Xandilif the Banshee slumped back in a booth near the bar at the Thirsty Seer, apparently asleep but well positioned to watch the door as the seven o’clock chimes sounded, SilverWand leaned somewhat menacingly against the wall near at hand. A few heartbeats after the Otso bells had signaled the end of the business day in the Sage’s Tier, the normal crowd of clerks and scholars and City functionaries trooped in for a drop of ale and conversation before returning to their families, or for those whose families had already fled to the countryside, a hot meal and solace in a lonely war.
A few glances touched on the armored elf, seeming to be dozing over her mug, as her figure seemed out of place in this tavern. Her type would normally seem more at home on a lower Tier, at the Splintered Shield perhaps, or crowded into the Mumak and Tower. Little did they know that the Banshee often drank in the Thirsty Seer, because it was a good deal more spacious then most Minas Tirith taverns as well as being out of the way and normally only frequented by the learned and students. Sometimes when you are the Maiden of Madness, a quiet place to talk and drink without the winds of war is a welcome change…especially when you wish to meet someone in private.
Half an hour past the chimes, when the regulars were quietly absorbed by food and games and idle chatter around the fountains, without the workday pressures of numbers or facts or statistics, the door swung open slowly and Xandilif opened one eye. She had heard the soft metallic drag of spurs immediately over the expensive tiles, imported special from a hidden bazaar in Rhun as Emery, the barman, would readily inform the curious…or was it a black market Kwat den in Harad? He often lost track it seemed, not that it mattered. This was a good place, and Emery was alright in her book.
Attached to the spurs was a big man, not so much in height, but in bearing. He even seemed to walk largely so his cream colored greatcloak didn’t hide him as well as he hoped it would. The elaborate and expensive blue stitching along the left shoulder, outlined in gold leaves denoting rank and in the shape of a shield with cream and indigo chevrons, Elendil’s shield, didn’t help him remain inconspicuous. The man looked as out of place in this tavern as the elleth did, perhaps more so, which suited him just as well. He would despise ever blending into the common crowd. Scanning the room with his one good eye, sparkling green in the half light, he noticed the Banshee and moved to her table just as she straightened up in her seat. The big man adjusted the blue silk eyepatch over his left eye out of habit and waited to be acknowledged.
Xandilif grunted at him and made a gesture to Emery at the bar, and two mugs appeared born by a comly lass who seemed to have more upstairs then god had originally given her. Gondorian tailors have their tricks, and the man gave them a smile of appreciation as he sat down before looking up and smiled into the girl’s eyes as well. As for the barmaid, she had clearly recognized the insignia on the cloak, still so new it was stiff, and was more then happy to smile back at the new Captain of Elendil’s Vanguard, the wealthiest of the elite companies save for the Tide.
The elf took a long pull of ale and looked at the girl. “Move along honeynipples…Lil’ Sauron and me got business to discuss. Come see about the Captain's entertainment needs later.” With a hiss, the girl moved off and the man across from Xandilif sighed dramatically and swept his cloak to the side, revealing his sword hilt and the silver and cream mail of his company. “Once the banshee, ever the banshee, no concern for others at all…now what is so all fired important you drag me off the Soldier's Tier and this high in the city. My nose will start to bleed soon. Does this have something to do with that bad business you got into with the Hounds of Anarion?”
Xandilif spat in a nearby spittoon. “What do you care? Way I see it I did her a favor. Odds are the goggle eyed students staring down her blouse tip her a lot better than you would have for a lot less huffing and puffing. As for my business with the Hounds, that got around fast, didn't it. Ya know damn well if ya didn’t think it was about that, you would never have shown, Kraddock. Long as Captain Orean is out of commission, you are acting Captain of Elendil’s Vanguard and could easily have begged off sayin’ you had too much to do, or were too fecking important now. You dragged your one good eye and both yer asses up here ta see if you could get any good dirt on the Hounds…but all you are gonna get is a request for a favor and free ale…ya follow?”
