THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION - 18

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 18

01- YAGU DORKA

"How long is it going to take you to sharpen that Axe and machete, boy?  Hurry up, Yaggy, we haven't got all day." he urged the second son. Aguda was about to instruct Kenny to undress (disrobe, unclothe) the victim, when the excited barking noise of the caged canines(dogs) alerted him to his cousin’s early arrival.

“Blast; he’s back already?”  Too late, Aguda heard his cousin Yagu’s advancing unsteady footsteps.

 Where is everybody? The old man with curses on his lips, clung tightly onto the railing for security and, hauled his tired old body up as he, same time negotiated the soggy stone steps of the porch.

Aguda, having dropped his booty in the corner, had quickly rushed outside the kitchen door, passed through the hallway and now strove to block the old man's way with a barrage of questions.

"Yagu, what a fine time it is too, you finally got back!  You’ve been gone for so long that we were worried sick to death, thinking that something terrible might have happened to you on the way.  Next time you don't go alone, you'll take Zog with you.  Well, what did the doctor say?  Is your condition serious or not? How was the trip?"

"As if you care!" the old man interrupted Aguda's patter with a restraining hand gesture.  "Never mind about me, but you sure look guilty. And wipe that grin off your face and answer me quickly, what are you up to now?  I bet you, is it something sinister, disgusting or decidedly evil? “

Seeing the other’s hesitation, Yagu angrily snapped. “Don’t try denying it; I've already seen the horse in the stable."  Yagu shook an angry, accusatory finger before the innkeeper's face then pushed him aside to enter the kitchen.

 "And what's this, your latest victim?"  He intended to say more but his rage caught in his throat, and he collapsed into a violent fit of coughing.

"Now look at the state you've brought upon yourself!"  Aguda, showing concern, rushed to his side and helped him into a chair.  He slapped Yagu on the back several times, hard, to loosen the phlegm in his cousin's lungs.  After turning to address his son Kenny, “Stop what you’re about to do!” Aguda ordered him, “And go fetch Yagu a hot cup of tea at once.” 

Gradually, Yagu's purple coloring faded as his coughing fit subsided.

Outside, a kid's voice was heard; pleading to be allowed to join his grandpa in the kitchen but this was soon cut short by shout, “he doesn’t need you to bother him now,” and the sound of a hand smartly striking his cheek.  The sniffling youngster was then forcefully dragged away by the teenage boy Kenny who, despite his usual tepid (apathetic, indifferent) nature, was a cauldron of evil, an actual brute in his own right. 

The old man Yagu wished he had the strength to intervene, but abuse of this sort was all too common in this household.

Aguda snatched the steeping (infusing) hot teapot from Kenny’s hand and poured part of the infusion (tea) into Yagu’s cup to distract him from his grandson’s plight. 

"Here you go, have a bit more; it will warm you up.  You've given me terrible fright just now; you know you mustn't get so excited (worked-up) in your condition."  Seeing the old man had calmed a bit, he coaxed, "Look how you're still dripping wet.  Why don't you go change into some dry clothes and forget everything else.  I'll take care of things here."

His face growing red once more, the old man's temper flared anew.  Rasping in his dry, harsh voice, he pounded the table with his trembling hand and cursed, "You are going to get us all damned to Hell!  You want me to turn a blind eye to the murder of one of our guests; and this foul murder committed just under my very own roof? “Yagu shook his head and then somberly added: “Robbing them is one thing but butchering them in that hideous manner is inhuman!  I absolutely refuse to condone it!"  Again, he coughed, and drew in a long, shuddering breath.

"Call it what you will." Aguda (already feeling a tinge of guilt) lost his temper; highly incensed at this reprimand, he then snarled: “You know very well that we must do this to be safe.  What makes you so high and mighty?”

But then regretting his outburst, in a gentler voice he reasoned. “Dear cousin, buying this cursed inn was your idea to begin with; I wanted to open up a wine shop in town but, no, you wanted a roof over our heads.  You wouldn't hear of it.  Still, it was a fine idea while the customers were steady."

Yagu’s stern expression had not altered in the least. Angered anew, Aguda sat down with a disgruntled huff and pounded the table with his fist.  "Things have changed now, so get used to it."

