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) 

                                                                                        ~

FISHERMAN'S PRIZE - (PART 4)

 FISHERMAN'S PRIZE

(PART 4)

One stormy night, the unsettled stomach, the persistent noise of her husband’s snores compounded by the loud racket outside whipped up by the prevalent winds- all in all had prevented Ensa from attaining any sleep. To the small hours hence, she’d endlessly turned and tossed in her bed, now and then pounding and shifting the positioning of her pillow.

Just then one of the shutters’ hinges came loose: it began banging on the windowsill with a still louder noise. On an odd chance, it being an intruder or a wild beast, Ensa gently nudged her husband to awaken him. But Kaimu, having had particularly a grueling day at sea, remained dead to the world!

Taking hold of her senses, Ensa cautiously rose from her bed and crept towards the windowsill to investigate. Affirming (pinpointing) the real cause of the noise, she shook her head and smiled then did her best to fasten the shutters. Suddenly however her keen eyesight had caught a faint, flickering light in the window of a supposedly vacant dwelling of their neighbor’s.

Alarmed, she rushed to raise Kaimu. By the time she’d succeeded in dragging him over to the window, however, everything over at Zianko’s place appeared as before- enveloped in pitch darkness and devoid of any signs of life! On her insistence, Kaimu had begrudgingly lingered at the spot a while longer and in compliance, looked and looked!

Still nothing was (could be) seen out of the ordinary!

Kaimu then incensed at being disturbed from his deep stupor, he accused her of being stir crazy, or worse still, going senile. “You are not a malicious woman but your contempt for Zianko, your resentment of him has lured you into this mode. Now in your spitefulness, you’re imagining things when there’s no cause! I’m going to bed. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t bother me again!”

Then with curses under his breath he’d crawled back under the warm quilts and promptly returned to his previous blissful state of sleep.

Ensa was not convinced and so for a while longer stayed rooted to the spot, hoping to catch another glimpse (inkling) of the light. Her instincts warned her of something dire, something baleful! “But what could it be?”

After a while, in the continued absence of any further proof, even she had begun to doubt her eyes. So reluctantly, muttering to herself, she too returned to the warm bed in the hope of attaining some sleep (getting at least a few hours of slumber).

On the proceeding day, as the odd feeling in her gut persisted, Ensa on some pretext, ventured midway of the two properties to get a closer look. Her keen eyes scrutinized the cabin and the surrounding area, avidly searching, but in vain, for any sign of disturbance or anything out of the ordinary.

Her instincts had never failed her before; but in this instance, maybe it had! Clearly that rogue Zianko had not returned and there was no sign of fire, break in or vandalism. The wind had strewn (scattered) few light items about. That’s all!

Reluctantly she turned back.  The total absence of anything odd or contrary had in the end abated Ensa’s suspicions and curiosity. Feeling rather foolish for her insistence now, she said nothing further to Kaimu about the matter.

                                                            ~

 If only she’d known how close she’d come to uncovering the vile conspiracy, or perhaps saving the life of a certain official- that’d been up until then forced to endure repugnant shame and lurid (horrific) tortures. On that night in question, the resourceful official, in order to escape his dire predicament, had ceased the only opportunity and releasing himself from his bonds, had made a mad dash for his freedom. Zianko temporarily caught off-guard, had been but for a spell rendered unconscious. Unfortunately, rebounding swiftly he’d dashed outside in hot pursuit of the official, pounced on his captive and after brutally restraining him, dragged him by the hair back into the house. Incensed, he’d fetched a burning piece of kindling wood from the stove and proceeded to singe (scorch) the official’s beard and face. That burst of light becoming a flicker in distance was what Ensa had observed (detected). Since Zianko had been prohibited as yet from killing his gagged prisoner, he’d reluctantly stayed his hand, but not before he’d seriously scorched the official’s facial hair, eyes, skin and part of the upper chest. Before incensed Zianko could devise another means of punishment: to his dismay the official succumbing to his agonizing pain had been rendered unconscious.

Owing to the distance, Ensa had been mercifully spared from least indication of the subsequent muffled anguished, agonizing cries of the tormented official at this villain’s hand, as outraged Zianko had kept up with his tirade till first light of the day. It would have been far more merciful had the official expired quickly. Unfortunately, losing then regaining consciousness he’d been forced to endure unspeakable torment to the bitter end. At dawn, too late Zianko came to regret his outburst- for the life of the captive, under the heavy strain of torture, had inevitably expired.

As luck would have it however, at the end of the worrisome day, that very evening Zianko had received the word “go ahead”.

Official’s life from then on was deemed a forfeit.

