11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 18

Once he was back in his offices, Egil Viggoaries set about writing down the petition that he had composed the day before in his mind. In an addendum, he also requested to have the burial ceremony temporarily postponed (delayed), for reasons that there were certain discrepancies (inconsistencies) about the manner of the Royal Tutor's death, which warranted an urgent and official autopsy by the Imperial Coroner. This he dispatched at once, directly to Qarzten Caimund.

The next morning when the result, which the Dark Eunuch had anticipated, was revealed and, an all-out hunt was mounted for the culprits, specifically Stewart Chutek, Egil Viggoaries had rubbed his hands together and hissed: “The orchestra has commenced with the opening bars, now let’s call in the steps and watch the minions dance (hop).” 

     

                                                                                  ~ 

01- QARZTEN CAMUND (12)

Qarzten Caimund with acuity (perspicacity, discernment)) had awaited Egil Viggoaries’s next maneuver and found that, as expected, he had opted for extorting Lady Sejon while turning the evidence into a weapon against his hated adversary. The Dark Eunuch’s timely petition for an autopsy and the following steps was all appropriately within the bounds of the law.

Furthermore, under his authority, all pertinent documents and testimonies were arranged to disclose facts, exactly the way Egil Viggoaries wanted them to appear. Lady Sejon herself was fed rumors, and they remained only rumors, that the Royal Tutor Worren Youkup had scribbled a condemning confession on his deathbed that had aroused Egil Viggoaries’s suspicions and led to the incriminating autopsy. Moreover, there was the certain verification (proof) that an ensuing investigation had turned up the agent of death which happened to be the medicinal flask belonging to Herleif’s personal physician, Enqui Rimeng.   

In the subsequent days, the Chief of Internal Security’s team had surpassed themselves in their relentless pursuit of resolving (rounding up) this case. A carefully blended presentation of factual and fabricated evidence was expertly amassed in sufficient quantity to have Chutek and Doctor Enqui Rimeng indicted and incarcerated for questioning and torture, as co-conspirators of Royal Tutor’s murder.    

Steward Chutek was quickly apprehended at an Inn near the Nexoko Pass as he was preparing to leave and was brought back in chains and under heavy guard, to Channing, to stand before the Grand Inquisitor and Egil Viggoaries. The sealed box entrusted to him by Worren Youkup was also retrieved intact and handed over to the Chief of Internal Security.

The contents of the letter addressed to Scholar Tonzeye Yevgun confirmed Worren Youkup’s suspected erratic state of mind; moreover, Worren’s unusual requests from his long-time friend unwittingly placed Tonzeye in a very precarious position. Seizing this excellent opportunity Egil had at once issued an arrest warrant for the Scholar Tonzeye Yevgun.

Qarzten Caimund, who had always been favorably disposed to the Illustrious Scholar Tonzeye, was able to intervene in time however, and taking advantage of the distance to Chukset Province, had ordered that the preliminary depositions be taken there, before the Scholar's probable, eventual transport to Capital. This measure ensured it would be at least three months before Tonzeye Yevgun could be, safely and under guard, transported back to Channing to determine, (barring a miracle) unfortunately under torture, the extent of his part in this supposed, diabolical plot. But then, Qarzten Caimund had reckoned, quite a bit could transpire in that period.

 

02-SCHOLAR TONZEYE YEVGUN (1)

Those officials within the Capital, the few who had accepted gratuities (bribes) to expedite the processing of Steward Chutek’s documents meanwhile, had all been taken in for questioning. Their under-duress testimonies, tailored to establish the Royal Tutor's secret infatuation with Chutek and his consequential unsound (irrational) state of mind at the time he had initiated those procedures (actions), were all meticulously chronicled (recorded, registered).    

The Certificates of Manumission, Powers of Attorney and latest will bequeathing all Worren Youkup’s holdings in its entirety to Steward Chutek, now deemed rigged (manipulated, swindled), were promptly and legally nullified.    

Egil Viggoaries's prosecuting team additionally, had attained further incriminating data, the so-called monitory gift payments, for a covert, perverse sexual liaisons between (routinely shadowed) Physician Enqui Rimeng and Chutek that had gone on, decidedly, for more than eleven months. The Judiciary stored all this amassed evidence temporarily in a safe place, pending the time (of the Trial) they will be required to be presented as proof (mark) of, Physician Enqui Rimeng and the chief culprit Chutek's complicity in the pre-meditated murder of Worren Youkup.    

Chutek in the interim was, with all his funds frozen and having no hidden stash of his own to fall back on, effectively blocked from contracting (hiring) competent legal aid (defense team) and proving his innocence. Not that it would have done him any good, as most in Channing had already in their minds, convicted Chutek; believing him to be the mastermind of the sinister ploy- which had the unsuspecting Worren Youkup ingesting the poisoned substance while Chutek was conveniently absent from the Capital. Even Prime Minister was not of a mind to lock horns with his chief rival Egil Viggoaries, over this sensational, highly publicized felonious act (criminal act) of an insignificant Steward Chutek. With no one to champion his rights, things looked bleaker each passing day for Chutek.

03-STEWART  CHUTEK 8 JP

Despite the expended effort to tie this case up swiftly and neatly however, there had been still one unforeseen, major snag in the steady progress of the Dark Eunuch’s persecution team, for no confession could be had (extracted) from Chutek. Quite unexpectedly and stoically Chutek had borne (withstood), to the bitter end, the unconscionable humiliation and the barbaric torment.    

 When viewed, the state of Chutek's remains had made even Qarzten Caimund wince, and he had seen it all. That day as they had descended the spiraling, perilous steps, Qarzten Caimund (from the corner of his eye) observing Egil Viggoaries’ reticent conduct, had confirmed fully then, how the hellish, foul-smelling dungeon with its endless corridors and cells, with steady groaning coming from its labyrinthine depths, its air ripped with terrifying screams of its victims being tortured, was almost a source of comfort for the demented Dark Eunuch.  Ushered solicitously into the cell which Chutek had been endlessly tormented and seeing Chutek or what was left of him, Qarzten Caimund had drawn back violently, shuddering to the marrow of his bones. Yes, despite himself, despite his efforts to conceal it from Egil Viggoaries, he had shuddered with deep inner revulsion. 

