrily and began pacing the space behind the barricade once more, her hands firmly clasped together behind her back.

“Oh, this suspense is unbearable!”  Halting, Disaidun stamped her foot. “I wish it was all over with already.  If it doesn't start soon, I'm going just to burst!”

                                                                              ~

 

02- SHIP FOLLOWING THEM IS NOW SEEN

The curtain (shroud) of fog lifted exactly the time Zunrogo had predicted it, revealing a familiar craft swiftly bearing down on them.  Seeing that the, all clear flag, had been hoisted the oarsmen, on Lance Diostin's order, now rowed with greater zeal and the vessel shot forward over the water like a gust of wind, hardly skimming the surface.  However, as they drew closer Lance Diostin's keen eyesight detected the figure of Captain Doku, though taller in stature, with his back towards them at the ship's prow, as-well-as, a notable absence of the usual crew.  Suspecting a ruse, he grew particularly apprehensive and, assembling his ablest archers, instructed them to take aim and shoot at the captain once they were within range.

A volley of arrows rained down upon Tizan; alerted just in time however, by a low whistle from Zunrogo, Tizan turned slightly askew and, (wielding his sword,) with the flat of his whirling blade, warded off the most dangerous shafts from piercing his head, neck and legs.  After which, he quickly took cover beside Zunrogo; then chuckling, he pulled a dozen or so arrows out of the light breastplate he had worn under his shirt.  Grinning wryly, he broke the bunch of them in two over his knee and cast them disdainfully onto the open deck for Lance Diostin to see.

Zunrogo was not pleased. “What a waist.” He huffed, “those arrows could have been reused.”

“What a fool.” Sangui, in the other vessel scoffed, witnessing Tzan’s impertinence.

"No matter, I'll have that bastard's hide stretched out on the deck soon enough." Lance Diostin simply shrugged.  "I had expected as much."

"I suppose Captain Doku has already been murdered," his second in command, Sangui Xiory, speculated, "and the crew incapacitated, if not killed outright."

03- SANGUI XIORY

"No.", Lance Diostin countered.  "Zunrogo would not discard the crew until the very end, when they would have outlived their usefulness."

 A sinister smile registered on Lance Diostin’s lips as he looked away.

“Remarkable how Lance Diostin can anticipate Zunrogo's every move.” Sangui looked up at him with admiration.

Despite his young age, Lance Diostin was a brilliant tactician; furthermore, his exceptional (unequal) skill in wielding the sword, as well, other military prowess’s had earned him the admiration and regard of many seasoned military generals in the Imperial army.

"It's simple, Lieutenant." Lance Diostin said, surmising the other’s thought.  "You see; that bastard thinks he'll succeed."

"In a pig's eye," Sangui laughed.

"A word of caution, though." Lance's serious demeanor sobered up the conversation.

 "Do not underestimate that Tizan fellow we shot at, or you'll suffer greatly for it."

“As far as I can see, his reputation is far too exaggerated.” Sangui scoffed inwardly, discounting the good advice while nodding his agreement outwardly.

“Wasn’t he just a fisherman’s son? This low-born plebe (army cadet) doesn’t scare me.  You just wait; I'll show him up for the blundering trainee he is.”  He stole a look up at Lance.

“Pity; I’ll be sorry to lose Sangui.” From the corner of his eye observing Sanqui’s reaction, Lance Diostin somewhat disgruntled, shook his head then went below decks to don (wear, put on) his battle armor.

Soon after, standing on the aft deck before his (amassed) strike force, Lance Diostin addressed the assembled men, warning them of the traps he anticipated on the target vessel then stepped aside, leaving it to Sangui to brief the men on the expected nature of these dangerous pitfalls and give them a crash course on how to detect and avoid them.

Lance was sure he had correctly predicted most of the ingenious devices Zunrogo would have planted around the vessel, given the materials he had at hand, but saw no need to extrapolate on all of them.

As it were, this first contingent, mostly made up of new recruits, was deemed expendable; their deaths would rid Lance Diostin of defective (incompetent, flawed) bunch; meanwhile, their attack exploited as a diversionary tactic (of easy pickings), would mislead the enemy and weaken them with false sense of overconfidence (daring) and certainty.

Second contingent was temporarily held back, for Lance Diostin did not intend on sacrificing his best men to a sure defeat.

04-  LANCE DIOSTIN JPD

“Next onslaught will be drawn out for as long as possible,” Lance Diostin grimaced pensively. “It should prove amusing, at the very least.” 