Zianko had grinned wryly, as he’d listened without letting on, to the next set of instructions and the manner of payment that was due him. Once the messenger had departed, Zianko humming a familiar old gay tune had gone about in his mundane, apathetic way, to summarily dispose of the carcass (dead body).

  The following day, he’d feigned his return home from a supposed long journey, and seemingly on the surface, things went on as before.

 (END OF SECTION 4)

(MORE SURPRISING ELEMENTS ARE YET TO UNFOLD-  IN THE NEXT POST OF LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE FISHERMAN’S PRIZE,  SECTION 5)

FISHERMAN'S PRIZE - PART 3

 FISHERMAN'S PRIZE

PART- 3

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

FISHERMAN’S STORY

SECTION 3

 

The (salvaged) girl had fortuitously survived her ordeal and because of several weeks of diligent, patient care, recovered in full. Recognizing these two as her benefactors, the moment that she had regained her strength and was able to, she had bowed to them with deep respect and uttered her name, words of gratitude, as well, promised to repay their kindness in full. Though her foreign language, the strange dialect had not been comprehensible (well understood), her sincere intent nevertheless transcending the barriers was fully communicated. They, in turn, responded with glowing faces, delighted words, and heartfelt, warm embraces, taking her to their bosoms as one of their own.

When the girl’s sunburned, chapped skin completely healed leaving no scar: she was revealed to them as one whose radiance and ravishing beauty rivaled that of Goddesses. Her striking good looks however mattered truly little to these simple, honest folks, with whom any young female would have sufficed and as well appreciated.  A gemstone cast amidst the worthless pebbles on the beach, she received no special recognition for her timeless beauty. In fact, her delicate poise, far from receiving admiration or special regard, gave them pause for concern (and added worry). As a result, they attempted to toughen her constitution up and they forced on her extra rations and arduous work.

  From the beginning, since they’d found it most difficult to pronounce or remember her real name, they chose another name for her in its stead.  They adapted the name Jiense, most common one in use in these parts and one most favored by the local fishermen, for their wives or female children, for it meant “Pearl of the Sea”.

In the ensuing days, the girl’s different vocabulary naturally presented some unavoidably awkward, cumbersome moments. Kaimu seeing the need charged Ensa with the added responsibility of educating the girl with Wenjenkun’s own vernacular. Despite all good intentions, however, pressing workload and daily chores had often hindered progress. The negligible communication gap meanwhile had been bridged by more effective, readily available sign language.

Needless to say, Kaimu and Ensa in all this time had taken every precaution to conceal Jiense’s presence from the unwanted, intrusive eyes of lawbreakers, racketeers that might be frequenting the region. Fortunately, as well, their nearest neighbor Zianko, one who had a questionable character, had been absent from his home for several months now; as Ensa suspected, undoubtedly engaged in yet another illicit plunder!

Over time, the absence of any formal or informal inquiry eased both Kaimu and Ensa’s trepidation. Having taken a genuine liking to this gentle soul from the start, Ensa gave no further thought to the girl’s leaving them, and to the delight of Kaimu, from then on began considering the precious thing in her heart and mind, as her very own future daughter-in-law.

On Kaimu’s part, by keeping in check his uncouth nature, he had learned to be gentler in speech, exercise patience and tolerance. So as not to scare off Jiense, he constrained his ill temper even when things did not go well; meanwhile avoiding any direct dealings with Jiense and leaving the job of molding her to their way of thinking, entirely to his wife's ability. As a result, Jiense encountered no ill effects or adverse experiences with Kaimu.

  As she had remained ignorant of her true whereabouts, and at the same time felt obligated to stay with these generous, decent folks to repay their kindness, Jiense for the time being at least, had postponed any notion of departure (leaving them).  She had no way of knowing of course that the spare room she stayed in, the room belonging to their son Yoansu, had been already pegged, designated as her future nuptial room. As she was sweet natured and easygoing, before long she had even gotten used to the coarse furnishings and the sorry absence of any decoration about.  The few belongings that had been left behind by the son had of course been secured in a locked, cumbersome wood chest in the far corner of the room. 

In addition to helping Ensa with her daily chores Jiense also learned a few other helpful skills, like mending the torn nets, weaving straw baskets or mats for additional funds, or added use. By now she could start a fire and cook meals their way, using the most primitive means that was available to her in this small dwelling. Her delicate hands under the strain of work broke in calluses, and her tender skin often bled from the cuts caused by the coarse materials she managed. The menial, demeaning jobs, ones that in the past would have been shunned by her lowliest servant were nonetheless completed by her nimbly and with no outward show of discontent. After the grueling day’s work, each night Jiense collapsed on her coarse bed and slept soundly without dreams or nightmares in exhausted state. She was driven hard, but remained contented for she received ample love, appreciation, and compassion.

