LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL - SECTION 12

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL - SECTION 12

Nevetsecnuac cursed his tardiness under his breath.  He had arrived too late to ascertain the purpose of this meeting.  Now he was as much in the dark as ever.

Just then however, at a signal from Zaur Stugr, a side door opened, and a cloaked figure emerged from it.  He walked up to the dais, bowed low, and then quickly removed his hood to expose his face.  When he spoke the unmistakable tone of the voice and the familiar accent gave Nevetsecnuac quite a start, for the man was most definitely Deizvor; one of the two armed sentinels, (under the command of Egil Viggoaries,) guarding the Cyprecox Pass, at the time Nevetsecnuac had fallen into the pit and got the key.

01-DEIZVOR (KOZUR MEMBER)

But why be surprised, Nevetsecnuac musing, shrugged.  In this duplicitous ethos (culture), this sort of milieu (situation) -that any one group of conspirators would be conspiring with the other-was to be expected.   He was nonetheless tad annoyed, as he now passionately believed that the pseudo agreeable Minister of Ceremony Zaur Stugr, a highly respected official of the P.M. Lamont Gudaren’s, was in fact a hypocritical, shrewd (crafty) instigator, who all along had colluded with the Dark Eunuch Egil Viggoaries to undermine the P.M.

Nevetsecnuac was just then struck by the sudden, rapid change in Zaur's demeanor as the latter had listened on to Deizvor’s report; furthermore, the articulated contents must have been grave enough, for it had warranted Zaur's rapt attention. Unfortunately, Deizvor’s lowered tone made the rest of his exclamations inaudible from Nevetsecnuac's perched high point.  He could only just barely make out the ending, "both of them are now in custody, sir.  We shall not be hearing from Lieutenant Yennic again."

Could he be the same Lieutenant Yennic, who had been so familiar with the bearded Commander Zhadol?  Nevetsecnuac, though he already knew the answer, inwardly queried. His brow subsequently furrowed, recalling the time in not-too-distant past, when he’d accidentally chanced on the two at the Cyprecox Pass and listening in, learned that Commander Zhadol was in fact one of the twelve members of Egil Viggoaries’s Inner Circle of the Black Molochs. Nevetsecnuac sideways wondered as he edged closer to catch the rest, if Zaur Stugr had known all along of the lieutenant Yennic’s perfidious liaison with the Commander Zhadol. He did not have to wait long however, as the answer was revealed in Zaur Stugr’s contrite (somewhat penitent) response:

"Too bad; he was a good recruit with real potential.  Still, it is most fortunate that, during this probation period, we had kept him at arm’s length." 

Zaur subsequently fell silent for a spell, musing, and then shook his head.  This time it had been a close call; still the lengthy and rigorously monitored test (probation) period for neophytes had once more proven invaluable. 

As it were, for the last seven years Zaur had implemented a new recruiting policy, which stated that anyone, whose association numbered less than five years, received their instructions, and made their reports to an anonymous third party until they were fully initiated into the Kozur Brotherhood. The law (of brotherhood) stipulated that if before this time, any greenhorns (novices) discovered the identity of their contact, or failed to maintain an impeccable record, their life would immediately be terminated (forfeited).  In this way, when the unthinkable happened, as in this case with Lieutenant Yennic, there would be no direct link up to the Kozurs. In the worst-case scenario where the limited, ersatz (bogus) connection would be discovered, as it had been designed to do- which was to run directly through the Prime Minister's offices, the so-called link being unsubstantiated, would lead to dead end, as well, throw any would-be investigators hopelessly off track.

Suddenly Zaur Stugr impatiently halted Deizvor' report and (acting on a hunch,) signaled for the spy to follow him into an adjacent room. 

Nevetsecnuac deducing the position of their destination sought a different vantage point; finding a small oval window typical of this style of architecture just under another set of eaves, with some effort silently forced it open a crack and then, proceeded to eavesdrop on them.

"Sir, I spotted these two quite by accident, on the outskirts of Yesunban in one of the rarely frequented alleys, after I had just concluded my report to Zihoxy Ner." Deizvor, standing stiffly beside the desk behind which Zaur was now comfortably seated in a plush chair, in a serious tone presently recounted.  He coughed slightly for the dramatic effect and then, added: "Intrigued by their odd behavior, I covertly dogged them for some time till they’d reached their presumed destination, which happened to be an old, abandoned granary on Inklimer Street. They snuck into the back alley and, forced entry into premise after removing some rotten boards.  I pursued them to inside as soon as the coast was clear and quickly spotted them in the corner, partially hidden behind some crates, gabbing in some foreign (alien tongue) language.  As luck would have it, they then switched into an ancient dialect of Korionese and, having a passing familiarity with that, I was able to make some sense of what was being said."

Zaur Stugr did not need to be reminded of Deizvor’ skill in numerous, diverse vernaculars, or his perfect memory, “Of course", he nodded impatiently, "now I want you to relay everything exactly as you heard it, word for word, omitting not even the most insignificant grunt.  Leave nothing unreported, understand?"

