The Last Ringbearer

scarlet cape: when he saw the three armed pursuers, he panicked, and the gondolier, obeying his frantic gestures, began pulling away, abandoning his partner. The man in the robe ran down to the last step and halted – there was no escape or help coming. A couple of seconds later the ‘idlers’ caught up with him; two pinned his arms behind his back while the ‘juggler’ hit him in the liver, followed up with a chop to the neck on the rebound. It was over, the prey bagged.

However, when they dragged the ‘leper’ up to the embankment, an enraged crowd gathered instantly: the locals were unused to sick people being treated that way. Two Hakimians in yellow pilgrims’ caps who happened to be nearby intervened for ‘the man of God,’ and the scandal began swiftly developing into a scuffle. Marandil’s men were fiercely pushing their way towards the scene through the thickening throng, and a police whistle was already trilling unnervingly somewhere close. Meanwhile, the man in the scarlet cape came ashore three stairways from the fray, let the gondola go and left unhurriedly; it was clear that the false leper’s fate was not of much concern to him.

“What do you think of the performance, dear Jacuzzi?”

“Excellent. Truly, the theater had lost a great director in Tangorn.”

The Vice-Director of Operations’ facial expression did not seem to change, but Almandin had known his subordinate for years and could tell that the terrible tension that had gripped him for the last ten minutes was gone, and a hint of a triumphant smile was beginning to form in the corners of his mouth. Well, this was his victory, too…

Jacuzzi called on a passing waiter: “A bottle of Nurnen, my friend!”

“Aren’t you afraid of spooking our luck?”

“Not at all. It’s all over, and Marandil is as good as ours.”

Waiting for the wine, they watched the proceedings with interest. The fight ended abruptly, although the noise increased, and an empty space cleared in the middle; the robed man was lying there, trying in vain to get up. Meanwhile, the ‘idlers’ and the ‘juggler’ had suddenly lost all interest in their victim: not only did they let him go, but they were trying to melt into the crowd; one of them was looking at his palms with abject horror on his face.

“See, chief, they’ve finally figured out that the leper is a real one. This is definitely not a case of ‘better late than never…’ While apprehending him they must’ve squashed a dozen boils on his hands and got smeared in pus, so all three are dead men now. Can’t blame their emotional reaction; to learn that you’ve got less than three months to live (if you can call it life) must be quite, quite disconcerting.”

“The leper must have profited by all this, I suppose?”

“That’s for sure! I think that each blow must’ve netted him at least a silver castamir: Tangorn is not one of those idiots who try to save on small details. What do they call it in the North: creaming crap, yes?”

When the golden Nurnen bubbled in their goblets like a mountain brook, Jacuzzi asked impudently (today he had the right): “Who’s paying?” Almandin nodded, turned over the napkins, compared their notes, and acknowledged honestly: “My treat.” His napkin bore a single word: gondolier, while the Vice-Director of Operations’ inscription was: T. is gondolier; diversion onshore.

Chapter 44

When the last vestiges of the scandal died down and the leper regained his customary place, Almandin asked with curiosity:

“Listen, suppose you were planning this instead of that idiot Marandil. I’m not asking whether you’d capture the baron (that’d be an insult), but I’d like to know how many people you’d need as against his thirty-two?”

Jacuzzi spent half a minute considering something while scanning the embankment, and then concluded:

“Three. Not any kind of super-swordsmen or hand-to-hand experts, either; the only necessary skill is facility with silk throw nets. Note that all three canals join the lake under low bridges, less than ten feet clearance. I’d put a man on each bridge; that the target was the gondolier was pretty obvious, but in any event we’d have prearranged signals. When he’s passing under the bridge, the operative would drop the net, then jump down straight into the gondola and prick him with a mantzenilla-smeared needle… You’re absolutely right, chief – this whole adventure was a fool-trapping scheme. The leper diversion was very good, but that doesn’t change the fact that no professional would have risked his neck like that. He is, indeed, an amateur – a brilliant and lucky one, but he’ll be lucky once or twice and the third time he’ll break his neck…”

“Look at that,” Almandin interrupted, pointing with his eyes across the square, “our incomparable Vaddari already has poor Marandil by all the private parts in his rough hand! This one will get his every time… By the way, are you going to recruit the captain yourself or send somebody?”

…The cafe looked exactly the same as the one where the DSD bigwigs sat – the same wicker chairs, the same striped awning – but the mood at the table was much less celebratory. The Gondorian chief of station sat in stunned silence, staring at the badge on the table in front of him (Karanir, Sergeant of the Secret Guard of His Majesty Elessar Elfstone), nodding dumbly to the phrases Vaddari was doling out:

“Today the baron was simply checking whether you mistook him for someone else back at the Seahorse Tavern, or were actually hunting him. Now it’s clear, so he’s sending you this badge and the following message, quote: ‘I never bothered you, but if you want war, you’ll get one. Since seven dead bodies isn’t enough for you, I’ll hunt your people throughout Umbar, and you’ll find out what a lone master can do to a bunch of fat bums.’ But these are your affairs, I don’t care about them. We have our own business.”

“What business?” It looked like Marandil did not care any more. Even his musclemen, watching from a table in another corner, could see that the boss was in bad shape.

“Very simple. If Tangorn failed to meet me, that’s one thing. Whereas if he did but you guys messed up and didn’t twig who the gondolier was – that’s quite another. Dunno about your head, but you’ll lose your officer’s cords for sure. I’m gonna have to write my report about the meeting now, since Tangorn’s letter arrived at our station by regular mail and was duly logged… Stop that crap! Signal your gorillas to sit down – I’m not alone here, either! You think offing me will save you? Good… yes, like that… sit down quietly. What’s with this northern habit of grabbing by force what you can buy? It doesn’t matter any for my report who the gondolier was… Well? Say something!”

“I don’t understand.”

“Man, this screw-up must’ve struck you dumb. It’s a simple deal – five dungans, and there was no gondolier. I mean, of course there was one, but he wasn’t Tangorn. Whaddya think – is your captain’s badge worth five dungans?”

…By the time Vaddari got back to his inhospitable bachelor pad, he had had enough time to consider Tangorn’s offer. Of course, it was not to dispatch three Gondorian operatives and officially declare war on Marandil that the baron risked everything today. His real objective, strange as it may seem, was simply to meet Vaddari to offer him a certain delicate assignment. The job was to be fairly simple (although on a tight schedule – only a week)