40 Years Ago
Sarick drew his hood tight around his face against the wind, making his way swiftly through the shadows of Ost Rimmon. As he approached the rendezvous at The Pipe and Pint, he noted Daedre lurking in the alleyway he had known she would be in. She rubbed at an itch in her right eye, the signal that the coast was clear. No local Guardsmen, no nosy Gondorian regulars, no over zealous Riders seeking to make a name for themselves and no Doves, just friends and rivals and guests gathered to settle what came next. Part of him was tense with excitement, the other half dreading the outcome of this meeting. As he walked Daedre fell in beside him. She was little more then a girl but her sharp eye for a score, and careful precise blade work, had made her invaluable.
The fact of the matter was, The Blood Eye had reached a crossroads. For decades they had been plying the roads between Gondor and Rohan and beyond, moving stolen goods, wayleighing rich convoys, smuggling crates and people along the rocky coastlines...they answered to neither Edoras or Minas Tirith and had no wish to. They were not warriors, they were not patriots or soldiers, they were thiefs and pirates and scallywags and proud of that fact. As far as they were concerned "war" and the threat to the East was a game for rubes and suckers...no profit in it for simple folk. People assumed the name Blood Eye was a reference to an allegiance to some semi-mythical dark magician, but it was really just originally chosen to sound frightening. Perceptions were very important in this business.
However The Blood Eye had gotten too big, too successful...too many operations in too many places. The authorities had begun to hunt them down and apply pressure. A few local Under Bosses had started to try breaking off on their own, or to turn informant. The Blood Eye had simply become too large and tempting a target for the powerful folk to ignore. Fancy lords and noble warchiefs were looking to gain points with the sheep they ruled for squashing a "domestic threat" while reaping tidy profits confiscating the Blood Eye's loot. After all, no one saw any harm in stealing from thieves, did they? The Blood Eye had two choices..break apart, or find a new path.
He nodded to Hans and Daro at the door of the pub. Loyal men, hard men, feared by all...he knew he could trust them at his back as he walked through the door between them. A nod from the bartender and he and Daedre slipped into the back room. They were last to arrive and the door was bolted behind them with a sharp metallic snap.
Scanning the room, he saw a lot of familiar faces. A lot of meetings and strategy sessions had taken place in this room over the years, and no one here was not a member in good standing of the Blood Eye with skin in this game. Each of the Under Bosses assembled had shown a talent for plunder or for profit or for both, and had earned their place. He nodded to those he personally trusted...Taro, Ord, Vizira, Rolf.
A voice from across the table spoke, a voice he did not know but an accent he immediately recognized. Angmar. "It is good you have arrived, friend Sarick, we have much to discuss..." The invited guests were already here.
Sarick took a sip of the ale that Taro had poured for him, taking his time as he wiped his mouth with the back of one gloved hand. "Sorry, took some extra precautions to be sure we wouldn't be interrupted. The Doves have had me in their sights all week." Several of the others nodded. The Doves was the street name for the Pale Kestrels, a Company of Minas Tirith that had been mandated to stop lawlessness along the borderlands of Anorien about a year ago, and were a good part of the reason why this meeting was taking place.
The hooded man nodded gravely. "The mongrels of Numenor grow more and more bold, seeking now even to dictate what a man may or may not do anywhere in the world. We of Angmar laugh at their pretensions...and we applaud the folk of your Blood Eye for defying them, and the stableboys of Meduseld. In fact, we have been empowered by our King to aid your noble efforts and to encourage your liberty."
Sarick looked around, noting that many of those around the table were nodding in agreement, while a few scowled their displeasure. Clearly the ambassador from the Iron Crown had been selling his offer before Boss Sarick had arrived. Not a surprise he thought to himself, as it is what he would have done in their boots.
Ord leaned over to him, his leg still up on a chair after he took a Gondorian arrow a few weeks back. It looked like his days of sprinting through alleyways were over. "I don't like the feel of this...." he whispered to Sarick. "These bastards don't seem...well...normal."
Sarick took another sip. "Well, there is no doubt we could use some support, it is getting harder and harder to earn a dishonest living these days." The Under Bosses laughed. "What exactly is your King offering us?"
