RuneScape: Return to Canifis (31 page)

“So I say again, well done.”

Rovin left the armoury with the guard in tow then, and Kara watched as Theodore gathered his equipment.

“Take the armour to the horses, Hamel,” Theodore said. “I won’t ride in it.”

“Yes, sir. The others are readying your mare.”

“Good. That will save me time.”

The clubfooted young man left with Theodore’s breastplate and helm, and for a moment they were left alone. The knight strapped his sword belt around his waist.

“Are you ready, Kara?”

“I am, now that I have a sword.”

“I am sorry,” he said, “about Pia and Jack and the theft. I know how much Master Phyllis’s blade meant to you.” He straightened his back and grimaced, then reached over his right shoulder with his left hand and probed gently.

“They ran because they thought I couldn’t protect them, Theodore,” Kara replied. “Pia is wanted for murder in Ardougne, and Sir Cecil said he wanted them sent back to face trial. Little wonder that they bolted.”

“You can’t protect them from that, Kara,” Theodore said slowly. “If they are accused then they must face trial, the rule of law and justice—”

“King Lathas’ justice, Theodore,” she countered. “He is no King Roald, nor is he any Sir Amik Varze. Need I remind you of your master’s honour and dedication to law?”

She saw his face twist uncomfortably.

“No, you need not,” he said defensively. He shook his head and took a breath. “Oh, enough, Kara. I am sorry for what happened, of course I am—”

“Three innocent people died, Theodore, because of his, and
your,
idea of justice. Among them your own peon, Bry—”

“You go too far, Kara,” Theodore said coldly. “Not a day goes by when I don’t ask for Saradomin’s forgiveness for my failure. But I won’t stand here and be beaten with that stick. Not any more.”

She let it drop, but it still preyed on her thoughts.

It was your order that endangered me, Theodore. And you were a participant in that deceit.

Neither spoke again, and after a moment Theodore strode from the armoury, leaving Kara alone.

She cursed under her breath.

I still haven’t forgiven him for that. I don’t think I ever will be able to, even though I know he acted under orders from Sir Amik.

From far off, the bells of Father Lawrence’s church rang the first hour of the afternoon. Kara gripped the hilt of her sword and left the armoury to gather with the embassy. She hadn’t meant to wound Theodore so, but part of her was savagely happy that she had.

A few minutes later she walked out into the bailey where the group was assembling. A collection of horses and mules were being laden with supplies. She saw Doric clapping his hands in joy in response to something that his companion had said. It was someone she vaguely recognised from the dance. The King’s fletcher, a man called Lowe. Not too far away, standing on his own, was Gar’rth, sorting his pack. Kara noticed that even here Simon was keeping a watchful eye.

Doric noticed her gaze and waved her over.

“I was keeping this as a surprise,” the dwarf said with a wink. “Ah, Theodore, you will want to hear of this, too, for it was what I hinted at the first night I was in Varrock. The thing that took me many hours of hard labour.”

Lowe smiled as Kara watched Theodore approach. The knight gave her only the briefest of glances as Doric held an arrow up for their inspection.

“Look at the tip, my young friends.”

Kara leaned forward and saw green-tinted light reflect off the metal’s surface.

“It’s adamant,” she observed. “You’ve forged adamant-tipped arrows!”

Theodore gave a slight smile as he took a second one from the dwarf to inspect more closely.

“It was Ebenezer’s idea,” Doric said. “Remember those adamant bars that you helped me cart all the way from my burned cabin to Falador, Theodore? The ones you thought would give your mare a heart attack? Well, I melted one of them down last month and Lowe here kindly fitted them for me. Fletching isn’t a skill with which I have any experience, truth be told.”

“Doric told me of your adamant blade and the injury it did to Jerrod, Kara-Meir,” Lowe said in a deep voice. “It was the least I could do, fixing these dozen arrows for you, and Lord William paid me generously. With luck, they will pierce wolf flesh soon enough.” The fletcher looked to Doric quickly and Kara saw the dwarf nod. “And I have this for you also.” Lowe reached to the horse at his side and took a longbow from its flank. It was taller than Doric himself. The bow had attracted the attention of several onlookers, and now Gar’rth strode toward them.

