LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL – SECTION 20

When Zunrogo returned to Room Ten Tizan, who had been seated complacently by the fire, sprang to attention at once.

"When did you get back?" Zunrogo asked as he closed the door behind him.

"I preceded you only by minutes, sir." Tizan smiled.

Sitting in the comfortable chair opposite Tizan, he signaled with his chin for the guard to sit down again then leaned back to get more comfortable.  "Well, let’s hear it."

01-TZAN JP

"In accordance with your orders, sir, I kept a close eye on Briac.  As anticipated, shortly after retiring to the room he shares with Frastos, I observed Briac sneaking back out again and followed him down the side alleys to the shop of the local barber on Kannicro Street.  When he entered these premises, I proceeded to climb to the roof and literally eavesdrop on their conspiracy.  It seems that we have not weeded out all the spies in the vicinity, sir. 

Despite Briac's intimidation, the barber still insisted on being paid more for the services of one of his messenger pigeons, yet that tightwad eventually gave up on his curses and met the barber halfway.  A short message was attached to the leg of the bird, and it was set free.  As you per your prior instructions, I did not intercept its flight."  He paused for affirmation.

"You were right in doing that."  Zunrogo was pleased.  "I knew that he would be sending out a message in one form or another soon after the briefing but this pigeon business, I confess, is somewhat precarious, though culpable.  Where did the barber keep them?  How was it, these courier pigeons escaped the now questionable, thorough inspection of the premise?"

"In the attic, sir, behind a false wall… The bleating of a goat kept in the room drowned out the pigeons ‘cooing."

"Keeping a goat in the attic?  And that did not warrant an investigation?"

"Frastos could hardly be blamed, sir.  The barber had concocted a plausible excuse; he said that his senile old mother, who slept in the same room, believed the goat to be her deceased husband returned to this life in another form.  In addition, an ingenious contraption had to be dismantled before the wall gave way.  Apparently, this was there to discourage the old woman from tampering with the pigeons."

"I assume, the situation was corrected then after Briac's departure?"

"Expediently, sir… The barber, his wife, his senile mother, and the remaining birds have all been dispatched, liberated from this world.  The well in the courtyard, however, will not be of much use for some time, I'm afraid."  He grinned coldly.

"I thought, Tizan, that you always liked to be thorough, but I see that I was wrong." Zunrogo smiled wryly at the guard's nonplused expression.

"The goat." he said and chuckled with good humor.

 Tizan grinned, catching the joke.

 "Now, to this business with Briac"

"Excuse me, sir." Tizan interrupted.  "I took liberty, knowing what little time we have, to initiate a solution."  He stalled, seeing the anger flame up in the captain's eyes.

Zunrogo checked his anger.  Tizan, he knew, was a competent underling and he tried not to discourage initiative.  "You have a plan, Tizan?" he asked sternly.  "Well then, let’s hear it."

"Well, sir, only part of it has been implemented.  If it meets with your censure, nothing much is lost.  I wanted to consult with you before carrying out the rest of it."

Zunrogo was intrigued. “All right, at least he's not being overly ambitious.”

Still, he had to confirm, "You, of course, did no harm to Briac?"

02 - BRIAC (2)

"No sir. That would be tantamount to disobeying your orders."

"Let’s hear it, then.  What is it, this great plan of yours?"

"Well, sir, it involves using this."  Tizan picked up a fair size pouch he had kept by the side of the chair until then and, rising, handed it over to the captain.

Zunrogo, with a certain curiosity, peered inside.  At once he apprehended the plan and he beamed, "Well done."

"You approve, then."

"Quite; it’s a fitting end for him, I say."  He handed the pouch back to Tizan.  "You must have been toying with this idea for some time."

"For a while now, sir; however, I had to be first assured of Briac's treachery."  His eyes fell on the pouch.  "Unfortunately, the previous owner was not obliging, and I had to resort to force." Tizan explained dispassionately.

Zunrogo’s heart winced.  He did not need to ask whether the victim was mercifully dispatched or had writhed (squirmed) in agony, for he knew Tizan only too well. In that remote fishing village where once Tizan had lived till about month or so before at the age of twelve, well, Tizan’s cruel stepfather Zianko had done a lot in shaping, unleashing Tizan’s sadistic nature.  (You may check back to: Book 1 – Fisherman’s Prize – Section 3).  

Tizan, since his recruitment, had been rather useful in accomplishing exceedingly difficult, most abhorred tasks; for his conscience never bothered him, in fact, he reveled in it.  His sadistic nature consistently craved, fed on the sufferings of others, even more so when he, himself, inflicted the pain.

"Well, I expect you still have a few more details to see (tend) too." Zunrogo, with a wave of his hand, abruptly dismissed Tizan.  But then, as the guard was headed towards the door, Zunrogo offhand voiced his query: "How will you do it, without waking him up?"

Tizan halting turned to explain, "I knew Briac would be visiting a lady friend of his before he returned to the Inn.  Oh, I've had her screened and she's no threat.  Anyway, after the business with the barber, I left a jug of fine wine on Briac's bed table, supposedly a gift from the Innkeeper to apologize for the incident in the dining hall.  As greedy and selfish as I know him to be, he's sure to consume the entire jug this very night.  I expect him to presently be passed out cold on his bed."

"Then he'll be getting two surprises tomorrow." Zunrogo smiled coldly.  "Do a complete job on him."

