RuneScape: Return to Canifis (30 page)

“My ruse?” Aubury smiled. “Perhaps. But it may be worth your while not to doubt your betters so much, young man.”

Aubury sighed.

“Nevertheless, I did as I said I would do. I have spoken to the Tower about your actions last night.”

Castimir’s heart leaped.

“And?” he said anxiously. “I acted for the best... you know I did.”

To his surprise, Aubury’s face softened.

“I am sorry, Castimir,” he said. “You are a good wizard. But you are young, you are inexperienced—”

“Yet I have fought in battles other wizards can only imagine,” Castimir protested loudly. “I have helped win wars. I am not inexperienced—”

“You are
young
and you are
foolish
,” Aubury gritted. “You are arrogant and naïve! You think because you’ve ridden to war you know more than the rest of us about living magic.” He laughed mockingly. “The greatest of our order may no longer walk the world at large, but be under no illusion, Castimir—their powers are vast indeed. Their counsel is sought by Kings, their will works in ways often unperceived, protecting us from dangers that harken to other realms, dangers you cannot comprehend.” Aubury calmed and shook his head. “No, Castimir. There is much indeed you don’t know.”

The older man sighed and again adjusted his monocle.

“As I said, you
are
a good wizard, Castimir,” he continued. “But you have acted rashly. You want too much too soon. There are those in the Tower who wish to expel you, immediately, but I have calmed their anger and—whether you believe it or not—I spoke on your behalf. They have granted your wish to go on this adventure. And be under no doubt, this quest to Morytania is no small undertaking. Your friends will need you, and if it proves a success then your rashness will be forgotten.

“When you return, you will report back to the Tower and tell all you have learned,” he concluded, and then he took a single step toward the door, where he paused.

“Ah, I have nearly forgotten the most important reason for my visit. Here...” He gave Castimir a small leather satchel that was weighted with runes. “Try to bring some of them back. You know how rare they are.”

Aubury stopped at the door and gave a last look back.

“Good luck,” he said. “Keep your runes, your wand and your staff close to you, always.”

“Thank you, Master Aubury. I will.”

The door closed, and Castimir was left alone.

Perhaps he is not so ferocious as he appears.

And perhaps I have grown too used to my fame.

The footsteps faded outside the door and Castimir moved quickly to his bed. He pulled back the blanket in a single move and gave a cry of relief when he saw the book where he had left it that morning in his haste to attend the parliament. It was Master Segainus’s diary.

Could Aubury know, though? How could he suspect that he had been sitting on Segainus’s diary. If he did, I would be expelled from the Tower in an instant.

He picked it up and flicked through the worn pages to where his leather bookmark waited. Beneath the bed, he knew, were the other volumes of the deceased Master’s works.

Yet as he read he suddenly grew cold.

I read part of it last night, after the excitement with the Wyrd. But I am sure I didn’t leave the marker on this page...

Or did I?

Castimir felt the chill grow in his stomach. He had been too tired to remember where he had left it, but a sneaking doubt gnawed his innards.

Has Aubury seen it? Did he move the bookmark?

If he did, if he knows I stole these books, then my expulsion will no longer be in any doubt.

It was a question he couldn’t answer.

With a silent curse he gathered his belongings and made his way toward the stables to prepare his yak and horse for the journey ahead.

As Theodore left Ebenezer’s bedside, his mind was already building a list of all he had to do in the short time available. He knew his first duty, and that was to see to his candidates.

He found Philip sitting up in his bed, his head wrapped in a bandage with a dried-brown stain upon his forehead. He was tended to by the knight’s own unofficial squire, Hamel.

The youth moved to leave, but Theodore put his arm on the young man’s shoulder. “Wait, Hamel—I need to speak to you, as well.” Then he turned back to the wounded man.

“Sir,” Philip acknowledged.

“How are your injuries, Philip?” the knight asked. “I am glad to find you awake.”

“The Black Boar’s bite wasn’t as severe as it felt.” Philip smiled
weakly. “How is Lord Hyett?”

Theodore shook his head.

“No one has said anything, as yet, but from what I saw of the wound, he is unlikely to live.” The knight breathed out. “I didn’t mean for him to die, in truth, but when I saw what he did to you...”

