Return to Canifis

a deep breath and took the reins of his horse in hand as he mounted.

“You are being silly, William,” Theodore answered. “I know you. You are not cursed-you are a good person. And I was wrong to expect you to be someone you are not.”

William laughed bitterly.

“A good man? Theodore, I am not a good man.” He rode a short distance forward before reining his horse in as the squire mounted his own mare.

“I wished to be a good man, Theodore,” William said, a little louder now to cross the short distance. “I still wish to be one. Every day. If I had my choice I would wish to be born as you were-strong, healthy, able-minded and bodied.” He twisted his mouth in a bizarre grin. “But the gods rarely grant our wishes, Theodore. Always they find ways of corrupting that which we want most of all.”

William turned and with a sudden shout he flicked his reins, galloping north toward the palace at a dangerous pace.

* * *

It had been years since the old man had last seen Varrock. He had been born there nearly sixty years ago, leaving only after his wife had died in childbirth and his children had died of smallpox.

Twenty years ago, Ebenezer thought. Time enough for heroes to be born, and for some even to become legend.

“We could stop, if you like?” the old man’s companion said. There was a tender note in the dwarf’s voice that was seldom heard, but which Ebenezer had come to know well.

“I made a vow that I would never return to Varrock,” Ebenezer said. “I made it after burying my family. I decided to travel the world in the name of science, to combat dogmatic religion.”

The dwarf sat in silence by the old man’s side as the wagon stopped. Ebenezer glanced over the horses’ heads to the city in the east. The sun was losing its warmth, and the final leg of their journey had taken longer than expected. He hadn’t realised how difficult it would be for him to return.

“But time mellows all men’s rage,” Ebenezer continued, brushing his hand across his white hair. “The vow doesn’t seem so important any more. Come, Doric, let us press on. I would like to be at the palace in time for supper.”

He goaded his horses on, and the wagon rolled forward.

“I wonder whether Castimir will be there already,” Doric said, laughing suddenly.

“I, too, am eager to see our young friends. I find as I get older that the company of youth is more rewarding. Although I am worried about Gar’rth,” he said. “And Kara.”

Doric nodded.

“Kara can take care of herself, Ebenezer. It was she who rescued Theodore and me from Jerrod in Falador.”

You are right, my good friend. Kara-Meir can take care of herself. I just hope she hasn’t had to take care of Gar’rth.

The bells from Father Lawrence’s church, situated not far to the east of the palace, chimed the eighth hour of the evening as Theodore and William led their steeds onto the great square.

William had grown increasingly pensive since reining his horse in a few minutes from the inn, and Theodore knew his anger had turned to embarrassment. Perhaps, he thought, it would be best not to press him. Whatever he feels, he will likely tell me in time.

To that end, he persuaded William to dismount and walk with him back to the palace. But by the time they entered the square, it was Theodore who had apologised.

“I am sorry, William,” he said earnestly. “Kara’s actions defy reason-any that I can identify at least, and it angers me.”

William accepted the apology with a nod, but as he made to reply the sound of a man riding swiftly from the west caught their attention. It was Lord Despaard entering the square. The Varrock noble gave the squire a cold stare as he rode through the palace entrance, and Theodore bowed in return, once again conscious of the tension between them.

“Who is Lord Despaard?” he asked. “He claims to know me, and I’ve heard it said that he has tremendous influence, yet none have ever elabourated to explain how that influence is exercised.” And if the things he does became known, Theodore mused silently, would they be considered the actions of a man, or a monster?

William looked suddenly secretive.

“Some say he leads men into Morytania. He is apparently one of the few who has seen Meiyerditch, the capital of that realm, and lived to speak of it.”

“Has he ever fought a werewolf?” Theodore asked, allowing himself a moment of pride. Then he thought the better of it. But William responded.

“If he genuinely does cross the holy river, then likely so. People say his father died in Morytania years ago, and that it is his hatred of that place that drives him on.”

“Do you think he has anything to do with this secret society people keep talking about? The Society of Owls?” How much does William really know? “I’ve heard rumours of innocent citizens, abducted from their homes, all in the name of the law. Could these rumours be true?” As I know them to be, based on the evidence of my own two eyes, he added silently.

“Oh come, Theodore,” William said. “I have been at court for several years now. There are often rumours of things crossing over the Salve. But abducting our own people? That’s too much even for the wildest of rumour- mongers. Although…” William lowered his gaze, and looked uncertain.

“Now that you mention it, I have heard some outlandish whispers of a strange creature that is preying on children in the east, where only farmers live. A vampire or gargoyle or some such.” He looked up again. “Could that be what Karl and the drunken man were referring to?”

I have seen her William! Theodore wanted to say so much, but only at the last minute did he remember Lord Despaard’s forceful words as he was told to keep the conspiracy of silence. The less the young nobleman knew, the safer he would be. And another thought clawed at the back of his mind.

I cannot trust anyone at court.

“Look about you, William,” he said sombrely. “It is the height of summer, and yet the square is nearly deserted. I tell you there is something wrong, and the people of Varrock know it. They are afraid.”

But William said nothing, looking to the west of the square to where a weather-beaten wagon drawn by two horses rolled to a halt. A white-haired old man with a whiter beard climbed down from the seat, a dwarf at his side.

Theodore laughed, his changed demeanour planting a look of surprise on William’s face.

“What is it?” the nobleman asked. “Do you know them?”

“They are two old friends, William.” Two old friends who I know I can trust.

With an excited grin the squire ran forward.

One hour later, Ebenezer sat near the fire, smoking his pipe. Nearby Doric bathed his feet in a tub of hot water, sighing as he soothed his aching limbs.

Theodore had found a room for his friends on the first floor of the palace, tucked away from the busy goings- on that continued during all hours-for although it was the home of King Roald, the palace was also the centre of government for the city of Varrock and the country of Misthalin. Having been introduced to the newcomers, William had been gracious enough to allow them some time to catch up, and had left the three friends together.

“So tell me, Ebenezer,” Theodore began, “what has happened in Falador since I departed? I have been eager for news.”

The old man took his pipe from his mouth and sighed.

“The damage that was done in the siege has been repaired,” he said. “The walls have been strengthened, and the dwarfs have opened their mining guild in the east of the city. Life continues for the citizens much as it did before the fighting, and the knights are held in higher regard than ever for the sacrifices they made in the war.”

Doric winked at Theodore, and gestured.

“Haven’t you noticed Ebenezer’s new surcoat?” the dwarf asked.