"Yes, sir, I most certainly will."  Tizan bowed and, turning smartly, left the room.

“He's too efficient.”  Zunrogo stared at the door with certain uneasiness.  “How much he reminds me of myself at that age.”

                                                                               ~

“Wake up, lazy bag of bones!  Wake up, I say.  It's nearly dawn."

"Oh, leave me alone, damn it!"  His lids half covered his eyes as he took a cursory look at the window.  "It’s still dark outside."  He buried his face back into the pillow.

"Get up this instant, that's an order!"  The commanding voice made him sit up with a start.  Rubbing his eyes into focus, Briac looked bewilderedly from one guard to the other until he saw the captain seated by the fireplace.  Instantly, he sprang out of bed to stand at attention, naked as the day he was born, “Yes sir… sorry, sir."

“At ease. " Captain Zunrogo grunted.

The speed of his movement meanwhile had made Briac’s head, ache, and Briac moved his hand up to rub his aching skull.  "What the…Aiyyegg!" Overnight he had mysteriously lost all his hair, gone completely bald.

“So, it wasn't a bad dream after all.”  His bewildered eyes caught the venomous grin on Tizan's sinister face and noted a certain satisfaction in the depths of his pupils.

 "Are you responsible for this outrage?"  Fists clenched, he turned furiously to Tizan.

"And how do you like your new look?" Tizan stared down at him belligerently.  Throwing his head back, Tizan laughed until a stern look from the captain abruptly silenced him.

With anger and incomprehension in his eyes, Briac looked at Frastos but Frastos stood at attention with his head lowered, attempting with all his might to stifle a laugh.

“You, spineless cur,” Briac inwardly cursed, disgusted by his friend's cowardice.  Turning to Zunrogo, with a pained look in his eyes, his voice anxiously protested, "Sir, what Tizan has done…this is an unmitigated outrage."

The captain did not answer; in his solid, unwavering, stone eyes, there was no emotion at all; he was indifferent, if not completely cold, to Briac's suffering.

03-- ZUNROGO TUGO - JP 26

“How could Captain Zunrogo Tugo have sanctioned this?  How could he have condoned it?  Wasn't it only last night that he had admonished Tizan and warned him to behave?  What could have gone wrong since then?”  Briac blanched.

 “No, that's inconceivable.”  Despite his fierce denial, his heart pounded through his chest as he was seized with inexplicable fear and his head ached even more.

"What are you waiting for?"  Tizan's sharp bark brought him back with a start.

"Put these on at once.  The captain wants to see how you look in them."  Tizan forcefully thrust a bundle into his hands.

Briac venomously glared at Tizan and inwardly cursed. “Despicable beast…This is all your doing; how long did it take you to construct this vile revenge and to beget this humiliation. You deserve to be torn apart, limb from limb, by the wild dogs.”

"But these are not my clothes." Briac outwardly, however, had protested, looking past Tizan to address the captain. 

"Are you dense?  Put them on at once!" Tizan bellowed, so close that his breath, heavy with loathing, beat on Briac's face furiously.

His heart pounded wildly with intense fear, making Briac's hands tremble as he begrudgingly donned the garments and stood before the captain.

"Oh; and put this on too."  Tizan robustly thrust, the scalp with long locks of blond hair, the same shade and color as Fradel Rurik Korvald's, into Briac's hand.  "It’s sure to improve your looks.  No need to thank me for it." He grinned maliciously.

Briac, knitting his brows, looked at the scalp and hair (pelt) with incomprehension.  Then, as understanding dawned onto him his eyes widened with horror and, with a visible shudder, he looked up questioningly at Tizan. “Just what kind of monster are you?”

"Come over here." the captain's stern voice commanded him into a seat.  His cold stare inspected Briac's disguise for the first time as the guard obediently sat down.

"You have been assigned to this most important task," Zunrogo explained with cool indifference. " Yes, you’ve’ been honored with this job, taking in due consideration, of your past extenuating service, your courage in line of duty and, once loyalty to me.”

“Past…. once loyalty…” Briac swallowed dryly, his stomach knotting itself tighter and tighter.

“But Sir,”

"You wish to object?"  The captain's glacial tone froze the blood in the guard's veins.

“Do they know?  Do they suspect that I’m...?  Is this to be only the most lenient part of my punishment?  How could that be, I've been so careful? How could they’ve have found out?” The outcome was too frightful for Briac to even imagine.

“No, that isn't it.”  Briac bit his lip and clenched his fists to control the trembling in his            hands.

 “It can’t be… I’m still safe.  Didn't the Captain just say that I'm being honored?”

 He swallowed fearfully and bowed his head abjectly, dropping his eyes to the ground.

 "No sir." Briac feebly assented.

"Then it's settled." Zunrogo glared.  "From now on you are forbidden to remove this disguise.  Those are your new orders."

"Very well, sir." Briac swallowed dryly and, as the captain got up to leave, he looked up to meet Tizan's eyes.

"What are you afraid of?" Tizan goaded Briac.  "Perhaps you're afraid to die?  You…"

The captain stopped mid-stride and half-turned to stare sharply back at Tizan, silencing him instantly with his look.  Tizan took a step back, cowed.

No sooner was Zunrogo gone than Tizan, a cruel half-smile on his lips, jovially clapped Briac on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Briac, you'll be well protected.  Frastos and I will see to that.  Won't we, Frastos?"