“Justice was done, sir,” Hamel muttered.

“Yes, yes, I think it was. But that is not why I am here.” He looked at Philip, then at Hamel. “I am leaving, and shortly. I will send word to Sir Amik Varze of my intention, for I am to accompany an embassy into Morytania.”

Neither of his two charges spoke, but both paled noticeably.

The fear inspired by that realm is a magic in itself.

“Hamel,” he continued quickly on. “I would ask you to go to Falador for me, to deliver a message to Sir Amik’s own hand. Can you do that?”

“Me, sir? Go to Falador?” The youth’s excitement had him flustered. “Yes sir, of course. I will leave today.”

“Good,” Theodore replied. “Now be about your duties while I write my letter to Sir Amik.”

There was a desk in the room, and he moved to it in silence. Within moments, his quill was scratching the parchment, and it was the only sound. He didn’t have the time to write in code, and in truth, he did not deem it necessary.

Who will come to take my place?
he wondered.
Will they perhaps send Marius?

The thought made Theodore smile. Theirs was a friendship that had been forged as others had died, for many of their own friends had fallen to Sulla’s army, lured into a trap by treachery. He and Marius had been among the few squires to survive the war.

He had just finished writing when he heard a small group of men gathering outside Philip’s room.

It was Hamel, he knew. He had assembled the candidates for a final farewell, and now they entered. Theodore handed his aide the letter, and looked at the familiar faces with a feeling of pride. He was even prouder when he noted that none were without bruises from the tourney—all upon the front of their bodies, not on their backs.

They didn’t run or cower. They took the Boar’s beating head on, and we prevailed.

He was about to speak, to congratulate them all, to tell them how proud he was, when the door at the end of the passageway opened.

It was Lady Anne.

“Excuse me gentlemen,” he said as they perceived her.

As he left them he was certain he could feel their smiles behind him.

“So,” Lady Anne said as they found their way up a flight of stairs to the gallery level. Memory of their last time there made Theodore’s heart race quicker. “You are to go to Morytania,” she said, and she nodded to the tapestry depicting the fall of the four princes at the battle of the Salve.

“How did you know I was going with the embassy?” he asked.

Lady Anne gave a smile devoid of humour.

“I am good at finding things out, Theodore,” she said coldly. “And you sought to leave me without saying goodbye?”

“No, my lady,” he said hesitantly. “It has all happened so fast—”

“Or is it Kara-Meir?” she said furiously. “Now that she has returned to you, and you have had your fun with me...” Her voice cracked and she turned angrily away.

“Lady Anne, that is not true.” His hands were on her shoulders and gently he turned her around to face him. “It has nothing to do with Kara. It is my sense of duty that impels me to go, duty to my friends and to Saradomin—”

“Saradomin,” she spat. “You’re a fool, Theodore. A fool.”

She broke away from him and once more turned her back.

So be it
, he decided reluctantly.

“Lady Anne, I wish to part on good terms. I have much to do and my time is short.”

She didn’t reply.

Saradomin take you then!

“Goodbye, my lady,” he said bitterly.

Theodore turned toward the stairs and cursed under his breath.

“Wait, Theodore,” she said softly. Her tone caused him to hesitate. “Just promise me one thing.” She ran over to him and looked up into his face. Her tearful blue eyes sparkled like dewy sapphires. “Just promise me you won’t be brave, Theodore.” Suddenly she balled her fist and beat it against his chest. “Don’t you
dare
to be brave!”

And then she fled, running from the gallery.

Theodore breathed deeply.

I haven’t time for this. I can’t go after her, much as I would like to.

He forced himself to remain impassive. After a moment, and with another look at the tapestry of the four long-dead princes of Varrock, he left for the armoury.

Kara remained behind as Castimir and then Theodore left Ebenezer’s bedside to prepare themselves. She had arrived in Varrock with very few belongings, and although she knew she could ready herself for another journey in only a short time, she was painfully aware that she no longer possessed her own precious sword, thanks to Pia. The young girl had also stolen one of the wolfbane daggers.

“Gar’rth,” she said, after composing her own short letter to Ebenezer, with its promise to look after the werewolf especially. “I
must find myself a sword. I will go to the armoury and see Captain Rovin. Will you be all right here?”

