The Last Ring-bearer - Kirill Yeskov [147]
Plunged into darkness, Tangorn did not see several black-robed figures gathering over him; nor did he see another set of figures, their robes of a slightly different cut, coalesce out of the night around them. He did not see what happened next, either – not that he would have made much sense of it: a nin'yokve fight is not something an amateur can follow. It mostly resembles the chaotic dance of a pile of dry leaves blown up by a gust of wind; the battle rages in absolute, totally unnatural silence, broken only by the sound of connecting blows.
When seven or eight minutes later the baron was yanked out of his unconsciousness by the nauseating stink of smelling salts, it was all over. Once he opened his eyes, a robed man took the vial away from his face and stepped away without a word. His back was against something hard and uncomfortable; in a couple of seconds he realized that he had been carried up to the house entrance and propped against the stairs. The robed men moved quickly and noiselessly about; the ones in a large spot of moonlight right then were dragging a man-sized sack with a pair of soft boots sticking out of it. Two people were talking somewhere behind Tangorn, one with a drawl of a Peninsula man; Tangorn kept his head motionless and strained to hear.
"…nothing but corpses. We netted one, but he managed to poison himself."
"Yeah… disappointing, to put it mildly. How did this happen?"
"I've never met tougher guys. We have two dead and two maimed, first time I can remember such losses."
"Who?"
"Jango and Ritva."
"Damn!.. Write a report. No traces here in five minutes."
"Yes, sir."
Approaching footsteps rustled across the grass, and a tall slender man appeared before Tangorn. Unlike the others, he was dressed in civilian clothes, but he, too, was hooded.
"How do you feel, Baron?"
"I've been worse, thank you. To what do I owe the pleasure?.."
"A special team of Aragorn's people tried to capture you, probably for a debrief and a liquidation. We interfered, but we're not counting on your gratitude, as I'm sure you understand."
"Oh, so I was used as bait!" Having said 'bait,' the baron laughed sarcastically, but cut it short due to a stab of pain in the back of his head. "Are you DSD?"
"I'm not familiar with this acronym, nor is this important. I have bad news for you, Baron: tomorrow you'll be charged with murder."
"Of Gondorian spies?"
"I wish! No, of an Umbarian citizen Algali, whom you've poisoned tonight at the Green Mackerel."
"I see. Why wait until tomorrow?"
"Because, for several reasons, my service is not interested in your revelations to the investigators or the courts. You have until noon tomorrow to leave Umbar forever. Should you delay and wind up in jail, please don't blame us for assuring your silence by other means. Honorable Kantaridis's caravan is leaving tomorrow morning via Chevelgar Highway with a couple of available bactrians. The border guards will receive your description with an appropriate delay. Is everything clear, Baron?"
"All but one thing. The easiest solution would be to liquidate me right now. Why not?"
"Professional solidarity," smiled the hooded man. "Besides, I really like your takatos."
The garden was almost empty by now, the robed figures having vanished into the darkness whence they came without a sound. The hooded stranger followed his men, but right before disappearing forever into shadow between the oleanders he turned and said: "By the way, Baron, another bit of free advice – tread carefully until you've left Umbar. I've followed you today all the way from the Long Dam, and I can't help but feel that you've used up your entire store of luck. One can feel