LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 9

 Nevetsecnuac, having decided to meet Zaur halfway then, more clearly proceeded to solicit (request) Zaur Stugr's help, "If it would not be too much of an imposition (trouble) Minister Stugr, perhaps you could entrust it to the proper authorities so that, in keeping with my promise to Yakkasar, it may be returned to the pit in question.  I would be most appreciative if you would inform me also of the further developments, especially ones leading to resolving this rather intriguing (fascinating) mystery."

Expressing moderate curiosity, Zaur Stugr graciously accepted the task of handling this trivial matter at his earliest convenience. 

01 ZAUR STUGR JP 12

"And perhaps there may be other historical artifacts that would be of importance, warranting excavation at the site." he smiled mischievously. Then as if in an afterthought, Zaur gravely added, "Of course this province is riddled with many such graves and pits of varying sizes, containing skeletons, corpses of indicted dissidents, cadaver of convicts and traitors, whom all of course, richly deserved their ill fate.”

“In any case best to be prudent, with this investigation and in enlisting help. Then there is the requirement for a permit, which I must attain, from the works department. But I may need more data…”   He abruptly looked up at Fradel.

After a seeming hesitancy and purposeful pause, proclaiming that he needed this in case the authorities questioned him on it, Zaur urged Fradel Rurik Korvald to jog his memory about the specifics of the topography or any other identifying landmarks in the vicinity of the pass which may assist in quicker resolve or at least, an educated guess as to its location.

Fradel agreed to this, with a lowered head, pretended to be lost in deep thought for a time, presumably jogging his memory.

 Zaur (with a puckered brow) grimacing, studied Fradel for a moment; then with an affable tone, introduced a suggestion. "This may help; from the details you've offered already, I've deduced that it could be Kneco, Cyprecox, or Yeruz Pass."

Nevetsecnuac pretending to have just then recollected some pertinent facts, cried out, " Yes, that's it, the very one. I remember now.  It was the Cyprecox Pass that Yakkasar was headed for.  Though he did refer to Kneco Pass, it was at a different time and in an entirely unrelated context."

"Now you're quite certain about this?" Zaur studied Fradel with concealed anxiety.

"Quite certain," Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) reaffirmed then, pretending that he'd remembered more of what Yakkasar had told him, readily volunteered (furnished) more specifics (details) regarding the location, much to Zaur's satisfaction.

"Well, this night's conversation has been quite dynamic and rather fruitful (productive).  Thank you for presenting me with this most intriguing opportunity; I'll do all that I can to resolve this mystery for you." Zaur Stugr promised earnestly, quickly dismissing Fradel’s uttered, profuse gratitude.

Smiling affably, he then begged Fradel's indulgence and patience, cautioning the scholar not to get his hopes up too high, for the truth once uncovered, might not be as enriching or colorful as supposed (or imagined).

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) politely yawned to express his fatigue, and then quickly proposed (suggested) that they should retire for the night.

Finding this most agreeable, Zaur signaled for the servant in attendance, to have the repast be cleared soon as they left; after which he solicitously (ushered) escorted Fradel to his sleeping quarters, before retiring himself to his own suite.

                                                                                               ~

Short time later, when all were tucked and happily sleeping under their warm quilts, Zaur Stugr quietly rose from his bed and going over, retrieved a small flagon (flask) he kept in the second drawer of the night table. Removing the seal, he gulped (ingested), enough of the special tonic, which quickly (in a short span) deleted the ill effects of excessive drinking and restored one’s full faculties.  Zaur next, taking special care not to wake any of his personal servants, washed his face, swiftly changed his clothes and quietly snuck outside.

02- ZAUR STUGR

Though Nevetsecnuac's speculation had come exceedingly close to the truth, he could not have imagined the depth of gravity that this key had held for Zaur Stugr.