At that point, additionally, the Dark Eunuch’s inhumane, eerie peal of mocking laughter grated on Qarzten ‘s ears; meanwhile, the subhuman mirth (hilarity) rising from the depths over the anguished cries had reverberated in that chilling air. His resentment of Egil Viggoaries had apexed then, and it had seriously sickened Qarzten to the core, to be so cognisant (aware) of the degree of vileness of Egil Viggoaries’s perverted mind.   

Meeting Eunuch's eyes, Qarzten Caimund had glared at the Dark Eunuch with fierce disapproval, his heart suffused with outrage, finding no words to express the vulgarity of what he had witnessed just then. In all his years of faithful service as a vassal of Zakhertan Yozdek, Qarzten Caimund had seen countless victims of torment; many were subjected to cruel procedures to prevent their escape, barbaric (inhumane) methods that were clearly marked (patent) sadistic tortures. In cases where all else failed and other means had proven ineffective, the application of torture had been justified. It was an accepted norm in Wenjenkun, an unavoidable evil, during the Reign of Zakhertan Yozdek. Qarzten Caimund bore the burden of guilt himself for having overseen, initiated, or partaken (participating) in many acts of inquisition and torture in the past, but never had it been taken to this extent of barbarism.  And he had never seen this degree of suffering inflicted upon a living being. Nothing comparable could have prepared him for this most abhorrent of gruesome scene. But what was even worse, what was more disturbing still, was Egil Viggoaries’s chilling repulsive reaction to the disembodied corpses strewn about them and his startlingly atrocious conduct next, that had violently churned Qarzten’s stomach. It was as though Egil Viggoaries had an inherent need, had insisted on Qarzten Caimund’s presence to heighten his amusement, to reassert his belief that he and he alone was untouched, unmoved by this sort of monstrous act and the vileness of it all. The ignoble (base, dastardly) goading had infuriated Qarzten and at that point he had looked away, biting back his fierce contempt.

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"Was this really warranted?" Qarzten Caimund, keeping the anger from his voice had asked, as he, for a spell, burrowed his unyielding, menacing, (threatening) gaze on Egil Viggoaries. But before the Dark Eunuch could respond, suddenly, at that very moment an inhuman scream had filled the tense morbid air.

Observing the involuntary shudder that had just then rippled through Qarzten Caimund, Egil Viggoaries had sneered contemptuously and maliciously. "Of course, it was warranted." His cynical, condescending tone had still further incensed Qarzten Caimund, but he’d looked away nevertheless, not wishing a serious confrontation at that precise moment. 

Subsequently Qarzten’s gaze once more had fallen on the pitiful form of chained Chusek; however, at that moment, Qarzten’s keen eye caught a detail that instantly flooded his heart with hope. He quickly got a grip on his senses, and feigning mere technical (scientific), and in part meddlesome (interfering) interest, he drew closer to examine Chusek’s grave injuries in the head, those deep gushes and lacerations that was gradually staining crimson more parts of his hair; however, his eyes discreetly instead, had fleetingly examined Chusek’s earlobes, to ascertain of his earlier detected discrepancy.

No, he had not mistaken it! This was an imposter… He was not Stuart Chutek!

 Qarzten Camund, nevertheless feigning disgust and tediousness, stepped back and quickly lowered his eyes to hide the relief in them, while escaping the intense scrutiny of the detestable, predatory Dark Eunuch. 

Egil Viggoaries, meanwhile, not getting what he sought (wanted) out of Qarzten, gave a huff of derision and half-turning looked at Chutek's maimed and mutilated corpse; when he reverted his riveting gaze back to Qarzten, Egil Viggoaries’s face had been ugly, his body movements suddenly more antagonistic, more menacing.

The Dark Eunuch’s subsequent, spiteful abrasive words of the poor tormented creature, the uttered scornful obscenities, nevertheless, grated on Qarzten Caimund’s innate sense of morality and justice; and so, he, again bristling, clutched his fists, his fingernails deliberately digging into his palm and drawing blood; a sham performance which he had deliberately failed to veil (conceal) from the Dark Eunuch.

This, expectantly, to some extent (partially), satisfied Egil Viggoaries.

Continuing with his bogus performance and purposefully averting the Dark Eunuch's piercing eyes, lest he betray what was truly in his heart and mind, Qarzten then briskly turned about face and left hurriedly, in a quasi (pseudo, virtual) near frenzied state, rushing his steps down the hall.

Subsequently, Qarzten had ascended by twos the stone steps to abscond and to spread some distance between himself and the Dark Eunuch; his soul demanded escape(flight) from this insane vile monster who had been gloating, elated by what he had accomplished, and furthermore, by what he was still intending, proposing to do.    

Indubitably Qarzten’s core had genuinely blanched at the very thought, the proof, that there were in existence two such monsters in Wenjenkun: Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek and Egil Viggoaries.

Then, to his greater dismay, he was quickly reminded of the third monster, Emperor Deng Hedenko of Kontu. 

 

                                                                             ~ 

 

(END OF SECTION 18) 

 

 11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 17

After so many hours of tending the Dark Eunuch’s extensive wounds (lesions), Royal surgeon Mosek stepped back and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Egil Viggoaries was then offered two or three excellent pain-numbing concoctions but despite the throbbing pain in his arm, he refused to ingest any potion and perfunctorily dismissed the Surgeon.

 

01- ROYAL SURGEON MOSEK

The Dark Eunuch thence left alone in the room, he stayed seated there for a while longer evaluating (assessing) his two provocative future machinations; finally, his thoughts reverting to Stuart Chutek, his mind pithily deliberated on the astute (shrewd) course of assertion (command, charge, contention):

His men had already been positioned in the very Inn Chutek was staying, awaiting his orders to apprehend him; before the Stewart Chutek crossed to the Chukset Province, to seek out Tonzeye Yevgun.  In a short while, when the moment was apt, Chutek would be lawfully indicted and convicted for the impending (imminent) murder of Worren Youkup based on that sheer evidence alone. Furthermore, with the established motive, Chutek could easily be portrayed as an ambitious servant who had deliberately and unconscionably seduced and coerced his senile, old master into declaring him as the sole beneficiary; then, before Worren had a change of heart, Chutek cold-heartedly had arranged to have him (the Royal Tutor) killed during Chutek’s absence from Channing, on a supposed errand no less.  Portrayed (depicted) as an insidious, scheming, malicious servant, Chutek could then be subjected the extreme penalty of the law; albeit he survived the preliminary inquisition, he could still be made to suffer the brutal indignities, before his slowest, most tortuous end.