02- DEISVOR  (KOZUR) REPORTING

Deizvor nodded briskly and continued, "One of them was called Hugen and his companion was addressed as Uyuk.  The conversation (exchange) started innocuously enough when the one called Hugen touched the other's shoulder and asked, "But hey, a while back there when the night sentry caught us unawares and demanded our identities, you gave a different name than that you were instructed to give.  Why did you call yourself Kundrick Dufo?  Where on earth did that name come from?"

"The one called Uyuk abruptly looked right past Hugen; after spell of brooding over a seeming deep resentment he, then threw his head back and laughed bitterly, "It was a joke? Yes, it was a joke, a cruel joke!"  Brief time later however, he turned to affix his harsh gaze back on Hugen; Uyuk’s face now shone with dark malice as he absently caressed the ugly scar on his left cheek and snarled: "The executioner was just about to swing his ax when…" He abruptly held his tongue and shook his head.  "Fortunately, I was too young ..." Uyuk, after a brief hesitation, grunted; he followed it with some derisive mumble, which unfortunately was audible only to him."

Deizvor caught by the momentum of his recollections, presently took to re-enacting the spontaneous dialogue, complete with gestures. "A joke…" Hugen snapped back, obviously not having caught the rest of Uyuk's meanderings.

"Yes", Uyuk reverted to his defiant stare, "A joke."

"In a pig's eye," Hugen scoffed disdainfully then shook his threatening index finger in the other's face while he growled, "I don't particularly care to know the motive, Uyuk, but you can't go on changing the procedure on the spur per your whim.  Understand!”

“I'm in charge here."  Hugen shrugged and went over to seat himself on a broken crate.  "What if he'd asked to see your papers?  Your carelessness could have jeopardized our mission!"

Hugen’s brow furrowing crossly, he now barked at Uyuk, "I warn you; I'll have no more of your shenanigans (tomfoolery).  You hear?  This is a serious business…It’s bad enough that ugly scar of yours attracts far too much unwarranted attention."  Despite the harsh words his tone towards the end of his say had grown more conciliatory, even affectionate.

"Yeah", Uyuk bitterly retorted, "but it also makes us inconspicuous in the slums where it counts most.  Isn't that the reason why, they paired us off on this mission to begin with?  You do well in posh circles and with other such upstanding citizens whereas I blend in better with the maimed dissidents of the gutters, where most of our contacts are made.  If you ask me, I'm the indispensable one here."

As Deizvor related this interchange word for word, Nevetsecnuac had noted the augmented intensity (increased tension) in the taut muscles of Zaur Stugr's face ever since the name “Kundrick Dufo” had been mentioned. 

Nevetsecnuac's brows knitted as he searched his memory:  Kundrick…. Kundrick Dufo... Hmm…. where had he heard that name before?  Suddenly certain facts rushed to his mind:  Why of course, wasn't he the son of Sorgun Dufo, favorite tutor of Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon and furthermore, the very name that Heng Erling had chosen in his fabrication to give to the Commander-in-Chief of the fictitious insurgents?  Could it be a mere coincidence, or much more than that, Heng picked this name to give credence to his lie?  Was Kundrick Dufo really a conspirator, if he still existed, at all?  Even more interesting, how did a foreign spy get a hold of that name, and just where does Zaur Stugr fit in all of this?  Why should he be so clearly perturbed by the very mention of that person?  What immense (vast) significance did that name “Kundrick Dufo” held?

Nevetsecnuac's mind had further become inundated by an influx of queries as he studied more astutely now, Zaur Stugr’s present stone countenance.  He noted Zaur's sustained deliberate attempts to mask a raging inner conflict as he, instructed Deizvor to investigate the purpose (reason) for which Kundrick Dufo had been mentioned by the spy Uyuk.  The mounting complexity of his host's character further intrigued and same time exhilarated Nevetsecnuac.

Zaur Stugr had been utterly successful meanwhile, in concealing his range of emotions from Deizvor; while on the outset he pretended to be listening impassively to the laboriously detailed account, Zaur Stugr privately in fact had been mulling over, Nevetsecnuac’s akin (similar, alike) queries and concerns.  

Uyuk’s use of his (Zaur’s) true name, Kundrick Dufo…Could it be pure coincidence…  Hardly!  Zaur Stugr firmly refused that notion. Then out of the blue when the spy’s sentence: “A cruel joke,” also came to mind, the truth at that juncture became absolutely apparent.

03- UYUK  (1)JP

So, the boy Enkaz had survived the terrible ordeal (punishment) after all!  With such bad blood coursing through his veins, was it any wonder he had turned to espionage?  Now he had become a traitor to Wenjenkun, working for the destruction of the country that, in his distorted perception had forsaken him, which happened to be precisely the time when, at the tender age of three, he’d been forced into exile.  The burn on the left cheek that’d later turned into an ugly scar, where once Enkaz Dufo, son of Minakoz Dufo had been tattooed as part of his punishment, was the very proof (evidence) which validated this viewpoint?