Zaur, very much sobered now by his pumping adrenaline, held out a small oil lamp before him to illuminate the way, as he hastily proceeded with determined steps through a maze of hallways and garden paths.  Eventually he arrived at the old study on the far side of the East wing.

The wing had been sealed off ever since Kokone Iver, the previous owner's beloved third concubine committed suicide after being sexually assaulted (violated, raped) by one of, Rujune Iver’s esteemed house guests.  The strange gruesome apparition who had persistently haunted (appeared in) the hallways after her tragic demise, was attributed to her restless, unavenged spirit.

The perpetrator guest rapist, called Lord Nirekel Konuer, had at the time been far too powerful and too well connected to the higher officials; and so, despite Rujune Iver's efforts to bring him to justice, he had escaped punishment.

The subsequent grave rift that had existed as consequence, between Rujune Iver and Lord Nirekel Konuer, had outlasted the culprit Nirekel’s eventual horrific demise from a mysterious, sudden ailment.

 The hostility between the Konuer and Iver Clans had in due course, fostered some violent repercussions; especially since, the rumors concerning Rujune’s visits to a famous shaman in the workers' quarters, and this having something to do with Lord Nirekel’s sudden, macabre death, had persisted for many a year. And despite the absence of any solid evidence, the incidences of savage retributions, the bloodshed continued (to rock the Capital) for quite some length of time to eventually die down. 

But not before Rujune Iver, having been persecuted unmercifully by Lord Nirekel Konuer's ardent cliques, had eventually lost the favor he had at court and, having been subsequently charged with treason, suffered the extreme death penalty.  Unfortunately, this had meant the extinction of his entire clan, including his wife and concubines as well as, all the family's property (estate) being confiscated by the state.  Yet, because of the purported haunting of the East wing, this otherwise exceptional mansion in the heart of the Capital had remained unsold and untenanted (vacant).

Zaur was only a minor official but one with promising future at that time and had just been transferred to a more lucrative posting in the Capital.  Not being superstitious in the least and assured that no senior official wanted the property, he was quick to seize this opportunity and procure Rujune Iver’s magnificent mansion for an affordable price.  Seeing that it was to his advantage to continue, the purported belief in the haunting Zaur gave outward credence to the stories and sealed off the East wing, declaring it off limits to everyone and all his staff.

03-GHOST Kokone Iver  IN THE EAST WING

Then covertly engaging trusted workmen, he had a secret tunnel constructed directly into the unused wing from a niche in the outer wall.  Zaur Stugr’s planning and vigilance had paid off and, unknown to his family and staff, he henceforth had conducted all clandestine matters on these premises.

For over five years now, with none the wiser to the comings and goings, he had been able to establish a vast underground web of alliance and intrigue that had escaped all detection.  This was no small feat for the Sovereign possessed an elite and very effective Secret Police (as well as, the ruthless Black Band Guard Regiment) in addition to the rival spy networks established by Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren and Minister of Internal Security Egil Viggoaries (also affiliated with The Black Molochs).

Halting before a tall, green door Minister Zaur Stugr thumbed the keys at his belt and, finding the right one, inhaled deeply to steady him-self before he turned it in the lock.  Lifting the latch, he opened the door softly.  Only the rush of air leaving the room disturbed the quiet of the night.  Stepping inside, his eyes briefly perused the rare antiquities that adorned the shelves, the countless valuable scrolls that were housed in specially constructed wall units that took up two walls all on their own, the plush sofa off in the corner and the desk with its neat pile of documents awaiting his decisions.  Things were exactly as he had left them.  Reassured, he turned and bolted the door behind him. He walked over the desk and opening the top drawer took out the certain (booby trapped) letter his agent Kaelan had delivered to him a week before Fradel Rurik Korvald’s arrival.

He’d been so burdened (engaged) playing host to illustrious scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald in addition to his other Ministerial duties that he had deferred this matter till later time. In truth he was still undecided about what to do about the letter (whom his agent had retrieved from the dead body of the doomed courier Disaidun Agripe otherwise known as Miss Jepipi), which had been the source of Lord Shouzi Yozdek’s blackmail for about two years by The Black Molochs.