But where was the challenge in that? Egil Viggoaries scoffed and shifted in his seat. Even without all that, any amount of incriminating evidence could easily have been amassed, since the old Tutor had shown such extreme favoritism to the strikingly handsome Chutek, incurring jealous animosities from all the other servants, one in particular…The one named, Lorenzo.

Egil Viggoaries turned his thoughts instead, to Enqui Rimeng's flask which presented far more intriguing possibilities. This flagon (evidential instrument of death) could be utilized to net the bigger prize, in addition to the accursed Herleif! But then, why would he cook the golden goose, or would it be more prudent to call her a pheasant; besides which, she may soon be infinitely more valuable as the Dowager Mother of the future Sovereign.

Egil Viggoaries sporting a wry grin, rose from his chair and walked to the window; as he absently stared out, suddenly, unexpectedly, he was reminded of Samnuk.

Dark Eunuch Egil, grimaced thinking of the time he had tricked the mixed gender rock sprit entity Samnuk, who had just escaped being imprisoned in that protective water crystal amulet which Dwengzur had always worn around his neck. Samnuk had impersonated his master Dwengzur, but Egil quickly wizened to this deception, had instead duped Samnuk into revealing one of his secrets. This was an especially useful tool (device, information), indeed, gaining the ability to shapeshift and assume any form or person; unfortunately, his (Egil) being a mere mortal, if he utilized this spell, there would be a grave consequence to him. Egil had been seriously warned about this, by non other than Dwengzur, before his eventual disappearance with then captive, mischief-maker, Samnuk.

02 SAMNUK 1B

“Oh well,” Egil Viggoaries shrugged; knowing there would be an apt future time, when the advantages would far outweigh the vile disadvantage, for its use.

Dark Eunuch’s thoughts once more reverting to Sejon and then to Magnian, he now indulged his mind in that future fantasy, where which Zakhertan Yozdek and Sejon would be long dead and, he would be the Regent Guardian to Magnian. A necessary short step to being the omnipotent emperor. Emperor Egil… Egil the Merciless! He did like the sound of that! The Dark Eunuch threw his head back and gave a hearty guffaw. A brief time later, sinister grin gone, Egil abruptly turned about face and went out the room; dismissing the respectful bows of his guards at the door, he walked briskly down the hall. Of course, his personal security had at once sheathed their swords and fell into step behind him. The Dark Eunuch walked quickly with long strides to keep his appointment, albeit a little late, with the Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund. Egil knew that the meeting was of a serious official matter, though it had rapidly been dwarfed in importance by these more recent developments.  

“When I see him,” Egil Viggoaries mused with wry smile on his lips, “I must at least make a point of thanking Qarzten Caimund for his recommendation of me to this case. The man has unwittingly done me a great service!” He threw his head back and laughed once more as he continued to advance without so much as breaking stride.

   

                                                                        ~   

   

That evening, when Egil Viggoaries received the expected word that Royal Tutor Worren Youkup was at death’s door after having suffered a damaging heart-attack, he quickly set aside all other business to pay the customary courtesy call on Worren, hoping to catch him still among the living and to whisper to him his spiteful news. As it were, the Dark Eunuch’s ingrained rancour (grudge) for the sanctimonious Worren Youkup and the Prince Herleif had been everlasting because, Egil Viggoaries’s childhood years had been glumly marred as the study companion of Prince Herleif. Young Egil had undergone nefarious castigations and ignoble humiliations whenever the unruly, wily Herleif had broken the rules. At each instance, Worren Youkup (heartlessly) indifferently turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to the truth had compulsorily mated out harshest penalties on the unpopular Egil Viggoaries. Eventually young Egil had learned to fight back and once fended for himself in such a way as to make Worren’s and Prince Herleif's life, for a time being at least, an absolute Hell. Zakhertan Yozdek at the time was still waging his border wars and was frequently absent from Channing for extended periods; Herleif’s vindictiveness going unchecked hence, it was not long before Viggoaries was maligned and permanently replaced as the study companion, with a more malleable stooge. The ostracized Egil’s life from then on, had taken on a new, nightmarish turn.  

                                                                      … 

At present entering the private compound of the palace staff, Egil Viggoaries continued to make his way, in the same bold strides, towards the tutor's sleeping quarters. Coming to within an earshot of the old man's deathbed, he heard the attending physicians pontificating over Worren’s ailment and them arriving at the unanimous decision that he was at present beyond saving.

"We've done all that is humanly possible to stem the course of damage but alas, his sight and speech faculties (ability) are slightly (to some extent) impaired.” Kundo Rotek said with a tired, mournful resignation. Everyone knew he was in fact quite fond of the Royal Tutor.

“At least you’d in time mercifully administered the dose to ease his terrible pain, but I dare say, bit more excessively." His colleague (assistant) pensively griped.  

 "There is nothing further to be done." Three of the senior Royal Physicians, farcically, exasperatedly shaking their heads unanimously at this point sounded their firm estimation.   

"May Gods be merciful!" A young Royal Physician just then acerbically added, eyeing Egil Viggoaries’s entrance into the room.   

"And may his passing into the spirit world, be without fret." Another one called Polnar, hastily rushed in to say, same time gave his co-worker an apprehensively admonishing look that seemed to say: “Xamis Urmond you fool, you will pay dearly for this later! You have enjoyed the favor of His Highness Zakhertan Yozdek and basked in the rarely bestowed honors and privileges your youthful brilliance has earned you up till now, but nothing lasts forever, and no one is indispensable!” Polnar had rushed forward meanwhile, along with the others, to respectfully greet Egil Viggoaries.   

Polnar’s subsequent profuse apologies and amiable words, on behalf of his headstrong friend Xamis, had unfortunately was ignored (fell on deft ears), for Egil Viggoaries had already made up his mind to take care of this impertinent and upstart Royal Physician, permanently (for good).

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Outwardly, however, Egil seemed to be appeased; showing a particular concern for the Royal Tutor's increasingly deteriorating condition, he suggested (ordered) he be allowed a few solitary moments with his old teacher to convey his farewells.  

The Chief Royal Physician, Kundo Rotek, readily assenting, cleared the room at once of all persons; then he too, quickly exited the room. Then again, all were extremely glad of the opportunity to spread as much distance as possible between them and the Black Eunuch, for none wished to inadvertently offend him and risk his baneful (cursed) wrath.   

