[Envinyatar]

Meanwhile in Minas Tirith . . .


The City Guard had been alerted. Word had come from a beleagured merchant who slept over his shop that the Corsairs were raiding the lower tiers of the city. Elessar himself had given the command to take troops and secure the docks and street of merchants. In fact, he had risen and called for his sword, but his physician had nay-sayed the order, as the King staggered and was assisted to sit back down.

Two hundred of the White City’s finest raced downward through the passageways, drawing their swords as they spilled out onto the third tier. The good citizens of that quarter surged around them, frightened. The only evidence left of the marauding Corsairs was the broken in doors and the spillage of coins, gems, and small pieces of metalwork that escaped the greedy clutches of the looters.

‘Where have they gone?’ commanded the captain of the guard to the head of the metal smiths’ guild, who stood surveying the damage to his storefront. He turned, his eyes red from lack of sleep and the thought of all valuables that had been taken. ‘They’ve gone,’ he said, his voice weary and defeated. ‘They swept through like an ill wind, and just as quickly they have left.’ He pointed to the passageway leading down to the second and first tiers. ‘That way. But I doubt that you will catch them. They are not looking for a fight.’

It was just as the metal smith had said. The Corsairs had withdrawn, leaving panic and confusion behind them. The harbormaster informed the Captain that the Corsairs had come disguised as merchants, and in the confusion of the King’s kidnapping the usual precautions had been overlooked. He pointed to the crates that had hidden the Corsairs, the only evidence left of the being there.

The current of the Anduin was with them. And their sails billowed in the morning breeze, pushing the sleek cutters even more swiftly to the Bay. Hafez stood at the helm of the Windrunner. Khazdifir stood near, watching the river ahead. So far, they had seen no sign of pursuit. They had kept meticulous notes on their passage upriver, and now they would use those to sail round the clock, in sunlight and darkness. Three days should see them to the outskirts of the bay, then they would head to Dol Amroth - to Yr Saldan and divide up the ‘profits’ of this trip. Khaz smiled grimly. He hoped there would be no problems when he told Saldan that he wished to return south to Umbar . . .