Then again, all this could well have been a bizarre coincidence. Zaur Stugr in desperate attempt to allay his worse fears, musing, looked away.  And first and foremost, more comprehensive, and irrefutable evidence (proof) must be attained (secured).  Having decided thus, Zaur once again directed his full attention back to Deizvor.

"As anticipated, it was not long before their contact appeared on the scene.  He was an exceptionally tall man and sturdily built but the cloak and mask he wore for concealment and the fact that he spoke but sparingly, made identifying him difficult.  From the way he moved however, I don't know just how to put this, but there was something rather familiar about his gestures."  Deizvor mumbled the last part as he gesticulated (physically demonstrated) the movements.

When Zaur Stugr knitted his brows, frowning in displeasure, a flustered Deizvor strove even harder, to identify the masked, tall, robust spy, as if his very life depended on it.  After a painful pause however, he had to confess, "Unfortunately, sir, it still eludes (escapes) me."

"Never mind, it will come to you sooner or later." Zaur cut him off.  "Continue with the events themselves."  In truth, the contact's impersonated (imitated) gestures, did evoke (conjured up) in Zaur’s mind a certain familiarity also, but just like Deizvor, he too, could not rightly place it.

"Anyhow", Deizvor politely coughed (covering his mouth with his hand) to clear his suddenly dry throat, "I eased myself closer to hear their conversation with perfect clarity only to have the contact switch, as if by innate caveat (instinctive caution), into that other, indecipherable dialect the two spies first used."

"Are you sure your presence had not been detected?  Could it be that they were (actually) feeding you misinformation?"  There was a solid note of concern in Zaur's stern voice.

Nevetsecnuac perceived just then a slight ripple of shudder that run through Deizvor as he, very much disconcerted, presently lowered his head to pause in thought.  After a brief spell, he shook his head and swallowing hard, answered: "No, there was no such indication.  Of that I am most definitely certain."

 

(END OF SECTION 12)  

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 16

 At a safe distance Nevetsecnuac brought the horse to a halt, with a purpose of discarding the load of game into a roadside ditch to unburden the horse and gain more speed. Suddenly however, from the far-away dense forest’s edge, he spotted a woodcutter emerging and inclined to do a good turn, spurred the horse off the road and over the rougher terrain towards him.

01- LOOKING AT THE WOODS

 Nevetsecnuac hailed the woodsman, then halted his mount at hearing range of the other; catching his eye, he then graciously inclined his head and after a polite greeting, pointed at the load of game at the back of the mare and next, generously offered the woodcutter, as gift, the entire load of game.

The stalwart, middle-aged tall man, hardly believing his ears, dropped his bundle of firewood and rushed forward enthusiastically to accept the load (furs and carcasses) that Nevetsecnuac had offered him.

At midpoint of his advance, however, the man's face suddenly, unexpectedly clouded over with deep concern and, abruptly halting his step, he locked both arms to his sides.  Shaking his head in adamant refusal, he knitted his brows and, sizing Nevetsecnuac up and down with suspicion, dubiously asked, "And why should you want to do that…us, being strangers and all that?"

His meaning was all too clear, and his tone spoke volumes.  He was accusing Nevetsecnuac of theft or even worse.

02-WOODSMAN 2

Nevetsecnuac, who was about to dismount and unpack the load from the horse, hesitated, a dark shadow crossing his face and he presently regretted his prior decision not to simply discard the game at the roadside.  As it were, another in his place, finding the woodcutter's scrutiny unwarranted and his suspicions highly offensive, would have at least berated the wretch on the spot for his ungrateful and rude conduct.

 Nevetsecnuac, however, had remarkably constrained his deep disappointment and disregarding the slight (slur) , had inclined his head to first introduce himself, using an alias he had concocted on the spot; then, with eloquence and dignity, strove to allay (dispel) the woodcutter’s fears and qualms by assuring latter (other) that the game had been honestly attained. The only hindrance, however, lay in Nevetsecnuac’s inability to invent, a most plausible explanation as to, why he would hunt so much game just to discard it all away to mere stranger in the middle of nowhere.

Highly suspicious woodcutter’s response by rights should not have been that much of a surprise; characteristically, with eyes narrowed, snarling, woodcutter had typically just then burst, “What do you take me for? I’m not a simpleton in some border town you can easily manipulate! No, I won't buy any of this.  You're most definitely up to no good and, if I were to accept this booty (as your accomplice,) it will surely land me in serious trouble.  You don't even talk like a hunter.  You're no common man, more like a …”  He paused briefly as his mind searched for words like academic, official, scholar?  “And you're certainly not from these parts.  There's no use denying it, I've lived here practically all my life.  You're definitely not from here and you're most certainly up to some mischief."  With each utterance his voice had become louder and (threatening) hostile then, brandishing his axe, he menacingly stepped forward and (spitting venom, simply) glared at Nevetsecnuac.