Egil Viggoaries nodded in satisfaction as he approached the old Tutor as, without interference, he was now able to assess for himself the specific symptoms of the poison. Though all had read his occasional dissertations about the progress of human diseases and thus would never question his motives, no one was truly aware of the full extent of Egil’s vast knowledge of medicine and toxicology, gathered over the course of many years of experiment and study.  Not only had Egil Viggoaries poured over and devoured the Royal Library's vast storehouse of medical texts (one of the subjects along with alchemy, astronomy, botany and military strategy that had been spared from the incineration) but he had for the past several years also conducted experiments on his own into the causes, cures and progress of a countless number of diseases that plagued mankind with terminal suffering.  As Minister of Internal Security, he was able to procure an unending supply of subjects from among the ranks of the condemned prisoners with which he strove to resolve the dilemmas posed by those elusive maladies that had eluded even the wisest of contemporary medical minds. Not that Egil Viggoaries was striving to find cures for these illnesses; rather, his fascination lay in inducing sickness into previously healthy individuals and then painstakingly recording in meticulous detail the variations of the disease's progress until the final deterioration of their condition.   

The suffering, the torment inflicted on these ill-fated victims gave him that perverse pleasure and bizarre sense of temporary satiation from his bottomless, sadistic curiosity. Egil Viggoaries’s compiled works meanwhile had proven to be a controversial yet invaluable contribution to the medical field, though the methods by which the information had been gathered drew to date, twenty or thirty muted criticisms from certain Court Officials as well as, secret censure by two of his medical peers. Regardless of these personal qualms, they nevertheless jostled each other in their rush to obtain, at great expense, his latest findings when they were, infrequently printed up for publication. For every now and then Egil Viggoaries would succumb to the human failing (an urge) to boast, to gain recognition for his unconscionable yet brilliant methods and theories. These published findings however had only ceded the surface layers of his knowledge of the tools of death. He had also, for self-preservation, secretly experimented, and duly become an expert in identifying the culprit poisons, in specifically, five unresolved murder cases.     

Looking at the old Royal Tutor, Egil Viggoaries presently noted with a bemused smile the obvious signs and the side-effects of the drug Worren Youkup had unwittingly ingested, which had escaped the learned eyes of those brilliant Royal Physicians. Haughty, Idiotic incompetents, the lot of them! Even that arrogant upstart had not caught on. Later, Egil Viggoaries was to learn that Xamis Urmond had indeed raised the possibility during his examination but had been roundly overridden by his more discreet peers. His apologist had even ventured as far as to advise Xamis, "Let the sleeping dogs lie."    

Dispassionately Egil Viggoaries studied the side effects of the potion that had, in its wake, left the Royal Tutor gradually (increasingly) more bereft of sight and speech.  That old boorish tyrant that had plagued his childhood, now nearing his end, was as vulnerable as a newborn babe, squirming in his silent pain. Yet there remained something in those sightless eyes, an urgent need in that contorted face to communicate something vital. Taking advantage of this chance, Egil Viggoaries ordered one of the waiting attendants at outside, to bring him a parchment and ink-laden brush. The attendant as he was leaving the room witnessed only of Egil Viggoaries placing the brush in the dying Royal Tutor's right hand and urging him to write.

No one bore witness to the Eunuch’s subsequent act of, leaning close to Worren’s ear and imparting to him in a whisper, while grinning with sheer malice, his exquisite plans for the darling Stewart Chutek. 

04- STEWART CHUTEK'S IMPENDING FATE

A brief time later Egil Viggoaries had emerged at outside declaring the result to be indecipherable scribbling that warranted thorough analysis later. The Eunuch’s back to them, Chief Royal Physician Kundo Rotek and the other Royal Physicians had all at once, frenziedly rushed (scrambled) back into the room, in time only to observe, Worren Youkup arch his back in pain and breath his last.

 

                                                                        ….   

 

 

(END OF SECTION 17)

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL – SECTION 11

                                         

Back at the Under-Secretary Lenny Sukzor’s private residence, for a long while sleep had averted the intrepid Minister; lying awake in deep contemplation, Lenny’s stare had been for some time now affixed (glued, set) on the canopy of his four-poster bed. Incessantly his eyes (pupils) traced each cleverly executed embroidery, woven so colorfully yet mockingly beautiful, depicting patterns of marital fidelity and family’ loyalty, that of which now taunted him with their lies.

01- -LENNY SUKZOR (12)JP

Their creator, his wife Juyin, was as beautiful as she was talented and, if the truth were to be known, he had loved her deeply from the first moment he had set eyes on her.  Despite his present denial, despite all that had since come between them he was still enamored of her. He still treasured every moment they spent together and warmed in the ecstasy, the pure, unadulterated joy she infused down into the very cockles of his heart.

On this night of all nights, he longed to embrace her, to pretend that all was simple and good between them, but his adored wife was not where he desired her to be. She was not in bed beside him. The moment he had feigned sleep, Juyin had snuck away.  Extending his hand, he felt the residual warmth of the mattress. His brows knitted as he turned to his side and (smelled) smelt her perfume still lingering on the pillows and sheets.

02-JUYIN SUKZOR (1).pngJP

He had known of her recruitment from the very start. Until this major incursion he had boasted with impunity how he had kept his household clear of spies but on that day when he had received certain confirmation his anger had welled up intolerably in his chest.  He had conjured up thousands of tortures to pay her back for this ultimate betrayal.

It mattered little that she had most certainly been (coerced) forced into carrying out her actions, if she had been truly loyal, she would have taken her own life rather than submit to the course that was imposed on her.  He had even considered disposing of this viper nestled in his bosom, by administering a slow-acting poison that mimicked “Breakbone Fever”, killing her with long, lingering, excruciating pain.  Then the anger and disappointment had subsided to rest deep within his marrow, and he’d reasoned in a cool, dispassionate way that, he was being too idealistic, and, even if he’d disposed of her, another would be planted in her stead, one who might be far harder to detect.

Subsequently, with things seemingly remaining as they were, Juyin was only given to convey the certain information that Lenny wished for Zakhertan Yozdek to know.

03- JUYIN SUKZOR (6)JP

Even with the apparent benefits of having this direct link (contact) to the Sovereign, he had to argue his case long and hard before Egil Viggoaries and, had endured the lasting humiliation of being verbally, virtually cuckolded in front of his brothers and peers, in order to merely win the continuance of her life for just a while longer before her eventual and certain, sentence to a painful and ignominious death (demise). For nothing less, would satisfy Egil Viggories. The Dark Eunuch Egil, his superior, had so many varied ways to inflict pain and humiliation on a being, and after filling Lenny’s ear with it, each time Lenny had felt wronged by her, like tonight, overriding his mixed emotions, his imagination simply ran rampant with the many possibilities of her imminent, dire punishments.

