The Last Ringbearer (43 page)

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 and propped against the entrance stairs. Robed men moved purposefully and noiselessly about; the ones who happened to be 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 quietly somewhere to Tangorn’s side, one with a drawl of a Peninsula man; the baron 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 questioning followed by 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 and squeezed his eyes shut at a stab of pain in the back of his head. “Are you DSD?”

“I’m not familiar with this abbreviation, 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 my service is not interested in your revelations to the investigators or the courts, for several reasons. You have until noon tomorrow to leave Umbar forever. Should you tarry and wind up in jail, please don’t blame us for assuring your silence by other means. Honorable Kantaridis’ caravan is leaving tomorrow morning via Chevelgar Highway. It has a couple of bactrians available; 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 don’t you?”

“Professional courtesy,” smiled the hooded man. “Besides, I just like your
takatos
.”

The garden was almost empty by now, the robed figures having vanished into the darkness from 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 uttered: “Oh yes, Baron, one more bit of free advice – tread warily 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 all your luck. One can detect such things instantly; I’m not joking, believe me.”

It did look like his luck had run out. Well, that depends: today he lost utterly to everyone he could – the Elves, Aragorn’s men, the DSD – but managed to stay alive. No, wait – actually, he was allowed to live, that’s different. Or did he dream up the whole thing? The garden is empty, no one to ask but the cicadas … He got up to his feet and knew right away that he did not dream up the blow to the head, at least: pain and nausea sloshed noisily around in his skull at about the ear level. He put his hand inside his jacket to find the key and felt the warm metal of the
mithril
mail, which he had put on back at the bank, for extra protection before meeting Elandar. Yeah, a fat lot of good it did him today, right …

The moment he managed to insert the key into the keyhole, the door opened and he faced the sleepy butler, a huge phlegmatic Southron named Unkva; Tina, scared, was peering from behind his shoulder. He moved inside past the servants; Alviss, closing her robe as she ran down the stairs, was already near.

“Goodness, what happened? Are you wounded?”

“No, just a little drunk.” Dizziness hit him with such force that he had to lean against a wall. “Was just passing by, thought I’d call on you for old times’ sake …”

“Liar …” she sniffled, and her arms went around his neck, letting the wide sleeves drop. “God, how I’m tired of you …”

…They lay side by side, barely touching, and his hand glided slowly from her shoulder down to the curve of her thigh – very lightly, as if to avoid brushing off the silvery moonlight bathing their bodies.

He finally mustered the courage to say: “Aly!” and she, somehow sensing immediately what he was about to say, sat up slowly, hugging her knees and putting her head down on them. Words stuck in his throat; he touched her arm and felt her move away a tiny distance that he would now have to spend the rest of his life crossing, without any guarantee that it would be enough time. That was how she was: constitutionally incapable of making a scene, she could be silent in a manner that made him feel like a total bastard for a week … and that’s exactly what you are, Baron. Didn’t she have some sort of a matrimonial prospect on the horizon before you showed up? She’s no little girl, she’s almost thirty … you’re an asshole, Baron, an indifferent selfish asshole.

“Your Secret Service courteously gave me until tomorrow noon to quit Umbar forever, or they’ll just kill me. I’m in their sights and can’t escape. So it goes, Aly …” This is probably the tone in which men tell their mistresses that they can’t see them while their wives are suspecting something, he thought, and almost cringed with self-disgust.

“You seem to be justifying yourself, Tan. Why? I understand – it’s just Fate. And don’t worry about me,” she raised her head and suddenly gave a quiet laugh, “I was more farsighted this time around.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing, just woman stuff …” She got up and put on her robe. There was something so final in that movement that he asked involuntarily: “Where’re you going?”

“To pack your things, where else?” She looked at him with a bit of surprise. “See, I can never be a high-society dame. Sorry, I’m just not refined enough. I should’ve made a hysterical scene right now, just for formality’s sake, right?”

He had lost too much today in one fell swoop: the goal he has been striving for all these months, his belief in himself, the country that became his second motherland (even if against his will), and now Alviss … Knowing that it was all over, he plunged ahead desperately like a man leaping off the pier in a futile attempt to catch up with a departing ship:

“Listen, Aly … I really can’t stay in Umbar, but you … what would you say if I asked you to go to Ithilien with me and become Baroness Tangorn there?”

“I would say,” there was nothing but infinite weariness in her voice, “that you’ve always been too fond of the subjunctive, unfortunately. Whereas women, by their nature, prefer the imperative mood. Sorry.”

“What if I change the mood?” He was trying as hard as he could to smile. “In the imperative it sounds like this: marry me! Is that better?”

“That?” She stood still, eyes closed and hands clenched on her chest, as if really listening to something. “You know, it does sound a lot better! Say it again.”

He said it again, first down on one knee in front of her, then while slowly twirling her around the room. Then she did have a bit of hysterics, laughing and crying at the same time … When they finally got back to bed, she first put a finger to his lips and then took his hand in hers and carefully pressed it to her belly, whispering: “Shh! Don’t scare him!”

“So you … I mean, we …” was all he could say.

“Yes! Didn’t I say that I was more farsighted this time than four years ago? Now, no matter what else happens, I’ll have him. You see,” she clung to Tangorn with a quiet laugh and tenderly rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, “somehow I know for sure that it will be a boy just like you.”