Aguda ground his teeth, then after a moment’s silence again warned as he, same time shook an irate finger at the old man.  "When things started to go bad, and I wanted to pack up and start a new business elsewhere you wouldn't hear of it.  Your procrastination has cost us what little money we could have gotten from the sale of the Dancing Bear.  Now it’s too late.  Yet we still have to pay taxes and extortion money to those vultures to keep them from feeding on our carcasses.  You know those bastards only care about lining their pockets.  What do they care about if we are barely able to carve out our subsistence?  The first time we fail to produce the money they'll beat us to a pulp and haul us all off, you and your precious grandson included, to debtor’s jail where we'll assuredly meet a miserable end.”

"So, I ask you, what would you have me do?  Well?"  The innkeeper paused just long enough to give emphasis, but not enough for Yagu to respond. 

"Robbing them is one thing, you say, but if we don't dispose of the corpse completely, would we not run an even greater risk of being discovered?  Do you know what the penalty for robbing unsuspecting customers is?  I'll tell you, it’s the same as committing murder. In jail, once under duress they have extracted your confession and promptly pronounced you guilty, without the benefit of trial, you’ll be beaten to death. The executioner would then cut off your head and post it on spike (spear) at the city gate, as a warning to others. And your headless corpse, well, I don’t need to remind you what happens to that."

Seeing the old man cringe and give an involuntary shudder, “That's right." Aguda reasserted.  "Remember, cousin, I once used to be a clerk at the Magistrate's Office before my unjust dismissal.  I know what goes on in those dark cells.”

“Oh, you can be certain I make no exaggerations here.  Far worse, far more appalling crimes against human dignity are practiced there on a daily basis than we could ever have committed here.  So don't talk to me about law or humanity, as far as I am concerned there is only one law, one rule for me and my family to follow, the law of survival.  I must do all I can to subsist, even if it means vending (selling) my soul to the demons, to do it.  So, don't think that you can deter my aim, with your sanctimonious air or nagging!”

"I toiled so hard; all those years of tough grind, all those years of hard work; where did it ever get me or you?  You're still pining away for your lost son.  Well, I've got three living ones and a wife here to think of.  Shall I leave them all to starve, or be tortured?

No… Absolutely not!   I'll be damned if I give them up without a fight!”

“And what about your precious grandson; are you willing to sacrifice him so easily to accommodate your principles?  You know that nothing will grow on this wretched, barren soil, and that we're too strapped now to move out. So don’t go on being so censorious! Besides, what makes you think it’s any different out there?  Maybe it’s worse."  Aguda, having had his say, at the end of this long tirade, rather smugly now, leaned back and wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead.

"You could talk around the devil himself!" Yagu snapped back, having got his second wind and now that his cousin had finally stopped his rant.

 His stern eyes scrutinized Aguda, then, stricken with sudden remorse, Yagu hung his head, and he softened. His next remark lacked fire.  "Yes.", he acquiesced, for he could no longer dispute the other's arguments.

 Though his conscience had greatly pained (hurt) him, had he not always, as he had now, given in to their inexorable predicament?

Yagu’s head hung lower in deep shame, for even though he did not engage in the brutal act, turning a blind eye to it, time and again, did it not make him an accessory (accomplice) to Aguda’s crimes?   Yagu shared just as much guilt.  And besides, when the matter of their survival hung in the balance, overriding any question of morality, what right did he have to exonerate himself and load all the blame on his cousin, marking him, shamelessly, in front of his sons as the sole villain when the end result benefited all of them?

Coughing violently, Yagu rose and drew near to the table, bending over to have a better look at the latest victim, meaning, perhaps, to silently beg this stranger's forgiveness.  His eyes examined the scholar’s features, pausing (his gaze) at length on the face.

Odd, he looks strangely familiar? Hmmm…. Yagu mused, cupping his chin in his hand.

“I feel as though I've seen him somewhere before, but perhaps with a short beard …”

“Oh, Heaven’ forgive me! Can he be… is he that most remarkable youth, of four years ago?”  Suddenly his eyes bulged and astonished, his mouth dropped open.