Lance's spies had informed him of the remarkable progress Zunrogo had made in his fighting style, hence he expected him, unlike most of Lance’s previous foes, to withstand the first wave of attack. Meanwhile the marksmen sustaining extreme vigilance shot at anything and everything that had made the slightest move on the target vessel, their aim getting more exact (precise) as the distance, between the two, gradually (bit by bit) diminished.

 When the vessels had moved to within nine feet of each other Lance Diostin raised a mighty war cry and, brandishing his magnificent sword, leapt onto the other boat to lead, the first contingent in attack.  Avoiding all the snares and traps, with the skill of an invincible (omnipotent, supreme) warrior, Lance headed straight (directly) for Zunrogo and launched his murderous assault, at once engaging the captain in a fierce mortal struggle.

The first contingent as anticipated, one after another, fell victim to Zunrogo’s clever, rather ingenious contraptions: many were hacked to pieces by sprung blades or stabbed by poisoned darts.  Others were hopelessly ensnared in nets where they were finished off by Tizan, who had lain in wait.  Those lucky enough to get through found Tizan too difficult to contend with as he twirled among them, leaving their lifeless husks twitching upon the deck.

With a fierce cry Sangui, leading the second wave of more experienced fighters from below decks, entered the fray (battle) only to be cut down, after a desperate engagement, by Tizan's flailing sword. 

The pursuing vessel’s civilian captain left behind to man (work) his crew, seeing the destruction of recruits and erroneously suspecting things were not going so well, rushed to the tiller (rudder, helm) to turn the vessel about. Unfortunately, he never got the chance, for Tizan with a mighty leap, jumping over the heads of the still boarding men, began slaughtering the crew from their rear.

05- TZAN  CHARGES FORWARD UNSTOPABLE

After the Captain was sliced and all his mates hacked to pieces, Tizan cut through next, the second wave which had regrouped to bar his way to the hold.

Pandemonium broke out below decks as he set about slaughtering those who had stayed to guard the precious arsenal.

Stepping over the corpses littering the floor, Tizan's brief investigation revealed, to his utter delight, the expected stocks of oil, pitch, sulfur, and tinder along with the arrowheads used to launch their mixture onto opposing vessels.  Tizan had with him a small quantity of incendiary powders, in case Zunrogo's assessment had proven wrong.  Now, with these for strikers, he immediately set to work placing the firebombs in the most strategic locations to ensure the maximum damage.

After lighting the long fuses, he rushed above deck.  The badly wounded Captain, as his last living act, had been successful in changing the vessel's course and there was now a considerable distance between the two ships.  Tizan dove swiftly into the river.  He had always been a strong and expert swimmer so, despite the currents that pitched and tossed him about, he was able to catch up to his own vessel in no time at all and was soon hauling himself back on board.

 He crouched to catch his breath, inclining his head to see the pursuing vessel torn apart by several successive explosions.  Before long the whole boat was ablaze, great flames leaping into the sky and a thick, billowing cloud of black smoke boiled into the sky.  Then the hull of the vessel split it two and the pieces sizzled and hissed as water flooded into the hold. 

06- SHIP BLOWN UP

Whirling around and around, the boat disappeared into a whirlpool, leaving nothing behind on the river's choppy surface but a few charred timbers and a floating carpet of yellow sulfur powder.

 As Tizan watched the complete destruction of Lance Diostin’s vessel, his eye caught countless dead or stunned fish floating now on the surface of the water and, in his mind's eye, a long-buried recollection of other fish killed by deliberate explosions pushed its way past all the barriers he had set up against it.  Wrapped around it as an indissoluble part of the event remembered were all the other memories that had lain dormant in his mind for so many years yet now flashed for a split-second back into his consciousness.  Absentmindedly his hand reached up to the far corner of his left brow and caressed the deep, furrowed scar on his temple.

 

                                                                                   ~

 

(END OF SECTION 33)

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 17

Traveling in the opposite direction and towards Channing, Nevetsecnuac found himself constrained to adapt to his inferior mount and the moderate life of a scholar.  At odds with his reasoning mind, however, was his impatient heart which longed constantly for his spirited stallion Fiery Comet, riding like the wind and covering great distances in a single day's gallop.  Finding his slow journey tedious and rather tiresome, his thoughts often sailed into a distant future or reverted back to those loved ones he had left in the mountain cabin.  By speculating on the exciting life experiences of the identical twins, growing up in the mountains under the careful supervision of Lord Asger and his beloved wife, he found some joy and solace in his travails.

