[Ealasaide]

After having seen to the loading of the cargo and the careful placement of Mithadan's nets, Airefalas once more followed his captain down the gangplank into the company of the waiting guards. He was feeling somewhat more encouraged than he had when making the same walk down the gangplank the day before, but he knew that a lot of obstacles still separated him and Mithadan from the freedom and relative safety of the open ocean. While the moment of action lay only a few short hours in the offing, it would not arrive soon enough for him. He had had enough of Umbar a long time ago and longed to see the dusty spires of the city’s great houses sink into the horizon behind him as the Lonely Star rode away at full sail toward Gondor. Airefalas sighed and turned his eyes in the direction of Lord Falasmir’s palace. In only a few short hours, he would be free of that place, anyway. Whether he found himself at sea or for sale in the Umbarian slave market, though, only time would tell.

As they began the long trek back to the palace, Airefalas gave Raal, the guard on his right, a long look. At about the same time the day before, he and Raal had been drinking together and discussing the fate of the Amarantha. Now, for all he knew, either one of them could be dead in a matter of hours. While it would give him no outright pleasure to slay the man in cold blood, Airefalas was a realist. Given the choice, he would rather the dead man be Raal than himself, even though he had the impression that Raal was quite young, probably a good deal younger than his own twenty-nine years. Even so, when the time came, he knew that there must be no hesitation if it came to a fight.

Sensing Airefalas' eyes on him, the guard gave him a questioning look. Airefalas simply looked away. He listened idly as Mithadan engaged Mahat, another of the guards, in a brief conversation about the weather and the prevailing winds, as though he were truly intending to set sail for Gondor the following day as planned. Mahat seemed relaxed but only marginally interested. Airefalas let his mind jump ahead to the evening’s dinner at the home of the merchant, Korpulfr.

Initially, he had been against accepting the merchant’s invitation, preferring to take his chances with the weapons and makeshift ropes that had been left behind in their rooms by the girl, Ráma. While Mithadan had made an excellent point about the dinner providing them with the opportunity to be away from the palace at the crucial time of escape, Airefalas found a series of other questions gnawing at the back of his mind. For one thing, there was the matter of weapons. They had carried their own swords and daggers into the palace, but the guards had been less then cooperative about allowing them to wear them openly. And then there were the weapons that Ráma had brought them. If they suddenly appeared with them, how did Mithadan propose they explain to the guards about that? Obviously, it could not be done without endangering the girl. Therefore, the best they could do would be to conceal the daggers on their persons as best they could, leaving the swords behind. And if the merchant insisted on searching them? What then? It would take more than just a little clever talk to explain their concealed weapons to the merchant, who had invited them into his home as guests.

Come to think of it, thought Airefalas, as the palace gates loomed ahead of them, what of the merchant himself? While he liked Korpulfr personally and had enjoyed his conversations with him the evening before, what did they really know of him? Nothing. What did he have to gain by defying Falasmir’s guards and having them, de facto prisoners of the city’s reigning lord, over for a little dinner party? Airefalas turned the question over in his mind. It could be a trap, yet another bit of treachery on the part of Lord Falasmir. On the other hand, Korpulfr could genuinely be trying to extend his advantage as a merchant in hopes of expanding his trade options with Gondor. In that case, by using the unsuspecting man’s dinner as an avenue to escape, he and Mithadan would in all likelihood ensure an innocent man’s death. Airefalas frowned. He had already pointed out that possibility to Mithadan before the dinner invitation had even been accepted and, what was it Mithadan had said? That they would accept the invitation and elude the guards after dinner. Airefalas had a feeling that whether they escaped before, during, or after dinner would make very little difference to Lord Falasmir. The merchant would likely pay with his life.

Even so, Mithadan was correct in that the dinner invitation did provide them with an opportunity to be away from the palace and, as such, would put them that much closer to the deck of the Lonely Star. Airefalas knew as well as anyone that that one small advantage, in and of itself, could spell the difference between life and death for him and Mithadan. In that light, the fate of the merchant would have to be left to the merchant. It was unfortunate but perhaps the merchant was in a better position to defend himself than they knew. Either way, under the circumstances, there was nothing else that could be done.

By the time Airefalas had reached this conclusion, the group had arrived back at the rooms in the palace that had been assigned to the two Gondorians. As soon as the door closed behind them, leaving him and Mithadan once more to their own devices, Airefalas went to the armoire where they had stashed the small cache of weapons brought to them by Ráma that morning. To his relief, they were still there as were his and Mithadan's own swords. Closing the cabinet, Airefalas turned toward his captain.

“What do we do about the weapons this evening?” he asked. “If we can elude our guards without fighting, that’s all very well, but I can’t see the guards around the dock just letting us walk back aboard the Star unmolested. We’ll need swords.”