He lay there in silence for some time, futilely trying to bring his thoughts into a semblance of order – too much at once. Tangorn the adventurer’s old life is over, that much is clear, but perhaps a quiet family idyll with Alviss is precisely the end that the Higher Powers meant? Or, conversely, am I being paid off to abandon Haladdin? But I can’t do anything else for him, my mission in Umbar has failed … Really? What if you had an opportunity right now to replay this and give your life in exchange for victory over Elandar? I don’t know … half an hour ago I would’ve given it without a doubt, but now – I don’t know. Chances are, I would’ve found some decent way of weaseling out of it, to be honest. Some trap this is … Oh, to hell with it all! he thought fatalistically, I have no strength left to figure out those puzzles, trying to imagine what the Higher Powers want. Let it all be however it will be.

He finally gave up trying to gather his thoughts, since all kinds of trivialities kept coming up anyway. “Listen, won’t you be bored in Emyn Arnen? To be honest, it’s quite the backwater.”

“You know, I’ve had quite enough fun over my twenty-eight years here, in our capital of the world, enough for three lives. Don’t worry about it. Anyway, Baron,” she stretched most alluringly, putting her hands behind her head, “isn’t it time for you to perform your marital duties?”

“Absolutely, dear Baroness!”

CHAPTER 54

A 
t dawn a vivino was singing in the garden. The bird perched on a chestnut branch right outside their open bedroom window; at first, his sad melodic trills seemed to Tangorn to be threads plucked out of the fabric of his dreams. He slipped out of bed (carefully so as not to disturb Alviss) and stole up to the window. The tiny singer put up his head so high that the yellow throat feathers formed a frothy collar around his neck, and finished with an excellent resounding note; then he turned his head in mock modesty and expectantly glanced at the baron: did you like it? Thank you, little friend! I know that vivinos are forest dwellers that hate the city. Did you fly here to say goodbye?

Right! the bird winked mockingly and flitted into the garden; the vivino was a true Umbarian, stranger to Nordic sentimentality.

Bare feet pattered almost noiselessly, and warm Alviss clung to him from behind, brushing her lips across his shoulder blades.

“What did you see out there?”

“A vivino was singing – a real vivino in the city, can you imagine?”

“Oh, that’s my vivino. He’s been here for almost a month.”

“I see …” Tangorn drawled, feeling, funnily enough, something like a pang of jealousy. “And here I thought that he came here for me.”

“Listen, maybe he really is yours? He showed up in my garden the same time you did … Yes, right around the first of the month!”

“In any event, it’s the best goodbye one can wish from Umbar … Hey, Aly, look – there’s another goodbye!” he laughed, pointing at a glum sleepy policeman stationed across the street beside Chakti-Vari’s jewelry shop. “The Secret Service politely reminds me to tread warily until I leave … All right. Have you changed your mind about going today? Maybe you want to settle your affairs here first?”

“No way!” she responded curtly. “I’m coming with you. That caravan has two available bactrians – isn’t that a sign? My solicitor will have to settle my affairs anyway, it’s a job for weeks. I suppose everything should be converted to gold, can’t be much of a market for securities up North.”

“Nobody there would know what they are,” he nodded, watching Alviss dress with a smile. “Aren’t we quite a sight, girl? A bankrupt aristocrat with nothing but a sword and a moth-eaten title to his name is marrying the money of a successful widow of the merchant class …”

“… said widow having started her career by selling her body left and right,” Alviss concluded in the same vein. “A total misalliance no matter how you look at it, a gold mine for gossips from both classes.”

“That’s for sure …” He had a sudden thought and started figuring something. “Listen, I just thought … there’s plenty of time until noon. Want to get married right away? Choose any rite.”

“Yes, darling, certainly … I don’t care which rite, either. Let’s go Aritanian – their temple is nearby.”

“Aly, what’s the problem? You seem unhappy.”

“No, of course not! I just had a real bad premonition … right when you started talking marriage.”

“Nonsense,” he said firmly. “Let’s get dressed and go. Aritanian is fine. By the way, your stone is sapphire, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“While you pretty up, I’ll have enough time to visit the honorable Chakti-Vari across the street and buy a wedding present. It’s early, but for this kind of money,” he picked up the bag with the remainder of Sharya-Rana’s gold, “the old man will fly out of bed like a startled pheasant and …”

He cut himself short at the sight of Alviss’ face: she paled abruptly and her sapphire eyes turned black with widened pupils.

“No!! Tan, dearest, don’t go, I pray you!”

“Baby, what’s the matter? Another premonition?” She nodded vigorously, unable to speak. “There’s no danger – I’m out of the game, nobody wants me.”

She had already gotten hold of herself. “All right, but let’s go together, all right? I’ll be ready in five minutes. Promise you won’t leave the house without me!”

“Yes, mommy!”

“Good boy!”

Alviss pecked him on the cheek and slipped into the corridor; Tangorn could hear her give orders to grumbling Tina. Congratulations, Baron, he thought gruffly, your beloved will walk you over by the hand to provide security, since you’re incapable of even that much. You’ve quit the game beaten – not exactly conducive to self-esteem – but if you really do obediently wait for Alviss now, you’ll simply lose the right to call yourself a man. And if her premonitions are true, then so much the worse for them. Maybe I’m not worth a copper as a spy, but I’m still the third sword of Gondor. I have the
Slumber-maker
and the
mithril
coat, should you guys want to risk it. Let your heads be my consolation prize, I’m quite in the mood for that … Damn! He almost laughed. Looks like I’m beginning to treat female premonitions seriously …