Wolf's-head, Rogues of Bindar Book I (30 page)

As completely
awed as the two were, they could not help but feel a suspicion. The
potion had brought them vigour. Now they offered each his own
ironical examination. Baus and Valere’s eyes acustomed to their
surroundings where they discovered themselves in a spacious hall,
rich with dark shadows. They were at the extremities of a long
table; carven goblets of crystal graced placed immediately before
them. Under the space of a vaulting, iron-filigreed ceiling diffuse
maroon light filtered down from small diamond-shaped oriels to
reveal a barbaric iron-grouted chandelier hanging from a chain over
the table. The ancient staircase hunching to the side with its
gargoyled banisters wandered up somewhere in the gloom, perhaps to
a second or third floor. Along the walls, hung three coats of
armour thick with grime. Other artifacts made themselves known:
bronze shields, medallions, brass gongs, garnet-mantled sceptres,
musical instruments, fantastic oars, shelves, antique platters,
porcelain cutlery.

Baus peered
about with interest. The floor lay littered with refuse: planks,
pulleys, ropes, sacks of meal, bits of furniture, mouldering
plaster, shards, glass, detritus and neglect. The place stank of
mice. Dust and decay had accumulated beyond the measure of reason.
Musty webs hung rankly from the corners; the wainscoting was
peeling and something from the antique past. Despite Baus’s
preoccupation with getting far from this place, he could not
suppress his revulsion.

The ogre
gestured. From an ornate antique flagon came heady vapours; the
huge figure poured wine lavishly. His ministration was perfect, if
not placid; a jocular smile twitched the lower lip. He stood
monstrously over them like a great gnarled oak, casting an enormous
shadow, stark and imperial. Despite the large potbelly dangling
over his wide black belt, the bare forearms were thick and
scabrous, built of not insignificant muscle, a feature that left
Baus unnerved and that he studied with care.

Bisiguth’s
lord plopped himself down at the table’s head and gusted out a
weary sigh: “Well! Now that you are yourselves, swains, come drink
my wine! It is of excellent vintage—pure and red, which I dare
share with you. Secured from the finest wineries of New Krintz,
when times were nobler! Yet I offer it freely.” He topped up their
goblets with generous cordiality, then laced his own.

Valere uttered
a poignant remark but the figure held up a hand. “Drink, my
barrel-butt, drink! Let us conduct explanations later. I am the
Dakkaw of Krintz—or more accurately, the Dakkaw of Old Krintz.”

“Dakkaw?
What’s that?” demanded Valere.

The ogre
ignored the expostulation. “Once I was a law-abiding grandee of the
modern village, but since then I have given up that tendentious
identity. I reign now as denizen and lord of ‘Old Krintz’, whose
realm includes all that you see about you—ruined grandeur abounding
in antiquity and atmosphere.” The Dakkaw’s eyelids drooped as if
scrutinizing his guests for the first time. “And who might you
rascals be? Do you have multiple lives? I have surely not rescued
you from death for the first time?”

Valere creaked
back his chair with force. “I am Valere—renowned Illimer and
Captain and expert seaman.” He stared coldly at the giant and no
less Baus, who regarded him with an equally surprised reaction. “If
my eyes do not deceive me, here is Baus, our shellames-stealer from
Heagram prison—vandal and conniver, and also my recent comrade at
the Yard. Fancy this familiar rogue in a crypt of such dungeon-like
quality! Light and Lords! Have a better torch will you, Dakkaw? We
might all better scrutinize ourselves in pitch black!”

The Dakkaw
twitched cheeks with annoyance but the seaman would have no rest:
“I am as much bewitched as you are! The last I remember, was
trudging through a field of dazzling light—brilliant yellow, so
rich of mischief that it blinded my senses! The dreaded flowers
reached up at me; I could not help but become hypnotized by their
allure. I inhaled their loathsome fragrance the like of which I
have never smelled before. Now I find myself squatting dazed in
this disorderly hovel!”

“Have a mind
at your words,” gusted the Dakkaw.

Baus bounded
to his feet, apprising his friend of a similar fate. “I no less. I
discovered you in a great glade of asphodel! You were lying wet as
if dead. I tried to revive you, but only found myself eating of
those same eldritch flowers, then tumbling into a moist, but
incapacitated dream.”