Still, he needed to be certain; so, he drew his face ever closer and burrowed his scrutinizing eyes (stare) on Nevetsecnuac.

 But how could that be?  He shrugged his shoulders, bit the corner of his lower lip and stamped his feet in vexation.

Yaggy, meanwhile, having just then finished honing the hatchet’s blade, excitedly brought the shiny cleaver (axe) over to his father.  He stood most eager to begin the carnage (butchery).

Aguda signaled his son to wait.  "Listen, cousin," he then approached Yagu, suspecting that the old man was still wavering, "you know it’s got to be done, so why don't you leave us, since you can't stomach the sight.  Rid yourself of those pesky wet clothes and lie down to rest, before you make your ailment worse.  I'll have Kenny to bring you some more hot tea."

"But I think I know this young man!" Disregarding Aguda's words, Yagu turning, looked up with a flushed face to exclaim excitedly.

 He held up a restraining hand to freeze Aguda's query or retort.  "Just give me a moment longer will you, just to make sure."

"Surely you aren't telling me that you, a peasant, know a rich scholar?" Aguda mocked Yagu, then frowning, shook a finger at the old man.  "If this is another one of your stalling tactics, I warn you..."

The old man was totally absorbed with Nevetsecnuac.  "Oh, by the Gods!"  Suddenly he uttered a cry as he jerked back, his hand now clasped to his mouth.

 "Yes, no doubt about it.  It’s him!  It’s definitely him!"  Yagu’s complexion turned ashen (ghostly pale) as the realization of what had almost happened dawned on (occurred to) him; horror gripped his heart, and the words congealed in his throat.

 "What is it, cousin?" Aguda clasped the old man on the shoulder, truly concerned.

"What's wrong with you...? What is it that ails you?”

“Answer me first, his name… what was the name he gave to you?”

“I don’t know… You expect me to remember his name? What difference does it make?

"You don't understand!" Yagu clutched at Aguda's collar, jerking him forward, almost choking him with an unusual strength.

 "This…. This is the very young person who, four years ago, delivered me and my grandson from those bandits.  It's with his money that we bought this place, fool!  He’s the one who……” His explanation was interrupted with another spell of violent coughing.  As he habitually massaged the pain in his chest, great beads of sweat (appeared) burst out on his forehead.

"I'm dam sure, most assuredly, it’s him!  He's the one who avenged my son Ake's death, restored my grandson Lerty to me, and gave me the funds to buy this inn." Yagu hoarsely reiterated; then rubbed his burning throat to bring some relief.

 "Haven't I always had a good memory for faces?  Once I hear him speak, I'll be more certain."

"So, this isn't definite after all?" Aguda caught the slip.

“Tell me, try to remember… Was his name … Svein, Svein…. something?"

“Come to think of it, it might have been…… But still, how can you be so positive it’s the very youth? You’d mentioned that your benefactor was a skilled fighter but said nothing about him being a scholar?" Aguda demanded with skepticism, not liking the idea of releasing prey already in his snare.

Yagu’s coughing subsided; the old man looked up to burrow his resentful gaze into Aguda's eyes and sternly dictate, "Read my lips. Killing this young man is now totally out of question, not until I've made certain, at least, that it isn't him. Do I make myself clear?  I may be guilty of many things, but I will not go to my grave, accused of ingratitude.  If I'm wrong, you can drug him again later.  Now, quick, get me the antidote!"

"This is insane!  Think of what you're asking me to do, cousin." Aguda stamped his foot.  "Why should I, on your mere suspicion, spare his life then waste more of the precious poison on him?  If we revived him and, he turned out not to be your savior, what then?  You may be willing to let this chance slip away, but I'm not.  Besides, you can see how formidable he looks, even when he's unconscious.  When he comes to, won't he know we've drugged him?  Won't he ask questions, that is, if he doesn't beat us to death first without waiting for any explanation?  Why should I place us all in jeopardy on a mere chance that this was your young man?"

"Listen to papa, Uncle." the three boys broke their silence in unison to give support to their father.

"If he is the young man I met, he would not harm us." Yagu was adamant. 