“Oh, what is the use of tormenting my-self?  That day will come soon enough!” Lenny Sukzor quickly shunted these thoughts aside.

“Better to think of something more to the point, like Dwengzur, for instance. Where has he gotten himself to?”  Inwardly Lenny Sukzor reviewed the same, haunting questions. He had asked discreetly about but none knew of the Immortal's whereabouts since the last assassination attempt on His Royal Highness Zakhertan Yozdek. It was as though Dwengzur had vanished into thin air. The wizard's disappearance without a trace, though not out of character, the long duration (timespan) of it, had baffled everyone.  Of course, the usual rumors circulated, some even reaching the status of a plausible hypothesis, but Lenny had not given any of them much credence.

“Or maybe he’d returned to whence he came...Korion.” Lenny Sukzor, at present, speculated.  He had his certain reservations about Dwengzur from the very start, yet that night, he had been constrained by Egil Viggoaries's bidding to allow Dwengzur to penetrate his deepest most innermost thoughts, in the demonstration.

“If he had retrieved my most confidential stance (position, perspective) he had not let on, had not disclosed the one most damaging fact that would have spelled my immediate doom.  Moreover, he could have extorted me, to secure his silence.” Lenny, thinking back, now pondered on the concern once more.

04- DWENGZUR (AS lENNY REMEMBERS)

Lenny also recalled the fleeting, knowing smile and the Immortal’s perfunctory reaction had been, when the opportunity had finally availed itself for Lenny, to broach this most delicate subject in privacy with him. Dwengzur had curtly declared that he was not at all interested in the politics of Wenjenkun, or of Korion for that matter.  His manner, at the time, had indicated that he had a far greater purpose in mind. Of course, that purpose had since become clear, after the last assassination attempt on Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek.

 Dwengzur had established himself at Court solely to apprehend one of his own!

“Perhaps the hoary legends of this red-haired race were true after all?”  Lenny nodded absently.

Just then Lenny Sukzor was startled from his reverie by the faint sounds of footpads in the hall.  The door handle slid against the latch.  He lay perfectly still in mimed slumber as she crept inside, quickly disrobed and slipped between the covers. She sniffed. “Was she crying?” 

Lenny longed to turn to her, clasp her to his heart and tell her that it was all right, that come what may, he would protect her in the end, but he knew that it would be a veil of lies that would only soothe his conscience temporarily.  He lay like a stone statue, cold and unmoving as her warm body snuggled next to his and she buried her head under the covers.

“Blessed sleep will overtake you soon, my love, and then you will find the solace you seek.  Or will you? Will the nightmare of your betrayal haunt your peace even then?”  Lenny Sukzor cursed himself, cursed his ambition, and cursed the times and everything else that kept him apart from his heart's desire (urgings). Soon, out of sheer emotional exhaustion he, too, was impervious (unreceptive, as he was asleep) to the stirrings of the night.

 

                                                                                  ~

 

In the dead of night an unusual thud had abruptly and with a start awakened Nevetsecnuac; but now all seemed deathly still in semi-darkness. Just then however, his ears detected (picked up) another slight thump. There it was again. This was followed by a faint rustling of leaves and then a crunching sound.

This very night being exceptionally hot and humid, to gain some relief Nevetsecnuac had left the windows wide open; a slight breeze moved the curtains aside at that point in time to expose the culprit crouched in a corner of the windowsill, but he scurried off, frightened by the minute disturbance in the room.  A fleeting smile brushed Nevetsecnuac’s lips as he rubbed his eyes and then languidly (indolently) surveyed the room.  Why had he slept so long? He had only meant to doze off for a few minutes, just long enough to fool that busybody steward!

He reached for the empty cup by his bedside and examined it. His nose creased having at once picked up the faint but distinct odor that anyone else might have easily missed.  Earlier on, alerted by the steward's uncharacteristic insistence, he had had only a sip before slyly giving most of it to the resident cat that, of late, had taken to sleeping in Nevetsecnuac's room.

05- SLEEPING CAT

The feline was now sprawled at the foot of the bed, (out cold) dead to the world. Nevetsecnuac’s keen ears at that moment having picked up yet another suspicious sound, this time from the hallway, Nevetsecnuac swiftly shoved the drugged feline under the bed where she could recover from her misfortune without alerting the staff to her state. 

Nevetsecnuac then returned to bed and slipped under the covers to feign sleep just in time, when suddenly, the door creaked open, and someone tiptoed into the room.  Nevetsecnuac distinctly (became aware) felt, the change in airflow as the bedcurtains were parted and then the hot breath of someone bending over him as if to assure himself that Fradel Rurik Korvald was, as he should be, in deepest slumber. Once this had been ascertained the intruder walked over and shut the window, locked it, and pulled those curtains tightly together; he next reached over to the night table and picked up the incriminating cup.  Afterwards, just as silently he exited the room and closed the door behind him.

"Go to bed." Nevetsecnuac heard the hushed command at outside.  "There's nothing more to be done here. He will be sound asleep until the morning."  The sounds of their reassured footfalls gradually muted down the length of the hallway.

The evidence now gone, Nevetsecnuac bit put out, bolted upright in sitting position in bed.

 What warranted this precaution?

He had been intentionally, for an unknown reason, drugged to be rendered incapacitated. If it had been a foe, he would have certainly used this opportunity to finish him off.  His suspicions all the same aroused, Nevetsecnuac pushed the covers aside and quietly got out of the bed; after he changed into dark garments he walked over and pressed his ear to the door.

“Good!”  Nevetsecnuac exhaled deeply, knowing full well the sentry and the night attendants had all left; not a soul stirred at the hallway’s extended (comprehensive) perimeter, therefore, it was now perfectly safe for him to exit the room and (scout) reconnoitre the grounds. Having already conceived the notion, just what and where the main action- the covert meeting might transpire, Nevetsecnuac once at the outside, advanced stealthily and vigilantly through the pathways, for under the canopy of winking stars and the full moon’s silver rays the checkered grounds were perfectly (completely)illuminated.

Nevetsecnuac persistently then stuck to the right, his silent steps traversing (going forward) without hesitation on the snaking flagstone trails that would eventually around the bend, disappear behind the manufactured mountain. 