Zaur could not help smiling, knowing how infuriated Egil Viggoaries must have been, when word reached him that the letter had been lost to him.  How many must have suffered consequently.

“Unfortunately, the plan had not gone as well as he’d anticipated; for Zunrogo Tugo was still alive and well… Hmm, the cur must have found out about the switch and kept it quiet. “

“Oh well you can’t win them all.”  Zaur shrugged.

“As for the letter…” Zaur shook his head. “It can wait.”  Unfortunately, at present he was too pressed for time to deal with this, when other more pressing matters (issues) and tasks demanded his attention first; and so, he quickly put it back in the top drawer and closed it.

Advancing with deliberate strides, he veered around the long, ornate desk until he reached a specific wall unit on the far wall.

 Holding up the oil lamp, he pulled out one specific scroll and placed it on the desk.  Then, putting his hand into the slot from which he had retrieved the document, he applied a firm pressure with his index finger to a groove in the lower left corner of the exposed wall.  Immediately the entire wall slid noiselessly aside to expose a hidden room behind.

Air tinged with musk rushed out at once to assail his nostrils as pitch darkness greeted his eyes.  Crinkling up his nose, Zaur shook his head.  He had not been in this room for some time and due to obvious neglect, everything was shrouded in an inch deep snow of dust that now whirled about, stirred by the air from the outer study.

“First thing tomorrow I must have Zyerne clean this place up.  This disorder is inexcusable.”

For now, the space was in immediate need of ventilation.  He looked around in the lamplight at the mass of volumes packed up all the walls until he spied on one small window high up next to the ceiling, hidden from the outside by a set of elaborate eaves.

 Striding over, he positioned a sturdy chair beneath the aperture and pried the shutter open just a crack, just enough to let in the fresh air he needed to relieve his lungs of this (ever-present) invasive constriction.  He winced as he reflected how this hidden room had been designed by the long dead original architect more like a vault of an elaborate tomb than a study.  Its purpose had been obvious but, incredibly, Rujune Iver’s demise had come too fast for him to have made use of its contents to his own advantage.  Fortunately for Zaur, these carefully catalogued documents, containing amassed evidence against the most prominent (noble, patrician) aristocratic families and the vast reserve of valuables and cash secreted in this room, had escaped detection by the court's investigators when the property had been confiscated (impounded) by the state.  With his analytical mind, keen sense, and deductive reasoning, Zaur Stugr had been the only one to, shortly after acquiring the property; discover this invaluable chamber's existence.

Stepping down, he walked back to the entrance.  From there he took the familiar measured paces, first straight ahead, then to the left, and then to the right then again left.

About five years ago, he had further discovered several vaults, each laden with cache (stockpiles, hoards) of gold, silver, and jewels, beneath the ingeniously designed, geometric marble- flooring. 

Depending on the combination of serious of consecutive (successive) steps and the pressure put on by one’s own weight, the specific squire floor tile would rise and then move aside to reveal an opening with the descending stairs leading to that specific vault’s contents. 

Right now, however, he was only after one of his own constructions.

Squatting, he placed the lamp off to one side, loosened the specific floor tile with his bare hands, lifted it and dug out a slightly tarnished metal box from its hiding place.  Meticulously, he brushed the dust from it then, with trembling hands, positioned his newly acquired bejeweled key over the keyhole on the box's side.

Suddenly his heart was seized with apprehension.  “What if this key's construction was merely a bizarre coincidence?  What if it did not match this box at all?” 

In the past he had attempted everything he could think of to open this unyielding encasement but without the least bit of success.  The unusual metal, the design and construction of the box had resisted any attempt at tampering with it. 

He exhaled, “Well, there's only one way to find out.”

