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Mabalar
Târik had brought food for Mabalar. The cell was dimly lit by his torch, and the young guard was cleaning his cell in such a way that it was no threat to Mabalar's health while it was made to appear filthy to other guards.
Mabalar swallowed and said, "I am hoping that I can trust you, Târik." He turned and faced Mabalar, waiting for him to speak.
"There is a friend who lives here. I want you to contact him."
"Lord," said Târik fervently, "do not trust me unless you are convinced of my faithfulness."
Mabalar nodded and smiled grimly. "Well said. Go to the market square and go to its center. There is a shop keeper. His name is Monôizindu Igmizadan. He is of average Numenorean height, wears a reddish beard, though that may not be the case any longer. He is past his prime but not old yet. A small scar can be seen across the bridge of his nose. He is a trustworthy man, and he knows people. Tell him that I sent you. Tell him that it is time to pay the weregild I have never held him to but he has held himself to, for I saved him from drowning when we were young. No other guards would know that. Go to him and ask him to learn what he can, and to see what he can do to aid my escape."
The young guard nodded. "I will do as you say."
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