06- GROUNDS AT NIGHT

He crossed several small walking bridges that hopped over bubbling brooks and streams of diverse sizes and depths, taking care all the while to be swallowed up by the shadows to avoid detection by the increased number of security patrols that were out and about this very night, dutifully scouring that segment of the complex.

At one point, Nevetsecnuac had been constrained to wait in concealment as two groups of guards met midpoint and shared some bits of idle gossip before resuming their rounds. Soon as the coast was clear, Nevetsecnuac quickly skirted the heart shaped pool filled with golden carp sparkling in the moonlit water and delved into a thick pine grove to avoid the next cordon (barrier, blockade) of guards. Following the thin meandering gravel path, he quickly emerged at its far side in the forbidden section and headed straight towards the location of Zaur's secret office. 

Surprisingly however, the wing was just as dark and perfectly quiet. Nevetsecnuac climbed up the unusually tall trellis, covered with lush green vines (decked bluebell flowers), which was on the shaded side of the building, to reach the apex of the roof and then to survey the grounds from there.  Just as he was about to reach the peak (top), he noticed some ways off down below, a faint, quivering sliver of light blinking behind the iron shutters of an oblong window tucked under the eaves of a solid structure (building), nestled in the thick bamboo grove, in the most ancient part of the mansion.

His senses on the alert Nevetsecnuac crept stealthily towards it, as his determination to unravel this newest duplicity of Zaur's, wounded itself tighter and tighter into his will. Once there and perched under the eaves like a bat, he peered through the narrow slit that was his only view into the room and, strained his ears to make out what was being said. Despite the deceptively small proportions of the structure on the outside, the hall within was in fact spacious and, elongated away from his viewpoint, it comfortably (assembled) accommodated   some twenty or thirty stout (robust, sturdy) cloaked men. 

Nevetsecnuac quickly comprehended from their various accents that these were the sectional leaders, congregated here from the various, far-flung reaches of Wenjenkun.  He had to marvel at the apparent scope (extent, reach) of this secret organization and the strict discipline to which masked members unquestioningly adhered.  With keen interest he observed how they all moved as if one body to reverently face the alter and, as Zaur Stugr stood off to one side, swore the ancient oath of allegiance as if with one multi-toned voice, renewing their bond to the Brotherhood.

The ceremony ended in a bloody ritual sacrifice after which the cloaked figures, in a steady stream in which their positions were obviously dictated by differences in rank or seniority, exited the hall through a hidden tunnel.

 

(END OF SECTION 11) 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 7

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) at present graciously handed the key to Zaur when the minister politely inquired about it, seeing no reason at all, to why he should not enlist Zaur Stugr's help in resolving this mystery. 

01- THE MYSTERIOUS KEY

“Oh blessed, gracious Heaven!  After all this time you've reached me from beyond.” Zaur Stugr wanted to cry out loud, holding back his tears.

"It's probably nothing of consequence." Zaur had finally ejected as a matter-of-factly, pressing (puckering, compressing) his lips and feigning mild interest, as he held on to the key.

"It is a pretty thing, though.  Isn't it?” Zaur looked directly at Fradel, and at the same time tried making light of the object.  "I dare say it’s of unusual construction.”

“Unfortunately," Zaur then shook his head, "I can't decipher these strange pictographs, these antiquated, curvilinear indentations at the base of the stem."  He reached over and pointed them out to Fradel (Nevetsecnuac).

Zaur’s not altogether convincing professed ignorance, after his brief scrutiny of the key, had again peaked Nevetsecnuac's interest.

 "Up to now, I confess, I've prided myself on being quite an expert at finding the meanings of these sort symbols, pictographs.  I have a sizable collection of similar curiosities at my disposal.  Naturally, they are kept out of harm's way for private viewing only.  Not everyone shares my interest, you see.” Zaur was now being unusually talkative, which further apexed Nevetsecnuac’s curiosity.

"My wife has harangued me often enough to dispose of such antiquities, insisting that I stay within the bounds of modern taste.  If you're interested, however, I would be delighted (most happy) to show them to you when we are better disposed." Zaur Stugr rattled on, playing the eccentric fool.  Inwardly he was considering his options, devising ways of procuring the key without raising the scholar's curiosity.

 

02-THE KEY AND THE BOX

The fact that the pictographs were identical to the ones on the box Zaur had in his secret possession (he’d kept in the secret compartment) had confirmed what he had all along suspected.

Just then, mixed feelings of apprehension, relief and dread washed over Zaur Stugr and gripped his heart.  Oddly enough, he was now afraid of finding out the truth.  He had long since given up, never expecting to see this key again, much less holding it in his palm. “I have spent most of my life searching for this key, expecting it to resolve my lifelong, anguished dilemma.” He solemnly ruminated (mused).

As it happens, the key resting on his palm had conjured up memories both pleasant and dreadful.  All the hopeful waiting, the heartbreak, the loneliness!  Suddenly Zaur was most anxious to get away from the inquisitive scrutiny of Fradel Rurik Korvald and to get at the box. 

“No!” he checked his impatience.  There was still much that had to be learned and a few things he needed to make certain of first.  His eyes, leaving the key, looked up sharply.

"Have you shown this item to anyone else…Zunrogo, perhaps?" Zaur made a deliberate effort at feigning a moderate interest.

03-ZAUR STUGR JP 8

Going along with his host's charade, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) simply complacently smiled and shook his head.   "No, with everything that has been happening lately, I'd actually forgotten its existence."

 Curiously enough, Nevetsecnuac's answer seemed to reassure Zaur Stugr and, a sure elated smile widened (in a curvature) his host's lips.

 “You know full well, all about it, don't you?” Nevetsecnuac silently questioned his host; but Zaur’s youthful age precluded him from (being directly involved) having any direct involvement. Regardless, the key certainly had some personal significance to Zaur.  Suddenly the picture was much clearer to Nevetsecnuac.  Zaur Stugr had positively identified the key and knew exactly who it had belonged to.  He could therefore, if properly coaxed, unravel the identity of at least one of those tortured skeletons.  

Zaur Stugr’s seemingly placid face was fanned by the light breeze which carried on it the intoxicating fragrance of the night air and he had remained distractedly quiet for some time, his mind immersed in a serious recollection.

“What are you afraid of exposing after such an obvious timespan?  Why would you disclaim any knowledge of its importance to you?  Nevetsecnuac, however, made no outward inquiry and, instead, waited patiently for Zaur's next response.

