Delioron had watched her for a long time without saying a word. She could feel his eyes upon her, but there was nothing she could do about it. Once she had smiled at him, but he had not responded. He watched her like a cat watches a mouse. That’s it, exactly like a cat, Muldal thought.
Delioron stood on the scullery doorway. From where he stood he could see both the scullery and the hall leading to the lobby. The downstairs windows had bars on them. The ugly heads of the bars were sharpened to skewer anyone dumb enough to attempt jumping over them or squeezing between the window and the bars. The sun was barely able to shine through the windows. The shadows of the bars patterned the dining room tables, making the room look like a prison cell.
Muldal was on her knees, scrubbing the marble floor.
She was thirty-four years old. Her hair was black and her skin and eyes were very dark in the way of the Haradrim. Her waistline was thick. She would get heavier with age, but while she was still young she carried her excess weight lightly. She had tied an apron made of coarse wool over her gown. A simple scarf kept her hair neatly tucked away.
The man in the house excited her, because Su’mokr had told her that one day a man might appear in the townhouse. Su’mokr had told her that the man would have grey hair and grey eyes and a weathered, pale face. Muldal was supposed to report Su’mokr immediately if a man fitting that description would come to the house.
The man noticed everything but said nothing. His keen surveillance made Muldal feel uncomfortable. She scrubbed the floor more vigorously. Muldal considered herself pretty. She smiled at the man, even flirted with him, but he did not respond.
Muldal was done scrubbing the floor. She dropped the brush in the bucket and started walking towards the door, holding the bucket in her hand. She looked at the man boldly, then averted her eyes.
”Excuse me, my Lord”, she said with a heavy accent.
Delioron, holding a mug of mulled wine, stepped aside and allowed Muldal to pass. A while later she returned. He kept watching her. It made her nervous. She was thinking of the small wineskin she had hidden in her room. But her room was upstairs, and the man would surely notice if she went there. Perhaps he would follow her. He was impudent, as impudent as the men in her home village standing at the village square at evenings, staring at the women as they passed by. A long time ago, before her life had changed.
”You visit?”
”Yes”, Delioron said.
Muldal attempted to smile again.
”You live?”
”Arnach.”
”Arnach? I only see Pelargir in Gondor. Work here, sleep here. Sometimes on leave, see friends. Tilyh and Su’mokr.”
”Who is Su’mokr?”
”Su’mokr. Also from Harad. Lives here many years. Su’mokr Gondorian now. Free to come and go where wants. Helps freed slaves like me and Tilyh.”
Delioron watched her in silence. Muldal suddenly felt that she had to stand very still. What had she just told him?
Su’mokr might get angry. She should not have said anything. When Su’mokr got angry he would hit Muldal. Su’mokr was very strong, very mean too when he was in a bad mood. But he could be gentle too. Su’mokr understood Muldal. He gave Muldal wine. Sometimes he even drank with her to keep her company. But when Su’mokr got angry, he would beat her up. Afterwards Muldal would feel ashamed of herself. Somehow Su’mokr’s beatings always made her feel dirty. Dirty, and utterly worthless.
”How about family?” Delioron asked. ”Do you have your family here?”
”Not here”, Muldal replied.
”In Harad”, Delioron said.
For a while there was pain in Muldal’s eyes. She blinked and her eyes watered.
”Yes. My son. He ten years old.”
”Are you going to get him here?”
”Hard, my Lord, too hard. I have to wait and…” Muldal shut her mouth. What had she been about to blurt out? There was no way to get her son to Gondor if he was in Harad. Who was this man that Su’mokr had warned her about so?
”Harad”, she said. ”Much grief.”
”Is he with your family?”
”No family, my Lord. Us two alone.”
”How could you leave him?” The sudden question was merciless, ruthless. There was not even any judgment in his voice. It was just like he had asked directions to the town square.
How could he presume to know how difficult her life was? Arrogant Gondorians!
”Soon”, she snapped. ”Soon I have Khirih here with me!”
”How?”
Muldal’s hands trembled. Was this a threat? Who was this man? After all these months! Her time was almost served. Why had the man come here to ask questions?
”Do you have an arrangement?”
Panic gripped Muldal. She staggered backwards a step. She looked left and right, but there was no one else there. Only Muldal and the man.
”Who were those two men who came here two months ago?”
Muldal blinked, confused. Delioron watched her and asked another question:
”You do have an arrangement. With whom?”
”Arrangement. With Lady Meldis. With Pelargir. Need arrangement for work. Otherwise must stay in the barracks.”
”What did you promise to do?”
”Lord means? I clean. I cook.”
”Come on.” Delioron’s voice was quiet and cold. Muldal was unreasonably scared and guarded. Delioron decided to stab blindly:
”What did you promise to do to get Khirih to Gondor?”
”The sun guide me!” Muldal dropped the bucket without even noticing it. She took another step back. She shielded her bosom with her right hand and arm. She was scared to death.
”Sit down, Muldal. In the scullery”, Delioron said. His voice was without resonance, depth or life. A dead voice in a barren desert.
Delioron took a step forward. His mother had used that same gesture. She had shielded her bosom with her arm, the eternally threatened woman, the victim of the world. A slave. He had never accepted that gesture. Not from his mother and not from Muldal.