01- NEVETS RIDING  IN THE RAIN 

 For three consecutive days it had rained incessantly; though no food had passed his lips, he had been soaked to the skin in the absence of shelter, and he had gotten little or no sleep, Nevetsecnuac remained quite inured (accustomed, acclimatized) to the discomforts.  His only concern presently, however, was for his mount (horse), whose hooves trod laboriously through the muddy rivulets, fearful lest the beast fall ill.

 A faint smile brushed his lips when the deluge finally began to taper off and, a short time later, altogether ceased but the elusive sun, refusing to bless them with its light, delineated the drenched area in a dismal miasma.  The musty smell of mildew rising from the fall's decaying debris littering the grounds spread over the lone rider and his horse like a spider's sticky web, oppressing, choking them in its silky strings.

"We'll soon be out of this.", soothingly Nevetsecnuac patted the horse's main, urging the animal to persevere, but the mounting storm clouds piling up even more thickly atop that glum, gray, lugubrious sky, countered the prince's hopeful prediction.  As if to bring the horse's nerves to extreme tautness, as if to surmount his despair, to increase his trying ordeal, demented winds suddenly arose to pierce both man and beast to the bone.

The next instant luminous veins slashed the sky, and in their wake the deafening thunder tore open the air, eradicating any hope of reprieve.

Pattering raindrops, picking up momentum as they fell, now began pounding, drumming on Nevetsecnuac's head, shoulders and back.  His already drenched garments, not having had the chance to dry in that brief spell of calm, clung uncomfortably to him once more.  Distractedly Nevetsecnuac gazed at the beaded strings of rain decorating the naked branches and the bobbing pearls on the rivulets ahead that had not yet been tainted by the horse's hooves.

A glimmer of hope suddenly sprung up in his heart when, in the distance, he spotted the indistinct, quivering, almost abstract outline of an inn. 

"Well, old boy, your troubles are almost at an end." he coaxed the horse's mane. 

"Now, if you'll be good enough to oblige us with some speed, we may arrive there at least before twilight (nightfall); so, how about it?"  But the horse complacently kept on with his painfully slow trod.  Refraining from flailing at the horse's rump, Nevetsecnuac bit his lip and grumbled.

“I could make better time than this on foot.  How could Fradel put up with such a hopeless, impractical beast?”  He jumped to the ground in a single bound, dismounting.  Taking the animal by the reins, he led him down the path at twice the pace; but in that miasmic (vaporous) atmosphere, he’d underestimated the distance, arriving there still at dusk.

As they approached the inn, the fierce barking of the dogs in back nearly spooked the horse to death.  Too tired to bolt, he responded favorably to soothing strokes of his neck and settled for merely stamping his hooves on the ground, dredging up more mud to stain Nevetsecnuac's fine boots and scholar's coat.

 At once, from behind the screen of rain falling off of the eaves three strong youths (in their teens) had rushed out, spurred on by the innkeeper to greet the traveler. As one, holding a thatched umbrella over the guest's head, ushered him inside, the other, unloading the luggage from the horse, followed on their heels.  The youngest, meanwhile, took the horse's reins to lead him around the side of the inn to the stable.

"Welcome, welcome distinguished sir!  The hospitality of the Dancing-Bear Inn is at your service.” The pockmarked-faced innkeeper smiled and introduced himself as Aguda.

 Flamboyantly bowing low, he greeted Nevetsecnuac at the door, uttering even more insincere felicitations as he showed Nevetsecnuac to a seat.  This fervent reception made Nevetsecnuac a bit uneasy, but he had expected as much from so obviously empty an establishment.  Undaunted, he donned a polite smile, cut short Aguda's wagging, glib tongue as it expressed empathy with Nevetsecnuac's hardships on the road, and briefly stated his requirements for that night.  At once the innkeeper moved with alacrity, dispensing the orders to his underlings, who looked strangely like kinfolk, then ushered Nevetsecnuac into a room at back, which Aguda professed to be quite comfortable.

04- AGUDA

"This is the best room we have, sir." Aguda assured Nevetsecnuac as he noticed the slight wrinkling of his guest's nose as it responded to the overpowering aroma of mildew and dust.  "It just needs a Little airing, that's all.  Under the circumstances, I think you'll agree that opening the shutters is hardly feasible on such a night, but if you should prefer another..."