Marshaling his thoughts, Zaur Stugr suddenly turned to face Fradel and, with deliberate calm in his voice asked, "It is indeed a rare antique.  How did you manage to obtain it?"

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac), in those lapsed few moments had already anticipated Zaur’s next question; he could not disclose the truth however, without revealing how he had ended up in the burial pit and, furthermore, escaped the inescapable traps. And so, he quietly reviewed his options of likely responses.

“I could claim I found it on the side of the road.  No that's too trite and would not be believed. What I need is a lame, boring explanation suited to a scholar, yet with enough of an angle to divert questions elsewhere.  Better to go with a partial fabrication with just enough fact to it to appear plausible.” 

Responding as a matter-of-factly now, Nevetsecnuac summed up in no uncertain terms his experience that had led to finding the key.

04-NEVETS ON HORSEBACK IN THE RAIN (2)

“It had all transpired at the time, while I was traveling on horseback alone on route to the Capital and, wanting to be innocuous, was garbed (dressed) in ordinary travelling clothes. This was a time well before my teaming up with Zunrogo Tugo and the guards.  That afternoon, caught in a sudden torrential downpour, I had sought a refuge at the roadside Inn/ tea house.                                 

“I had been enjoying my steamed tea and hot cakes when an old man, his tattered clothes soaked to the skin, also sought refuge in the same tea house.  Despite the cash that the old man had held out in his hand, he was rudely greeted by the proprietor, denied seating at any table, even though there were few empty ones about, and told to leave the premises at once.”

"Can't you see we're full up?  Go down the road!" The proprietor had rasped as he apprehensively looked around him, afraid that his other customers might be offended by the likes of this tattered old man.

"This is a respectable place.  No solicitation is allowed."  Turning a deaf ear to the old man's pleas, he signaled to his two hefty attendants (waiters) to at once dispose of this unwanted nuisance (pest, bug).

In the ensuing seconds hence, the old man was hastily hustled outside.” Fradel winced (cringed, recoiled) at this point with obvious abhorrence (loathing) of the proprietor.

Zaur nodded and grimaced wryly as he envisioned the typical scenario being played out repeatedly throughout the land.  “So, what's so odd about that? Cruelly he was driven out into the cold, pelting rain, so what about it?" Fradel Rurik Korvald’s obvious indignation just then baffled Zaur, and he riveted his keen, questioning gaze on the other's face.

“Ah!  Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald had lived in privileged seclusion all these years; therefore, he had not been exposed to the sweeping changes, the new brutish realities of the populace's everyday existence. Naturally, this would shock him.” The answer came to him quickly, Zaur nodded.

 "And no doubt, being the gentleman you are, you stood up to defend that poor wretch." Zaur’s downward gaze concealed the smirk on his lips and the scorn in his eyes.

As Zaur Stugr had expected, by his own account the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, unable to swallow this injustice, had indeed rushed to the old man's rescue.  Fradel had indignantly risen to his feet and called out to the old man, walked over and next greeted the elder with respectful familiarity. 

Ignoring the snarls and frowns of the manager and his staff, he had then guided the old man, named Yakkasar back to his table.

(Of course, Yakkasar was a made-up name which Nevetsecnuac on the spur had invented.)

 "I could not stand by and let this happen.  The injustice of it all fired my soul with seething rage." Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) abashedly explained.

At the outset Zaur expressed a sympathetic view and urged Fradel Rurik Korvald to please continue.  Seeming to lend an attentive ear, Zaur inwardly however, jeered with derision and tagged a few more items on to the list he had been mentally compiling of the presumed characteristics of his guest Fradel Rurik Korvald: “Fradel is righteously soft and sentimental; sentimental enough to patronize (support) the grave robbing scum of the earth.”

“And of course, you treated him to not just a tea but a complete, hot, full-course meal.”  Zaur (with his prejudiced viewpoint) wearyingly continued to listen to Fradel, inwardly filling in some details, to the old man Yakkasar's hard luck story.

Apparently, the old thief had been in hard straits and had starved for the two days prior to this chance encounter with the perfect stooge, Fradel Rurik Korvald.  Though he had flashed some money around, it had barely been enough for a cup of tea, as the rest had to have been reserved for his night's lodgings.  To one as destitute as him, Fradel Rurik Korvald must have appeared as a godsend. 

Sitting himself across from the scholar, he had polished off several dishes in record time then, with a bloated stomach, sat back to express his undying gratitude and praise his newfound friend to the sky.  Next, he had decisively recounted how his wife had been lost to him in the great flood of yesteryear and how, having escaped the disaster, he had settled in the foothills of town Huer where he had been constrained to carve out a meager livelihood and single-handedly raised his only surviving son, Toza, to adulthood. The other two children had succumbed to fatal diseases, no surprise there: shortly after his wife's tragic demise.  For the hardships he had endured he had been amply rewarded; while his son, the mighty hunter had lived, Yakkasar had not known any hardship, hunger, or misery.

“No one would dare tackle the local ruffian.” Zaur scoffed, growing more impatient with Fradel now. Disguising (veiling, masking) his irritation, however, he simply looked away, and with an unreadable expression, watched the shadows for a time dancing in the light breeze in the well-manicured (rimmed, shaped) garden.

05-GARDEN IN TWILIGHT

“Why was Fradel being so insistent in dragging this out?” Zaur shifted into his seat, having had already conceived of the only possible outcome to this story.

 “This purported hunter Yakkasar’s son Toza had no doubt recovered the key along with, only the gods know what else, and had probably been murdered in some other town trying to fence it.  A fitting end for his kind! The old geezer Yakkasar had survived long enough though, to span this lengthy yarn to Fradel.” Zaur lowered his gaze and affixed it back on the key. “But what would be the point of exposing this Yakkasar’s fraud and embarrassing the gullible Fradel Rurik Korvald?  What did it matter what fabrication the old rogue had been feeding the unsuspecting stranger like Fradel, as-long-as he, at least, had been truthful about the location where he had recovered the key.”

Experience had taught Zaur not to overlook the incidentals, the seemingly unrelated details that supported the main report.  Lacking in imagination, men of Yakkasar's sort often built a bridge of lies on pillars of truth to make their story more credible.  In this case even an approximation would be of some use.  With due patience therefore, Zaur had lent an uninterrupted, though a semi-disinterested ear to, Fradel Rurik Korvald’s present redundancies to gauge the true facts he really was after.