 

And so, in this way two or three months had quickly passed.

                                                         

At this forlorn corner climate being particularly harsh, spring’s arrival had always been late in coming. It was yet another particularly chilling overcast night. Howling winds had kept up their tyranny all day long and now continued well into the night without any let up. The half-crescent moon periodically peeked, as the ominous cumulus clouds raced across the night’s sky.

In this god-forsaken night, three mounted riders galloped the barren stretch of land, fearful lest they’d be detected. Reaching Zianko’s dwelling, they abruptly came to a halt and dismounted. As the moon had gone in prolonged hiding, in that pitch darkness where visibility was almost nil (zero) except for the flash of sheet lightening within clouds that periodically (intermittently) illuminated the ground: the nocturnal animals had witnessed nervous horses drenched in sweat, being quickly tethered to the side. Two of the men busied themselves with the fastened cargo, whilst the third one pulled down from the horse’s back an abstract bundle concealing the bound and gagged figure of a man, and with some difficulty carried his heavy load inside the house. The windows had already been bolted shut with heavy shutters, discouraging any light or illegal entry. A small candle was quickly lit to effort them scant visibility. The stout fellow with the distinguishing mustache who appeared to be in charge, after peeking from the adjusted slats of the shutters turned to address Zianko.

“What about that cabin, your nearest neighbor- are you sure it will be all right? Shouldn’t we take the precautionary measure of disposing them?”

“It’s not necessary as it’s beyond the hearing range. And besides, do you know who dwells in that seemingly vulnerable, dilapidated cabin?” Zianko responded haughtily, with a smirk.

“Who?” The other’s curiosity was aroused.

“The parents of number 2 boss of the notorious “Ravens Gang”.

“You don’t say?” The other two men in one voice, aghast, came forward to ask.

“No kidding!” Zianko smirked.

“But the whole place is so rundown!”

“Go figure!” Zianko smiled wryly, and took in a breath, prolonging their suspense, before extrapolating. (Offering added explanation.)

“Kaimu, number two boss’s father, is a stubborn old coot. His wife Ensa is worse! She is a pious hag who insists on upholding morality and living with integrity. They would have been a ripe picking for any criminal and fallen prey a long, long time ago had it not been for this connection. But want a laugh? The old folks are ignorant of their son’s power and prestige.” He laughed.

“That must be convenient.” One of them interjected.

Zianko disinterestedly shrugged. “I’ve had no dealings with them since my wife died.”

“You mean murdered.”  The youngest one of the bunches snickered (countered). “Whatever.” Zianko winked at the other two. “Ensa is a shrew that controls that old man. Anyhow, back then, she insisted on exposing me; persisted in her bizarre hypothesis that I had something to do with my wife’s murder. A raw erupted and we have not been on speaking terms since.”

“Never mind about that,” Just then the fellow with a mustache coming away from the window interjected. “We haven’t got time for idle gossip.” Then turning to squarely face Zianko, in a stern voice added: “Now you know what is expected of you. Nevertheless, till you hear a definite word from us, I want you to lay off him.” With his chin he indicated the bound, drugged unconscious stout official that had been dumped at the far corner of the room. “Just in case things go array or more proof of a body part is needed. Meanwhile, I caution you to stay well out of sight. If she is as inquisitive as you claim, she may bring unwarranted trouble to us. Opportunists are everywhere. The abduction has already caused quite a stir. Hence, not a soul must be wizened to the whereabouts of this fiend! Have I made myself clear?”

“Great, now I’m a babysitter.” Zianko grumbled.

“You’ll be well compensated for your services.” The leader frowned. “If you blow it however, you shall suffer far worse consequences then him.”

“I don’t respond well to threats!” Zianko’s face, pitted against the leaders, flushed bead red in anger. But then relenting, he held his temper in check and turning, he asked instead.

“Am I expected to feed him too?”

“Do as you like.”  The leader scowled. “His fate would be the same either way.”

“Hungry corpse would be easier to dispose of after all.” Zianko grumbled under his breath, then turning to face the other two, asked: “Now can one of you help me carry him to the cellar before you go?”

Not waiting for their answer however, he pushed aside the table and rolled back the square rattan floor covering to reveal a trap door underneath. He grasped hold of the round ring of the heavy trap door and with a heave, lifted it open. Instantly a pungent, foul smell escaping from the (pitched dark) cellar assailed their noses. 

“Phew!”  They averted their faces, scrunching their features with utter disdain.

“What’s down there, dead rats?” The youngest one pointing complained.

