He said his name was Balkumagan. “It is easy to see we are from a similar place, lady. I am Balkumagan, First Mate of the Shakalgimil, though alas, rather further from her and the Sea than I like.” He bowed elegantly, as one who knew well his manners.
She had been surprised to see another obviously from Umbar in Bree. As he had mentioned, it was not close to the Sea or any major rivers, that it was alien in both scenery and customs. No Sailor Merchant would normally be so far inland. Neither would a Corsair. Khayand had looked at his clean and well groomed appearance. Not a noble for certain, neither one who served her Master, but he was a welcome face nonetheless. And more to the point, Zir liked him, even walking over to have his chin scratched by the man.
But she had been fooled before, even by one who should have been a sister, both on this journey and back in Far Harad. She was pleased to see a ‘friendly’ face, but she did not trust him.
“You are on a trade mission in Bree?” she had asked.
He shook his head. “My mission is further North, but I need to bring with me a few local men for some of the ‘heavy work.” He smiled, flashing a smile of perfect white teeth at her.
“North. Not as far as Forochel?” She had felt an odd twinge of regret that he was not remaining in Bree, nor for that matter, heading for Angmar, as was she. Then he said something that made her world spin .
“Just North. I serve my Captain. Naraal is his name, and a Man of much renown at home. Perhaps here too, in time.”
Naraal? A Ship’s Captain?
It took all her concentration not to pale or falter. She made a quick excuse to be away.
“You stay with Calla Thornley for now?” the question tumbled from her lips.
He nodded, his deep brown eyes sparking in the setting light. “For a few days only.”
“Then I shall likely see you later, Balkumagan.”
She turned to enter the house she had been referred to, to introduce herself to the keeper and take some rest. At the last minute she turned to the man and asked “What think you of my hound? Is he a goodly sort?”
The man laughed with good humour. “Lady, I know a sorceress when I see one. And also a Great Cat.”
I blinked at him, and inclined my head. If he knew Sorceresses from Umbar, he also knew not to give them away.
“Your name, if you will?” he asked.
He would also know Sorceresses rarely gave their true name, even if he had only given her his nick-name of ship-builder, rather than his true name. But she had no issue giving him her true name here.
“I am Khahaynd, and my cat is Zir. We also serve one we respect.”
And she and her ‘hound’ walked through the open door.
~ ~ ~
Naraal? After all this time. Was this ‘Captain really her brother? She had always thought she cared not what happened to him. In her earliest days with the Abysmal Order she had cursed him, and her parents. And then she had forgotten him…them…or so she thought. Her life was busy learning, forming herself into who she wanted to be. Then serving Zairaphel as one of her most skilled assistants, and so indirectly serving her Master. She had called on Him, and He had borne her up and away from the clutching waters that would have carried her to her death. She would not forget.
But her brother was nearby?
Calla Thornley was an easy enough woman to understand. Unlike her previous host, Calla was warm towards her, (and towards Magan, as she later realised) providing food and drink, and a warm hearth and meat for Zir. She had no other guests at that time. As it transpired, she was fond of talking, but also had a wise tongue and said aloud nothing contentious. Her grandmother had been from the South, it transpired, and had held to her old ways even when brought to dwell in this town. She had taught Calla well, though realised the girl had little inherent skill. So Calla had no ‘sight’ and saw what Khahaynd wanted her to, though she knew that.
“What can you tell me of Balkumagan?” Khayand asked. “Does his Captain ever stay here?”
Calla smiled, and pushed a lock of her rich brown hair behind her ear. “I like him. He has the behaviour of someone more noble than his blood warrants. Don’t get me wrong, I have heard of sword fights where he shows no mercy. He is a trained killer, but as part of his job you know, not out of blood lust.”
She nodded. Such was expected. He was a cold-blooded killer at need. That was a good thing. “And his Captain?”
Calla chuckled. “He is quite something. I can understand why he commands Magan’s loyalty. He has been here a few times, though has his own room elsewhere..” she thought a moment then shook her head. “I am not sure where. He comes and goes a lot, but the local men respect him. Sometimes they do work for him. I believe there is something going on now, as I haven’t seen Jexson or any of his mob around for a few days.”
“Naraal is not expected here though?” The name almost stuck in Khayand’s throat.
Calla shook her head. “He went away with that Greenfield fellow some weeks ago. Months even.”
“Greenfield?” The name meant nothing to Khayand.
“Odd sort from what I hear. I never met him. Folk found him…aloof…unfriendly. He kept to himself, save for Naraal.”
She wondered then what her brother was involved in. But a quick self-rebuke reminded her Naraal had given up all right to be considered her brother when he let her fall to her fate. Making the excuse of tiredness from her ride, Khahaynd headed up the twisted stairs to her room.
“While we are still alone, and less I forget, your next place of stay is the House of Lady Zairaphel herself. In Angmar.” Calla called after her.