04- FRASTOS - JP 07

Briac disdainfully jerked away from Tizan's hand and turned his back to him to turn his imploring eyes on Frastos.  "Why me?" the groan escaped his trembling lips.

Frastos avoided Briac's eyes.  Lowering his head, he mumbled softly. "It makes sense.”

But then inwardly, he added, “Better you than me.”

 

(END OF SECTION 20)                                                                                          ~

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 17

The ensuing days and nights the relentless journey passed in much the same way: during daylight hours riding as hard as the mare's endurance would allow it and, stopping briefly at nightfall, in some secluded safe spot (away from the main highway), to allow the animal to recoup part of her spent strength.

Eventually on the fifth day, the road ahead merged with the new major trading route that accordingly (according to general hearsay), would be winding its way alongside the river leading to, at some point, to the bustling trading post.

01- NEVETSECNUAC

When at dusk, Nevetsecnuac’s sharp eyes spotted the beginnings of habitation in yonder (in the far distance); he halted the mare’s gallop and paused briefly to ponder whether it was time for him now to revert to his scholarly disguise.

 Concluding in the end that assuming Fradel Rurik Korvald's identity was more appropriate, despite the traps that may lie- in- wait on the road ahead, Nevetsecnuac steered the horse away from the road and, in a perfectly (hidden) secluded spot, clad himself once more in the poet's finery.

Just as he was about to discard the (bundled up) hunting clothes into a deep crevice, his eyes suddenly caught the jutting head of the miniature key, previously given to him in the pit by the tortured skeleton.

Pulling it out, he examined the item more intently (carefully) in daylight, before returning it to his inner pocket and resuming his journey.

Along the way Nevetsecnuac cogitated (deliberated) on how the metal of the miniature key had been sturdy and, strangely, shared certain similar properties, same texture, sheen, and resiliency, with the sword Zonar, at the start of their combat, had given him (furnished him with) for his use. 

Nevetsecnuac further mulled over (nominated) on, those precious small jewels all inset (inlaid) into the stem and around three cursive pictographs, a rare feat, so ingeniously crafted (worked) into the metal. 

His focus suddenly straying (drifting), “Zonar?" he abruptly queried.

"Your presence has been sorely missed.  When and where, I wonder, will our next destined encounter be?"  His lone cry, left unchallenged, resounded in the thin air, losing itself in the whisper of the wind rippling through the hills.

“Indeed, in a strange way he’d missed his most formidable adversary.”

Nevetsecnuac’s thoughts veered, this time, to his recent hallucination and he questioned yet again whether it was a premonition of the future after all.

 “Would the invincible warrior Zonar, really bring about my premature doom?” 

An inexplicable shudder passed through Nevetsecnuac just then, as the cryptic, cold hand of Death tapped his shoulder.  Despite it all, however, he still felt an absence of malice or disdain towards Zonar.

 “Perhaps that is where my own weakness lies?”

When rider and mount halted for a brief respite, Nevetsecnuac’s attention reverting on the miniature key, he pulled it out and studied those three cursive pictographs that had been worked into the metal.

They were unlike any he had seen or studied.

Unable to decipher their meaning, he decided to postpone solving it till later and quickly secured the key back this time, in his luggage.  He then in one fluid motion mounted the horse and in keeping with the pretense of Fradel Rurik Korvald, picked up the reins in the fastidious manner of a casual rider rather than his usual, expert grip.

Carrying the ornate crop that fashionable scholars used, he quickly spurred the horse back onto the road.  This time, however, he kept the horse's speed more moderate and, in keeping with the disguise, he allowed his rudiment traits (mannerisms, characteristics) merge in conformity with Fradel Rurik Korval’s.

Be that as it may, a sudden query (inquiry) prayed on Nevetsecnuac mind, a deep concern on how his sworn brother was faring in his own journey towards the mountain home where Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon and Teuquob awaited.

Nevetsecnuac understood that once Fradel had appraised them of the current political situation, so vastly different from the fictitious one by Heng Erling, and consequently, the amended goal; they would be despondent, comprehending (grasping) that he (Nevetsecnuac) would, forever be lost to them.

 Unbidden, Nevetsecnuac shed a silent tear, his soul now torn at their imagined, inevitable, inconsolable grief.  A Gut-wrenching sadness gripped his heart further, knowing he would miss out on seeing (his identical twins,) his son Alric Svein (boy) and daughter Lueling (girl), grow up.

                                                                                       ~                                                                                     

The journey thus far had been long and arduous, yet these rigors paled in comparison to the impending difficulties that lay ahead.  The Capital Province Holger, with all its rigid rules, regulations and stirring of the political soup made Nevetsecnuac a bit uneasy at first, but as he had been preparing for this eventuality all his life, he remained fully confident in meeting these challenges.  And for now, passing as the esteemed scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald presented the least problem of all.

Suddenly, Nevetsecnuac was rudely awakened from his hopeful reverie by the vociferous sounds of gambling, vigorous gaiety and strident music emanating from a string of inns lining the road up ahead.  The savory smells of every imaginable kind of dish assailed his nostrils, and he became aware for the first time that day of his empty stomach.  Reflecting, he realized that he had neglected to eat since the day before yesterday.

Dusk was falling once more, and he finally succumbed to the strong yearning within him for a warm bath and a cooked meal.