“That is a fine bow,” Theodore said. “It will take a strong man to draw it.”

“It is a yew composite bow, with a coating of tallow to protect it from the weather,” Lowe explained. “Would you care to try it?”

Theodore took the bow and drew back the flax string with obvious difficulty.

“Let Gar’rth try it,” Doric said, waving him forward.

“He is no stranger to the bow,” Kara said. “I taught him how to shoot in The Wilderness.”

Responding to the dwarf’s wave, Gar’rth stepped over and took the composite bow from Theodore. He drew the string back in a single easy move.

“That would fell any werewolf,” Lowe promised. “With Doric’s adamant arrows, you need have no fear of such demons. Make sure you bring back a few pelts!”

Gar’rth released the string with a grim look at Lowe. The smile had frozen on Doric’s face, and Theodore pursed his lips. Not far away, Simon grinned. Lowe frowned, aware he had spoken amiss, but not entirely sure of exactly how.

“Thank you, Lowe,” Kara said quickly. “With luck we won’t have to use it at all. This is, after all, a diplomatic mission.”

The unfortunate man bowed and left.

“I will take the bow and the arrows on my mare, if you like,” Theodore volunteered. Gar’rth nodded and handed the bow across as the knight returned to his horse, which stood among three busy young men who checked straps, saddle packs and horseshoes.

“I am sorry, Gar’rth,” Kara said quietly. He nodded, accepting her sympathy.

The bailey was busier now. Albertus Black arrived from Ebenezer’s town house. He rode upon a horse with a pack mule behind him. Seeing him, Kara heard Castimir sigh in exasperation as he readied the packs upon his yak.

“So we have another alchemist now,” the wizard chided. “Have you brought any sodium, Albertus? Or that phosphorous? That one could be useful in dark places.”

“I have brought those and more,” Albertus replied excitedly. “And several of our black-powder tubes. That will wake Lord Drakan, if our embassy does not stir him.”

“Be careful what you wish for old man,” Despaard cautioned. “I would be happy for Lord Drakan to remain still for many years to come, yet this Wyrd is proof he is already stirring.”

“But it isn’t proof that he is, for certain,” Albertus said. “We don’t know enough about the Wyrd to form an accurate hypothesis.”
Kara didn’t hear how—or if—the argument progressed, for she caught sight of Arisha, leading her horse into the bailey.

“One of the blacksmiths has reshod our horses, Kara,” Arisha told her. “Yours is still in the stables but will be ready very soon.”

“I will get it, Arisha,” Kara told her friend. “I am ready to go now, anyhow, as soon as Captain Rovin brings us the wolfbane daggers. He has offered us splitbark sheaths so they won’t incapacitate Gar’rth.”

Arisha nodded and led her horse on as Kara walked to the stables. She approached the terrace they had stood upon the night before, at the dance, meaning to head south, directly past it to the inner courtyard. She was nearly there when a sudden movement above its short balustrade caught her eye.

It was Lady Caroline. As Kara watched, Lord William stepped out behind her and put his arms around her waist, drawing a squeak and a smile from her.

Lord William and Lady Caroline?
She smiled inwardly.
Lady Anne has met with success again.
Kara waited until their two voices faded as they vanished back inside again. Then, at a fast walk, she made her way to the stables, found her horse, and led him quickly back to the bailey.

When she returned she found Reldo in a heated discussion with Papelford, the old man insisting that his apprentice should take certain books with him on the journey. Nearby stood Gideon Gleeman, his long face fraught with worry, the King’s Seal held tightly in his hands, while at the entrance to the bailey waited Despaard and Ruthven, both men impatient to get underway.

“I want to be at my manor before dark,” Lord Ruthven shouted to everybody. “It will mean a supper for us if we can do it, and a bed for the night.”