Kraddock frowned and squinted his one eye…”A REQUEST for a favor? Not a demand or a colorful yet physically impossible threat? AND free drinks? That worries me, Banshee, it truly does. What is so important. Word around the Tier is that the Hounds lost a prisoner during transport…some of his criminal allies decided to make sure his treasonous tongue couldn’t tell tales. Oldest story in the world and no loss if you ask me.”
Xandilif shook her head. “I just left a parlay with Gareth and Stannis in the lounge of the Hounds of Anarion. According to them, the order that was supposed ta come from the Office of Deployment weren’t for no arrest…just a normal hold and question edict, and about a matter of bloodline yet. Not treason. No arrest. But sometime after it left the Lord Commander of the Office of Deployment and arrived in Stannis’ hands, it had been doctored...and doctored well enough that they didn’t notice.”
“I find that VERY hard to believe, I would never have thought Gareth Steelheart would shirk..…” Kraddock nearly rose to walk out, and would have if Lif hadn’t grabbed his arm.
“You think the Hounds would out and out lie about this. To my face? You think Commander Ashe would help em do it? Seriously?” When the big man paused, Xandilif pulled him back towards the booth and leaned close, hissing into his ear. “I…I knew the prisoner. He weren’t no traitor nor criminal and he didn’t deserve to die like that. Beyond that, if someone gave a false order to the Hounds of Anarion…the fecking HOUNDS....what’s to stop them from doing it to any of the Companies, even your own outfit, Elendil’s Vanguard? You eager to be doin’ the bidding of god knows who rather than the Steward?”
Kraddock went pale as the full import sank into him. He sat heavily again and rubbed his good eye. “I like this not one little bit, Banshee. Things have been…well, there are a lot of rumors in the City for weeks now, sentries reporting strange comings and goings at the gate. The Withered Tree has been flexing, the Cisterns are like an armed camp again….and beyond that….” His voice dropped again. “Talk of dark magic…fell spirits...the dead walking, and speaking….”
The elleth snorted softly. “Look around Lil’ Sauron…the City is ringed by the undead and worse. You wanted to go to war against bunny rabbits and fluffy kittens ya should have picked a fight with Lothlorien, not Mordor.”
The burly Captain’s voice dropped an octave so it was nearly a drone, felt rather than heard. “Not outside the City, Xandilif….INSIDE the City. The dead walking INSIDE Minas Tirith…and they say someone is raising them and pulling the strings. Strange lights from the Old Vaults, moving lights, shuffling through the old knowledge. Just the other day one of the attendant scholars noticed some outsiders lurking around the forbidden stacks. A guardswoman of Dol Amroth he said, and a blonde haired wench, caught a glimpse of what might a been a boy...others too but he only heard em, never saw em. He didn’t like the look of the blonde and went to get the Watch…when he returned they were gone, but some of the texts missing worried him enough to come to the Vanguard about it. “ Kraddock glanced back and forth…”Necromancy, or so he said”.
Xandilif sighed and drained her mug, rising. “Just wanted to make sure you knew what was up, and ta ask you to keep yer men on the lookout for something going bad. I don’t know who to trust yet…but we go way back, you and me. Figure that counts for something.”
The man nodded, “The Razing of Tarecaen…hard to forget that blood bath, even if it hadn’t cost me an eye. Then soon after…well…Caerfella. God rest the Argent. Alright Banshee, I will be on my guard, and if I hear anything more, I will let you know…but necromancers, false orders, the dead walking the City, traitors amongst us….what the devil goes on?”
The Champion patted his shoulder and took up SilverWand, slipping it across her back. “I wish I knew, Lil’ Sauron. I wish I knew….but whatever it is, it’s just getting started.”
Xandilif stepped out into the darkened Sage’s Tier and checked the moon…still a couple hours before the Minque Bell summoned the late watch to their posts…still time to make one more call before wrapping it up for the night. She therefore turned her steps towards a ramp leading upward and hoped the sentries would let her into The Citadel at this hour.