With certain determination he placed the key into the hole, and, to his great elation, it turned, moving long unused tumblers inside the locking mechanism.  His heart pounded wildly.  At long last it was now within his means to uncover the secret long buried within! 

But then he hesitated, and his expression gradually hardened to mirror his troubled thoughts.

“What if now, after all this time…,” dejectedly he shook his head. 

“Anyhow, what good would it do?”  In his mind's eye he could see the accusing finger stubbornly pointed at him and at the same time a strong sense of foreboding gripped his heart.

“No!  Right or wrong, I could not have confided in Sanzo.  Not after the disclaimer.”

Eventually he picked up the lamp and, rising to his feet once more with the box in his other hand, walked over and sat down (sunk his body) on the plush sofa by the desk.  Absently he stared at the box for some time, affectionately caressing it, letting his fingers trace out the curved indentations which mimicked exactly the design of the key.  He noted how, in one corner they were scaled exactly to the size of the key. “Odd,” he mused, “it’s as if there's a purpose to it.”

 Struck by a sudden intuition, he took the key from the lock and placed it sideways on against the corner, noting how it fit snugly into the carved design.  Inside the box more tumblers moved.

“So, there was a disarming mechanism as well.”  Zaur Stugr was glad he had not rushed to open the obvious booby-trapped box.

A sad, aggrieved (wounded, pained, hurt) expression just then took hold of his features.

“It’s been so long, so very long!”

(END OF SECTION 9) 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 8

Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac’s) expression still blank; he reverted his gaze back on Zaur.  The minister's eyes were fixed on a distant point, as his mind pondered (mulled over) on some serious recollection or thought.   Nevetsecnuac noted how all along Zaur had desperately tried to master, to contain a seething emotional battle raging within, while he upheld (sustained) an outward, impassive facade.

01- ZAUR STUGR   JP 28

The range of emotions (gratitude, sorrow, anger, exasperation, relief, dreads, apprehension, and impatience) that Zaur had tried to suppress beneath his calm facade (pretense), nevertheless detected by incisive Nevetsecnuac, rather intrigued him; hence, he subtly studied Zaur's face and wondered, “If I could vicariously impart to you (Zaur) all that I had observed in that pit, how would your emotions stand up to those grim revelations?  Would you be able to maintain this calm demeanor (face, guise)?”  A strange empathy, a sorrowful feeling enveloped Nevetsecnuac’s soul at that precise moment, provoking him to breach the all-pervasive wall of distrust that lay between him and his host, to communicate the true details in the hope of drawing Zaur out and enabling (aiding) him to drop the pretense and reveal what was truly at the crux (core) of his being. Moreover, Nevetsecnuac’s heart had ached to, for once have real communication, an exchange of thoughts and feelings, without least reserve. 

“What's come over me?” Nevetsecnuac snapping from his momentary weakness, this dangerous prescience (intuition), however, quietly admonished self: “It’s inconceivable to consider this sheer madness, especially with one such as Zaur, who has already proven to be shrewd and devious, though admittedly not dangerous yet.  I've divulged far too much already.  That pit was located dangerously near the spot where Egil Viggoaries's vassals waited in ambush for Fradel Rurik Korvald.”

 Nevetsecnuac ruminated (cogitated) now, how he had come perilously close to being discovered at the site by one of the sentries; however, fortuitously, the guard had been deterred from further scrutiny (investigation) of the noise, which Nevetsecnuac had inadvertently caused just moments before when he had fallen into the pit.  If that minor incident along with the planned ambush by Egil Viggoaries, were to ever reach Zaur’s ears (it was ever to come to light), Zaur’s discerning mind could, easily then link up the correlating (corresponding) facts and therefore, begin doubting Fradel Rurik Korvald validity. Nevetsecnuac hence reminded self to be more vigilant and selective with his rendition of the supposed facts; meanwhile, unable to not entirely trust his host, Nevetsecnuac was left with the only recourse of coaxing Zaur into taking the desired action on his own accord without any requisite assistance from scholar Fradel. 