Halting the mare in front of the sixth inn by the side of the road, the most modest and respectable looking one of the lots, Nevetsecnuac dismounted and handed the horse's reins to the eager young stable hand.  Another page boy ran up as he dismounted and scooped up the baggage Nevetsecnuac had already tossed down.  Pausing for a moment Nevetsecnuac watched the stable boy gently handling the horse and leading the mare to the stables out back, then quickly mounted the marble steps (stairs) that led up to the posh (well-constructed) ebony door of the Inn, with the page burdened with the luggage following (trailing) close behind.

Nevetsecnuac was politely greeted by a dignified, rather young-looking, tall, lean, stern-faced proprietor seated at the makeshift desk. The original desk, Nevetsecnuac was to learn later on, had been badly damaged the previous night, casualty of an unprecedented brawl (fight, scuffle) between the two members of a rival faction, and was taken away for prompt repairs.  

02-  PROPRIETOR KJELD ROSKO

The proprietor had keen (intense), intelligent eyes, which its scrutiny penetrated deep within one’s soul. Rising to his feet at once, he’d approached the scholar, and with a slight bow of the head had introducing himself as Kjeld Rosko, the humble proprietor of that establishment, then courteously ushered the obviously distinguished scholar (Nevetsecnuac), to a comfortable seat by the makeshift registry desk.

Nevetsecnuac was first offered a complimentary cup of fragrant tea and asked if he would like some delectable tartlet to go with it.  Before Nevetsecnuac had a chance to reply, however, a shapely maid had brought in a tray bearing the steaming pot (of more tea) and some colorful, fluffy pastries. As Nevetsecnuac politely nodded and reached for the offered cup, the proprietor Kjeld Rosko, assuming his businesslike persona, steered around the table/desk and, fetching the elaborately bound registry book from the drawer, he opened it to a specific page.  After picking up the writing brush from its stand and loading it with ink, his eyes lightly trailed down the list of names on the parchment page to the last entry.

Smiling, Kjeld Rosko (the innkeeper) then looked up to pleasantly inquire after his honorable guest's name, his intended length of stay and his immediate and long-term requirements.

"Tonng Yennik." Nevetsecnuac, wishing to escape the scrutiny and unwarranted attention that the name of Fradel Rurik Korvald would attract, without the least change in his serene, but firm countenance, responded.  As Nevetsecnuac was dictating his other requirements his eye, covertly turned towards the crowded dining hall, where he caught sight of a singular stranger, armed with a finely made broadsword under his tailored garments, taking his evening meal in the company of two stout guards.

The stranger, though seated in a far corner, cut such an imposing figure that everyone in the hall was obviously ill at ease with his presence there.  A slight look of displeasure, after sampling (nibbling) one of the morsels, immediately unleashed, a fit of rage and hurling abuses from the guard on the left, directed at the manager who, in turn, red-faced, berated the hapless waiter who appeared to be laboring for breath from fright, but before he could pass out cold, he’d been perfunctorily dismissed.  On a signal from the manager, the more efficient, seasoned staff burst into the scene to fawn (toady, grovel) and to serve on the demanding two.

Kjeld Rosko momentarily distracted by this, his face twitched failing to hide his irritation and suppressed hostility, but only for a spell; the expression in his blue eyes now unreadable, he sported (wore) for a time a wry (sardonic) grin, as he followed the ongoing  frenzied activity to appease the occupants of that table in the dining hall.  Subsequently, turning away, he barked at the page (more like a snap command) to take the guest’s luggage on up to the available room at once then, hastened to complete his business with scholar Tonng Yennic.

03- KJELD ROSKO

In the midst of all that mayhem, the stranger’s eyes had briefly, with a cold, callous air swept the room, totally disregarding the ruckus (commotion) the guard on his left hand instigated (set off); then, purposefully averting Nevetsecnuac’s gaze, he indifferently resumed his stern conversation with the bearded one on his right.

 “Who are you that you should warrant such fear?”  Nevetsecnuac mused, as he stole an impassive glance at the stranger. 

The moment Nevetsecnuac was anew engaged by the proprietor Kjeld Rosko, however, the stranger reverted his cold, piercing eyes with a calculating gleam back on Nevetsecnuac to study him more intently.  His obvious subordinate, the keen bearded companion, becoming aware of this, abruptly fell silent and turned slightly in the same direction to see Nevetsecnuac then, reverted (turned) his questioning gaze back on the latter.

Nevetsecnuac, from the corner of his eye, astutely observed how the bearded one receiving some silent instructions inclined his head towards the lobby and nodded to some unseen person.

“Now the trap will be set.”  Nevetsecnuac tad (smidgen), amused, nonchalant, at his leisure rose and followed the innkeeper and his assistant Rodny (who’s rigid demeanor was more akin to a bodyguard) up the stairs.

The subtle exchange, Kjeld Rosko catching the stranger's eye in passing and, giving the other a terse, obsequious nod, was of course shrewdly noted by Nevetsecnuac. Stifling a chortle, midway up the stairs he (Nevetsecnuac) turned and halted, boldly looking back at the stranger, giving him a complete once over.

“Who are you, really,” Nevetsecnuac intrepidly mused.

And when Nevetsecnuac’s eye caught the dour glower (stern scowl) of the bearded guard, he simply grimaced wryly and, undaunted, turned to continue following Kjeld Rosko and his assistant Rodny, to the top of the stairs.

