Wolf's-head, Rogues of Bindar Book I

by Chris Turner

  “Why’s that?” Baus asked.

  He chugged another healthy draught before grumbling, “From a young age I have known Delizra, as I have said. She is no paramour for that pompous pretender, Hysgode. She is a queen—an angel. He is a coxcomb, a prig with some coin, a conceited ass in a nutshell! He invaded our House with his elegant airs and tempted the Vulde’s ambition with his oily promises of high family ties and wealth.”

  “We felt as much,” declared Baus.

  “It is more a threat than you think,” mumbled Tulesio dully. Rankled by the mild condescension writ on Baus’s face, he gave an impatient flourish. “Don’t stare at me like that! I am more a brother to her than suitor. We have always been fond of each other, Delizra and I, but only in familial ways.”

  Valere lifted a hand. “We don’t doubt your purity. Where is the illustrious Vulde now?”

  Tulesio loosed a breath. “Taken a contingent of the town watch to Old Krintz. Why do you ask?”

  “No particular reason,” Valere declared. “It seems odd that he’s gone off with a grim gang so early while his daughter is in such an unnerved state.”

  Tulesio grumbled. “If you want to know, he’s gone to search out plunder at Bisiguth—where else would he have gone?”

  Baus frowned into his ale. “That is unorthodox.” Exchanging apprehensive looks with Valere, he darted eyes to the pub’s door.

  “What’s wrong with you now? Ha, you obviously know not our Vulde!” laughed Tulesio. “He is no mooncalf! By the time news of the Dakkaw spreads around, every jackleg grifter will be parked at Bisiguth’s court staking claims to the ogre’s wealth. Besides the few statues tottering alongside the south gate, we are bereft of objects of our heritage—the obelisk of course, being an exception; but even its history is doused in mystery, outside of a vague tale of a troop of Kantmaclian slaves hauling it up from Sloe centuries ago.”

  Baus and Valere seemed hardly able to hear the lore. They finished their drinks and were eager to leave. Once out of doors, Baus took Valere aside while Tulesio wandered ahead. “If Cedrek is discovered—”

  “He may pose us a minor problem. What do you propose?”

  Baus flinched. “We did not part on amicable terms. The curmudgeon seemed to grasp more about our situation than I would have liked. He may alert the Vulde of certain facts of our relationship with the Dakkaw.”

  Valere clicked his tongue in abnegation. “The butcher’s son is a dolt. Hidden far below the main hall, he shall likely be missed.”

  “Let us hope so—for both our sakes. We can’t let the oaf starve either. ’Tis no secret that the Dakkaw has destined himself for a head-chopping and not likely to return to Bisiguth. We could not have protected Cedrek from that.”

  Valere stroked his beard musingly, “True—and I doubt if in all practicality, we can rely on little Rilben to nourish him.”

  “Either way, one of us will be hard pressed to inform the Vulde that the butcher’s son is kept in the cellars.”

  Valere stirred. “And how can we do this? What are we, magicians?”

  “I was hoping you—”

  “Do not suck me into your schemes!”

  Baus ignored Valere’s outburst. He made a practical gesture. “In itself, the dilemma is tricky but not unsolvable. We’ve woven not unsubstantial deceits. If the Vulde finds out about our chicanery and asks, ‘why did you not mention our good citizen, Cedrek, penned in the Dakkaw’s dungeon? Is this not a cruel turn?’—neither of us will have an answer. An event of this nature will force us to beat an ignoble retreat before Cedrek’s tongue wags.”

  “Why not sneak off now while the sneaking’s good?”

  Baus frowned; the thought of Delizra was heavy on his mind, no less, abandoning his magic gladius. “It could be tricky, especially under the watch of the Vulde’s valet.”

  Valere conceded. “I am no murderer, Baus—but certainly a few timely fibs could work in our favour.”

  Baus added, “Or make us nobler heroes . . .”

  * * *

  That afternoon, daylight views of the impressive geography showed the eastern hills separating the village from the sea. Ledges of forest were sparsely tiered, ranging low. A similar file of rounded, brooding knolls ran farther afield, dull bluish in colour, shadowed from the overcast.

  The three toured the village’s cobbled paths and Tulesio picked up on the uneasiness etched on their faces. He put forth a blunt query.

  Baus grudgingly disclosed a brief rendition of Cedrek’s plight—the lout’s intractable behaviour which had prompted them to abandon him at Bisiguth.