The corollary (outcome) of Fradel’s part in all of this must appear quite incidental(minor).

Meanwhile, as Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) was not at liberty to conduct any sort of investigation within the scarce time span he had until his audience with the Sovereign - if his intuition (hypothesis) proved correct, by entrusting the key into Zaur’s hands, he would compel the good Minister to fulfill at least part of Nevetsecnuac’s obligation to that singular skeleton's spirit.

02-THE EXPOSED GRAVE

 Nevetsecnuac was confident that a proper burial would follow shortly afterwards, though much depended on the depth of Zaur Stugr's commitment.  If the minister was in earnest, he would even now be contemplating an inquiry into this, apparently very personal matter.  With the greater means and manpower at his disposal, Zaur could ensure that the unfortunate victim, or victims, would be granted the eternal peace due them in the afterlife.

In the pit of Nevetsecnuac's stomach, meanwhile, the nagging feeling that he had missed something vitally pertinent, some cryptic quandary (predicament, fix) which was tied to the elusive answer, had persisted.

Ending (interrupting) the unsettling silence, Nevetsecnuac resumed his fabricated account, being most careful to sporadically weave in just the right amount of truth.

"Having related how Toza had procured the key, Yakkasar for a time fell silent and cautiously, perhaps with a tinge of trepidation, looked about him.  Being finally assured that no one was paying any particular heed (attention) to us, he reached into his pocket, leaned across the table and saying, please accept this, unclenched his fist to drop this key right into my palm (hand)."

Zaur Stugr, lending Fradel only half-an-ear learned how Toza, Yakkasar’s audacious (foolhardy) son had returned from one of his bold escapades (more likely, illicit excavations or theft), and claiming he’d found this rare treasure, expectedly had attempted to fence the key to what he thought were some incited (interested) customers (buyers, collectors).  Not only had every avenue had fallen through, but worst trouble had beset the pair (father and son) shortly afterwards when Yakkasar, thinking he could do better, had taken the bejeweled key and showed it to an affluent acquaintance of his, unfortunately with negative result.

03- YAKKASAR AND HIS SON TOZU

Yakkasar’s trust was grossly misplaced, subsequent night a group of seedy ruffians had broken into their humble dwelling and demolished everything inside in their search for the key.  Toza, returning unexpectedly to retrieve something he had forgotten had interrupted their rampage and pitted against the four-armed bandits, had been badly trounced (beaten).

Yakkasar returning home, at small hours and in an already dejected mood, had found his beloved son in a pool of his own blood on the verge of expiring.  Stopping his father from fetching help, Tozu with his dying breath had implored Yakkasar to discard (restore) the wretched key, to its original owner.

 Believing the item to be cursed, Yakkasar had, after selling their small property to pay for the burial of his son, had undertaken the arduous return journey to find the pit. Only difficulty being, of late, he could not recollect the specifics his son had imparted to him.

Yakkasar had already traveled a respectable distance to, a rough estimation of an area, hoping that this would hone (sharpen, jar) his memory, but it had not. By the time he had met up with Fradel Rurik Korvald, having suffered during the course of his travel’s untold hardships, been assaulted, robbed, humiliated and subjected to other misfortunes too numerous to recount, Yakkasar had eventually been reduced to that sorry state. 

On top of everything else his health was now failing him and, noting that the persistent symptoms were the very same ones which had dispatched (caused the demise of) his former neighbor, Yakkasar firmly believed his days were numbered. Caught in these dire straits, knowing that he could neither retreat nor advance and, he would never be able to fulfill his promise to his dead son, he simply had begged Fradel Rurik Korvald to grant an old man one last favor and take this cursed key off his hands and perhaps, with his discernible competence, accomplish what he had failed to do.