The proprietor Kjeld Rosko observing scholar’s audacious (risky) demeanor, his face for a spell had turned ashen, but of course, he had quickly masked his dread and, from then on with a glint of admiration in his pupils, he’d covertly scrutinized this unusual scholar, while he hastened his steps towards the assigned room. Finally, at the end of the long hall Nevetsecnuac was solicitously ushered into an airy, comfortable room.

“Lavish decorations,” Nevetsecnuac noted after a cursory glance, “far too lavish, in fact.”

 A frown appeared on his face, and he shook his head, "This will not do!"

"But sir, it’s the best room we have, the most luxurious one at this Inn." Suppressing his fury, Kjeld Rosko reticently (reservedly, warily) protested.  Clearly, he had not anticipated the objection.  His assistant standing rigidly on the side, looking aghast and tongue-tied, wrung his hands as he nervously searched his brain for more persuasive words, to assist his boss in this.

Nevetsecnuac disdainfully walked past both, to stand before a magnificent tapestry hanging over the far wall.  His stern eyes surveyed the fine stitching until they pointedly rested on a miniature hole concealed by the design, and he grimaced coldly.

On the other side the spy blanched and instinctively recoiled with a jerk, fearing he had been found out.  Then, acknowledging that that was impossible, he pressed a single eye back to the portal only to meet Nevetsecnuac's cold stare once more.  Excitement and fear coursed through his veins as he shuddered anew, filled with apprehension.

04- SPY (FRASTOS) - JP 11

Nevetsecnuac, however, smiled sourly and half turned to address the inwardly seething Kjeld Rosko.

"Are you daft or hard of hearing; I said, this room is unsatisfactory. “He said crossly (irately) then softening his tone, explained. “For one thing, it’s too drafty," he shot a glance back at the tapestry, "for another, I prefer the western exposure.  Perhaps I've neglected to inform you of these particular requirements."

"Please, reexamine facts sir and reconsider," Kjeld Rosko clenched his right fist, hidden behind his back, as his assistant, now tongue-tied, clamoring for an apt excuse.  "If I may be candid with you, the rooms facing west are all occupied.  Besides that, they are all second rate and decidedly draftier."  Kjeld said in a placating tone, though he held his hard gaze on the arrogant scholar, "Won't you reassess?  I'll do everything in my power to make your stay here most pleasant and comfortable.  This is truly our finest room, as befits one of your ‘stature, sir.  I assure you that, even if another room becomes available, it will fall considerably short of the luxury you see here."

"Look here," Nevetsecnuac cut him short with a curt gesture of his hand, "if you don't have the means to accommodate me as I wish, then I strongly suggest that you stop wasting my time.  Have my horse brought round at once!"  Feigning anger, he made to leave, pushing past Kjeld Rosko.

"What's all the commotion about?"  The bearded guard from the dining hall suddenly appeared in the hall.

"Sir, this is a private matter.  Your rude intrusion is not appreciated."  Nevetsecnuac glared at the guard provocatively.

“What business is this of yours?  Get lost!” his stern look plainly said.

Obviously unused to this kind of treatment, the guard looked sharply at Nevetsecnuac, his hand gliding over to rest threateningly at the hilt of his sheathed sword, and his polite smile instantly turned into an icy scowl of hatred.

 Any other would have been wasted for a mere cross look, let alone such a rebuke!

“Have you not the slightest idea whom you are addressing?” his eyes narrowed, as he glared venomously (furiously), the threat implicit in his silence.

“So,” Nevetsecnuac mused, “you've had orders not to molest (assault, abuse, mistreat) me; interesting!”

 In keeping with a scholar's arrogance, Nevetsecnuac was about to haughtily rebuff the restrained bully further, when Kjeld Rosko, with unusual agility, rushed past Tonng Yennik (Nevetsecnuac).

Eyes hard with steel determination, the resilient (tough and flexible) proprietor, nevertheless, bowed low to the guard.

"I apologize profusely, sir, for your trouble.  I apologize to you both."  Kjeld Rosko turned and bowed low also, to Tonng Yennik.  Despite his outward show of submission, he quaked in rage, inwardly. Nevetsecnuac was secretly impressed with Kjeld Rosko’s admirable stoical (tolerant, forbearing) nature.

"It’s just a slight misunderstanding, that's all."  Shifting his sham (pretend), nervous gaze back and forth between the guard and Tonng Yennik, he dabbed at the supposed perspiration on his mustache, with his handkerchief.  "The gentleman wishes to have another room.  I was just about to accommodate his wishes."

“It sounds like you're asking his permission, innkeeper!” Nevetsecnuac questioningly looked at Kjeld Rosko.

The guard's face, meanwhile, had crinkled in momentary disgust as, clenching his fist, he let the built-up anger drain slowly from him.  After a scornful laugh he averted Tonng Yennik's eyes and gave the briefest of nods.

 "I apologize for the intrusion."  Without another word, he briskly turned and left.

Kjeld Rosko was relieved that the volatile situation had been averted; after a furtive glance at the retreating guard, he politely turned to address the scholar: "Please, for the time being, make yourself comfortable here; I'll go and make all the specific arrangements at once." Attaining a nod of concurrence from Tonng Yennik, he exhaled deeply, bowed low once more, then hastily withdrew.

“What dramatics!” Nevetsecnuac shook his head after the proprietor.

