Demrîng was careful not to breathe in before the green dust cloud of the blowing powder had dispersed. There was nothing toxic as such in the substance. The powder caused hallucinations, nightmare visions so powerful and horrendous that the victim literally died of terror when his heart succumbed and stopped beating.
Demrîng put the vial back into his pocket and watched the dying man at his feet. Like an inquisitive doctor he watched the man writhing, moaning and raving like a madman. He watched as the man clutched at his chest as his racing heart arrested. What did he see, he wondered? What visions could be so terrible that they could cause one’s heart to stop beating? Demrîng had always been curious about that, but not curious enough to try it on himself.
Demrîng had known that the Rangers of Ithilien were setting a trap for someone here in these ruins. The Crebain had told him so. He had been curious about that, curious enough to hide in the ruins and see for himself. But the identity of the intended victim had been a surprise to him.
When the man had stopped writhing and wheezing Demrîng turned his attention to the woman, now running and stumbling up the Greenway. That woman. The woman Delioron had told Demrîng he had killed. But Delioron had lied to him again.
Demrîng was not angry, only disappointed. Delioron, the only man with a mind more crooked than his own. He had always liked Delioron, back when they had been rivals and enemies in Rhûn. Back in the good old days. He would have wanted them to be friends… but how can you be a friend to someone who lies every time he opens his mouth, even about things that need not be lied about? Like that woman. Demrîng did not care if she lived or died. There was no reason to lie about that.
Or was there?
Demrîng watched the woman go. Perhaps she knew what was going on in Bree. Perhaps Delioron had told her things he would not tell Demrîng. Perhaps, if the woman meant so much to Delioron, Demrîng could use her as a bargaining chip.
Yes, he was sure he could find uses for the woman. And if not, or if she would outlive her usefulness, he would kill her. Like Delioron should have done in the first place.
Demrîng turned, shoved two fingers in his mouth and whistled. A dapple gray horse emerged from a thicket nearby. Demrîng stroked the muzzle of the animal, took a hold of it’s reins and started slowly walking along the Greenway, following in the trail of the woman.
There was no need to inconvenience Gûl with riding. The woman was but a black speck in the distance, still running and soon disappearing from sight, but Demrîng was in no hurry. The woman would not get far. He only had to follow the Crebain in the sky.
She was going nowhere.