“Patience!”
commanded the Dakkaw, holding up a hand. “I enjoin you both to take
your seats. After all, you are guests at Bisiguth and it is only
polite to defer to the host. You have both raised matchless
questions, which will be answered in due time.”

“Well, how
about it now?” Valere glared odiously at the giant and did not seat
himself. His eyes wandered about the chamber seeking exits and
egresses.

The Dakkaw
chuckled, “Ah! I see you gazing fervidly toward the front entrance
and side doors, Valere. Understand that those doorways are
brassbound and secured by deadbolt from within, the key to which I
hold in my very waist pouch. It is difficult to retrieve, Captain,
trust me. In so saying, while I am alive, none might take the key.
Likewise, below these floors exists nothing but a maze of
repositories where I store my possessions, a place of no kind
portent for visitors to wander about uninvited.”

A low wail
issued from below, ’twas a muffled and ragged sound, much as a
gagged person might make struggling to break free from bonds. Baus
recognized the outcry instantly as one similar on his earlier
pilgrimage to Bisiguth.

The Dakkaw
reared back, roaring, “Shush, Cedrek! I am entertaining guests and
this is no time for outbursts!”

Valere shook
his head, embittered with the understanding that began to dawn. “So
you wish to keep us here, do you Dakkaw?—Well, what do you want
with us?”

The figure
laughed but ignored the question; instead he appraised Baus, who
had taken pains to inspect the ogre with languid amusement. “Mind
that I have stowed your gladius yonder, Baus.” The ogre lifted a
thumb to a wicker basket tied well above the sconces out of reach.
He gave a ludicrous smile and made a casual remark, “It is a fine
weapon—as fine as any of its size. And that buff club of yours,
Valere. Really! You are quite the bone-cracker, aren’t you? But
’tis of no import.” He gestured up to the web-haunted heights as if
lost in thought. “Where was I now? Oh yes, your club! I have
stashed it away in an unobtrusive place below in the tombs, lest it
be discovered and end up causing mishap to someone’s crown. The
last, or rather,
second last
guest who sojourned at Bisiguth
attempted a footling prank of some comparable nature and met with a
bitter reward which I care not to describe.”

“And what was
that?” inquired Baus hotly.

The Dakkaw
brought up a large hand to dab thoughtfully at his chin. “Well, if
you would like to know, that would be dear ‘Mearl’. A dandy came
knocking at my door about this time last year. How avid the spice
peddler was to pay a visit and perhaps scout out my valuables! It
was rambunctious! How avid I was that he could board with me for a
time, but the cad simply refused!”

Baus put a
hand to his mouth of shocked surprise. “Whatever for? Surely such a
brief visitation is not too much to ask?”

The Dakkaw
nodded fulsomely. “Nine months ago and a day he spent with me. ’Tis
a passing trifle amongst friends.”

“No doubt.”
Baus sucked in a breath of amazement. “How you guard an astute
memory, Dakkaw. On the contrary, the time you describe comprises an
appreciable duration. Your magnetism clearly parallels your
hospitality then. What, pray tell, of ‘Mearl’? Is the peddler no
longer residing at Bisiguth?”

The Dakkaw
roared and narrowed his brows in melancholy. “I regret that poor
Mearl has perished. Which brings us to another topic—less dismal.
’Tis of the love that I have for a bride whom I wish to take within
the next while. Perhaps even a fortnight. Forsooth, there are many
complications in the endeavour! Capable maids are scarce in these
parts, as you see, yet some few abound in the village of New
Krintz, a hop and jog away—each with her own characteristics
somewhat more supple and inviting than her peers. “Though each
competes with her colleagues on those counts.” The Dakkaw dared a
mischievous leer. “I daresay that I fear their reluctance to accept
me as their suitor; nonetheless, I am not discouraged in this
affair! I believe I have reached my final decision!”

Valere’s put
on a wry demeanour. “And who might this deciduous bride be?”

The Dakkaw
dropped a fist like a mallet on the table. “I resent that allusion,
Captain. Should others accompany it, I shall have no course but to
resort to unpleasant measures! The bride I have chosen is Delizra,
the most beautiful maid and stunning example of artistry you have
ever seen. An icon of pure rapture!—a maid so exquisite, so
delicately configured as to be sublime, and notwithstanding her
exemplary charm, the youngest daughter of the Lord Vulde, and
indubitably, the finest.” His face had become a flushed mask of
passion. “But it is best that I not speak of her.”