 “It had not been his intention to be so hard on Kjeld Rosko.  He was only testing the waters to see how far they would go to keep him here.  But why have they made no contact yet?  What were they waiting for?”  Nevetsecnuac had already formed his own opinion on the singular stranger's role in all this or, at least, who it was that had ordered his accommodation here.  Nevetsecnuac had set the wheel in motion, forced their hands but, until the inevitable meeting which, he was certain, would transpire later that night, there was little left now for him to do.  With a shrug of his shoulders, he strolled to the far end of the room and stood in front of the window, thoughtfully staring out at the view.  The miniature gardens, with their man-made mountains and creeks, the snaking pathways bordered by elaborate lattices seemed to be pure ostentation. 

05-SCHOLAR TONNG YENNICK (NEVETSECNUAC)JPG

The shallowness of it all rather disgusted him.  “Only those who only experienced nature at second hand could find the tiny landscape appealing,” he concluded.  He disdainfully pursed his lips then turned away from the window, his mind returning to the stranger and his guards.

“I foiled their immediate plans and forced them into an alternate course.  Next, I'll appear agreeable, but not too much so.  Why should I make things too easy for them?”  His eyes once more surveyed the room.

“I wonder where the trap door is.”  Deducing (figuring out) the most likely spot, he walked over and tapped lightly, so as not to alert any guard concealed within.  Satisfied with the result, he turned back and sat down by the fireplace.

Short time later Kjeld returned somewhat panting (winded, breathless) and with flushed (red) face, for he had to oversee a lot of details and alter or shift the carefully devised plans and traps that had been in place for nearly a month.  After apologizing profusely to Tonng Yennik for the inconvenience and the slight delay he declared, with a certain satisfaction, that the room fitting his precise specifications had now been made ready for his perusal. Kjeld Rosko then, graciously inclined his head and invited Tonng Yennik to follow him.  As they were leaving, Kjeld turned and bayed at his underling Rodney, to; at once move the gentleman's baggage to the “Room Twelve”.

Down the hall, they came across a disgruntled merchant, hair disheveled and clothes akimbo, being hastily, unceremoniously deposited into a new room.  Too angry, or perhaps too frightened, to articulate his feelings, he glared furiously at Kjeld Rosko then stole a scornful glance at Tonng Yennik, before going in and pointedly slamming the door in their faces as they passed.

Feigning incomprehension, Nevetsecnuac raised an eyebrow at the innkeeper.  The apologetic Kjeld nervously rushed to give some lame excuse for the merchant's rude behavior, glancing fearfully at the cracked door to his left as he spoke.  Then, with polite rhetoric (pomposity), he motioned to the room on the right and, inclining his head slightly, ushered Tonng Yennik into the hastily prepared Room Twelve.

"Is this room more to your satisfaction, sir?  Does it meet with your approval?"  Kjeld’s deep etched lines on his face, tell-tale-signs of fret, creased further with impatience as he, waited for an answer.

"Hmm… It will do." Nevetsecnuac responded, after a brief perusal.  Walking over to the far corner, he sunk into a comfortable chair by the mantle.

 “Odd,” Nevetsecnuac noted the recently disturbed dust floating in the air; “this room had not been used for some time.  It obviously wasn't my needs that dislodged that merchant.”

Highly pleased and, showing no inclination to leave Kjeld, meanwhile, had walked up to the tray bearing a teapot and cups and, turning, graciously offered his guest a seething cup of fragrant tea. Receiving a negative response, he next, on the pretext of showing the amenities of the room and how it accorded with his guest's instructions, prodded Tonng Yennik discreetly, so he thought, for more information, his background, destination, and the nature of his business in the Capital.

With a seemingly agreeable disposition, Nevetsecnuac provided him with only the minimum of harmless information, just enough to satisfy Kjeld's curiosity.  Then, feigning distraction, inquired pointedly after the stranger with the broadsword whom he had seen earlier in the dining hall.

06- FAMOUS BATHOUSE  (3)JPG

The shock, which Kjeld Rosko so miserably failed to mask and, his subsequent, evasive answers, piqued Nevetsecnuac’s curiosity.  Nevertheless, for the time being, he decided to simply let it pass.

To Kjeld’s relief just then, an underling after knocking poked his head in and hastily offered his apologies for the intrusion; he next, happily announced that the provisions for the bath had been made ready in the bathing hall.

"A communal bath," Tonng Yennik, his face showing obvious signs of displeasure, derisively asked.

"Why, of course." Kjeld with a profligate grin, explained.  "And you’ll be attended by rare, exquisite beauties of either gender, depending on your preference of course. We have become quite famous for our bathing facilities here ever since we found the means to channel the nearby hot springs in an unlimited supply.  Sir, you are quite fortunate that you have come at this time before high Season.  Winter is our busiest time, and nearly all our rooms are reserved far in advance by gentry from near and far.  Oh, but I'm keeping you from your enjoyment of your bath."  Seizing this opportunity, Kjeld Rosko beat a hasty retreat.

“Yes, hasten forth and report your findings to that stranger.  I'm sure he will be impressed by the uselessness of your observations,” Nevetsecnuac thought as the Innkeeper departed.

“I’m in need of a bath, “Nevetsecnuac reflected, “but only that and nothing else.”

Before he left the room however, Nevetsecnuac took the precautionary measure of concealing his identity papers in a supposed, secure place.  Locking the door after him, he swiftly traversed the long hallway and descended the stairs, following the painted images of a man in a tub down to the bathing chamber.