  “I don’t blame you,” mused Tulesio, frowning. “Nothing can be done at this juncture, at least until the lord’s return. Remarkable, Cedrek still alive after being missing for a year.”

  Baus grimaced. He wondered about the chance crossing of paths with Cedrek; he also hated the prospect of waiting. When they returned to the village square, he breathed a restless sigh. Looking this way and that, a pang of alarm seized him. It was a delicate situation. Surely there was a way to flee Krintz without alerting suspicion?

  A diversion? A sudden flight? A promise to return to Silsoor at a later time?

  Not a chance. Too flimsy.

  Neither he nor Valere could possibly range far before the Vulde unleashed a horde on their tail.

  The three arrived back at Woybur’s obelisk. Baus noted the Dakkaw suffered more unwanted attention. From a side view, the ogre’s body was chafed and raw, his huge hands writhed at the ropes that bound him. His defiance was fantastic, even amidst the jeers. His tumult drowned the plaza. Despite the Dakkaw’s unconventional size, the obelisk rose another twenty feet, with its age-black tip tapering to a pike. Its exterior was a rich composite of grey, brown, and old green stone that glistened like some ancient talisman. Baus marvelled at the construct. It was cleft with gashes and chipped in places as if it had suffered many ravages over the years.

  The three edged around the obelisk’s sunny side and pushed through the mob without compunction. A knot of labourers erected a crude scaffolding by his side—a sweating and pinch-faced crew, taking pains not to tread too closely to the Dakkaw’s rippling muscles. Other workers arrived, hefting rope and pulleys and with arms full of branches and faggots for the burning to come. Obviously the Dakkaw was to be burnt or hanged, if not both.

  Tulesio motioned brusquely to the rude gathering. “These roustabouts all pitch in because it is their pledge to Krintz. They know that it shall all be over at this time tomorrow. The ogre shall be dispatched, by as painful means as possible.” Tulesio frowned. “The Krintz folk have suffered and planned this day for years. There is to be an early celebration alongside the coming of the fall feast. The Dakkaw’s death indicates an auspicious omen for our town.”

  Valere tipped his head in sober reflection; Baus licked his lips with dry tongue. As the two walked within sight of the chained monster, the ogre loosed a belligerent roar that had everyone’s hair standing on end. He rocked and heaved against his bonds, hating the sight of them. The scaffold workers tensed, for they were ready for assault, but being accustomed to the gut-wrenching outbursts, they grabbed up hammers, saws and mauls in case the monster should escape. The thrice-coiled bonds held and the Dakkaw cried out once more: “So, you lowlife traitors! You would spy out your handiwork? Look hard!” He grazed Baus a stare of utter malice. “Glut your pleasure.” He called to the crowd, “Study these dolts carefully! They pretend to be my friends, then prove themselves perfidious turncoats. And like you—fools!” He roared at the crowd. “You disassemble sacks of shallots, little staves bearing ineffectual fruit from sills and eaves. Ha! You think that by noon on the morrow you shall be rid of your fiend. Bah! What a hope! If the inner evil of a man can be burnt, then I will eat my tongue? Your spiritless hides shall all burn in Krutu’s hells! Let the hours advance! We shall see!”

  The Dakkaw blubbered on, white froth dribbling from his lips. With vivid knowingness, Baus shivered. The Dakkaw was no
t a dull fellow. Perhaps there was something to his prophecy which rang out like hot knives, his eyes bulging and his neck distended, with veins pumping on his brow like snakes.

  Baus struggled to find sense in the predicament. The Dakkaw had been beaten and whipped beyond the call of vengeance. His brown tunic was filthy, torn with angry scabs running down his forearms. When the monster spoke, it was through mashed lips, swollen cheeks and broken teeth—incisors which were ready to champ on the flesh of insolent tormentors who happened to venture too close.

  Baus felt a sick dizziness in the pit of his stomach. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, he saw the giant quivering in fury. Two ragged teens had started pelting his hide with sour apples while a pack of others chucked a bucketful of turnip skins at him.

  Baus hurriedly stumbled away. A remorseless justice. Ah, well, life was fickle. Valere and Tulesio hastened to catch up with him, muttering under their breath.