"I may be a rough woodcutter to you, but I can still fight as well as any seasoned squaddie (soldier, private, warrior).  Go find yourself another stooge to pin your heinous crimes on."  As he spoke, the man was inwardly cursing the infirmities heaped on him by his hard existence.  “In my heyday (prime), I'd overcome this brute in an instant; then, thief that he is, I could’ve turned him over to the authorities and get me a big, fat reward, instead of uttering idle threats and wasting my breath.” He inwardly scoffed (jeered).

"As you wish,” Nevetsecnuac was beginning to lose patience; but then on second thought, he again forced constraint on his temper and ejected evenly, "I'm sorry if I have unintentionally caused you unwarranted trepidation and much undue anxiety, sir.  Please accept my sincerest apologies.  I will trouble you no longer."

03- NEVETSECNUAC THE HUNTER 14- JP

 Nevetsecnuac steered (turned, coxed) his mount around to leave this ungrateful woodcutter; his intention was to discard the amassed game, carcasses, secured on the back of the mare, somewhere else, anywhere but here, and further along the route the better.

The shrewd and lithe (nimble) woodcutter, meanwhile, had vacillated in his resolve, though only for a spell, regretting his hasty rebuff.  “Could he have misjudged this youth? He should have trusted his prior instinct, instead of letting fear and disbelief cloud his judgement, perhaps erroneously. But no,” his stubborn heart rebuffed it; his inner caution resurfacing again. 

“Why should he make me such a generous gift, unless there is mischief involved?”

His brain colluding (scheming) had rattled on, while machinating thoughts alongside registering in lightning speed, forced his mind to further consider all aspects with more clarity and depth, to arrive at sly plot.

Certainly, game was prevalent in the mountains, but the land was equally perilous and riddled with pitfalls and the amount of game the solitary hunter had had with him, as competent as he appeared, still told of at least a week's worth of effort.  Why should the hunter discard it all, when he could easily make a handsome profit for the lot, in town?  

Then again, with his (woodcutter’s) own meager sustenance, why should he let this good fortune pass him by?  Heaven had delivered this into his calloused hands, would it not be better to invite the hunter to his shack, drug and then deliver (deposit) him bound and gagged before the authorities?  Why should he, because of prudence (caution and fear), let this golden opportunity slip through his fingers? Yes, the trick may well work; he had just enough belladonna left, after the last use.

For a moment his heart was downcast, thinking how he’d worked so hard to bury his past, endured so much in this isolated corner… but still that brute had tracked him down then dared to threaten to expose him….  The Woodcutter had just then momentarily shifted focus onto the deep, ugly scar on his left hand; an involuntary shudder just then rippled through him, recollecting that last spontaneous act and the consequential perilous brush with death. He had got exactly what he deserved!  The Woodcutter inwardly hissed then shook his head to expunge all those unwelcome thoughts, forcing his attention to the present situation. In the end he nodded his head, having decided already on how to deal with this present dilemma, then with incredible agility of a wildcat, rushed at once, with open arms (with one arm still holding the axe however), showing he meant no harm, to stoically (with stoicism) block the hunter’s path.

With the fire in his eyes burning with steel determination and, his left hand still gripping the axe, the woodcutter stonily stared up at Nevetsecnuac for a time, his unruly mind, meanwhile, racing with new possibilities.  Just as quickly however, his focus snapped back to present reality and with unreadable expressions on his face then, his eyes betraying nothing, however, his voice carrying urgent, apologetic tone, he yowled (yelped) at the mounted youth: "Wait! Please wait!”

With uncanny agility and stubbornness, he next rushed forward to tug at the hunter’s (Nevetsecnuac’s) trouser leg.  "I…I do apologize.  Please forgive me, generous sir.  I lost my head there for a spell.  Times are hard, very hard, and one can't be too careful these days, you know.  You could have been a government agent, secret police, some spy, or simply an affiliate henchman. How could I, a poor old woodcutter with failing eyesight, decipher the truth anymore?  Everything is getting more secretive; more complex all the time.  Please don't hold my blunder against me.  I know now in my heart that I've done you grievous wrong and for that I'm truly, deeply ashamed.  Say that you forgive me."  He entreated (implored) Nevetsecnuac in seeming sincerity, giving him no chance to respond.

"I discern now that you're an honest chap." The woodcutter incessantly continued with his honeyed words. "So, let us put aside these obvious misunderstandings, all right?  I will graciously accept your most generous gift.  You must permit me, in return, to repay your kindness and, as well, atone for my mistakes.  Why don't you come with me for a hot meal?  My wife is a good cook and can prepare a dozen or so savory dishes in the blink of an eye.  The way you're heading, you won't see an inn or hostel for at least three, five days’ ride.  Please accept a hot meal and a night's lodging from this old man."

