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
“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
“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.
Neither spoke again, and after a moment Theodore strode from the armoury, leaving Kara alone.
She cursed under her breath.
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