 

                                                                                            ~

 

(END OF SECTION 17)

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 15

 Zhadol, after concluding his business wistfully looked up at the blinking star-studded sky and sighed. "It’s so peaceful here in the bosom of nature, I enjoy it simply, the gentle breeze caressing my cheeks and the rustling of the leaves."  Reaching upwards, his palm brushed against the swaying branches and the whispering leaves.  Just then a sudden, cold, unexplained shudder, however, ran through him and, stepping back decisively, his keen eyes searched for the upper echelons of thick foliage.  He had sensed a presence there among the branches, but Nevetsecnuac's well camouflaged form eluded him. 

01- WELL CAMOUFLAGED NEVETSECNUAC

After a moment Zhadol laughed at his own stupidity, “Who would dare spy on us?”  

Of course, he was thinking only of the other guards.

"Bah, a bustling city, filled with human intrigues is more to my liking." Yennic, meanwhile, oblivious to his thought, had disdainfully countered.  "You're too much of a poet to be in this line of business; it beats me how you've survived thus far."

"Cynicism does not become you."   Zhadol's sharp retort cut Yennic short.  He was about to walk away when he abruptly turned to look back at the tree.

 "It’s a pity that neither of those two scholars we'd offed (killed)earlier, wasn't him; but then, such is the quirks(flukes) of fate.” He simply shrugged.  “Unfortunately, they had born such an uncanny resemblance to the description.”

"Eh, that was their misfortune, an insignificant insect or two crushed, what difference does it make anyhow?  I'd rather be deemed an efficient (thorough), albeit brutal trooper (guardsman), than risk letting that sly academic slip through our snare (noose, trap)." Yennic responded (coldly), contemptuously.

"Well, you're not in charge so, irrespective of how you feel about scholars, in future we will take extra precautions and use discretionary judgment before we claim another innocent life.  Order the guards to show more restraint next time, they are not to engage until Fradel Rurik Korvald's identity has been verified."

"And what if that cursed Scholar slips through our hands because of your magnanimity?" Yennic asked wryly.

"There you go, imagining things.”

“A moment ago, you weren't even certain that he'd come this way at all.  Now you're determined to butcher all academics (erudite individuals) who use this pass on the off chance he may slip through.  What are you fretting about, anyhow?  As the Commanding Officer, you know full well that the responsibility for the outcome (success or failure) of our mission lies solely with me and me alone.  In the unlikely event of a flop, you will still be spared the maximum penalty."  Zhadol ejected sternly then turned his back to the trees and strode back to the cave.

02-EGIL VIGGORIES 1- JP

"You needn't be so strident.  My concern was more for your sake than mine.  Everyone knows how intolerant his Excellency Egil Viggories is of least failure; it doesn’t take much to ……” Yennic held back what he was about to say and instead, bit the corner of his lip then, wishing to change the subject, shook his head. “Still, how your moods alternate on a whim!  They're as changeable as the wind." Yennic grumbled sourly, shaking his head.  "It never hurts to consider all the avenues, you know.  All right, even though I think you're making a big mistake, I'll pass your order to the men."  His grunts of compliance trailed Zhadol into the distance.

“Yes, he may have seemingly erred in his directive (command), but by ordering his guards not to be too hasty in attack, he has saved their lives and spared me the pointless bloody battle.” Nevetsecnuac watching the two receding figures, heaved a thankful sigh (moan, exhalation). Then, as soon as it was safe for him to do so, he swiftly descended from the tree top and headed back in the opposite direction from the two officers, taking care to avoid any other probable traps.  Blending in perfectly with nature and moving like a swift shadow, he traversed over the sometimes-dangerous terrain to soon reach the spot where he had tethered the mare.

In the nick of time too, it seemed!

Without a moment's hesitation unarmed as he was, armed with a sturdy, weighty pole (hefty stick), he rushed to the assistance of the poor, exhausted horse, virtually snatching him from the jaws of death.  The ensuing struggle between Nevetsecnuac and the disgruntled, ferocious beast that refused to give up its prey lasted but briefly.  It was Nevetsecnuac's remarkable courage, ingenuity, unyielding strength and agility, combined with his relentless defense of the mount, unyielding strength and agility that had won him the advantage in the end. The predator had eventually forsaken his aim, retreated(withdrew) back into the dark foliage and, after issuing one last threat in the form of a fierce growl (retreated) withdrew to disappear instantly amidst the dense, pitch-dark foliage.

03- PREDITOR BENT ON EATING THE HORSE

 The dangerous predicament alleviated, and the mare's fears finally allayed, while Nevetsecnuac was tending, washing off the blood and applying medicinal plant poultices to the horse’s few cuts and abrasions (bitemarks), it was then that the plausible idea suddenly struck (dawned on) him.  After a moment's consideration and stroking his chin, Nevetsecnuac exulted, “Why not?  It should work.  It certainly was a viable cover.”

Forthwith, Nevetsecnuac gathered (obtained) the readily available material from the (nature) woods and then fashioned himself a remarkable bow and enough arrows. The remainder of the night until subsequent day’s mid-morning, Nevetsecnuac additionally utilizing the hastily constructed, though humanely effective animal-traps, had vigorously hunted all types of wild game (that thrived in the woodland regions).  When he had accumulated sufficient sum, he strapped and secured the amassed pelts (furs) and carcasses for his apt disguise onto, back of the saddle, concealing well, the luggage.  Next, his bow and quiver filled with (freshly made) arrows slung over his back, Nevetsecnuac in one fluid motion gracefully swung into the saddle and, looping the reins quickly over his hands, galloped with sure determination at top speed towards Cyprecox Pass.