“Savory dishes; an odd choice of words for a crude (an unsophisticated) woodsman(woodcutter). I doubt he even has a wife.”  Nevetsecnuac, losing patience, but only inwardly, coolly rebuffed (snubbed); then outwardly shaking his head, in an even tone just stated that he could not unfortunately spare the time and with a definite no nonsense demeaner, spurred his horse forward.

The old man, forced aside, immediately dropped all pretenses and with his dark countenance, grinding his teeth, once more hurled curses and treats after Nevetsecnuac.

04- WOODSMAN

Checking his rising fury, Nevetsecnuac reminded himself that the woodsman (woodcutter) was only a victim of his circumstances, was acting out of fear and therefore not entirely responsible for his erratic behavior; nevertheless, with sadness gripping his heart, he half turned to take one last long look at the enraged woodsman, and with just a slight nod of his head he calmly  bid him farewell, then simply rode off into distance.

 He did not look back nor lend an ear to the mounting torrent of abuse and curses let loose (heaped after him) by the highly incensed, indignant woodsman.

                                                                         ~

Riding into the distance, Nevetsecnuac was for a time (spell) despondent (downhearted) and also bit concerned that the old man might report this incident to the authorities, until; he reminded himself that, the rest of his journey would be spent under the alias of Fradel Rurik Korvald.

Later, with twilight (dusk, sunset) fast approaching, at some distant spot, as he discarded the pelts (furs) and carcasses (meat) of game into a gravel ditch, he quietly admonished himself for his careless act of going out of his way to do a good turn and, for being too trusting.

“You must harden your heart if you are to succeed.” Zonar's cryptic warning suddenly came to mind.

 Nevetsecnuac nodded, thus resolved to follow that good counsel.

05- NEVETS ON HORSEBACK

With the load lightened and the road ahead flat and featureless, Nevetsecnuac, with one fluid motion, mounted the mare and taking up the reigns, spurred her into a full gallop. For several hours, they rode like the wind, with the mare's hooves barely touching the ground, covering great distances even though the darkness had encroached on the land.

Nevetsecnuac would have ceaselessly continued riding all night long till down, since the ominous clouds had  by now been quickly swept away with the relentless winds, allowing the starry sky with full moon, to perfectly illuminate the desolate (remote segment of state highway) thoroughfare; however, for his mount’s sake (mare not being Fiery Comet), they halted at a safe spot for a brief respite and for (intake of) sustenance.

                                                                            ~

 

(END OF SECTION 16)

 

THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 32

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 32

02- DAG DIEZ

    

At some distance from Hecun’s contingent, Mouro and his two guards, traveling ahead on the major highway, by nightfall had already checked in to a long-established inn and were, indulging themselves in a fine feast and a good measure of the local wine. All during dinner Mouro had been staring at the young waiter, one of the groups that were tending their table.  His exceptional good looks, fine features and delicate mannerisms drew Mouro out to the point of infatuation; discretely at first, but after a flagon or two of wine, Mouro had flirted more openly (uninhibitedly) with the young man.

One of the guards, called Dag Diez, found this rather amusing, joined in the fun but the other, called Kade Luir, having some scruples, found the show most distasteful. Soon as he could, Kade Luir therefore asked to be excused and retired early to his room. After divesting himself from his travel garments, Kade Luir had just slipped under the covers when the other guard Dag Diez staggered in, curses and complaints on his breath.

Ranting and raving incoherently, Dag finally settled down, "That Mouro!  Just because he's in charge, where does he get off!  The gall he has, ordering me around in that manner!  I'll show him!"

 Dag Diez slammed his fist into the door, his face dark with anger.  "He's too much!  I'm not even tired."  He was striding to and for across the room now, rubbing his burning fist.  "Am I less deserving than he?  There's nothing amiable about his...eh?"  Dag sheepishly threw a glance at his companion, who had indifferently shifted and turned his back to him.

"Besides, why should I retire when I haven't even had my fill yet?  All because he wants to indulge himself in perverse pleasure.  Was I crowding him, or something?"  Huffing, he plumped himself into the chair.

After a moment's silence, his mood had changed, "Yeah, he always did like them that way best.  He toys with people’s lives; he likes to play games and moreover, always have be the alfa dog, the domineering one…"

Kade Luir, feigning to sleep with his face to the wall, ground his teeth in anger, or was it jealousy?  He was so incensed with Mouro, and this intoxicated fool that he had to struggle to contain his bursting rage.

"Did you see how annoyed the innkeeper was?  What a sight to see!  That old sourpuss squirmed like a pig back there."  Dag Diez slapped his knee drunkenly and roared.

"But he wouldn't dare openly say a word against it.  He didn’t have the guts!  Even if Mouro hadn't flaunted all that money around, the greedy wimp knows enough to keep his trap shut and his tail tucked between his legs.  He knows enough not to stick his bulbous nose into trouble.  How else would he have lasted so long and prospered so? Boy you are a sound sleeper.”