"It will suffice." Nevetsecnuac demurred, holding out a restraining hand.  "I'll be fine here for the night.  Shall I pay you now?"

"That is not necessary, honorable sir.  You may settle all accounts when you take your leave tomorrow." the innkeeper replied.

He could plainly see the thick layer of dust shrouding everything by the flicker of the suddenly lit oil-lamp and the newly kindled fire in the mantle.  The proprietor, disregarding this obvious neglect, arranged a few chairs and, with fawning solicitude, proceeded to look after Nevetsecnuac's other requirements.  At once he reappeared with a basin of water and behind him, a procession of shuffling bodies carrying a warm quilt, some hot tea and victuals arranged on a tray.

I must remain on my guard tonight. Nevetsecnuac mused as the parade moved through the dust of the room.  The customs in these parts may be different, but I have yet to see an innkeeper trust a guest overnight for the room fee, most irregular.  If it were not for the poor condition of that beast, I would not have gone contrary to my better judgment and stopped here at all.  I can only hope that, by tomorrow, he'll be rested well enough for us to continue on our way.

"Will you be requiring anything else, sir?" the strong voice intruded sharply on Nevetsecnuac's thoughts.

"No, thank you.  You may leave."

The two remaining youths flashed each other a conspiratorial smile, then quickly spun on their heels and left the room.

You suppose you have ensnared me in this den of jackals, but you will not find me all that vulnerable a victim, to be bested. Nevetsecnuac smiled after them. Then, shucking off his wet outer layers of garb (clothing), he carefully spread them by the fire to dry.

After checking thoroughly for spy holes in the walls and ceiling, he found a secretive place in the room in which he concealed the waxed parchment containing Fradel's papers and his money pouch. 

05--NEVETSECNUAC

This accomplished, he washed his hands and face then, finding a dry brown shirt, he put it on, wrapping himself in the quilt and sunk into the wicker chair by the crackling fire.

 No sooner had he settled down than rivulets of perspiration beaded his forehead and ran down his red-hot cheeks.  Casting aside the quilt, he walked over to the bed, throwing himself onto it.  He expected it to give a bit but not only was the thick pad harder than granite, but clouds of dust also rose up at this disturbance to choke and constrict his lungs.  His throat parched, the bedbugs already beginning their feast on his flesh, he angrily jumped back off the bed, scratching.

Oh well, this was to be expected.  He shrugged and wandered over to the table on which the tea and sweetmeats were placed.  Despite the pangs of hunger that now stabbed at his stomach, the oily, gray food did not look at all that appetizing. 

Fingering one or two pieces, he was about to pop a morsel into his mouth when he was distracted by the angry voice of the proprietor outside the door.

"How come he's not back yet?  You should have gone with him to the doctors.  What if he croaks on the road?"

The quivering voice of a child stubbornly interjected, "My grandpa's strong.  He'll be back soon, Uncle, you'll see."

"No one cares what you think!" another young voice snapped at the child.

"Stop bothering Paa (dad)!"  The sound of a hand smartly striking a cheek started the littlest one bawling and Nevetsecnuac heard the crying child being dragged away, soothed by a female's compassionate murmurs.

"Blasted bag of bones and skin's been gone all morning," the innkeeper was heard, to grumble next, "leaving all the work for me to do.  Zog, have you fed the dogs at least?"

"Yes, sir; I fed them a few hours ago."

"Then why are they still raising such a ruckus?  Go and see what's wrong, and quiet them down!  Blasted pests," Aguda shouted after the eldest boy, "always hungry. They'll eat us out of house and home.”

"You," Aguda shouted at one of the other boys, "what are you doing standing here loitering for?  Go to the kitchen and help your mother, your brothers can finish up the cleaning here.  Now, scram!"  The voices moved off down the hall and what was said afterwards was muffled by the whispers and the sounds of brooms shuffling the floor.

Returning his attention to the finger food and tea, Nevetsecnuac lifted the teapot, sniffed under the lid, and then returned it to the table.  If it's their intention to rob me tonight, this foul-smelling brew could easily hide any drug.  It’s impossible to tell.

Suddenly a tap came at the door and the innkeeper peered through the crack he'd opened up.  "Is everything to your satisfaction, sir?" he inquired as he let himself in without so much as an invitation from Nevetsecnuac. 