“Good!” Nevetsecnuac was inwardly pleased with the apparent result.  As he had surmised, a more elaborate story would have made Zaur dubious.  The naiveté of the narrative had expectedly played Zaur right in Nevetsecnuac's hands.

Nevetsecnuac at present drawing this out, painstakingly related in detail all Yakkasar’s tedious accounts about Toza’s great potential and his prospects.  Yakkasar then unexpectedly leaning closer to Fradel at one point, had supposedly whispered the pertinent details; how on one such routine hunting trip Toza had traversed some unfamiliar ground near a certain pass to get to an area where game could reportedly be had in abundance. The specifics of the topography which, Yakkasar had professed at that moment, had been rather hazy and bit hard for him to recollect.

This setback had inwardly infuriated Zaur; nevertheless, yet again admirably suppressed his ire and impatience.

Nevetsecnuac had of course deliberately, contrived (manufactured) the old man's forgetfulness at this point, as a means of excluding the credible detail Zaur expected or hoped to hear; subtly testing therefore, Zaur 's true intent and measure of his commitment.

 Nevetsecnuac knew that without specific information about the Cyprecox Pass, Zaur’s search for the pit would be rendered fruitless.  As it were, there were several such strategic passes in and around the Capital province, most concealing similar traps, pits, and mass graves that had been constructed at the time to effectively repel the scores of foreign aggressions that had been unleashed on Wenjenkun.  This fact Nevetsecnuac had learned from Zunrogo, during one of their intense political discussions about ingenious historical military campaigns. Drawing from this, Nevetsecnuac had made Toza’s find, one such historical undertaking (enterprise) pit. Having served Zaur with a perfect lure (bait), Nevetsecnuac would now wait, in the interim drawing out the tale, to see how long it would take Zaur to make his anticipated inquiry.

The dullness of the narrative up to this point had nearly put Zaur to sleep.  He had just about run out of patience and was about to hasten Fradel Rurik Korvald to get on with it and urge him to recollect, to reveal the information Zaur sought most to gain, which was the actual, if not an approximation (estimate) of location, of the grave. Fradel Rurik Korvald’s next revelation however, shocked and halted his aim.

"Midway to Toza's destination, the earth under his feet had suddenly given way and cast him into a deep pit.  The hunter, after barely surviving the great fall, had discovered to his great horror that the place was writhing with worms and snakes, and even some skeletal remains."

“A pit… What, skeletal remains?”

06-SKELETAL REMAINS IN PIT

Seemingly turning a blind eye to Zaur’s agitation, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) used the same impassive tone to then recount how Toza, by great good fortune, had escaped serious injury and had suffered only minor lacerations and bruises.

“Trapped as he’d been Toza had faced certain death within that terrible pit but, opportunely some other hunters were following the same trail as Toza’s and, hearing his desperate cries for help, rushed to his aid. Expending ingenuity and, with concerted effort, they eventually succeeded in hauling Toza up to safety; but not before he had chanced upon the key hidden in the jaw of one of the skeletons, those selfsame bones that lay huddled in a far corner opposite to all the rest.  Presumably the impact of Toza's fall had caused the brittle jawbone to snap and release the key; the key which now became plainly visible in the dark cavity of the mouth, in due course giving him quite a fright."

07-KEY HIDDEN IN MOUTH

 From the corner of his eye Nevetsecnuac had noted how Zaur had, for a fleeting second, flinched at the mere mention of the solitary skeleton that held the key.

 All color had completely drained from the good minister's face as he (Zaur Stugr) clutched tightly at the key in his palm.

This confirmed Nevetsecnuac's hypothesis.  “No doubt about it, that singular skeleton had been someone of great significance to Zaur. Likely,” throwing Zaur a cursory glance Nevetsecnuac ventured a guess, “someone close to his person, an uncle, even a father, perhaps.  But I don't suppose you'll ever confide in the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, will you Minister Zaur Stugr?”

Smiling tightly, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) reached for his cup to relieve his parched throat. As he raised the drink to his lips his thoughts drifted off to those wretched skeletal remains and the curious circumstances under which he had gained possession of the key.

He recalled most vividly how, there in the pit, were scattered about the tell-tale signs of a lengthy interrogation, torture, and murder of the solitary man.  The stains on the broken shards of porcelain indicated that the captives had been fed a rich diet for a time.  The lack of any trace of cloth and personal items other than the key disclosed the fact that they had been imprisoned in their nakedness, no doubt to further conceal their identities, even from posterity.  This fact reinforced their social prominence.  Finally, there had been the revelation of the ultimate treachery, the corroded bronze jug which, upon Nevetsecnuac's closer scrutiny, had revealed that it had once contained wine tainted with that particularly abhorrent poison that paralyzed its unfortunate victim and brought about a lingering and most agonizing death.

 Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon had indeed taught Nevetsecnuac well, his well-rounded education had covered every conceivable kind of potion and poison known to man.  The symptoms of this specific toxin, Nevetsecnuac knew, would only manifest themselves two days after ingesting it, by which time it would be too late for any antidote, any salvation from its curse.

 Evidently the large group of prisoners had been fed false hopes all along, right up to the time of their inevitable tragic demise.  There was no question that the clustered group had been spared from the tortures inflicted on the solitary one and that he had borne the brunt of their vicious barbarism.  The one with the key had died of his injuries and there had been no discoloration in his bones like that which, in the others, plainly told of death by ingested poison.

The aromatic, semi-sweet wine poured over Nevetsecnuac's tongue, nestled for a time in the hollow of his cheek before it glided smoothly down his throat.  As he savored the floral aftertaste, particularly pleasing to the senses, he considered how a multitude of ills could be concealed in a wine such as this.  Feeling rather flushed, he absentmindedly touched his cheek and forehead with the back of his hand and then looked away once more.

 What had necessitated these slow, painful deaths and the added mutilation of the one who held the key?  Both his legs had been sharply severed at the ankles, as if with an ax, and his kneecaps had been brutally scythed.  His ribcage had been shattered in several sections, and the bones of his hands had been maliciously crushed.  Curiously enough, though, the clasped jawbone had been left intact, as if his captors had allowed him the power of speech, which he had adamantly refused, to the bitter end.  

Nevetsecnuac solemnly (somberly) mused, “Wasn't it strange, then, that it was only when I had considered the vague notion, if only the dead could speak, that the clenched jaw had quite amazingly (unfastened and) released this very key into my palm?  And again, this very evening fate intervening (interfering), this very key should drop onto the terrazzo (tiles)?”

 

(END OF SECTION 7)