"I'd stake my life on it.  You're not going to change my mind one bit," he threw a fierce look at the boys, "even with this army of support.  You may all think me unreasonable but, on this, I will stick to my principles.  Besides, we could always talk our way out of it, what's so hard about that?  Leave the explanations to me.”

"Now, give me the antidote at once, before it’s too late!" he barked, his demand.

"And don't try to deceive me and say that it’s already too late, I can tell from his coloring that he can still be saved!” With those words he also put a quick end to Aguda’s poised counter arguments.

Seeing that it was pointless to deter his cousin, Aguda grumbled under his breath,

 "I suppose we could add poison to his meal later on."  Handing the keys of the victim’s room to Yagu, Aguda then rushed off to retrieve the antidote himself.

 Yagu, wasting no time, quickly took charge and had the two older boys Zog and Yaggy carry the still unconscious scholar (Nevetsecnuac) back to his room while the younger boy Kenny went to fetch the scholar’s possessions, that of which Aguda had just dropped in the hall.  The unconscious scholar was then gently placed on the bed.

Zog, the strongest boy, pried open Nevetsecnuac’s mouth just a crack to allow Yagu, who had just received the antidote from Aguda, to pour a generous portion of it down the scholar’s throat.

"Not so much!  A little works just as well, you know."  The infuriated Aguda spent his rage by slapping Zog hard on head, then returned to the kitchen, swiping at the youngest as he passed by.

"Now scarper (get lost, beat it); both of you clear out of here!"  Yagu taking charge, ordered Yaggy and Zog with a wave of his hand.  "He'll be coming around soon.  Close the door behind you; and Zog, do tell your father to keep it quiet out there!" Yagu yelled out specifically so that Aguda could hear, before he leaned back on the chair panting from all that exertion.

                                                                                        

(END OF SECTION 18)

THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 17

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 17

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, thank you.  You may leave."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good, he's done for!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                                                           ~

(END OF SECTION 17)

 

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 7

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 7

 Unarmed Brandt intrepidly faced Stark and then pointing to Duan's corpse, tersely exclaimed, "Incriminating as this may seem, it affected the desired purpose. Heretofore I had to go along, to earn his trust, knowing he would lead me to you both.  And I had to make it look good during the fight so as to disarm him and gain such an opportunity to assist your Lordship, Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon?”

On saying this Brandt   gave another respectful, though a bit more flamboyant bow to Stark.

Svein, taken by surprise, turned his questioning, hurtful eyes on his uncle:  Asger?  Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon?  Is that who you really are? If so, why have you seen fit to keep this from me in all this time and after all we’ve been through? 

Mindful of Svein's stare, Asger's cold, stanch gaze remained affixed on Brandt.

"If my words prove to be false or misleading, my Lord, you may then consign me to the sword, and I will not cry out of any injustice."  Brandt   paused to cough lightly, clearing his throat, and then continued, "My Lord, I would like to first declare my undying loyalty and allegiance to our late sovereign, Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir and his supporters.  I solemnly swear on my honor and on my ancestor’s grave, to the validity of my claim.”

 In his heart of hearts Brandt   hoped his father and his ancestors would forgive him of this very necessary falsehood! As it were, it had taken all his willpower not to have (choked) gagged on his asserted (avowed), sham oath.  His eyes did not blink staring straight at Lord Asger’s, nor did his earnest tone waver, when he next explained, "I had not chosen to accompany this notorious assassin by (accident) chance, my Lord.”

He paused and then smiled disarmingly, desiring to elicit suspense.  “I was entrusted with this task and pursued this difficult course at the urging of Lord Shonne Gulbrand, when His Lordship had received word from the capital that proper authorities clandestinely had enlisted this assassin Duan to track and murder, your esteemed self. Up until then, the precursors of Duan had presented no real danger and had required no such course of action (drastic recourse)."

Brandt’s reference to Lord Shonne Gulbrand would have easily been dismissed by Svein, had it not been for the slight change in Stark’s (Asger’s) coloration that instigated (incurred) his curiosity.

