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declassification law& Aha! A gondola! So, would you like to bet that he s going to pull
some crazy stunt and fool all of these guys?
I think that it would be more appropriate for us to pray for his Fortune, or rather Marandil s
blunder&
A small three-seater gondola touched shore at one of the stairways descending to the water
to take on a gentleman in a scarlet cape and a hat with black plumage, and started to cross
the lake leisurely. Suddenly a sleepy expression appeared on Jacuzzi s face; he unhurriedly
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took out a gold-plated sandalwood pencil, wrote a few words on a napkin, turned it over and
handed the pencil to Almandin, saying: All right, it s a bet. The other man also wrote
something on another napkin, and both returned to silently watching the developments.
The gondola described a not-quite-complete triangle and came back to the stair next to the
one where it started. That spot was perennially occupied by a band of lepers, wrapped in
head-to-toe striped robes, who solicited alms there. The so-called cold leprosy is both fatal
and incurable, but unlike the hot leprosy it is not particularly contagious (the only way to
catch it is by squashing one of the many small boils covering the leper s face and hands, or
by doing something like sharing his cup), so its sufferers were never expelled from human
settlements. The Hakimians of Khand even considered them especially desired by God.
Every day those mournful figures in their striped robes silently appealed to the citizens
mercy, as if inviting them to compare the lepers plight to whatever they considered
troublesome in their own lives. They were motionless to the point of appearing to be some
architectural element like the gondola tie-up posts, so when one of these cloth-draped statues
suddenly got up and headed towards the stair, limping slightly, it was clear that something
was afoot.
The leper stepped on the top stair and took a purple handkerchief out of his sleeve.
Immediately a bunch of idle men surrounding a street performer who was juggling three
daggers about twenty yards away split up two headed left and right, cutting off the robed
man s escape routes, while the other two and the juggler himself, snatching the flying blades
out of the air, went straight for the prey. It became clear that the man had miscalculated he
started his descent while the gondola was too far away, about fifteen yards from the shore.
He might still have made it to the safety of the boat if not for the cowardice of the man in the
scarlet cape: when he saw the three armed pursuers, he panicked, and the gondolier, obeying
his frantic gestures, began pulling away, abandoning his partner. The man in the robe ran
down to the last step and halted there was no escape or help coming. A couple of seconds
later the idlers caught up with him; two pinned his arms behind his back while the
juggler hit him in the liver, followed up with a chop to the neck on the rebound. It was
over, the prey bagged.
However, when they dragged the leper up to the embankment, an enraged crowd gathered
instantly: the locals were unused to sick people being treated that way. Two Hakimians in
yellow pilgrims caps who happened to be nearby intervened for the man of God, and the
scandal began swiftly developing into a scuffle. Marandil s men were fiercely pushing their
way towards the scene through the thickening throng, and a police whistle was already
trilling unnervingly somewhere close. Meanwhile, the man in the scarlet cape came ashore
three stairways from the fray, let the gondola go and left unhurriedly; it was clear that the
false leper s fate was not of much concern to him.
What do you think of the performance, dear Jacuzzi?
Excellent. Truly, the theater had lost a great director in Tangorn.
The Vice-Director of Operations facial expression did not seem to change, but Almandin
had known his subordinate for years and could tell that the terrible tension that had gripped
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The Last Ring-bearer
him for the last ten minutes was gone, and a hint of a triumphant smile was beginning to
form in the corners of his mouth. Well, this was his victory, too&
Jacuzzi called on a passing waiter: A bottle of Núrnen, my friend!
Aren t you afraid of spooking our luck?
Not at all. It s all over, and Marandil is as good as ours.
Waiting for the wine, they watched the proceedings with interest. The fight ended abruptly,
although the noise increased, and an empty space cleared in the middle; the robed man was
lying there, trying in vain to get up. Meanwhile, the idlers and the juggler had suddenly
lost all interest in their victim: not only did they let him go, but they were trying to melt into
the crowd; one of them was looking at his palms with abject horror on his face.
See, chief, they ve finally figured out that the leper is a real one. This is definitely not a
case of better late than never& While apprehending him they must ve squashed a dozen
boils on his hands and got smeared in pus, so all three are dead men now. Can t blame their
emotional reaction; to learn that you ve got less than three months to live (if you can call it
life) must be quite, quite disconcerting.
The leper must have profited by all this, I suppose?
That s for sure! I think that each blow must ve netted him at least a silver castamir:
Tangorn is not one of those idiots who try to save on small details. What do they call it in
the North: creaming crap, yes?
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