Return to Canifis

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