Wolf's-head, Rogues of Bindar Book I (41 page)

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 connected 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.

The Vulde
paused to assess Baus’s and Valere’s vestments and congratulated
them on their choice of colours, as he did too the haberdasher’s
vision in fitting them.

“Thanks to our
tailor, Aeke, one of Krintz’s finest,” Tulesio announced.

The Vulde
nodded in acknowledgement. “Let us enjoy this evening with fine
celebration. The Dakkaw is no more and Krintz is now free from his
random tyranny. I am pleased to announce that the acquisition of
immoderate booty from Bisiguth has yielded favourable fruits.
Godol, can you imagine!—Three chests of silver, two gold trunks,
and countless antiques and bibelots for the taking! By great king
Henriok—it shall take men days to transfer the bulk of wealth to
Silsoor.”

Godol raised
his goblet in toast.

Baus extended
his congratulations: “Perhaps a token of the wealth might find its
way to Valere and I. I don’t imply this solely for reasons of
altruism.”

“Altruism?
Where does altruism enter the picture?”

“Nowhere. For
purposes of advances to our continued education, I say. I ask for
your pledge for small services rendered. Recall, if not for our
part in the play, the Dakkaw would be at large, plaguing your
village with violent mischief.”

The Vulde
became instantly stony. “The observations are overgeneralized.
Furthermore, inexact. How can you suggest such a proposal?
Bisiguth’s wealth is part of my grandfather’s estate. To think of
disbursing the legacy is risible.”

Griselda
tendered a snort. “Aye! Father is a fastidious sort. He would
rather see his lands and estate ruled by an outsider than share a
portion of his wealth—for that matter even secure a husband for
me!” She cast a scornful look at Hysgode and Delizra, one of envy.
“It is deplorable that my sister, three years my junior, is to
marry before I. It is too abominable to fathom!”

“There,
child,” consoled Tulesio. “I’m sure your father is looking out for
your best interests.”

“Don’t
patronize me, you ingratiating whelp. You call me a child—I’ll have
you know I am a woman! What my father knows best is how to deal
local politics and placate weasels like old Godol here—a ferret who
knows the fondling of young girls better than his own office.”

Godol coughed.
“Well, at least I do not include you amongst such lucky
persons.”

Griselda
hissed between her teeth.

The Vulde
cracked his fist down on the table. “Enough of this diatribe. I’ll
have no more of it. Mind your manners, Griselda! We are nobles
here, not boors. We reside at Silsoor.”

“Ha, so proper
as usual!” Griselda whined impudently.

Delizra
stifled an outcry; perhaps she thought better to impart peace than
allow matters to escalate: “Griselda—not so novel is it to be
engaged. It has its insipid moments, to be sure—in fact, many.” She
gave a curt glance at Hysgode as if to emphasize it.

Griselda
glowered. She turned Hysgode a cold scrutiny. Baus absorbed the
interplay between family members with detached amusement:
Griselda’s churning . . . Hysgode’s supercilious curl of lip and
priggish gaze upon the swinish Griselda . . . Delizra’s irritation
at Hysgode’s fawning airs . . .

“Perhaps you
are right in what you say, sister,” Griselda croaked knowingly.
“But, I shall not be domineered!”

There was a
bitter silence; the hard words seemed to settle and the diners set
upon their viands once again, albeit with a subdued zeal. Godol
discharged a rather laconic inquiry to the Vulde, “Have we reached
a final verdict on this dreadful murderer, the Dakkaw?”

The Vulde
peered thinly up from his mutton. “Yes—the ogre is to be hanged
while set afire; is it not fitting?”

“Very much,
yet I condone a perhaps slower dealing of death for the brute.”

Baus’s brows
lofted. “The penalty seems harsh. Wouldn’t simple lifelong
incarceration be punishment enough for this ogre’s knavery?”

The Vulde
stared at him as if he were daft. “The creature has mauled and
murdered Krintzers. What should we do? Have him as a guest for
dinner? Make a bed for him?”

“Enough
sarcasm, father,” scolded Delizra.

“Alas, Vulde!”
assured Baus politely. “I meant no disrespect. Only to plead the
case of compassion for the lowlifes of the world like the Dakkaw.”
With deft weaves of rhetoric, Baus quickly redirected the
conversation to other matters. “Do many of these menaces haunt
these locales?”

