Much of the talk that day was of Rikae, and of how the spies could have managed to get the better of one so formidable, but after that the discussion turned to the strange death of Eruhen. Overnight many had been wondering if the eunuch's self-immolation had really been what it seemed, and by midday the "murder" school of thought definitely prevailed. The culprit, it was decided, had to be the mysterious Acolyte. However, no one had any idea what to do about this new threat, nor yet any clear idea who the spies might be. A sense of weary hopelessness settled over the gathering.
At first everyone cheered up when the Fool capered in, singing and waving his fantastical clown-head staff, but soon it became apparent that his humour was of an all-too-topical kind.
"I say, I say! When is a camel-merchant not a camel-merchant? When he's really a spy a disguise!"
"I don't get it," said Treasurer Inziladun, frowning and tugging at his long grey beard. "Comedy has certainly changed since I was a lad! There's something vague and unsettling about it."
"This Fool," said the Legate from the East, narrowing his eyes, "is making a camel out of a midget, as we say in Khand. If anything, that sounds like an attempt to frame up a person."
A Little Green nodded. "The Legate more or less said what I meant to say. I think it's time my serpents took a nibble of Eönwë."
"It's a pity we're not back home," said Pitchwife wistfully, "so he could be made to walk the plank."
"YesterDay," said Lommy, the Royal Physician, "I didn't see where all the suspicion against him was coming from. ToDay, I can quite see it. What, by all the gods, was that attack against Nogrod?"
"Abracadabra!" yelled Lottie, producing a small shower of green sparks and a much larger cloud of smoke that set everyone to coughing. "Yes, my divining spell proves it. Eeeeeeeeeeeevil!"
"All right, that's it!" The jester threw down his staff and flung his cap to the floor in a jingle of tiny bells. "I was a fool indeed to try and help you barbarians, and I'll be a fool no more!" He stripped off his gaily-coloured motley. Beneath, he was garbed entirely in black– except for the crimson Eye on his chest. "Yes! I am the Envoy of Mordor! My Master has granted me the ability to see into the hearts of Men– and I tell you Nogrod is a wolf, a northern spy, a vile plotter!"
"He's bluffing!" Nogrod protested. "He's a spy himself! Kill him!"
But of the company only the Legate of Khand supported him, saying that Eönwë's story was full of gaps and holes, and that he didn't trust any Northerner, or anyone who would trust one, for that matter. (Here he directed a stern look at Inziladun, who had been the first to support the alleged Envoy.)
Nogrod continued to argue even as he was bound for execution. "Look, even if– just for the sake of argument– I was, in fact, a spy– ha! ha!– it's more important to get rid of the Acolyte before he murders us all in our sleep. And by the Acolyte I mean Zil! Zil the Acolyte! He killed Eruhen!"
"What are you talking about?" asked Zil. "Still, I'd rather you lynch me than the Envoy, if the worst comes to the worst."
"You see? Only the Acolyte would say that, you Acolyte!"
"Whatever Nogrod may be, he's right about the Acolyte." Guard-lieutenant Shasta, who had been silent for most of the day, suddenly spoke up. "We could lynch them both, just to be on the safe side, and let the gods sort it out."
Legate of Khand was struck by the idea, but the rest of the company thought it too risky, and were more interested in dreaming up a suitable means of executing Nogrod. Finally they decided to force-feed him vast amounts of his own (very inferior) coffee, a punishment they deemed harsh enough even for one of the wolf-hearted Northerners.
As the massive dose of caffeine took effect, Nogrod's whole body trembled and he went into convulsions so violent that some among the onlookers thought the ropes would snap under the strain
A wild laugh broke from his lips.
"You servants of evil: die! For Gondor!"
He lay still a moment, sucking in harsh, desperate breaths of air, then whispered, "Well, it was fun as long as it lasted..."
With a final spasm, Nogrod died.
The spirit had barely fled from his body when that body itself began to change, features blurring and shifting, skin becoming pale as milk. Even the blank dead eyes turned from brown to the same eerie grey as the Envoy's. It was no Haradian merchant who lay dead before them, but one of the hated Men of Gondor!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Living
Boromir88 –Wealthy mûmak breeder.
Sally –Messenger girl.
Galadriel55 –Professional assassin.
Shasta –Particularly attentive guard-lieutenant.
Steve –Court Jester (from Umbar).
Pomegranate –Entertainer.
A Little Green –The Empress's favourite snake-charmer.
Pitchwife –Captain in the "Provisional Royal Númenórean Navy" and emissary of Angamaitë IX, Lord of Umbar.
Lottie –Accident-prone sorcerer's apprentice.
Inziladun –Minister of the Treasury.
Lommy! –Court physician.
Legate of Amon Lanc –Legate of Khand.
Dead
The Empress of Harad. Mod.
–assassinated in her sleep.
Bom Tombadillo –Greatly afflicted beggar. Ordo.
–multiple stab wounds.
Eruhen –Court eunuch. Ordo.
–burned to death on the Empress's funeral pyre.
Rikae –Empress's handmaiden. Royal Executioner.
–garotted with own wire.
Nogrod –Camel and coffee trader. Spy.
–poisoned with own merchandise.
It is now Night Three.