“I am ready,” a young monk in brown robes said. Kara saw the
four-pointed star dangle from a necklace. His tonsured head was burned by the sun, yet he showed no discomfort. “My pilgrims have prepared their wagons and they will follow us tomorrow. It should be enough to ensure that Paterdomus is supplied till winter.”

“I am glad you are travelling with us, Drezel,” Despaard said. “The Pass of Silvarea can be treacherous on occasion.” The monk Drezel gave a slight bow in his saddle as another horse trotted through the entrance to the bailey. On it rode Lord William.

“May I accompany the embassy to Paterdomus, Lord Despaard?” he asked. “It is, after all, my duty to ensure that Kara-Meir’s companions have all they need while in Varrock.”

Lord Despaard glared at the younger man. When he didn’t answer, Kara saw Lord William turn his gaze toward her.

“Do you find my company so unpleasant, Kara-Meir?” he asked sweetly.

Kara smiled.

“Not at all,” she replied. “I would be glad to have you with us on the road, and I know my friends would be too.”

“Just don’t go getting lost or left behind,” Despaard said, impatiently. Kara found it amusing. “We cannot afford time to pander to the vagaries of a dilettante.”

But Lord William replied at once.

“I can assure you, Lord Despaard,
this
dilettante is more than capable of pandering to his own vagaries.”

Despaard nodded grimly and looked about the bailey carefully.

“Very well. Then let me do a head count. There are nine of us in the embassy itself, with Lord Ruthven and Drezel to act as our guides as far as Paterdomus. Reldo also, of course. And an escort of twelve trusted men.” He caught Kara looking at him. “My rangers,” he explained, “including Simon. Twenty-four of us in total.”

Lord William coughed, his expression slightly wounded.

“Don’t you mean twenty-five?”

Despaard turned away without a reply. A short time later he ordered the embassy to mount. With their escort, they rode forward, preceded by a contingent of the palace guard who were to accompany them through the city. As they drew near the gate, Kara happened to cast her eye back to the palace, and became aware of someone staring at her.

She saw Lady Anne, standing in a window on the second floor. Her hand was pressed to the window pane.

Quickly Kara turned away, to concentrate on the road ahead.

Theodore has not seen you, Lady Anne, and I will not tell him. I wonder if you will go to bed cursing my name?

But as the gate neared Kara glanced upward again. Anne was still there. This time, their eyes met.
“Please”
she mouthed. The gate was only seconds away, and once they were through, the window would no longer be visible.

Kara turned away with a wicked smile that instantly made her feel guilty.

No! No I will not ride off like this. I will not sink to her level.

“Theodore,” she said gently, pointing up with her hand.

He turned sharply in his saddle and followed her gesture. Kara saw Anne’s face brighten as Theodore waved.

And then they rode through the gate, and Lady Anne was gone.

“Thank you, Kara,” Theodore said. “You could have said nothing. She and I parted on... awkward terms.”

“I am sorry to hear that, Theodore. Truly.”

And it is true. I am.

The day had thus far been foul.

The Midsummer Festival had ended as they entered Varrock through the southern gate, on the cart which had brought Pia in her barrel to the barn. As soon as they arrived in the city, Jerrod had whispered to him that they were being followed. Cautiously, Sulla had spied their shadow—a young girl, probably no more than twelve years old.

That’s how the gangs operate. Children take the risk for their elders, and swing for them if they are caught.

The cart owner—a man named Bareak who posed as a fur trader, but who in reality worked for Straven, the leader of the Phoenix Gang—had separated from them in the south of the city, among the squalor and the poor. He left behind the briefest of messages.

“
Come to the Blue Moon Inn tomorrow, after midday. Straven will be there.
”

From that moment on, as they wandered Varrock, Jerrod carrying the heavy case of documents as if it was empty, the young girl kept her eye on them, likely unaware that Sulla knew of her presence.

Although I wouldn’t have if I didn’t have Jerrod here, with his hunter’s nose.

She was still there now, some hours after the sun had gone down.