"Perhaps the tea is not to your liking.  It's the water, I'm afraid." Aguda smiled wryly when Nevetsecnuac objected to the innkeeper (unceremoniously) pouring him a cup.

 Darting a glance at the untouched tidbits, he added, "The meal will be ready soon, sir.  My wife is taking extra care tonight to make you a meat goulash, something that is sure to please your palate.  May I benefit from your company in the meanwhile?  We rarely get any visitors to these parts, especially ones as distinguished as you.  One can't help but wonder what circumstance has brought you to these parts."

Without a pause in his muttering, Aguda drew a chair up to the table and sat himself comfortably by Nevetsecnuac.

 "Ah, it was not always like this, I assure you.  This used to be the only route leading to Wincox City, and then we enjoyed good business.  That is where you are headed, is it not, sir?"  This time he waited to receive a nod from Nevetsecnuac before continuing.

 "Yes, things have assuredly changed, ever since they built that accursed, more direct route; for this road always had been plagued by mudslides. Of course, clearing away a major part of the forest didn't help.”

"And who's responsible, you ask?  Well, two mansions were not enough for His Excellency, Governor Borg; he had to use all the wood in these parts to make himself an even more grandiose one.  Of course, they moved in, plus his labor force to farm here for a time, but the rocky, infertile land made them go bust in less than two years and they all left, but not until their livestock had stripped away every bit of grass or shrub."  He shook his head and laughed coldly, then abruptly stilled his tongue, before he could land himself in serious trouble by his uttering of more incriminating words, about the despised official.

Aguda's narrow eyes regained their former composure before he added in resignation, "You're most fortunate, sir, to have gotten through.  The rains sometimes last for weeks and resulting floods make this section of the road utterly impassable."  He spread his hands despondently.

 "Either that, or the bridge gets washed out. But, of course, how stupid of me; you did not come that way."

From his next round of convoluted, nearly incomprehensible mutterings Nevetsecnuac learned that there were three roads diverging from a distant junction.  One would lead him to a small village; the middle would join the major highway and take him to Wincox City; while the third would land him at a dead end at the washed-out bridge, which had been left in disrepair.

This unusually inquisitive innkeeper, indecorously imposing himself upon Nevetsecnuac, began to, quite blatantly, pry Nevetsecnuac about his personal background, his destination, the intent of his travels, and whether there was anyone awaiting him in Wincox City.

 Satisfied with the fabrications (which as precautionary measure) Nevetsecnuac was obliged to provide, including the assumed name of Svein Therran, Aguda, relaxed his vigil. Having eventually ran out of things to say, he was looking to excuse himself when,

"Oh, bring it in, boy!" he suddenly sat upright, urging the youth, who had just made his timely appearance at the crack in the door, to bring in a tray of wine and cups.

 "I took the liberty of having some wine warmed up for you, sir.  I know that you have not expressed any wish to consume some, but on a day such as this you may perhaps benefit from its medicinal properties.  It will certainly warm up your bones. Please, please have some; it’s the finest vintage we have to offer. It’s on the house; a small token. It’s also my way of welcoming a distinguished guest like you, sir.  Perhaps, by speaking favorably of us to your traveling colleagues, you may steer some business in our direction."  Aguda filled two cups and presented one of them to Nevetsecnuac.

Before Nevetsecnuac had even raised the cup to his lips, the innkeeper, seeming to lack all manners or, perhaps, intent on proving the wine's harmlessness to his guest, quickly quaffed his portion, holding it in his mouth to savor the taste before gulping it down and noisily smacking his lips.

Pretending to partake some also, Nevetsecnuac discreetly poured all of it into a crack between the floorboards and then joined in the praise of this highly scented, coarse, rather unpalatable vintage.  Afterwards quickly putting his cup down, Nevetsecnuac reached for the jug to pour another cup for the proprietor, "Please, allow me."

"Oh no, sir, I must decline." Aguda pulled his nervous gaze from the door to hold his palm out over his cup.  "I've imposed on you long enough; I mustn't be remiss with my other duties.  I'll go at once and see what's keeping your meal.  Please don't let me interrupt your enjoyment of this wine, feel free to finish it in my absence.  If you wish, I'll join you later for another jug.  Please, please now, enjoy."  He rose to his feet just in time to be hailed by his wife outside about some other problem.

"You see how I can't even have one moment to myself without having something go awry.  I have to oversee everything, however trivial."  In this way he excused himself and, swiftly pivoting on his heel, darted out of the room.

