Return to Canifis

Now Pia turned to those who remained.

“Sir Theodore, you must help us,” she pleaded. “You cannot permit us to be murdered here-”

“I’m sorry, Pia,” he said. “There is nothing any of us can do.” The knight turned and strode away quickly, back to the inn.

Cold, Theodore. Very cold.

“Please don’t go. Just don’t leave me here…” Pia’s voice had faded now to a whimper, her voice hoarse from shouting. Tears ran down her face as she collapsed against the bars.

“It is too hard a burden for one so young,” Vanstrom murmured.

Arisha handed Albertus over to Gideon Gleeman. The jester steadied the old man as the priestess knelt before the girl.

“I will remain here with you, Pia,” she promised. “Come, let us pray together, in this dark place. And you also, Jack-come to me here where I can hold you.”

Castimir felt his eyes water. A quick look at his companions informed him he wasn’t alone. Lord Despaard stared angrily into space, Gar’rth clenched and unclenched his fists, his face human once more, while Doric shook his head slowly. Albertus Black’s eyes were blurred, his tears faint on his pale skin.

Arisha took the siblings through the bars and kissed each one on the forehead. She held them very tightly and Pia’s wailing subsided. Even Jack seemed more animated at her touch.

How does she have the strength to keep giving? Even here.

“The rest of you should go back,” she told them over her shoulder. “There is nothing you can do here, and it might become increasingly dangerous as the werewolves grow bolder. Can I rely on your protection, Imre?”

The werewolf looked at her with hatred. Castimir clutched the runes in his hands in readiness.

“You can,” he said finally. “Malak has said that none of you shall be hurt by my people. My guard will keep you safe.”

“Then I shall remain also,” Castimir said, feeling Arisha’s stare bore into him. “You should not be alone, Arisha, and my powers are perhaps most effective to safeguard you here.”

“Very well,” she said. “But the rest of you must leave.”

Doric patted Arisha on the shoulder and strode away, muttering in his own language and shaking his head angrily.

Only Gar’rth hesitated now.

“You should speak to Kara, Gar’rth,” Arisha told him. “Theodore and she will no doubt find an argument in their discussions, but he is right. This time.”

“I will not be far away,” the werewolf said, then he turned and followed the rest of them.

And they were left alone.

How many from the Tower can say they have stood in the centre of Canifis, guarding a Guthixian priestess as she performs last rites?

None, he mused, save me.

Then Castimir gritted his teeth, angry at himself as he saw Jack’s glassy gaze.

Today wasn’t a day for him to feel proud.

27

Kara sat on the stairs, in full view of the group, with her knees drawn up and her head bowed.

She had stopped crying, and now she just felt empty inside. Occasionally she would raise her head and find Theodore looking at her. At first he had been frosty, now he tried to smile, offering her sympathy.

That made her feel worse.

Give me your anger, Theodore. That I could cope with, that I would expect. But what I detest is pity.

Gar’rth had been no better. She had expected him to understand, but he had sided with Theodore from the outset. Despaard had gone so far as to tell her not to be so naive.

The truth is that they are right. I know it. I knew it since the moment I saw Pia in there. There really is nothing I can do.

Absolutely nothing.

This realisation came as no comfort when she recalled Pia’s face, and the agony as she had pulled her hand away.

“Can’t we offer them an exchange?” Albertus asked from the other side of the inn, his voice loud in the tense silence. He stood behind a chair, his hands gripping the backrest and his filmy eyes staring through the window panes. Outside, the leaping shadows and occasional howl reminded them they were in a town of werewolves.

“I tried that,” Gideon told him. “They wouldn’t accept the horses.”

“No… no.” Albertus shook his white head. “I meant something else. I mean, one of us for them.”

What!

No one spoke. Kara looked at the old man for a long minute. He seemed sincere.

“Is it such a foolish suggestion?” Albertus said, perceiving their scrutiny. “Take me for instance, for it was myself I was proposing to offer in exchange. I am old, far older than even their tender years combined. And the truth is… the truth is I haven’t been well. Not for some months now. In fact, I don’t expect to see another summer.”

The door opened and Arisha entered, followed by Castimir. The two must have sensed the atmosphere and its source, for they looked at Albertus.

“So,” Arisha said gently. “Have you told them?”

The old man nodded.

“Told them what?” Castimir asked.

“I am very ill, Castimir. I will likely be dead before the year is out. It was one of the deciding factors that made me join this embassy, to see the land of the dead before my soul made its way here. Now I have seen it, I am… I am scared, truth be told. Scared that I have lived a life without religion, without faith. Will I end up here, forever?

“So you see, this is my last chance to achieve recognition in Saradomin’s eyes. My life for theirs. It will save me, and it will save them.”

“It is madness,” Despaard whispered. “And it is too late now. Malak has gone. I doubt the werewolves could make such a choice of their own accord.”

Gar’rth nodded.

“Lord Despaard is right. They couldn’t do so.”

“And would they accept it anyhow?” Theodore added. “It seems as if Malak and the elders delight in the pain this causes us.”

Albertus nodded silently, his eyes fixed on the dark shapes that ran about in the fog. The howls and activity outside grew louder, and somewhere a loud drum began to beat.

“It won’t be long now,” Gar’rth said.

“Imre told us to come inside,” Arisha told them. “He felt it was unsafe for us to remain near the cage any longer. May Guthix help them…”

The sounds of the celebration continued for what seemed like an eternity. Kara pressed her hands over her ears, but she could not block it out.

Coward, Kara-Meir! You are a coward.

“No,” Kara said. “No, I have to see.” She stood and ran to the door. As she opened it, a huge shadow blocked her way. She gave a gasp of surprise, her sword halfway from its scabbard before she recognised it as Roavar.

“Lower that blade, Kara-Meir,” he growled. “I come at the bidding of Malak. He has asked that your belongings be returned to you. Come.”

Kara followed the elder from the inn. Behind her came the rest of the group-all save two, for Gideon remained behind with Albertus.

“Roavar. Please,” she said, fighting to push back despair. “Please, is there nothing I can offer you for their