Betrayal at Falador

worn it for so long that taking it off was beyond him. The knights stood as he entered the room, two of the nearest rushing to help him to his chair.

He glared at both of them, and they stopped before they could reach him.

“I am not that old,” he said gruffly. “The almshouse may be where I hang my cloak, but I am not yet a permanent fixture.”

He read their thoughts with a glance, Sir Amik thought, and the idea amused him. For he has spent his life reading men and divining their intentions, and he was very good at his job. Then he spoke aloud:

“Come in, Sir Tiffy. I am glad you came. You have been apprised of the situation?” he asked.

Sir Tiffy moved slowly toward his chair, sitting himself down with dignified care. He ran a hand through his white beard.

“The peon who fetched me was eager to tell me everything, doing his best to be indiscreet. You should tell the youngsters to keep their tongues from wagging, Sir Amik. Loose talk costs lives!”

Several of the knights glanced at one another. Sir Tiffy ran the knights’ intelligence network, mostly from the quiet confines of the park close to the pond, where he could happily feed the ducks that lived in its reeds. He had developed an eccentric reputation amongst the citizens of Falador, and enjoyed a degree of fame as a harmless old man who was enjoying his retirement. Yet the reputation was a ruse, a shield to put his enemies off guard and to gain the confidence of others. Inside the castle, with his peers, he removed his mask, ever eager to bring his burning intellect to the problem at hand.

The three items were brought before him: the sword, the flower and finally the broken ring.

“Neither the sword nor the flower mean anything to me,” he said, considering each in turn. “But the ring! I have seen one like it before… though not recently. Indeed, not for a long time.”

“Do you remember where that was, Sir Tiffy?” Sharpe asked, an unusual intensity in his gaze.

“I do not immediately recall-but give me time.” He looked up at the master-at-arms, a slight glimmer in his eyes. “Please, tell me your suspicions.”

The company of men turned in anticipation to Sharpe, who swallowed before he began.

“I was hoping one of you might confirm my suspicions,” he said slowly. “I spent the night in the library, after Squire Theodore and I catalogued the items. I found nothing conclusive, but I strongly suspect that this is a Ring of Life.”

His eyes passed briefly over the men assembled. No one spoke, so he continued.

“It must have been what brought her here. It is broken now- most likely it was broken the minute she arrived. Is that not in keeping with the Rings of Life? That they offer a last chance to teleport a dying individual to a place of safety?”

“But are these Rings of Life powerful enough to breach the barrier?” Sir Vyvin spoke quietly. “This in itself was thought to be impossible.”

Before Sharpe could reply, Sir Tiffy spoke.

“If it was a normal ring, then that might be so, but I see what Sharpe is getting at.” His face was drawn as he spoke. “If this is one of the few Rings of Life that was issued to our very own agents, many years ago, then it would possess the ability to pierce the barrier, would it not?”

Suddenly someone laughed.

“What is so funny, Sir Ferentse?” Sir Amik demanded.

The knight rose.

“Those rings were given out decades ago,” he said scornfully. “The man who crafted them has been dead for ten years. Only a few were unaccounted for, and surely you cannot expect one of those to have fallen into the hands of a simple girl, and after all this time?”

“Stranger things have happened, Kuam. It is a possibility.” Sir Amik scolded the man lightly.

“It raises an important question.” Sir Tiffy looked intently at the ring again. “It could be, Sir Amik, that the girl you are harbouring upstairs, unguarded and unrestrained, is a murderer.”

A murmur arose. The Rings of Life were near-legendary artefacts the knights had created with the help of a sorcerer sympathetic to their goals. They had been issued to those who undertook the most dangerous missions, men who would spend years living amongst the enemy and learning their intentions. From nearly fifty Rings of Life issued over a decade-long period, only eight were yet unaccounted for.

“Speculation, Sir Tiffy,” Sir Amik stated, remembering the results of his bedside prayers. “We need facts, and I shall send Squire Theodore to Taverley to find out about the white flower.”

The meeting ended and the men rose from their chairs. All save Sir Tiffy, who politely refused the offers of assistance.

He’s certain that he’s right, Sir Amik realised. A Ring of Life had been used to teleport the wearer out of danger and away from certain death. But the question remained.

Just how did this girl come to possess such a precious object?

FOUR

The cold air of winter stung Theodore’s face.

He travelled northwest, driving his mare hard in his eagerness to reach Taverley. He had been on the road since morning and had stopped only once, to bow his head in respect to the graven statue of Saradomin that stood several miles to the north of Falador, its hand pointing to the city as a guide for travellers.

He had not been alone, for several others were preparing a fire on which to cook some game. They sat a respectful distance from the squire, eyeing him with distrust, as if expecting him to accuse them of poaching. The Knights of Falador were known not only for their honour and their dedication to truth but also for their zealousness. Many perceived them as self-proclaimed lawmen, and a few even called them a militant judiciary, too eager to ensure that the law was upheld to the letter.

After a long silence, an elderly man spoke.

“Have you heard the news from the south?” he asked nervously of one of his fellows, who warmed his hands before the fire.

“Aye,” the younger man replied. “I was there a week ago when we found her. Not far from Old Farm on the Draynor Road. It was a young woman. She’d been dragged from the road shortly after darkness.” There was bitterness in his voice.

“So it’s true then? Did you see her?”

“What was left of her. There’s something south of Falador that lives amongst the woods and hills, something wicked that preys upon the local people.” As he spoke the hood slipped back from his face and his eyes settled on Theodore, who listened quietly.

He had heard of nothing amiss in the south, and yet as a simple squire there was no reason why he should have. It was the knights themselves who would attend to such business, or the Imperial Guard.

“What will you do about it, knight?” the man called over to him in anger. “Two people seized and devoured in the last month!” He stood and walked over, striding aggressively, confident that some code would prevent Theodore from retaliating against an unarmed traveller.

“Or do you go elsewhere in the service of your God?” the man continued. “Attending to matters of greater urgency. Are we peasants not important enough to warrant your attention?”

“That is not true,” Theodore replied calmly. “I knew nothing of this monster that plagues you, but when I have finished my journey I shall see that action is taken. You have my word.”

The man stopped and turned his head aside, unable to meet Theodore’s clear gaze. When he spoke again, some of the anger had left his voice.

“You knights have to do something,” he said, returning to the fire to join his companions. He faced the squire again, looking him straight in the eye.

“There have been strange men in purple robes-hunters they call themselves-stirring up anger, telling the people there is a monster in their midst. The men in robes have even started questioning folk about it. They will lynch some poor fool if they can, and it will be the wrong man.”