  III

  Late in the afternoon when the Vulde returned to Silsoor in a tumult of clattering pikes and mood of raucous spirit. Bisiguth seemed to have brought them both good and bad results, judging from the modularity of the lord’s movements, and his flushed features. Not surprisingly, the company escorted Cedrek into the manor’s parlour and several solemn members of the town watch carried six bins of jewels with an austere grace, four antique fetishes and a hodgepodge of bibelots, necklaces, sceptres, figurines, clocks, spheres, rings, bells and various curios crafted of jade and onyx.

  A squat, husky shape of familiar proportion was also present. The guards clutched the grey-faced, struggling Rilben with rancour. The ape’s armour had been stripped and the loose ceremonial vest that hid the grey nakedness was soiled and bloodied.

  Tulesio greeted his Lord with enthusiasm: “Good evening, Lord! I see that Bisiguth has favoured you with decent prizes. How now, the House of Vulde?”

  “No outward contingencies at least; though this weird, wood-hybrid simian has me somewhat concerned. We found it skulking about the manor’s halls with malicious intents. It was trying to brain Fisteo with some obnoxious oil brush—a ghoul, of some sort, perhaps suffering a glandular dysfunction.”

  “Actually a ghoul-ape, sir. I recognize the creature as one of the denizens from the lands west of the great, black Tarnshorn mountains.”

  The Vulde pinched brows into a scowl. “Whatever the case, the thing disturbs me.”

  “No less, I.”

  Rilben voiced a vigorous protest to the calumny. “You speak of dire things you do not know! I was merely protecting the property of my master, the Dakkaw.”

  “Silence, you glib pup!” snarled one of the Vulde’s chiefs. “Your master is no more—or soon shall be.”

  “Peace!” ordered the Vulde. I’ll not have quips in my home.”

  Rilben was taken away, hauled to some unknown vicinity. Baus stood erect with hopeful authority. “A clever deed, Vulde. The sight of this miserable creature is a burden to us all. I remember him well, from the Dakkaw’s mansion.” However, the sight of Rilben’s ragged condition had him wondering if his own fate would soon mimic it.

  Meanwhile the Vulde’s eyes flicked narrowly from the glittering riches to the two vagabonds, Baus and Valere.

  Baus deigned to scrutinize Cedrek with an uncomfortable foreboding. The captive’s skin was pasty and pudding-like, like the grizzled hide of a dead fish, but coated with red welts. Baus squared himself in the periphery, but seemed to fail at his attempt to look as guileless as possible in the falling light.

  “Well, what have we here?” called Cedrek jocularly, moving closer. He seemed to sidle from toe to toe like an agitated stork.

  Baus’s voice echoed richly in the parlour’s stone. “So nice of you to drop in on us, Cedrek, after all this time. More pleasurably, I see you are back on your feet.”

  “A bizarre fortune,” chuckled Cedrek. “I was outlining to the Vulde earlier it was under the most pressing emotional strain that I recently parted your company and I seem to recall a certain ‘sucker fish’ attached to my left cheek.”

  Baus expressed shock at the disclosure. “I was under the impression that the Dakkaw would dunk you in his vat for jokes.”

  “From a superficial standpoint you might think so,” admitted Cedrek, “but that was yesterday and this is today. Was it not your red-bearded bully here who tipped the lever to dunk me further into the Dakkaw’s barrel?”

  “A great exaggeration of facts. As memory has it, it was Valere and I who tried to unbind your chains but you shouted at us so fulsomely that we were convinced that you were either mad, or bereft and to be left alone with the Dakkaw for seasoning of your temperament.”

  “A vicious charade!” Cedrek shouted. “I find this humiliating! I was lucid even in my last hours of torment!”

  The Vulde, peering crosswise at Cedrek, did not miss the sound of his fanatical raving and abusive vindictiveness and Baus began to detect a certain strain digging at the back of the lord’s mind.

  Baus continued with ease. “Captain Valere and I were beside ourselves with misgiving when we saw your volatile condition. We knew not what to do! For a certain space there was no hope that the Dakkaw would release you, though we pleaded with him to redirect his plans. We had no choice but to take the first opportunity at escape, even if it meant abandoning you! If not for the Vulde’s absence this morning, we would have immediately informed him of the news, but with the imbroglio and other involvements, we were time-bound and distraught to learn that he had already departed to Bisiguth.”

  Cedrek’s jaw dropped with amazement.

  The Vulde demanded, “Is this the case, Cedrek?”