“Yes sirree… Not by being stupid, that's for sure!  Yes, he knows enough to keep out of trouble."  Dag Diez rose and went over to the other bed, shaking Kade Luir, who was feigning sleep.  "Hey, this is no time to be sleeping, I'm talking to you.  Open your eyes!  Are you making a mockery of me?"

Finally giving in, and checking his anger, Kade Luir pretended to being awakened. Then shaking his head and yawning, he exclaimed that he was still (groggy) tired and demanded that Dag be brief with whatever it is he had to say.

"Bah!  Who needs you?  Go back to your precious sleep if you like." the obnoxious Dag retorted in a gruff voice and waddled back to his chair.

Before long he was singing the same tune to himself.  "That's right; he knows enough to keep in line.  He knows that ones Like Mouro, rich wastrels that they are, are too dangerous to be trifled with and deadly to offend.  I'm not sure, but Magistrate what's his name is, he might even be a distant relative."

Kade, now exasperated, sat up and resorted to fine reasoning to persuade the other to get some sleep.

"Sleep… Sleep?  Why should I?" rowdy Dag snarled as he ignored the drooling down his mouth.

"Eh, your kind will never understand."  Dag idly fingered the copper water pitcher.

"Imagine him having all the fun and not me!  I… stranded here with the likes of you!"  In a burst of anger, he hurled the pitcher violently against the wall above Kade's head.  Luckily there was very little water to spill.

Wiping the spray from his face, Kade Luir clenched his fists, not obliging Dag with a fight.  Quietly reclining again, he turned his face to the wall and remained that way, unresponsive to the vile, disgusting slanders, muttering and provocation of Dag.

"Oh, what's the use?"  His anger spent, his energy consumed by his temper, Dag Diez had finally consented to sleep.  "I might as well get some rest.  Of course you wouldn't take me on!  You know you'd lose.  You just look competent, but you're soft!"

As he pulled up his covers, fully clothed still, he muttered to himself, "And tomorrow, tomorrow, we'll see.  Eh, let him enjoy it while he can…ha, ha, ha!"

Dag’s sinister laughter grated on Kade's nerves.  “Won't he ever shut up?”  But the obnoxious filth kept pouring from Dag’s mouth well into the night until; finally, after several loud belches and yawns, he drifted into a deep, snoring slumber.

Unable to get any sleep Kade Luir tossed and turned then, sitting bolt upright, fixed his brooding gaze on the door, contemplating going after Mouro.

 But what would be the point?  What could he do anyhow?

"He's always preening (grooming) himself like a prize goose," the drunkard Dag stirred in his sleep, "but we'll see.  We'll see how much longer he'll enjoy this privilege."   He snorted a couple more times then rolled onto his other side and began snoring even more thunderously than before.

                                                                             ~

Mouro, meanwhile, after changing his clothes, had patiently waited until all the activity had abated outside his room then, bolting to his feet and with the sealed drum of fine wine tucked under his arm, he headed for the door.

"Don't wait for me, now."  He half turned to address the young waiter, Ted. “I’ll be a while; best you try to get some sleep." Stealing across the deserted dining hall in the dark, he quietly slipped outside and entered the stables.

Leading his horse by the reins, he walked the beast some measure away to the edge of the forest.  At this safe distance, he then vaulted into the saddle and galloped through into woods, disappearing in the paths among the thick foliage.

 He continued to press his fine mare for speed over hedges and ditches as man and mount covered an incredible distance in but a short time.  Finally, he arrived at his destination, the deserted ruins of a temple, hidden among the towering cliffs and ancient cypresses.  Dismounting, he led the mare cautiously across a dilapidated stone bridge spanning a bottomless chasm.

The sentries on duty at the other side were relieved to see that they had accosted Mouro.

03- GUARDS ON DUTY

Hecun, after the formal greeting, asked, "I am indeed pleased to see you, sir, but I feel constrained to inquire what purpose brings you here at this hour.  Were we not supposed to meet at the Magistrate's offices?  And where are your guards Kade Luir and Dag Diez?  I hope nothing untoward has happened to them."

"The guards… Oh no, dear old friend, they are sound asleep and dreaming of the girls or man back at the inn, no doubt."  Mouro's informal greeting put the Head Bailiff at ease.

"I know you're a stickler for protocol, but out here?" he clapped Hecun on the shoulder as they walked to a more private corner of the compound.

 "Let us dispense with the formalities of office.  I'd rather address you as in the past, eh, Elder Brother, if it’s all right."

He waited for Hecun's nod of assent before resuming, "As for my reason for (stealthily, covertly) coming here, I've taken these great pains in hopes of delivering you from an anticipated dread predicament.  Why else?  Tell me, are your water rations not depleted?  That's what I thought; I would have been greatly surprised if they hadn't.  Let's see your map."