Perhaps this was unperceived or simply overlooked by Brandt who’d unceasingly continued with his accounts, “I’d pursued Duan covertly for day and a half, until one evening I fell into his adroit ambush.  At sword point I was forced to concoct a convincing tale, chiefly that I too, was dispatched by the authorities, to observe and if need be, fight alongside him for this mission’s success. Lord Shonne Gulbrand with his foresight and seeing to every detail had fortunately furnished me with official looking forgeries. Duan was outraged and threatened to kill me at first, but on a moment's reflection, he stayed his sword poised to strike at my throat and asked to see my credentials plus these so-called instructions.  After brief scrutiny he was ascertained of their authenticity and begrudgingly consented to my company. For reasons known only to him however, he kept the documents on him, in the inner pocket of his upper garment. If you fetch them, these false documents at least will verify part of my story.”

Brandt   had altered the truth only slightly, in fact both Duan and he had been from the very start secretly dispatched from the capital by Lady Lingrace.  She had seen to every possible contingency and provided Brandt   with the documents.  Neither Emperor nor Lord Shonne Gulbrand had anything to do with it.  Her ladyship had insisted Brandt   accompany Duan on this task, and Duan after demanding more payment to compensate for this weak link, had reluctantly agreed to it.

A nod from Stark (Asger) sent Svein over to Duan’s corpse; his upper garment had been discarded during the intense fight, some time prior to his eventual death.  After a brief search, Svein returned with the waxed leather case and handed it over to his uncle. Svein (Asger) kept a close eye on Brandt, as he, after removing the airtight outer casing, briefly examined (perused) the contents of it. Somewhat satisfied, Stark (Asger) simply tucked them away in his side-pocket.

 “You may continue.”  He next commanded Brandt, with still cold indifference.

Brandt   had only guessed where Duan had kept the papers.  Fortunately, they had survived destruction from the slashes of the intense fighting earlier on.

"For over two years, my Lord,” Brandt   pleased with the outcome, continued in earnest.  “I remained undaunted by countless obstacles and hardships that villain had put me through. He left a bloody trail behind of unimaginable horrors. All the while, he took such perverse pleasure at my sufferings.” He closed his eyes fleetingly then shook his head as if to purge dreaded images from his mind.

“I had to adapt my Lord, had to be more like him, till eventually, I gained his confidence and thereafter I gleaned through observance or from whatever few civil words he cast my way, some insight into his strengths and weaknesses.  Do not judge me too harshly my Lord; for had I not timely interceded, albeit in perceived treasonous manner, I'm afraid that competent as you both are, hmm.” Brandt   hesitated for a moment, before putting it more delicately.

 “Let us say, Your Lordship had not yet seen his utmost capacity. He was only toying, biding his time till he unleashed his worst on you both.  Had he chosen to flee…?” Brandt   shook his head dourly.  “Oh, I’ve seen him (in a flash) instantaneously disappear into thin air.  Had he done that and then descended upon your Lordship and company later, the inexorable dire consequences would have indeed weighed heavily on my conscience.  My Lord, he could move like the devil's wind on treetops or through earth, sand and snow leaving no tracks to follow him by.” He looked up squarely at Asger.

"Surely now, your lordship can understand the necessity for all my prior deceit and alleged, dishonorable conduct."

Stark (Asger) was not at all swayed by this remarkable performance; moreover, he suspected Brandt of being far shrewder and wilier an adversary than he led on.

“Hmm, the gravity of our situation (precarious existence) is further burgeoned by the fact that these two has done the impossible; they have succeeded in where that Usurper with all his resources and manpower has failed to do in twenty years.  And why Lord Shonne Gulbrand, why pick him?”   With a stone face, Stark (Asger) inwardly pondered.

As it were, Lord Shonne Gulbrand, because of the scrutiny from Capital lasting till present, for both their sakes, had remained quite out of touch with Asger or any other existing insurgent groups.

“Yet now he would risk all, undertaking such a perilous feat?” Stark further mused.

His eyes piercing Brandt’s, hmm, he may or may not have accomplices. Stark studied Brandt, while on the outset seemingly taken in, assiduously listened to the rest of latter’s yarn.

This close call had nevertheless, warranted caution and in order to obtain further pertinent data, Stark (Asger) needed time to at length interrogate (grill, probe) this albeit cunning and definitely sly adversary.  Well before this undertaking, however, he needed first to clarify a few more specifics.