“None, thanks
to local justice. Why ask such a question?”

Sitting on
Baus’s right, Cedrek forwarded a sneer: “It seems that Baus’s idea
of humour lends itself to the odd obtuse inquiry.”

Baus’s eyes
shafted on Cedrek, but he calmly held his tongue.

The Vulde
spoke in more oblique tones. “It is for the protection of Krintz
that we eradicate this monster once and for all, thus repairing a
universal problem.”

Delizra
countered her father’s argument, “Is it our duty to kill? Do we
really have the authority to snuff out a life?”

An
uncomfortable silence descended on the table and Baus blinked from
face to face. Confrontations seemed ubiquitous at Silsoor’s table
and Delizra seemed to be no small player in their instigation.

Trenchant
words flew across the table; Baus and Valere hurriedly avoided
becoming part of them, listening politely, nodding, grunting from
time to time with grave emphasis. On the Dakkaw’s coming punishment
it seemed that opinion was varied. Cedrek took the Vulde and
Godol’s side; Delizra, Griselda and Valere favoured Baus’s. It gave
Baus a noticeable pleasure to witness the support that his argument
won and he smiled, giving himself time to casually draw a sizeable
pinch of hot pepper to apply the mixture to Cedrek’s mutton.
Perhaps only Delizra noticed.

“I think what
Baus and others fail to understand,” interrupted Godol importantly,
“is the degree of depravity to which the Dakkaw has descended,
which by law, is punishable by death.” He cast Baus a loathsome
look; he continued to blurt out in a clarion voice: “Several of our
villagers have gone missing and are presumed dead because of the
Dakkaw’s mischief, including Feistes, a poet, Mearl the Spice-man,
Salsha the Seamstress. The maid Salsha disappeared quite recently
last spring. We all know of the Dakkaw’s proclivities; his
mistreatment of ‘guests’ is legendary—he has kept some for many
months—” He paused, frowning. “Cedrek? Whatever is the
problem?”

The butcher’s
son, however, could utter no words. His face had swollen to the
size of a pumpkin and grown blotched and ruddy with fire; his
tongue flicked in and out like a snake’s.

Baus jumped up
to tap him several times on the back.

To no avail.
Cedrek gasped, flailed out arms, and Baus deigned to offer
assistance.

Hysgode,
sitting to Cedrek’s right, offered him a decanter of wine, but the
oaf swept it away, clattering glasses and tableware. The Vulde ran
fetching Velnar for smelling salts; others leapt from their seats,
not knowing what to do. They were so busy that Baus took occasion
to switch bowls with Cedrek’s to allay any possible backlash, which
again, Delizra only seemed to notice. With an odd shake of her
head, she masked a strangled chuckle. Baus attributed this to a
person appreciating a good prank now and then—and one with little
love for Cedrek, who had been ogling her ever since he had stepped
foot in Silsoor.

Cedrek was
finally back to his seat shaken and subdued. After several glasses
of water, he turned to glower at Baus. “You villain!” he cursed.
“How dare you tamper with my goulash?”

Baus rejected
such charge. To disprove the fantasy, Baus snatched up Cedrek’s
bowl and spooned a hefty portion into his mouth. “There, you
see!”

Hysgode, for
fun, tasted a spoonful too and shrugged as if nothing were the
matter. The Vulde frowned, seemed more critically convinced of
Cedrek’s paranoia.

Cedrek, rising
speechless from his seat, beseeched the Vulde for justice, but was
ordered to take his chair and curb his insatiable tongue. “You are
a boor, Cedrek; hereupon, I bid you to control your
accusations!”

Cedrek’s
father shook his head. “I don’t know what has gotten into him.”

Godol looked
on complacently at the shenanigans. “Such an unnecessary ruckus
given the favourable turn of our capturing the Dakkaw. As I
mentioned, the sight of Cedrek is enough to give us all insights.
Even Cedrek’s latter behaviour, I attribute to delusion, more than
traumatic stress. But I drift . . . Baus and Valere, obviously your
own encounter at Bisiguth has given you spiritual insights?”

“An execrable
experience,” Valere grunted sourly.

“It is all so
discomposing!” moaned Baus.

Delizra
shivered. “This murdering, monstrous Dakkaw is chained hardly three
stones’ throws from our own dinner table. I can’t stomach it. The
ogre causes us grief in our own home!—makes my skin crawl!”