Mouro sketched a line of route on the parchment Hecun provided.  "Now, if you start tomorrow along this shortcut I've indicated and, upon reaching the fork, keep to the left for about a day and a half, you should without much difficulty reach the modest inn I'm thinking of.  There one can have their fill of drink and gorge on generous portions of deliciously prepared meals at a fraction of the normal cost which will, no doubt, also please the men.  The proprietor is a bit eccentric, however.  Advise the men not to stare or make any rude remarks about the ugly scar on his face.  No one knows to this day, I suspect, who inflicted it on him many years ago but, if you keep on his good side, he'll lavish you with hospitality, the like of which you have never before experienced.

"But tell me, Elder Brother," Mouro looked at the encampment about him, "surely you had more men than this when you embarked on this journey."

"Two hundred to be exact," Hecun nodded.  "Along the way we suffered several setbacks.  Some were killed and others tried to desert and were appropriately punished but it would take too long for me to go into that right now."  He hoped that Mouro would press him for the details.

"Quite right, we can discuss at length all that later.  We have more immediate concerns we need to address now." came Mouro's disappointing response.

"I'll say this, however," Hecun could not hold back, "along the way we even had a run-in with Zonar but, oddly enough, he opted not to engage us or attempt to free the prisoner."

Robbing the other (Hecun) once more, of a chance to boast, Mouro interrupted. "May I make a suggestion, then?  Since there is no real danger to speak of in this province, and since that cowardly assassin was obviously issuing only empty threats, why should you continue on these remote paths?  Why put yourself and your men through unnecessary hardships?  After a brief stay at the inn, I told you about you can keep to the highway and, in less than three days’ time, you can arrive with ease at Magistrate Rue's offices.  I'll be riding on ahead to inform His Honor of your arrival.  I really should be there now, if it weren't for this detour.”

“Hmm…  Micen Do will be furious about the delay and, no doubt, demand my head on a platter upon our return.  Don't worry, though.  He doesn't scare me one bit and, besides, I know how to deal with him.  As I see it, this was unavoidable.  I had to make amends when, a few days back, it suddenly dawned on me that I had neglected to mention the location of the only well at this temple which still contained water.  Yes, brother, there is another one located here other than the two obvious dry ones you have already discovered.  I stumbled across it quite by accident some years back when I was caught in a similar predicament.  Feeling responsible as I did, I took appropriate measures and raced here over some treacherous terrain in the hope of meeting up with you tonight."

"I'm indebted to you for your concern and trouble." Hecun thanked Mouro gratefully.  "Now, brother, if you'd be so kind as to direct me there."

"Wait, there will be time for it soon enough." Mouro held up a hand, smiling.  "First, I've brought a surprise with me.  I know how fond you are of good wine and had anticipated that you'd be craving a good cup just about now.  If, by some misfortune, I had not met up with you tonight I had planned to leave it hidden here along with the instructions on the whereabouts of the well.  Please allow me to have the drum fetched for you now."  Mouro called for the guard.

Mouths watered and neck craned to observe the unloading of the special drum from Mouro’s horse and its transport over to Mouro.  The guards looked on with hungry, yearning eyes as they waited with trepidation for their turn to partake of the sure to be a rare wine.  They hoped there would be plenty to go round once Hecun and Mouro had had their fill.

Mouro, after a sly grin, called for a cup as he, at the same time, unsealed the mouth of the small barrel.  Filling it to the brim, he ceremoniously presented it to Hecun who received it with appropriate thanks then, politely smiling, put the cup down and called for another cup to be brought.

Filling this one to the brim, Hecun reciprocated the courtesy to Mouro and proposed, "Let us drink together one more time for old times' sake, before we are joined by the others."

"You are too polite.  All right, brother, we'll drink to your good health and to a long, prosperous life."  Mouro grimaced as he obligingly received the cup.  Subsequently, as custom decreed, each deferred the honors of first toast to the other.

After a few turns, Hecun unable to resist any longer, congenially toasted, "To our lasting friendship," before he raised the cup to his lips and was about to gulp it down all in one go when, Mouro, suddenly assuming a stern visage, in a flash discarded his own cup to the side and violently knocked Hecun's cup from his hands, spilling entire contents of the wine all over the bailiff's face and garments.

 "What disgraceful conduct?  How dare you insult me in this manner?" Mouro stormed.

 "You may be my elder, but I'm still your superior and don't you forget it!"  He shook a threatening finger in Hecun's face.

"And you stay out of this!" Mouro turned to lash out at the sergeant Tubak who, (standing by at close proximity,) aimed to intercede on behalf of his commander.

 Mouro once more reverted his menacing gaze back to the Head bailiff and, with curses on his lips, he demanded, "How dare you be so presumptuous?  How dare you behave in this outrageous manner, just because I'm kind enough to treat you with courtesy?"