Going for the antidote, I see. Nevetsecnuac gave a bemused smile as he drew a silver pin from the sleeve of his jacket.  Dipping the pin into the wine jug, he then drew it out and, quite unruffled, studied it for a time, all the while noting its particular discoloration.

 As I suspected, Nevetsecnuac nodded, whilst he put the pin back.

Instead of showing anger, Nevetsecnuac knit his brows in deep concern for the innkeeper and his family as he resumed his former seat.  Despite his coarse manner, apparent cruelty and deceit, he is still only a tragic victim of his circumstance.  Stroking the stubble on his chin, in deep despair, Nevetsecnuac absentmindedly reached for a morsel on the tray and popped it into his mouth.  Strangely enough, the taste was quite pleasant.

"Don't we have enough already?" the wife's complaining voice came from outside.  "The smell sticks to the pots and they're already well fed.  It's not proper.  What if they turn on us next?  I'm already beset with dreadful nightmares!" she cried as her quivering voice diminished.

"Stop being such a weak, cowardly woman!  They are chained, are they not?" Aguda erupted. “And remember, not a word of this to my cousin. You know how grumpy, sanctimonious and quite unreasonable that dictatorial old fool has gotten to be lately, always wanting things done his way."

"But it's not right, I tell you, “The woman's voice was almost a whimper, "I fear that Heaven will punish us…. It’s not right!"

The voices outside mingled with the heavy downpour drumming on the roof, then both swiftly muted.  A sudden tiredness enveloped Nevetsecnuac, weighing his head and body down like lead. 

Oh no!  Realizing that the tidbits had also been laced, he spat the last piece from his mouth and tried, in vain, to vomit.  By then it was too late, the chemical was in his bloodstream.  The room lights dimmed, and his head began to spin.  He struggled to his feet, holding on the table's edge to steady himself.  He tried to totter towards his luggage, where the range of antidotes were kept, but his legs gave out underneath him and the next instant he collapsed, unconscious, onto the floor.

The room was quickly filled by those who were waiting outside.

"Good, he's done for!"

"Usually one cup does it.", one laughed spitefully.

"Fool, it wasn't the wine that did-him-in!"

"Who are you calling a fool?" fuming, the younger boy shook a fist in his elder brother's face, ready to pounce on him right there.

"Stop all that bickering, help me pick him up and search through his garments.  Quick!" Aguda cut short their wrangling.

 "Why must you two always argue?" he glared at the boys.  "I don't understand where you get your tempers from.  Haven't I always preached tolerance and patience between blood relations?  Why can't you two be like Kenny?"  Turning, he asked the eldest, "I hope you didn't waste too much of that drug, Zog.  We're running low on it."

"I did as you instructed, Paa." Zog beamed in satisfaction. 

06- ZOG

"I put equal measure, exactly the amount you said, into the tea and the wine, and the other kind, more potent potion onto the meaty morsels as well as veggie vittles.  That way we couldn't miss it."

"You’ve laced the veggie vittles too? How clever of you to think of that. “

“Paa, he sure was a sneaky one; he guessed at the wine…."

Aguda disregarded Yaggy and smiled at his favorite firstborn.  "Good boy, Zog.  Still, I wish there was someone else we could go to get it.  It's getting harder and harder to wrestle it from that old crow, who only knows how to raise his prices."

 He stone-faced, looked at the unconscious victim, the helpless Nevetsecnuac, ""A good specimen, in fact too fine a build for a scholar.  I wonder if he really is who he professes (claims) to be.  I rather liked him, too.  No matter, he'll end up in the same place as the rest."

"Yeah, in a dog's gut!"  Yaggy chuckled, rubbing his hands in gruesome relish of the scene to come.

07- YAGGY

"Have some respect, boy!" The innkeeper scolded.  This one's cruelty, his lack of human feelings and respect for human life had, in fact, become a serious concern for Aguda.  Cutting short yet another lecture, he ordered the two eldest boys to carry the unconscious victim Scholar (Nevetsecnuac) to the large, hardwood table in the kitchen.  As a practiced part of the process by now, the youngest, Kenny, was sent on ahead to warn the mother to clear away from the kitchen, sparing her from the grisly acts that was to follow.

Staying behind only long enough to scoop up Scholar’s (Nevetsecnuac's) precious belongings for himself, Aguda then followed his sons.

                                                                                           ~

(END OF SECTION 17)