Return to Canifis

He tried to move, to get up and walk, but the maid forced him back. When she heard that Sally had let him out the day before, she was angry.

“You could still faint,” she fumed. “If that happened outside, then your head would most likely hit a stone and not a pillow! I’ll have none of that. You must remain here for the time being.”

“I will not!” he protested. “I have work to do. I have-”

“You have to rest,” she insisted. “You are not twenty-five, old man.” Lucretia glared at him, and he hid behind his porridge bowl. Silently, he wished that Sally would return, rather than deciding to spend the day at home.

Her concern for Albertus is still very raw. But it didn’t improve his situation.

Trapped by a ghastly harridan. What an end for the saviour of Falador!

And so it continued all morning, to the extent that Lucretia even confiscated his walking stick, and made him promise not to move from his bed.

“Unless I have the King’s permission,” he replied. At that she had screwed up her face and acquiesced with the barest of nods.

By afternoon, the King’s permission still hadn’t materialised. Lucretia began to smile from the side of her mouth.

“Too much light could hurt your eyes,” she said. “Best we close the curtains.”

And now I lie in a dark cell, taunted by the sounds of life just beyond my reach.

Accursed woman!

The light began to wane, and Lucretia reopened the curtains to reveal a cloud-laden sky. As Ebenezer peered at the coming storm, the door fell open and in walked Lord William de Adlard.

“I have just returned from Paterdomus,” the young man said solemnly. “I am glad to see you so well, master alchemist. Your friends were overjoyed when they heard that you had woken. It gave the embassy a good omen…”

His voice trailed off.

“They could well use it, if they have lost their steeds,” Ebenezer said. “But there is still cause for hope. The Wizards’ Tower believes that Castimir still lives, and that he is unharmed. Therefore, I would be remiss in my duty to them if I did not help where I could.”

“And where can you help, sir?”

He saw Lucretia purse her lips.

Just another tiresome old man? Is that what you think of me?

Well, not yet.

“I need to investigate the Wyrd. She is after something specific, and we must find out what that is.”

Lord William shrugged, and looked doubtful.

“The Wyrd is just a mindless killer from Morytania,” he said. “A rampant beast, and a dangerous one-”

“Who targets specific individuals,” Ebenezer interjected. “Who leaves us messages on rooftops. No, there is a purpose here. And we must discover what it is.”

Lord William nodded as the door opened again. It was Reldo. The archivist was still attired in his riding clothes, his boots muddy from his journey. In his hand he held a parchment.

“I have been asked to help you, master alchemist,” he said, and there was a look of satisfaction in his eye. “Papelford is up in arms about it, and he refuses to cooperate.” He smiled suddenly. “That might give us more freedom, in truth.”

Ebenezer gave a devilish smile.

So the young man is enthusiastic. And he has an aim now-to outdo his master.

Lucretia screwed her face up again.

“Pray tell me who asked this of you, Reldo?” she demanded.

“The King himself asked me to spare what time I could. I should say now that I suspect they will be generous hours indeed, since Papelford seems to wish me to vanish entirely. It makes my apprenticeship… awkward.”

Ellamaria, I owe you my thanks.

“Very well, then,” Ebenezer said. “We shall start with what we know. Hard facts only. We need a list of the victims.”

Reldo smiled.

“I might be able to better that, sir,” he said. “The bodies have been interred in the palace crypts, on the advice of Papelford himself. That was the only place large enough to keep them. It was one of Lord Despaard’s little secrets, but it has become public- secrets are very difficult to keep in these times of fear and gossip. Shall I ask Lord Ruthven if we can see them?”

The alchemist felt his stomach roil.

That is a great deal more than I wanted. But I must be brave. I am not a useless old man just yet.

“Very well,” he replied, “though most will be skeletons by now. Ask him, and we shall begin.”

Somehow, that almost sounded decisive. Reldo must have thought the same thing.

“But before I ask him, sir, I offer you this. It is my account of Gar’rth’s history of his life in Morytania. Doric asked me to write it down for you so that you might have his own words to hand.” He handed over a parchment. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must seek Lord Ruthven.”

The young man left, followed by William and Lucretia. Ebenezer stared at the document he held in his hand, still rolled tightly.

So many answers to questions I have pondered for months. And he might already be dead.

Or worse.

Slowly he unrolled the parchment and began to read.

Two hours later, standing in the dimly lit tunnel stairwell that led to the crypt beneath the palace, Ebenezer wasn’t feeling quite so bold.

A single glance at the faces of those gathered around him told him that he he wasn’t alone.

Lord William stood away from the small group, a few steps above. On the step next to the alchemist stood Lord Ruthven, his eyes closed in despair as Papelford harangued him.

“I do not need these interruptions, Ruthven,” he spat. “My work is vital at this hour, vital to us all, and here I am dragged from my studies by the whim of an interfering old man.” He gazed at Ebenezer balefully. “What do you think you can do that we haven’t already done?”

“The key to this is in the victims, Papelford,” the alchemist said firmly. “Lord Despaard was so busy covering up the attacks that he barely catalogued the dead and missing.”

“That was my job!” The archivist complained bitterly. “Yet it very soon became apparent that there is no pattern, if that’s what you hope to identify.”

“It is,” Ebenezer persisted. “I will take up where you left off.” He stepped toward the great iron-clad double door, then turned suddenly back. “If, as you say, it is such a waste of time, then I will be the one who is wasting it, and not you. You will have ample time to do what really matters in your studies. Now the key, if you please.”

He saw Reldo standing behind his master, grinning wickedly.

“I sincerely hope you know what you are about Ruthven. Logic and reason are no guard against the magic that afflicts us,” Papelford uttered.

“Ebenezer has the King’s confidence,” the nobleman replied.

“And this young popinjay?” Papelford queried, nodding to Lord William.

“He accompanied the embassy, and he knows about, Gar’rth,” Lord Ruthven said. “He can be trusted. Now, open the door.”

“Very well. Prepare yourselves.”

The two guards stood to one side. Ebenezer saw them ready their weapons uneasily.

Papelford inserted the key in the lock and twisted it. The metal gave a shriek as the iron doors fell open. From the cavernous gloom, vague shapes appeared as the guards advanced with their torches held aloft, their