"I wouldn't ask this of just anyone," Yakkasar vehemently had proclaimed, "but you have shown yourself to be a righteous (virtuous), good-hearted gentleman.  I beg you to help me out of my difficulties.  Both my deceased son Tozu and I'd be eternally grateful to you, and when my time comes to its natural conclusion, I promise, to speak well of you to the God of the Underworld." 

“The old man's insistences raised such pity in me (Fradel Rurik Korvald) that I had to finally acquiesce and consented to do his bidding.”

With complete confidence, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) had anticipated the probable timing of Zaur's request, his retaining of the subtly imparted details, the approximate estimation of specifics; however, as warranted caution, he’d excluded the name of the Cyprecox Pass, where the vicinity of it the pit was located, leaving Zaur to discover this by himself.

04-NEVETSECNUAC  JP 62

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Nevetsecnuac cast a quick, unreadable side-glance at Zaur as he reached out for a morsel or two.  He’d been plied (served, provided) with variety of alcoholic drinks all night long and watched most assiduously; hence, he had been emptying his cup out of politeness, not realizing that he had consumed an inordinate number of sprits over and above his capacity.  Consequently, at present, Nevetsecnuac's head began to swim, and it became increasingly difficult for him to maintain his coordination.  Curiously enough, his thoughts and speech had not been impeded (hindered), though he was getting rather awkward (clumsy), thus he was most anxious to drop this charade and retire (get preferred rest) for the night.  Yet, very much to his disappointment, Zaur had maintained his thoughtful silence and did not voice the anticipated (prompted) inquiry.

Despite Zaur's own intoxicated state, earlier on he had perceived (comprehended) Fradel Rurik Korvald’s subtle goading (ploy) and stubbornly did not comply.

“Now you are being too transparent.  Is this intentional?”

 Zaur was dubious of this latest, seemingly pure motive, enveloped as if it were in mere sentimentality and benevolent intent.

“No one could be that caring…Why would it matter to you, Fradel, whether the owner of this key was vindicated or not?” He looked skeptically at his guest; for Zaur found it hard to accept that anyone would go to this much trouble merely out of the (kindness) goodness of his heart.

“There must be some sinister motive lurking underneath.  Moreover, what is behind this persistent, albeit discrete push, to involve me directly?”  Zaur suppressed a frown.

“Have I given it away?  How much does Fradel Rurik Korvald suspect?” 

Zaur never took anything at face value and had always dug deeper to be rewarded consistently with the ulterior motives behind those seemingly benign words, innocuous gestures and deeds that inundated him daily.  This was the golden rule to surviving in the duplicitous environment of the Capital and it had served him well so far.  He was not about to alter the philosophy he had espoused for his (whole) entire adult life on the mere chance that Fradel Rurik Korvald was a (glitch, an abnormality) rare anomaly.  Men acted the same way regardless of station, creed, or race, harboring the same malicious, greedy, and conspiratorial (conniving) intents.

Inclined slightly towards Fradel Rurik Korvald he scrutinized him, noting the subtle clumsiness of his movements.  “Truthfully, you are quite unlike anyone I have ever known (or encountered); even now, you are most remarkable, so resilient, despite your apparent inebriated (intoxicated) state.”  

A strange feeling of loss suddenly just then gripped Zaur Stugr’s heart.

“But I sense that beneath that placid exterior, there are so many grave concerns.  You seem burdened by a perilous responsibility, far heavier than the requirements of your young years.  What is it about you, Fradel Rurik Korvald, that I should feel inexplicably drawn to trust you in this way?  I feel simply dwarfed whenever I'm near you, yet this is none of your conscious doing.  On the contrary, your modesty and humility at times overwhelms me.”

 Deep down, Zaur did indeed harbor a certain affinity towards scholar Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) from the first moment when he had first laid eyes on him.

