Stonework

The King's Reckoning

IC time is: late afternoon/evening
IC date is: 21 December
IC year is: 3186 S.A.

LOCATION:

The Soldier Street ends here - or begins, depending upon your disposition - in a small tidy square, flanked on the south by the great Watchtower of the Numenoreans, that is a part of the city walls beyond it. A goodly two hundred feet in height, it dwarfs the whole landscape around it and serves as a link in the chain of warnings against an assault from sea or land. Much would you learn about the surrounding lands from its mist-veiled top, - if you are allowed up there. And, well, if not - there is always an answer, for the doors of the Seaward Tavern are flung wide open, and the sounds of merriment abound inside. Should you not be in the mood for this either, there is always the way back to where you came from. The Soldier Street stretches to the north from here, leading to the city centre.

Obvious exits:
* Tavern Doors leads to Azulada Tavern.
* South leads to Nardu Batan: Watchtower.
* Northwest leads to Nardu Batan: Eagle Square.

You knock on the watchtower doors and are allowed inside after a brief exchange.

Inside the tower, the two stairways lead up, coiling all the way up about the inner walls as two twin serpents. No railing is provided, so keep your wits about you going up to the dizzying heights of the pinnacle. A storeroom at the back houses some supplies, and a few guards try to look important within, but once inside you suddenly realize that the Watchtower has no defensive strength of its own and its lofty looks conceal its military uselessness, except as a vantage point, secure behind the ring of the walls. A locked and guarded door leads out on the northern side.

Obvious exits:
* Guarded Stairs leads to Top of the Watchtower.
* North leads to Nardu Batan: At the Tavern.

The sun is low on the horizon on this the shortest day, and the night will soon be drawing in. Already the inward face of the City walls has fallen into shadow, and the air is chill. At the base of the walls, not too far from the watchtower, is a seated figure, head bent as he works at something. The patrolling guards cast him occasional disparaging glances, but don't seem too bothered by his presence, having seen him often enough before.

Swarthy-skinned, dark-haired, of stocky build - the Hillman labourer Barzag is easily identifiable as ever even without viewing his cleft lip. But today he works at a more delicate task than his usual lifting and block-shaping. In one hand is a fine-edged straight chisel, in the other a light hammer, while the object he is shaping is placed on a thick wad of cloth upon his knees for lack of anvil or vice. He works with small, precise taps, the bunched muscles in his arms barely moving, stopping every now and then to run a calloused hand over the object's surface. His split lip is parted slightly in concentration, and he seems barely aware of the approaching twilight. He has not even bothered to don his cloak, which is rolled up and slung across his back as a shapeless bundle.

Yet at last he stops, stretching stiff arms, and shakes out the stone dust and chips from his makeshift lap protector. He holds the object up to eye level to inspect it as best he can in the fading light, an odd-shaped thing it is, longer than it is wide, coming to a curved point at one end and a flat wedge at the other, much broader in the centre. If there is any decoration on the piece, it is impossible to see at this distance. "<Mannish-h>It wants only finishing and sanding," Barzag murmurs to himself in his own tongue, one he has rarely spoken since he come to Umbar, but that still comes more readily to his lips than the common Adunaic. With that he rises to his feet.

The soldier at the foot of the Watchtower moves to bar Barzag's way, when it becomes plain that the Hillman intends to enter the tower. "We're shutting the doors," he states flatly. "No civilians in here after sunset." And his face as he looks down from his greater height holds a hint of contempt.

"But it is not sunset yet," Barzag points out reasonably. "And I do not wish to go up the tower, only to the storeroom. It is not locked, I know that."

The soldier frowns as he stares down at the Hillman. "Come back tomorrow," he says unhelpfully.

Barzag stands his ground. "I can go in now, I need little time," he insists in his oddly accented Adunaic, amber eyes regarding the soldier coolly. "Or do I tell Master Ur-Ziran that by a soldier's order his tools must rust? It is not me who said the walls must be repaired."

The soldier shifts uncomfortably, then shakes his head and says, "Very well." He peers behind him into the gathering gloom and sighs. "Store your tools - but no lingering." He waves Barzag past, then adds, "And in future make more haste so you finish your work sooner. I've seen you before - you're always here long after the others. Just what is it you're up to, anyway?" The suspicion rises in his voice.

Barzag wastes no time, but edges past the soldier to enter the tool store at the foot of the stairs. Hammer and chisel are placed back in their accustomed positions in the portable rack, but Barzag lifts instead a finely tipped burin and slides it into the waistband of his tunic, covering it with a fold of material. Perhaps it is well that his back is to the soldier, for when the man's final question comes his lips twitch nervously. "I make - something," he replies in a muffled voice, and busies himself in covering the rack with sacking.

The soldier snorts. "Use a workshop, then," he replies irritably. "Don't sit in the street like a beggar."

Barzag stiffens, his hands balling into fists, then turns to face the man. "I am no beggar," he growls - the fact that he just has been insulted is not lost on him. "I am paid, as are the others. I do not beg - from anyone." He casts his eye over the rack, nods and moves forward towards the exit. As he reaches the soldier he adds in a low voice, filled with bitterness, "I go now - and will trouble you no longer."

The soldier stands for a moment filling the doorway, a smirk on his face, then draws back enough to let the Hillman pass. That smirk disappears, however, as he looks at Barzag more closely. "Wait - let me see that." He points towards Barzag's right arm, where a patch of roughened and scarred skin can be seen below the cuff of his tunic.

Barzag stares back at the man, and his hand rises almost unbidden to cover the mark, his twisted lips parting for an instant in a half-snarl. "I am clumsy - I did fall and hurt myself," he says quickly, tugging down the right sleeve of his tunic. His eyes flicker away for a moment, then he takes a few steps back.

The soldier smiles, as if Barzag's reaction had confirmed something. "Maybe," he says. "Or maybe you try to conceal the truth." He eyes Barzag intently. "Odd place for a mark, isn't it? Unless you are a slave."

"I work for Ur-ziran, that I have already told you," Barzag replies curtly. "As employ-ee." He pronounces the awkward carefully. "And I do not have any more time to talk - I must go now." He sets off past the Inn at a brisk pace that is little short of a run.

The soldier gazes after him and shakes his head. "Employee, my arse." He frowns then, as a thought strikes him. "But the fellow /does/ have money - I've seen him in the Inn." Why, then should the Hillman act as though he had something to hide? "Odd, that. I wonder ..."

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