The man of Angmar smiled. "I respect a man who gets right down to business. My King offers arms, ships and cargo space on our vessels, logistical support, intelligence...as well as brute force when the Blood Eye requires the aid of a powerful ally. Should the Iron Crown be involved, the dogs of both Gondor and Rohan will be loathe to confront the Blood Eye casually. They fear our might, and our Masters."
More nodding around the table. Sarick glanced at Daedre and she shrugged. He knew her mind already, she had explained it across his pillow as the sun had risen that morning. She didn't like Angmar, feared being swallowed by them...but knew full well the streets were too dangerous now to continue operating easily without a sponsor. Sometimes, she had said, you have to take your medicine to live to run another day. Her roots as the daughter of a farm doctor had been showing...but he knew she was right.
Sarick nodded to the hooded man. "All that sounds welcome, assuming you don't try to tell us what to do and when to do it. What does your King wish in return?"
"His desires are simple...." the man's smile broadened, revealing silver etchings on his white front teeth, On each, three silver lines, the symbol of the Sorcery Guilds. "He wishes the loyalty of the Blood Eye, and the right to call upon your men to perform certain...tasks...as needed. He is content that you continue to harry the dogs of Gondor and Rohan with impunity as you see fit, and continue to silently move goods and gold between nations and kingdoms. He also asks that I, Erach of Caralium, be accepted as your advisor and liason. He asks that you understand that I speak with his voice in all matters. That is all, your precious liberty is still your own, Sarick of the Blood Eye. Angmar simply wishes to be your friend in a harsh world."
Ord shook his head and pushed back from the table. "I don't see that we need to do this yet...we are going through a rough time, but once Minas Tirith gets bored, the Doves will be sent elsewhere and we can get on with our business....but if this is what the Blood Eye wants, I am not going to vote against you all. I respect the process. I just think...we are moving too fast."
It was clear his was a minority opinion as voice after voice disagreed, speaking of the wealth and power that was theirs for the taking with such a strong ally as Angmar, and Erach's smile grew more and more satisfied.
There was a knock at the door, and Sarick sighed. "That was Daro's signal, patrol is at the top of Kingdom Street, so we have 10 minutes to skedaddle. It seems I have a good sense of the mood of my fellows..." He glanced at Daedre who subtly nodded, her brown hair in her eyes. She was always practical, and this alliance was practical. "Then we are agreed...you have the writ?"
Erach took a scroll from the man beside him and unrolled it. "All written with the words we have spoken, by the pen of my aide here. It is written both in Westron and the tongue of Angmar, so there will be no confusion." He laid it on the table and both Sarick and Daedre leaned over it. Sarick pretended to read it as Daedre actually did so, then she signalled to him subtly that all was in order.
Sarick took his pen, and glanced around for an inkwell. The man of Angmar laughed. "Such a momentous document cannot be signed with some meaningless scholar's swill. Blood alone will serve." Erech held out a silver dagger, the point gleaming in the candle light, yet Sarick hesitated. Something felt...odd.
Ord whispered urgently. "Five minutes Boss, and the Doves will be at the door...and us all in one place with a man of Angmar...not good.
Sarick nodded, he had no more time, and slit the tip of his finger on the gleaming silver point. For a moment he felt light headed, but it passed and he attributed it to the moment and the smoke. With his bleeding fingertip he made his mark at the bottom of the paper.
Erach of Caralium smiled and rolled up the scroll, handing it back to his aide. "Then the matter is done...and we should all depart." In a smooth flurry of motion secret doors were opened and the Blood Eye and their new Angmar allies scattered like the wind, leaving Ord alone in the back room. He unbolted the door to the back room and limped to the bar just as three men in the grey and scarlet armor of the Doves entered the Pipe and Pint, looking around carefully before glancing into the now empty back room. They nodded to one another and continued their uneventful patrol.
The bartender set a mug in front of Ord. "So is it done?" Ord simply nodded. "Well then, I hope you all know what you are doing,..."
Ord drained the mug, and set it down to be filled again. "So do I, by Beruthiel...so do I."
