[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

As the riders entered the village of Cambere folk moved aside warily. Many would come to trade with the merchant Deriath and not all dealt kindly with his neighbours. They dismounted outside the solid stone dwelling that they took to be the trader's home while one of Deriath's servants slipped inside to warn his master of their presence. The others kept their distance, eyeing the newcomers warily.

Deriath emerged after some time, still brushing crumbs from his tunic. He was of middle years, plump, balding and with long strands of hair plastered across his shining pate. His clothes were fine but well-worn, the depredations of damp and moth showing around the hems; and his hands and eyes moved constantly, as though seeking to escape from his visitors.

"Well, my lords and ladies," he began, his glance darting from one to another without holding the gaze of any. "What brings you to my humble establishment? Provisions, perhaps? Fresh mounts?"

Halasan answered briskly: "I am Halasan. Tunar the Smith you know. My other companions here are Azariah, Lieutenant of the King's Guard, Elenna the apothecary, and Haleg. Our business is with you alone."

As he introduced his companions Deriath's gaze lit on each in turn. There was some worry at the sight of the king's livery, a dismissive glance at the slight herbalist and an appraising look at the axeman. It had clearly not escaped his attention that Haleg's trade had not been named.

"By all means," answered the little man smoothly. "Follow me and we shall discuss this by a fire." He directed a servant to see to their horses and they followed him inside.

The house was well-furnished, its stone shell divided into several rooms by simple walls of wattle. They followed the merchant along a flagged corridor that ran the full length of the rear wall and into a large space, draped with rich hangings and carpeted in embroidered silks of Harad. The furniture was exotic and intricately carved, and a large fire burned in the hearth. Deriath motioned them to sit and took his place in a large comfortable chair nearest the fire. Once he was settled he looked across at them and asked again their business.

"I seek news of two wayfarers who passed through here some days ago," said Halasan. "A man and a woman, she young, he of an age with myself."

The merchant's look hardened. He had seen the brief flicker of dismay on the face of the axeman, and he had detected the haste in the other man's voice: here there was danger, but also profit for a man who knew how to bargain. "Many people pass this way," he said. "And many of those have dealings with me. I cannot be expected to remember them all."

"These you would remember," said Halasan confidently. "They were in great haste, and would not have paused long."

"I remember none such," the merchant parried cautiously. "Perhaps there is something else that would mark them?"

"They may have been well supplied with coin." There was a catch in Halasan's voice.

"No pair like that passed through here." Deriath's voice was firm and certain.

Haleg spoke for the first time. "We have need of some supplies. Perhaps your memory will serve you better for some business. Those we seek were bound hither, this we know."

Tunar shifted uneasily in his seat. The conversation was already at the limits of courtesy. He spoke hurriedly: "Indeed, my business is simpler, Deriath. I came for my usual order."

"All in good time, my friend," smiled the merchant. "I am sure that these gentlemen have much to offer in return for my wares."

The implication was plain. A bribe would be required to match an earlier payment. Else they would learn nothing, were they to buy a thousand tons of grain.

"Perhaps you might tell us the price of oats in these parts." This was Haleg again, swiftly interrupting Halasan. "We need only the finest."

"Far beyond your price, if your garb speaks aright," the other countered. "Now that axe might get you more than you need.

"Why not take a close look?" Haleg's suggestion was mild, but he unslung his axe swiftly, waving its head before Deriath's shocked face. The merchant cried out and two men burst into the room, both with drawn swords. Haleg lowered the head of his weapon as they stepped forward and the merchant continued, waving back his guards.

"There, now; let's not have weapons drawn here. I may have the news you seek, but it will come at a price. Shall we say a hundred silver pieces? I'll throw in your supplies."

"You know you ask for more than we have," answered Halasan. "You're wasting our time."

"On the contrary, it is you who waste mine." Their host rose and the swordsmen stepped forward.

Haleg scarcely seemed to move. As the two guards approached, careful and competent, he calmly raised his axe. Stepping within the range of one weapon, he rammed his head into the face of its owner and swung the flat of his own blade to stun the other man. He rammed the axe-head haft-first into the stomach of the first guard and brought the shaft back to strike his companion in the groin. Both men fell to the floor and Azariah's complaint froze on his lips: so swiftly had the action come that before he could speak both the guards were writhing in agony on the ground and the axeman was gathering their swords.

"Perhaps we could negotiate." Haleg's voice was calm.

The smith and the merchant gazed in horror, the guardsman in disbelief.

"What reason was there to assault these men?" demanded Azariah. "Such behaviour is outlawed by order of the King!"

"But the king is not here," answered the other, throwing the swords through a window. "And we need news of our quarry." As he spoke, he tested the edge of his axe on the ball of his thumb. "There was a man once who stood between me and one I wished to meet," he reminisced gently. "He did not stand for long. Quick! Which way did they go?"

Deriath turned his pleading gaze on Azariah. "Please, Sir, make him stop!" he cried. "I'm just a simple merchant! I don't know what he means!"

The guardsman made to rise, and Haleg continued.

"You can die before he reaches you or after, Merchant. Which is it to be?" He moved the axe closer and shifted his grip as his companion stood to restrain him, allowing the edge of the blade to nick the smaller man's neck. Tunar the smith laid his hand gently on the guardsman's arm, his own gaze transfixed by the sudden brutality before him. Inexorably the mercenary spoke on. "Where may we find the man and the woman? One is named Kiatus, the other Catrina. Your time grows short, fat man; use it well."

The little trader shrank into his chair, his lip trembling. "Five days ago!" he squealed. "They left five days ago, bound for Minas Tirith! They paid me in gems for my silence!"

"Thank you," said the other, and strode from the room. Azariah followed him, and from outside came the sound of fierce debate. The smith moved to Deriath's side but the little man turned away from him. Elenna was pale and silent, her expression unreadable.

Halasan was unabashed. "You see what becomes of bribery?" he admonished and followed the other men from the house. On the floor, the winded guards struggled to rise.