The Last Ring-bearer - Kirill Yeskov [124]
"As I understand it, fair sir, these guys were trying to implicate you as belonging to the Elvish underground. Is that so?"
Chapter 46
"I don't understand." Algali's diction left much to be desired; he was feeling his teeth with his tongue, trying to assess the damage.
"Damn it, young man, I'm not enough of an idiot to ask you whether you're part of an underground! I'm asking – what did the men from Aragorn's Secret Guard want with you?"
Algali was silently trying to assess the situation. The whole thing reeked of a badly staged play, complete with the valiant white-clad rescuer arriving out of a chimney at the precise moment when the princess is already in the hands of the hairy bandit chief but somehow has not yet been deflowered. At least, it would appear this way if not for a couple of things: the sword with which the mashtang has already cut his bonds was real, and so had the thrust to the jester's chest been (judging by the sound), and the blood Algali wiped from his right cheek was real blood rather than cranberry juice. It did look like he got mixed up into someone else's spat; in any case, it won't get any worse than it already is.
"By the way, I am Baron Tangorn. What's your name, fair youngster?"
"Algali, Junior Secretary of the Foreign Ministry, at your service."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance. Let's analyze this situation. My sudden appearance in this house has to look staged – such coincidences happen only in books – so I look a very suspicious character to you…"
"Why, Baron, I'm extremely grateful to you," Algali bowed with exaggerated ceremoniousness. "Were it not for your intervention, my end would've been tragic, indeed. Would you believe that these people have decided that I belong to some kind of an Elvish organization…"
"Now let's look at this from my vantage point. Forgive me, but I'll assume that my Gondorian 'colleagues' were not mistaken… Don't interrupt me!" There was a commanding clang of metal in the mashtang's voice. "So: I have come to Umbar from Ithilien on a special mission to establish contact with the Elves and convey certain vital information to them – for a price, of course. Unfortunately, Aragorn has learned about my mission and is trying to prevent the transfer of this information, since for him it's also a matter of life and death. His Secret Guard is hunting me. Three days ago they tried to arrest me at the Seahorse Tavern, and we've been playing cat-and-mouse all around the city ever since. The mouse has turned out to be a scorpion, so these games have so far cost them seven dead – eight, including this one." He nodded nonchalantly towards the jester. "Anyway, tonight I finally discovered one of their hideouts – 4 Lamp Street – and naturally decided to pay them a visit. What do I find? I find the Secret Guardsmen interrogating – so attentively as to neglect guarding the place – a man whom they believe to belong to the very same Elvish network I've been trying to locate for the last two weeks without success. So which of the two coincidences looks more suspicious to you?"
"Well, speaking theoretically…"
"Of course, purely theoretically – we have agreed to stipulate your membership in the Elvish network only for the purposes of this discussion. In any event, I'm inclined to believe your story; to be honest, I have no options. First, you need to hide…"
"No way! All these spy games of yours…"
"Are you a complete idiot? Once you're on the list at 12 Shore Street, that's it – you're doomed. You will only prove your non-membership in the Elvish network by dying under torture, whereupon they'll shrug and apologize for their mistake – maybe. So even if you know nothing of this, you have to find some hidey-hole; and I'm