Being favorably disposed from the start, after each private conversation (discussion) with this affable, worthy opponent who had challenged his abilities to the maximum, Zaur’s admiration and respect had progressively increased (augmented) for Fradel Rurik Korvald.  Admittedly, Zaur had grown rather complacent over the years and needed this cerebral jolt (intellectual shock) which Fradel had presented at every exchange, for him to be prepared for the inevitable showdown.

“Under different circumstances, perhaps we could have…”  The sinister face of suspicion abruptly surfacing in his mind’s eye, however, cut short, this (yearning) sentiment to once more poison Zaur’s heart and cloud his judgment.

“No, you and I can never be close (intimate) friends.” For as far as Zaur was concerned the degree of complexity in Fradel Rurik Korvald’s character, the allusive secrecy, the vulnerable, pure naiveté lying atop a certain recalcitrance (or bedlam) were all inconsistencies in the scholar's character, which reinforced Zaur’s view that, Fradel Rurik Korvald was not one to be taken lightly and that underneath it all, lurked sure danger.

“What do I really know of him?  So far there is nothing concrete that I can hold up to him and say, it fits.  All along he's revealed only petty, negligible, and partial (incomplete) facts about himself. Nothing tangible, nothing useful that could be (pinpointed or) indexed for future use.  As always at every exchange, and this night is no exception, I'm stumped when it comes to deciphering his real motives.  Every avenue I explore in his character comes to the usual dead end. Is he toying with me?”

Subsequently working himself up into a state of discontent, Zaur Stugr became convinced that Fradel Rurik Korvald was a master at the art of deceit and that he'd been working all along to beguile him, to lead him astray, to show him up for a fool.  He became livid as he imagined how all along Fradel had subtly manipulated him and, worse still, had nearly beaten him at his own game.  With remarkable willpower, however, he maintained his impassive, amiable facade.

 He could not have imagined that his own cynical view was the very culprit he suspected, the evil contaminant that all along had blindfolded him, obscuring his innate intuition that otherwise might have shed the light of truth over Fradel Rurik Korvald.  Things might have turned out differently then but, being as they were, they now led Zaur Stugr to tread the course he would regret for the rest of his life.  He was locked in this erroneous course (route, path), and no amount of future great accomplishments could mitigate, alter, or amend for, what he would now fail to do.

Habitually, Zaur Stugr’s analytical mind, prevailing over any rumor or an account, did not allow him to capitulate or hastily construe facts without first exploring every avenue available to him, but the “key” and the lateness of the hour in this case after a long wearying (taxing) day, constrained him to make an exception.

05- ZAUR STUGR   JP 29

“All right,” he reluctantly conceded, “you win for now.  I'll play into your gambit.  I was going to anyhow and eventually resolve the mystery for you.  But I promise you that, when the time comes, I'll feed you such a bewildering version that it will spin your head into a daze and unleash your full imagination.”  He absentmindedly nodded to Fradel Rurik Korvald.

“And in due course, with perseverance, I'll break down that elusive (intangible) wall you've put up to guard your secrets.  I'll break you yet.  Wouldn't you be shocked out of your scholar's cap if you knew the significance of that key and, the enormity of the truth about the pit, skeleton, and I?”

All the same Zaur’s spiteful smile died before it reached his lips, as the imagined abominations, the gruesome tortures and, lingering, tragic demise of his revered one, caused an intense angst to overtake him.

Zaur’s ear just then caught Fradel Rurik Korvald’s explanation of, how the meeting with Zunrogo and the subsequent events had unfortunately thwarted (hindered) Fradel’s fulfilling his promise to the old man, Yakkasar.

“Is he still going on about Yakkasar and, that cursed son of a traitor Zunrogo?  When will he drop this tiresome prattle?”

Surmising this change in mood, Nevetsecnuac paused and once more helped himself to some food.  As he thoughtfully chewed it, he marveled at Zaur's tenacity and strong inner discipline.

“Very well, “he conceded, “I'll meet you halfway.”

 

(END OF SECTION 8) 

                                                                                        ~

 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)