Aghast (shocked, appalled), Hecun's face flushed and, even though he did not know what he’d done to offend Mouro, finding his tongue, rushed to apologize, but there was no placating (mollifying) Mouro. 

Placed on the defensive, inwardly Hecun remained most resentful of Mouro's inconsistencies, “What kind of game are you playing at?  How dare you set me up, make me breach etiquette, then make me lose face in front of my men like this?”  

Head Bailiff Hecun just wanted to squash this upstart, ungrateful vermin like a bug, but knew only too well of Mouro's hot temper and obstinate nature; therefore, he wisely opted to suffer passively and with total restraint, this heaved, unending abuse, hoping that Mouro's anger would summarily be spent (pass).

Far from being appeased, Mouro was, in fact, further antagonized. He bellowed furiously, "Why in blazes did I take all this trouble…For the likes of you?  You're beneath my contempt!"  Scoffing, he sprung to his feet and stormed away into the darkness.

Alarmed, Hecun raced after Mouro, still apologizing. Eventually he caught up with him beyond the courtyard and, in a hot pursuit, dashed after him behind a half-collapsed tower. The moment he’d entered the full darkness, however, a hand extended from under the dilapidated flight of stairs and forcefully yanked (pulled) Hecun into the ink black crevice, where he was brought face to face with Mouro.

Hecun's fear soon abated when, in a passive voice, Mouro explained, "You can stop worrying now, brother.  I'm not at all offended.  It was a charade, enacted for their benefit."

"Whose benefit,” Dumbfounded Hecun strained to see more clearly.  "What madness is this?"

Moving out of the shadows, his hand still clasping Hecun's shoulder, Mouro smiled wryly.  "Rest assured, my faculties are intact…  I couldn't go through with it, anyhow.  Still, I had to stop you from drinking it, while casting suspicion, that the drink was spiked."

"The wine was spiked.  What are you talking about?" Hecun asked in exasperation.  "We have no enmity between us, why should you try to poison me?"

"You're not listening," Mouro snapped.  "The wine is perfectly fine; they only think it's laced with poison, and I had to play along with the pretense."

Now it was Hecun's turn to be temperamental, "Your inference to 'they"…  Just who are 'they'?  Why do you talk in riddles, or is this just another one of your underhanded ploys to make me look like the fool?  Are you purposefully trying to muddle me?"

"There are turncoats, you fool!  Renegades planted among your men."

"Are you sure?  How do you know this?  Who are they?  How many are there?  Tell me and I'll have their black hearts torn from their chest."  Hecun clenched his fist repetitively.

"I don't know who they are."  Mouro shrugged and walked away.  "I came to know of their existence myself only quite recently, but I didn't have the means to find out their numbers, but I surmise it must be over thirty.  In any case, it’s up to you to flush (hunt) them out."  Reading confusion and disbelief on Hecun's face, he continued, "You still need convincing, don't you?  Why must you always be so obstinate?  I should be furious with you for not trusting me but, oh, all right, I'll start at the beginning and clarify this situation for you, even though I'm pressed for time.”

"Listen, my coming here tonight was not accidental, nor was my failure to tell you about the functioning well. The purpose was obviously other than the one I expressed in front of the men."  He cleared his throat.  "Actually, I was instructed by Micen.  Yes, Micen Do.  Now, don't interrupt.  I was instructed by him to deliver some poisoned wine to you as part of a diabolical plot to bring about the demise of yourself and your men, saving the spies who were obviously warned not to drink the wine."

"But why would Micen want to kill me?" Hecun injected in surprise.  "I was never out of line with him.  I served him loyally for all those years and did nothing to incur his enmity.  What could he gain from my death?"

"You were only the instrument, the insignificant pawn, please forgive my saying so, who had to be sacrificed in the scheme of things.  It had nothing to do with you personally, or with your performance of your duty. “Mouro explained dismally.  "You think you mattered anything to him at all?  Your only fault was that you let yourself become expendable.  Added to that, your mission was doomed from the start, even if you had survived the ambush and other conceivable dangers on the road as you have done.  Yes, I'm well aware of the traps you've avoided all along the way in order to reach this point.  Never mind how I know."  He held up his hand to stay any questions from Hecun.  "Even the desertions you experienced earlier, I suspect, were the workings of the implanted spies, working within to assure your perilous end.

"It would have been their objective to reduce the numbers of those to be doomed way before now and, no doubt, you played right into their hands.  You would have done better, my friend, to have, just this once, acted contrary to your nature, to have made concessions and exceptions to the rules.  Your flaw, besides being too predictable, is that you're a stickler for rules and regulations.  Don't you see how much of an easy target that makes you, how much more vulnerable?  Never mind, it’s pointless to harp on that now."

"How deep is this conspiracy, anyway?" Hecun grumbled, gritting his teeth.

Mouro, agitated, turned away.  "Listen well and you'll learn the extent of it."

                                                                                ~

(END OF SECTION 32)