“I’ll be here for a while anyhow,” the dwarf told her. “Gar’rth can wait with me. We’ll meet you in the bailey.”

The werewolf nodded from his seat at Sally’s side. He had already written a letter of his own, without any help from Sally or Kara, or from Simon who waited silently outside the door.

Arisha taught him well,
she thought as she made her way to the palace armoury.
It won’t be long now before he can write as well as any noble’s son.

“I knew you would come,” Captain Rovin said when she arrived. “Take your pick of these available weapons.” The man pointed to a rack along one wall, where numerous swords were arrayed.

“What of the wolfbane daggers I took from the barn?” Kara asked. “I think we should each take one with us, only I would not want them to impede Gar’rth.” She noted his look of surprise. “It would limit his value to us in a way that would not be wise.”

Captain Rovin shook his head with a grunt.

“I was not aware that you had them,” he said with a combination of irritation and admiration. “You can take them in splitbark sheaths—that should prevent the silver blades interfering with your friend. But they are valuable. The bark is cut from trees in that realm, and they are fashioned by the Wizards’ Tower. I will have a man attend to that shortly.” He stared at her intently. “Where are they?”

“They are in my room, in my satchel next to my bed.”

At least Pia left me that.
Suddenly angry at the thought of the theft, Kara took the nearest sword and gave it a quick swing, gauging its weight and balance.

“No,” she said.

She returned it and took another, trying out several different
thrusts, followed by a hack and then a sudden block. This one, too, was returned to the rack.

And so it went. It was only on her twelfth attempt did she find one that satisfied her. Even so, her face must have reflected her uncertainty, for one of Rovin’s men spoke up.

“Could we not ask Sir Prysin for his blade,” he suggested. “The sword Silverlight?”

Rovin ran his bandaged hand through his hair.

“No, not even on a good day,” he said firmly. “And today is a particularly unfortunate day for him. His heir is very likely to die.”

Nonetheless, the name Silverlight had caught Kara’s attention.

“What is its history?” she asked the guard, putting the sword down before attaching its sheath to her belt.

“Silverlight was used—” the young man began.

“—In legend. Never forget that,” Rovin interrupted.

“Yes, sir. Sorry.” He turned to Kara and continued. “Legend has it that Silverlight was used by Sir Prysin’s ancestor to save Varrock from a demon. It is a sword famed in song from the dales of Lumbridge to The Wilderness sentries. But the present Sir Prysin is very protective of it.”

“It has never been out of its cupboard, not in many a year,” Captain Rovin said harshly. “Tell me Kara-Meir, what was your own blade’s name?”

“I never named it. The dwarfs, who gave me shelter as a child, don’t often name their weapons. They consider the weapon an extension of the body, of the warrior himself, rather than a separate being.” She looked at the blade she had chosen. “Does this sword have a name?”

Captain Rovin smiled grimly.

“It does. It was wielded by one of my predecessors, many years
ago, and it is aptly named for the man’s duty to his monarch. It is called
Kingsguard.
”

Kara sheathed it slowly as Theodore entered the armoury. She could tell by his demeanour that something was amiss.

He is angry at something.

The knight nodded to them, and didn’t speak as he gathered his own blade and checked his armour. Behind him she saw his aide, the boy Hamel.

“I have some news for you, Sir Theodore,” Captain Rovin said respectfully. “The Black Boar died earlier today, no more than an hour ago. Lord Hyett leaves a six year-old son, and as he is under the age of the majority his estates—if you could call them that— will now pass to the crown. Well done.”

Kara saw Theodore’s face blacken.

“It is not a victory I am proud of, Captain Rovin. Nor one I was looking for.”

Rovin laughed.

“You should be glad of it, though,” he said frankly. “The Black Boar was an evil man. There are rumours—and I must say they are
only
rumours, as far as I know—that he even rode to war alongside the Kinshra against Falador last year, in the guise of a Kinshra knight. No, you should spare no sympathy for him, nor his son. For the boy’s life will be better without the influence of his father. And likely longer, too, I dare say. If you ask anyone about Lord Hyett, and they speak truthfully, you will only hear ill of him. Long has he been a thorn in King Roald’s side.