  Cedrek slobbered out a strangled curse.

  Tulesio interrupted poignantly, “This man is obviously unstable, Vulde. I believe Baus’s story to be sound. He informed me earlier that Cedrek was held captive at Bisiguth; withal, how he and the seaman were ashamed to have not alluded to it earlier.”

  “This sheds different light on the matter.”

  “I daresay it does.”

  Sensing his advantage being taken away, Cedrek hopped like a mad fiend and made a desperate claw for Baus’s eyes. Members of the watch diverted the assault and dragged Cedrek back before the fire. Baus wiped at his poncho with exaggerated shock and dourly he extended his disappointment of how he had narrowly avoided an injury.

  The Vulde clapped his hands for attention. “Order! I’ll not have oafish brawling in my manor!”

  Studying Cedrek with new concern, he stood with jaw clenched. An aspect of unsympathetic brooding split his aristocratic face. Cedrek stamped childishly and glared in the arms of the watchmen. Whatever brewed in his mind was obviously toxic—having been conned out of his simple vengeance, he was a loose cannon. The Vulde, having bought into Cedrek’s lies, was momentarily looking like a fool. “We are all tired and confused here,” he muttered. “Certain facts remain muddled. Let us curb this insipid aggression and repair to the dining hall! I am famished; furthermore, I vow that we partake of our repast in peace before we conduct any more disputations on these matters.”

  The Vulde’s words were law. Baus exemplified approval of the plan. Shuffling and grumbling, the watch released Cedrek and the matter was put aside. But by the Vulde’s sole expression, Baus knew that his dissembling had gained him some credence in the lord’s eyes and that he suspected that Cedrek, thus thwarted, would try anything to get back at him.

  * * *

  A short while later, they sat before a table set with yellow cloth, silver plates and jewelled cutlery. The chandelier was lit; a score of candles winked in the sumptuous surroundings, indicative of fine ivory, exquisite hangings and plush furnishings. There were spaces for eleven persons, of which Baus, Valere, Tulesio, Cedrek, Delizra and the Vulde were included; as for Cedrek’s invitation, Baus thought it odd that the son of a lowly butcher would be cast amongst the likes of such a prestigious company. But then again, his father was the lord’s friend. Obviously the Vulde was widely connecte
d and still dubious about the circumstances surrounding Cedrek’s imprisonment and the part his new guests played in that. He wished to observe their interactions, hoping to probe the mystery, searching for new clues of any guilt. Baus congratulated himself on his impromptu handling. He thought to carefully efface the singular suspicions from the Vulde’s mind, nothing that his adroitness could not manifest.

  Late arrivals were slow in coming: Hysgode, Griselda and Cedrek’s parents and Sir Godol, a senior councillor of Krintz. Godol was a short, mouse-haired man of upper years and a member of ‘old guard’ club. The Vulde’s wife, Lady Boquk, was absent, delayed again on her healing sabbatical at Fickswith manor, though she was destined to return on the morrow.

  Seela served red wine and hors d’oeuvres to her guests. Flambéed oyster, boiled leek and corkroot followed, tastefully grilled over slow fires. Pleasantries were exchanged, introductions were afforded; however, laughs were short and guarded due to recent events. Velnar cleared the dishes and Seela distributed the viands: a reed basket of roasted bread, pork fillets, a rare shallot compote, potato gumbo, mutton goulash, a brace of roasted hares, all sizzling over long, gold-enamelled spits.

  Baus savoured the victuals with relish, for he had not much appetite at Bisiguth, noting that Hysgode’s appetite was not nearly as fulsome as his fine attire might suggest for such a privileged lord. He was decked in his finest hosiery—a prince’s white, with hair duck-winged back in a splash of fragrant oils and essences. For the time being Cedrek sat draped in his dour baggy costume. He was hunched, pock-faced and cynical. Griselda wore a thin yellow blouse with woollen ruffs, absurdly tight at the haunch, which demonstrated her less than appealing boxy hips in meaner proportion than what ordinarily would be displayed. Delizra was clad in a pale green dress with rolled cuffs, remarkably fitted to show her womanly beauty with a minimum of ostentation—a touch which Baus thought decorous. Godol was garbed in a white bow tie, brown suit and ankle shoes. The Vulde was conservatively personable, attired in a respectably restrained but otherwise airy blue suit woven with red velour, which seemed to compete in austerity with the occasion.