“And why not?”
called Baus, enthralled.

The ogre
stared at him as if he were daft. “By the simple fact that I may
jinx the occasion and betray our imminent matrimony!”

Baus nodded
with assent. “All is explained. The possibility of jinxing another
buxom maid who shall come knocking at your door and indulge in your
sweet urgencies, is implicitly understood.”

The Dakkaw
eyed Baus with dubious annoyance. “I sense a flippant timbre to
your declarations.”

Baus assumed
an innocent expression.

Valere was fit
to be tied and tugged fitfully at his knot-ringed beard. “Never
mind the brides, Dakkaw! Where do we fit into this scheme of
yours?”

The Dakkaw
sucked in his breath. “To answer that question, I must embark upon
a long tale—if you care to hear . . .?”

“It seems we
have all night,” muttered the seaman.

“Then!
Delizra—well, let us forget her for an instant—it was
I
who
was considered the black sheep of the community of Krintz. The
villagers cast me out, years ago in fact, in light of my expansive
corpus and my formidable appearance—they branded me an ‘ogre’ and
threatened me never to return. What audacity—what outrage! Because
of my unmatched appearance, they chose to ignore the hidden jewels
lingering beneath, including my mettle and my expansive disposition
and character. They shunned me, and persecuted me—not to mention,
dismissed my many singular qualities and eccentricities.”

“And what
would these be?” inquired Baus.

“There remains
only my insatiable desire to collect gimcracks . . . Not just
regular ‘gimcracks’,” he added rather woodenly, “anything of
eye-catching appeal: diadems, oddments, trinkets, gewgaws, masonry,
tools, scraps of wood, rope . . . even humans.” He added the tag
with careless ease, as if hoping to gloss over a sore point.

“How outré!”
remarked Baus.

“I thought so
. . . but laugh if you like!” the ogre growled. “I have been
exploited and abused enough by others as it is and now I choose to
extract a vicarious revenge.” He clacked his tongue in triumph.
“Now arrest your condescending murmurs and sneers! Perhaps you
might think me unconventional, but I am what I am and I make no
bones of it.”

“Nor would we
insist otherwise,” assured Baus.

An
accompanying informal wail issued from the floorboards below. The
Dakkaw stamped his foot. The planks juddered with the furious
impact. “Cedrek—quell your vapid jabbering before I slap you! Can
you not see that Sir Baus is speaking and that I am
entertaining?”

Cedrek
reluctantly desisted and Baus’s mouth dropped low. Toward the
stairwell his eyes lingered. “Why is Cedrek so animated?”

The Dakkaw bit
his lips morosely: “Comrade Cedrek, is—well, or rather was—a
wandering bandit who thought to rifle my collection of gems one
fine afternoon. The activity was definitely discourteous and now he
spends his time reflecting upon his misdeeds.”

“Life
contrives ingenious opportunities for self-development,” concurred
Baus.

The Dakkaw
gave a curt nod.

Valere
grumbled forth his confusion: “The act seems foolhardy. What’s with
this clod ‘Cedrek’? Considering the odds he was up against, the act
seems more idiotic than bold.”

“Agreed—as
does Cedrek,” replied the Dakkaw with frank formality. “The burglar
continues to lament his deeds . . . if only such a wretch had
agreed to become my house guest for a certain small period! Now he
sits in disgrace, confined in darkness and solitude in filth. I
managed to extract from him that his father was Halfhan the
butcher, another uncouth character from Krintz, who, like other
bullies before his time, had committed flagrant insolences upon my
person. Now Halfhan is retired, and half blind, and I find
singularly ironic to note that Cedrek pays not only for his
father’s offence, but his own.”

“A handy
package,” remarked Baus. “Now, let us speak of other matters. Do
other guests repair at Bisiguth?”

“No.”

“Then we are
three in total at Bisiguth?

“Four, if you
include Cedrek,” answered the Dakkaw truthfully, “—then there is
Rilben of course.

“Rilben?”

“A very astute
fellow! A genial assistant too! But know it that I have had up to
twenty visitors at a time at Bisiguth.” The Dakkaw, pleased with
the comment, simpered. “The numbers have waned over the years, of
course, for reasons that include the cunning of the New Krintz
people who spite me by erecting sharp pales over their doors, which
are otherwise capped with onions and garlic and shallot to ward off
my nocturnal indulgences.”