"I am inclined to believe you sir. “Stark (Asger), breaking his silence, injected thoughtfully.  "Still, what further proof can you present to win my confidence?"

"That has already been arranged, my Lord.” Brandt   complied respectfully and bluffed.  "After Lord Shonne Gulbrand had assisted your esteemed self's escape, he had, with due discretion, dispensed the necessary funds and manpower to procure the other of your twin swords before it fell into the enemy hands.” Inwardly elated Brandt   congratulated himself, for his quick thinking and postulation (conjecture).  

Lack of any reaction, adverse or otherwise, on Asger’s part had reaffirmed Brandt’s longstanding hypothesis. So, Lord Shonne Gulbrand had a definite hand in Asger’s escape after all!   

Outwardly, meanwhile, Brandt maintained an even tone and continued without cessation.  “His Lordship had done this, with the utmost confidence that one day when the time was ripe; he would present it to your Lordship, perhaps upon your next meeting.” He halted his narrative with a barely discernible hint of a query in his tone.

No? No reaction, none? So, there has been no contact with Lord Shonee Gulbrand since then. Good!

With confidence now, Brandt added. “When it became necessary to send me on this errand however, he entrusted it to me as a means of winning your Lordship's confidence.”

That’s highly unlikely! Stark mused, while pretending to acquiesce.

 “Please examine the sword that now lies on the ground.  I dare not make a move to procure it, lest you’re Lordship and your respected nephew here suspects me of a ruse."  Having said this, he looked directly at Svein with a certain glint in his eyes, a slight semblance of a dare, as he artlessly donned an infuriating, bemused smile.

"There is no need to examine it”, came Stark’s (Asger's) icy response.

 "Svein, please be good enough to retrieve it for me."

"Don't trust him, Uncle.” Svein murmured a warning as he, (recovering it,) handed over the sword.

 Stark (Asger) merely grunted his concurrence then, oblivious to the raging snowstorm, continued to interrogate Brandt further with more penetrating questions. After a time, Asger, seemingly satisfied with Brandt’s responses, appeared by degrees more accepting of Brandt.

 In this entire time, obliging as Brandt was with his answers, not being as hardy (resilient) as Stark and Svein, he had gradually succumbed to the effects of fatigue and cold.

At first, Brandt’s complexion progressively paled; the next instant, in mid-sentence his face gone completely ashen, he’d faltered, swayed on his feet and simply collapsed face down onto the ground already cushioned with thick layer of fresh snow.

 Svein darted over to Brandt’s side. Crouching over the body, he turned Brandt   over and brushed off the snow before examining   Brandt’s vital signs.  Brandt   was clearly unconscious, however still suspecting a ruse; he guardedly examined Brandt’s apparent injuries.  He did have a few serious bruises, lacerations, slight frostbite in fingers and a big bulge, sort of swelling (lump) on top of the head, underneath that mop of hair.

“I suppose the combat, contusion, the strain of inquiry and the elements were all in all too much for him!”  Svein with an air of disdain concluded his findings. 

Stark’s (Asger’s) cursory examination of Brandt’s discarded stiletto (dagger) meanwhile had revealed that the blade had predictably been laced with a rare but very potent poison. Asger’s mind had at once recalled another such incident where this poison had been used with equally dire consequences. 

Concealing his unease however, Stark (Asger) simply nodded; then on his directive, Svein hauled Brandt   over his back and followed his uncle to the stables.

There, they found a comfortable spot for Brandt   to lie, well away from the horse, where they had kept some of the (non-essential) winter supplies. They lit a brazier and stacked it with wood to make sure it would last out the night, then fetching the medicine and such, Asger with due diligence tended to Brandt’s wounds, while Svein at the outside secured both Brandt and Duan’s horses and after a cursory scrub housed them also in the stables alongside Fiery Comet. 

Stark (Asger) had scant reaction to Svein’s subsequent news, that judging by the obvious tracks, Duan’s corpse had already been swiftly carted away by pack of wolves, (if not some hungry predatory beasts); therefore, negating any necessity of a proper burial or pursuit of the remains. 

                                                                                                

                                                                       ~

 

(END OF SECTION 7)