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“I do not care you lout. I will not go another inch accompanying you on this folly mission to Armenelos. I value my life too greatly to throw it away on some crazy rescue mission. Come I am abandoning this quest and returning home. Let every man who wants to live follow me. There is too much danger in trying to continue and I do not wish to find my fate on the altar like our leader. We must leave immediately.”
Azarmanô spoke both loudly and with great conviction, and Kâthaanî was forced to smother a grin as he said it. Her cousin’s plan was sure to lead the King’s men astray. She hated to give the task of rescuing her father into another’s hands, but at least she could play her part well in this diversion.
“If life means abandoning my family, I choose it not, Captain Azarmanô.” She spat the words at him, not as loudly as he had spoken his challenge, but still clear enough to be heard. “I will stay with my cousin and we will not degrade our good names by desertion and betrayal.” Angrily she beckoned to Tiru and he followed her away from the small group of bickering men.
Once they were close together and far from the much more interesting gathering behind them, Kâthaanî leaned close and whispered to the stocky man. “Tiru, I almost believed the good captain was leaving us for safety and home.”
Tiru nodded, a solemn look on his dark face. “Yes, Mistress, we have staged this well. If the King’s Men” – he spat as he said it -- “If the King’s Men do not play our game then they are not the fools I believed them to be.”
“They are fools.” Kâthaanî thought of their blindness toward the true nature of their King’s so-called friend and advisor. “They have all put their trust in the treachery of Sauron. They are fools indeed.”
As the afternoon neared its peak the three members of the Karíbzîr household stood in a row on the ridgetop, their shadows barely beginning to stretch out in front of them, as they watched their three companions ride east in a cloud of dust. Marsillion’s face wore a look of mingled regret and determination, so perfectly feigned that again Kâthaanî fought the urge to laugh. He spun on his heel and walked to where the three horses they had left were tethered, packed with their belongings and ready to depart on their own separate course.
“Well, Cousin Kâthaanî,” Marsillion tossed her a smile at last, “There is day left and still miles for us to cover. Let us hope that we can do this thing.”
“Yes, Cousin.” She returned his smile, but spoke dryly. “Let us hope that we can do this, but not too well.” She drew the short worn blade of her knife from under her cloak. “I do not fancy becoming my father’s cellmate and I put little trust in this to save my skin, so let us be cautious and fleet of foot.” With that they mounted their horses, turning their heads toward the North and Noirinan.
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