“Human corpses smell the same.” Zianko, the only one who wasn’t at all disturbed by the smell, indifferently shrugged. He picked up the lit candle and descended the steps quickly to clear away some clutter and to arrange for an adequate space.

When he again resurfaced, a designated volunteer helped him to deliver the unconscious hostage to the prepared spot. Zianko using strong ropes now fastened the stout official securely to the pole.

“Unfortunately, since your leader wants him alive for the time being, I have to keep this latch door open for a crack, otherwise he would suffocate.” He then grunted, as he came up. “That would be a bother.”

The leader had had enough of Zianko’s smugness.

“We’ve dallied here long enough!” He barked and walked towards the door. But before exiting, he half turned to say. “You should be hearing from us (a word) in four- or five-day’s time.”

                                                                                  ~

 

Ensuing days, quite unaware of the sinister goings on in Zianko’s residence- for as far as they were concerned Zianko was still far away (absent) - hard working Kaimu, Ensa and Jiense lived out their invariable mundane lives in equable peace and tranquility.

 

All this time, however, Zianko had been insufferably sequestered inside (confined indoors) and from daybreak to dusk he had to remain perfectly still and stationary (quiet and immobile). At latter part of the night when it was opportune to do so, covert beehive of activity always reached a crescendo. For Zianko could then light up the stove, cook and drink; he was at liberty to engage in numerous vile acts and torment his captive, or on occasion, walk about aimlessly under the cover of darkness outside. After an elapse of only three days the constrained lifestyle, however, had begun to take its toll on him. To while away (pass) the dreary daylight hours, Zianko therefore had more than once, peeped through a spy hole, hoping to see something extraordinary, in order to dispel his mounting irritation and to divert his boredom.  It was then that he spotted a third figure, a stranger milling about Kaimu’s residence. With his excellent vision (eyesight), he could discern the stranger’s exquisite facial features, the long flowing hair, and despite the plain attire, the petite (slender) shapely form of a tender youth, that gradually surmounted (piqued) Zianko’s interest.

Now about eight years Kaimu’s junior, Zianko had only been married once. And that had been to a young widower, with a young son named Tizan- who was the product from her previous marriage.

As she had been from an opulent family, somewhat fair in looks and well-endowed with feminine charms (parts), she would have gone on satisfying Zianko’s discriminating taste or needs for a good many years. But in just three years, the matrimonial bliss had come to an abrupt and violent end, not too long after she had struck up a close friendship with Ensa. 

To date, Zianko blamed Ensa for spinning (putting) those contemptible notions into his wife’s head.

Like the idea, of it being both moral and lawful, to pass the inheritance of her former late husband’s property to his bloodline, his only offspring!

In time the rift between Zianko and his wife had widened to an irreparable point (measure), as Zianko had been prevented from getting his grasping hands on the rest, the bulk of her estate. What is more, her former husband’s begotten family, and then reeled into this mess, had exercised their supposed rights, through bribery, to siphon away a good chunk of it.

Was I supposed to idly stand by and see it all disappear? If not for the meddling of Ensa, I would have had a free reign with it all! Zianko, while spying on the stranger, had once more become lost in angry revere.

 As he saw it, it was therefore all Ensa’s fault that he had to act fast and get rid of his increasingly difficult and uncooperative wife and stepson.

Indeed, timing being of the essence, before the boy had reached the age of ascent, a month or two before Tizan was to become twelve, Zianko had used every available means to secure, in his view, “what should have been rightfully his!”

Zianko had always, through such logic, rationalized his numerous brutal acts (deeds). This case being no different, his only regret had been- the eventual failure of the permanent disposal of the boy, who was an eyewitness to (of) his foul deed.

“How he hated loose ends! But the brat had been both agile and cunning!”

Incredibly, Tizan had successfully averted the virulent potions, the malignant food, and the pernicious traps; what’s more, persevering through prodigious (ghastly) physical and mental torments during his incarceration, had made good his escape.

“To date it boggles my mind,” Zianko with a frown, inwardly confessed. “The ingenious way the dastardly rat sprung himself from that cadaverous trap!”

It had taken Zianko many wasted years before he could relax his vigil and have the boy legally declared dead. It was after all, not an uncommon occurrence in these parts, for a man or a runaway boy in this case, having been at large, ultimately falling a pray to some predatory beasts or bandits.

Most of the wildlife at the edge of the foothills had been hunted down by then, but on occasion; some wild beast would still descend from the heights, in search of food.

One thing was for certain; the boy had never made it to the nearby town. And no one had ever heard or seen him since!

 

   (CONTINUES ON NEXT POST- PART 4)