He arrived at the ambush spot just as the slanted, golden rays of the mid-afternoon sun cast long, hazy shadows on the earth.  However, instead of maintaining his gallop as one might expect, he slowed the mare down to a canter.

The ruse had worked perfectly, dispelling all suspicion thus far.

Predictably, Nevetsecnuac had noted a fleeting flash of light (gleam) reflected off the metal armor of the sentry and felt the two suspicious pairs of eyes avidly (studying him) spying on him from above.  Soon the number had multiplied, yet no officers or sentinels emerged from hiding to accost him or in any way intercept his path.  Under this intense scrutiny, Nevetsecnuac unflinchingly rode on.

04- NEVETSECNUAC THE HUNTER 2-JP

Mid-way, he imagined the kind of exchange Zhadol and Yennic most certainly would be having at that very moment and provocatively (boldly) raising his head looked up directly at the spot they would be hiding and then, smiled teasingly.

Remarkably, it was at this moment that the horse, already spooked by the hidden guards, began to whinny, and bolt, placing Nevetsecnuac in a most compromising situation.  Yet the expected onslaught did not happen.

“Has my disguise fooled them so completely…Even that skeptic, Yennic?  This has been far too easy.”  If he had known the truth, that it was his formidable countenance as he rode high in the saddle that provided the real deterrent to rash action on the guard's part, Nevetsecnuac would have smiled more.

A chilling shudder had passed through all the ambushers and each, inwardly, had professed that this mighty hunter was not one to be trifled with, and could only be engaged only at consequential peril.  Their curious eyes nevertheless watched how Nevetsecnuac brought the beast quickly under control again then steered it towards the narrowest, most dangerous part of the pass. 

Strategically, this would be the most opportune time and place for them to strike, to intercept him even if only for a sport.

The air was so still, the atmosphere so laden with tension that only the solitary tread of the wary horse resounded in vibrations off the jutting cliffs that bounded the road on both sides.

At the midpoint of the pass however, the anticipated, taunting arrow boldly pierced the air, aimed straight at Nevetsecnuac's heart.

05-NEVETSECNUAC THE HUNTER 12- JP

Keeping his mount in check, Nevetsecnuac, unperturbed, twisted sideways, reached out his left hand and (intercepted) plucked the arrow out of midflight.  Faster than the eye could follow, he retrieved his bow, notched the arrow and, at the precise moment, let the missile fly. 

Dead on center, it collided with the second arrow just as it had left Yennic's hiding spot.  Both arrows locked together and fell harmlessly to the ground.

The laughter died quickly in Yennic's throat.  He turned to Zhadol who shook his head in astonishment and commented, "Never have I seen such marksmanship and, never before have I ever witnessed such remarkable prowess."

The other guards exchanged wide-eyed looks and exclaimed in unison their awe, "Truly, a most magnificent skill… how fantastic!"

06- NEVETSECNUAC THREATENS  JP

Before they had a chance to retaliate, however, Nevetsecnuac glared and boldly shouted out his dare and his warning then, taking an arrow from his own quiver, he notched it, raised his bow high as he twisted sideways, and took straight aim at the large rock behind which most of the force was concealed.  He drew back the string until the bow sang with tension then let the arrow fly with such force that it buried itself half the way up its shaft into the solid stone.

Zhadol shifted his position to view the shot.  "That's incredible…such awesome power!"  Yennic, meanwhile, was infuriated at being made the fool and, with curses forming on his lips, had started to stand up and go after the hunter, whatever the cost.  It was his good fortune that the strong arm of Zhadol held him back from an early grave.  "Stay your ground, Lieutenant!  That's an order!"

"But are we going to let him make a mockery of us all?  Are we going to let that arrogant (bully) brute’s affront, his taunt go unanswered?  There's only one of him and…" 

Yennic's grumbles softened moment later as he changed his tune, attempting to cajole Zhadol, "All right, if we are not to challenge him for that then let me at least make his acquaintance.  Don't you think it would be a great boon for our force to recruit such a hunter/warrior, however arrogant?"

"I said stay your ground, Lieutenant!" Zhadol barked.  His lingering, menacing gaze seemed to say, “Don’t you dare contradict my orders again in front of the men or I'll have your hide! “When Yennic, cowering in silence, dropped his eyes, Zhadol explained, "Such men are not interested in any affiliations, Lieutenant, they are loners by choice."  He then reasoned further that, being at the pass on secret orders, they could not expose themselves to a possible scout or spy unless there was the certainty of recruiting or killing him.  Even if this rider was neither and was, in truth, a lone hunter, he could let loose an inadvertent word here or there to the authorities and oblige the contingent to furnish an account of their purpose.  Even at best, it would be a sticky situation for them all.  There had been enough senseless killing already from which, just this once, Zhadol wished a reprieve. He summed it all up by saying, "It is obvious, Yennic, that this man is no docile Scholar and therefore cannot possibly be the object of our target."

"So, we will let him pass, the lucky dog!"  Yennic clenched his teeth and watched in mute hostility; as Nevetsecnuac, without further incident or provocation, rode passed his horse unscathed through the talons of danger.

                                                                                    ~

 

(END OF SECTION 15)