Saruman the White had not anticipated the sudden appearance of the horrid, necrotic face of the Dark Lord of Mordor on the oily surface of the palantír. Sauron made contact rarely and always so unexpectedly. It was like being suddenly attacked by a serpent.
Most of Sauron’s face was hidden beneath a huge, black, decorative barbute helmet. What little flesh was visible beneath the helmet looked greenish-gray and necrotic, with black veins snaking on the rotting flesh. His eyes were like hot coals in a furnace, burning with reddish light. The background was dark and obscured by gray smoke.
”What went wrong?” Sauron asked. The Dark Lord did not speak the words out loud, his withered mouth did not move, yet Saruman could clearly hear Sauron’s question in his mind.
”I do not know exactly”, Saruman said. ”The Crebain see much, but they have small minds and it is sometimes difficult to extract important details from them. But I did get a good description of both Gondorians. I believe Denethor’s servants are more clever than we have been giving them credit for.”
”Meaning?”
”The woman, the ’scholar’ from Minas Tirith – I do not believe she is a scholar at all but another spy. She is working as the man’s pair, and they have been working together for a while now.”
”Explain.”
”Do you remember Romenstar’s case about two and a half years ago? I was in Imloth Melui in Gondor at the time. One morning a man broke into my chambers in the inn I was staying in. He had somehow figured out my involvement and inferred that I had betrayed the Free Peoples and was in league with Mordor. His arrogance was spectacular. He made these accusations to my face and threatened me with a dagger.” Saruman gave a short, annoyed laugh. ”I could have easily killed him then and there, but it would have been troublesome to make his body disappear. I found his arrogance strangely amusing, so I allowed him to live and made him forget instead. In hindsight it was a mistake, I can see that now. Based on the descriptions I got from the Crebain, the messenger in Amon Hen was the very same man I met in Imloth Melui.”
”And the woman?”
”There was a woman in Imloth Melui as well, supposedly a scholar from Minas Tirith. I believe the woman in Amon Hen was again the same woman who hovered around the Hall of the Gentle Hand and Romenstar in Imloth Melui. I do not believe in coincidences, so I can only surmise that they are both Denethor’s secret envoys who have been working together for years, and that somehow they managed to figure out the plot and foil it in advance. They are too clever for their own good.”
Sauron’s thin, brown lips distorted into a grimace, revealing more of his sharp, yellow teeth, exactly like a serpent right before it strikes.
”I remember the incident with the Blue Wizard. One of my more talented servants was captured in Gondor then, just like they captured Tarîkbên now. It is getting tiresome. The dwarf that was captured with Thráin was kept in reserve in Mordor for decades for this purpose alone. Who are they?”
”I got curious and had some inquiries made in Minas Tirith two years ago”, Saruman said dryly. ”The woman is a scribe in the Houses of Lore. The man is a retired historian of the same institution. He has a fairly luxurious residence in the Cape of Belfalas, presumably inherited. Neither of them is considered a person of any importance outside their small circles. Few outside of the Houses of Lore have ever even heard of them.”
”They must be punished for their arrogance and success in their work to foil my plans. They have now captured two valuable assets, once in Gondor and now in Rohan. They are detrimental to my plans and work outside the bounds of Gondor’s law. I want to be rid of them.”
”What would you have me do?”
Sauron’s flaming eyes stared at Saruman intensely. ”You have servants who can go to places where my hand cannot reach. I want you to make them disappear. Will you do this for me?”
Saruman nodded at the horrific figure on the oily surface of the black Seeing-Stone.
”Yes”, he said. ”I will get rid of them for you.”