She sat dow, setting her elbows on the table. Her head was bent, her gaze cast down. Delioron noticed that her fingernails were clipped short, because of her work.
”What wants my Lord from me?” she asked.
”What do you do here?”
”I clean. I cook.”
”What else?”
”I clean. I cook. Only this.”
”Who were those two men who visited here two months ago? They were asking questions about you. They were asking questions about me.”
”I know not.”
”They pretended to be from the City Guard.”
”I have permit to work.”
”And an arrangement.”
”Arrangement to work. I need it.”
”Arrangement to get Khirih to Pelargir. When is the contract fulfilled?”
”Why ask you this?”
”When do you get Khirih here?”
”Who the Lord is?”
”A man you should not try to feed lies to. I know everything about you, Muldal.”
”May the sands spare me!” Muldal said, shedding tears.
”How many freed slaves come to visit Su’mokr?”
”Six.”
”Including you?”
”Yes.”
”Who is Su’mokr?”
”From Harad. Freed slave, but lives here many years. Su’mokr Gondorian now. Independent merchant, free to come and go as wants. Helps other freed slaves from Harad.”
”And the arrangement?”
”What arrangement?”
”Muldal, stop trying to fool me!” Delioron delivered the words harshly, rudely. He was standing next to her and leaned down close to her face. ”You had better start telling the truth now! Tell me about the arrangement!”
”My Lord!” Muldal was crying again. She touched his arm. ”Look at me, my Lord. I am flesh and blood, human like you. I am so close to goal. Many nights I cry, nights when Su’mokr hits me, nights when Su’mokr forces me… my Lord, do not this to me! I am scared.”
”Fear nothing but me!” Delioron said mercilessly, without a trace of kindness. He waited.
Muldal pulled her hand away. She stared at the table. ”Tell not Su’mokr!”
”I won’t”, Delioron lied.
”Arrangement. We all have arrangement to work two years. Then we get loved ones back.”
”What do you do for them?”
”Who are you, my Lord?”
”I am the man they sent you to spy on”, Delioron said. ”And now I want to hear about it.”
”My Lord, I work only. I no spy”, Muldal said, very quickly.
She understood, Delioron thought. He went to fetch a jug of wine from the dining room cabinet. He poured wine in two goblets. He handed the other goblet to Muldal. She did not know what to do with it.
”I work, I drink not.”
”You have a wineskin in your room.”
”What means…”
”Drink up, Muldal.”
She drinks just like mother did, Delioron thought, as if she could not empty the goblet fast enough. Delioron poured her more wine. Muldal knew he was observing and judging her.
”Arrogant Gondorians!” she said after draining another goblet of wine. ”You can say anything, you can do anything. You know not. You care not. What think you is like being Harad? What think you when I say that my son, my Khirih, is in Umbar. I tell you, I tell you that I see Khirih not ever again. What think you?”
Delioron said nothing.
”You Gondorian, you so cold! Have you son? Have you someone you see never again? Love you some person so much that you see not if you do something? My son, my Lord! My Khirih! Have you not somebody?”
”No”, Delioron said, setting his goblet on the table. ”No. I have no one.”
”My son, Khirih! Very soon Khirih come, all over. My Lord leaves me alone! Clear, my Lord?”
”I want to help you.”
”No. You help not dumb Harad woman.”
”When you get Khirih back. Then you can tell me.”
”What reason I have telling you?”
”I do not want to harm you”, Delioron said. His monotonous voice surged like a flooding river that casually destroys everything on its path. ”And I won’t. And I will not harm your son when he comes. When you are together again, I will take you out of Pelargir, out of Su’mokr’s reach. But I want you to tell me everything. About the arrangement, everything. You will go to another city or village where Su’mokr or anyone else cannot harm you or your son. Do you understand?”
”What for you do this?”
”Because I want to know about the arrangement.”
”I know not.”
”Listen to me, Muldal! Look at me!” Delioron’s grey eyes were like ice fields. ”If you do not tell me, after Khirih has returned, I will take you as my prisoner and interrogate you. And you will tell me anyway. You may think that things here are different from Harad, and you are right. Except when we want information. Then we will get what we want, exactly the same way as they do in Harad. Do you understand?”
”Yes.”
”If you do not help me after Khirih has been returned to you, I will find out what I want to know, one way or the other. And then I will give you to the authorities and they will hang you for treason. You are a spy, Muldal, but I do not care about that. Nobody cares. I can help you and Khirih get a fresh start somewhere else, a new life. Or I can have you hanged, and Khirih would have to fend for himself and grow up on the streets of Pelargir by becoming a beggar or a thief. It is not an easy way to grow up for a child.”
Muldal bit her knuckles. ”Kind Lord, I do as you command!”
”I know.”
He poured more wine for Muldal. She chugged it down in one go.
”Muldal”, he said. ”I assume Su’mokr wanted you to tell him about me?”
Muldar stared at him in silence. That was enough.
”Are you going to?”
”No”, she said.
”Correct. You will not tell him anything. Nothing of our conversation, nothing of what happens after Khirih has been returned.”
”What reason have I trusting you?”
”What reason do you have to trust Su’mokr? Or the Corsairs? Or the Gondorians who are in on the conspiracy?”
Muldal pondered on the questions, but she had nothing more to say to Delioron.
