Return to Canifis

“Thank you,” she said, clutching at his arm. “Thank you.”

“Come back, my princess!” Sulla called from inside the room. “Your lord and master needs you.”

Lady Anne swore quietly, turned, and entered the room again, while Ebenezer was half-dragged back to his chambers. As soon as he was seated Lord William vanished again, leaving him alone.

He is worried about Lady Caroline. I can understand that. I was worried about Eloise whenever she was out of my sight.

I am so tired. Tired of it all.

He must have slept, for when he opened his eyes he saw Sally standing before him, a curious look upon her face.

“Guess where I have been,” she instructed him.

“I know that tone of voice, Sally. Your sister had it, too. I don’t approve.”

She folder her arms angrily.

“I have been to see Felicity and her mother. It took most of the day to convince her, but I think I am right.”

“Well… good for you,” he said, curiosity taking hold. “What have you found?”

He reached across for his water and put the goblet to his dried lips.

“Felicity has a strange birth mark, as well. On her chest. Above her heart.”

Ebenezer fumbled the goblet in his hand. It drenched his shirt and he cursed savagely.

Inspire them. Quench their doubt. Be strong. It’s gone well so far!

“So what do you want to do?” he mumbled humbly.

“What any scientist does when trying to validate their theories. Expand our sample group. I want to check with the families of the other missing children. I want to see if they, too, had birthmarks over their hearts.”

“Very well. Do it. Send a rider to the farm the Wyrd attacked twice. Lord William is worried about Sulla’s intentions toward Lady Caroline, so he won’t go. Reldo is busy with his books. And I am too tired.”

Sally gave him a victorious look as she left.

Birthmarks! I suppose it’s better than nothing.

31

“Wake up, Gar’rth. Wake up.”

He stirred. His heart beat faster as he turned from his back onto his side. For some reason he was afraid of opening his eyes.

Instead, he inhaled through his nose, now somehow free of the choking smoke that had burned his lungs and throat. It took him a moment to realise that his body was free from pain.

Am I healed? And are my friends safe?

Kara…

“Wake up. Wake up. Wake up…”

Finally, he relented. He opened his eyes and sat up.

There is no point in pretending any longer.

Gar’rth looked for the speaker but if he was there the youth could not see him. Every piece of furniture, the drawers, the walls, the bed and the very sheets he found wrapped around him were black, as if they had been made from the shadows themselves.

Opposite him, a wide deep bathtub of black stone stood against the far wall.

But it was the bed itself that caused his eyes to widen in surprise.

This is opulence on a scale that I have never seen before.

Gar’rth threw off his sheet and stood, naked and cold. A dim light shone through the one small window, reminding him of a forest in the twilight, a dark place made darker still by the dilution of the sun.

As he stepped toward it a motion on his periphery made him gasp. He leapt back suddenly, crouching and ready to defend himself, only to see his reflection act likewise in a long mirror that stood facing him.

The bruises are gone, the cuts vanished. I have been healed somehow.

How long have I been here?

And why am I alive?

He struggled to remember what had happened in Canifis. There had been flames and smoke and he had been beaten-he recalled that, and yet now he stood, free of pain and injury. He found it impossible to reconcile.

Was that a dream? What happened in Canifis?

He went to the window, determined to discover where he was, hoping it would answer some of the questions that made him so uneasy.

Below lay a vast city, stretching to the horizon, divided by immense black walls that were far higher than anything he had seen in Varrock-or even in Falador. A green smog hid the detail. He thought he saw tiny figures dressed in grey rags trudge through the shadows. Wherever he looked it was the same. Not a tree, not a park, no colour of life. It seemed to him as if the whole city with its black walls and black buildings had been designed to inspire despair and sap all hope.

It looked as though it was late morning or early afternoon. The sun was high, and yet it gave no warmth. Farther away, to what he thought must be the south, great columns of black smoke rose into the green-tinted sky.

Industry and misery. But where is the master of this horror? And what does he want me for?

“Some might say it’s beautiful,” said a voice, “if they were mad or wicked beyond any mortal reckoning. Here, in this castle, we have both such inhabitants.”

Gar’rth spun around to see an elderly man with a thin build holding a silver tray. The door was open behind him, and as he stepped forward Gar’rth sniffed the air.

“We share the same talents, you and I,” he said. “I am like you, Gar’rth.”

As the man walked forward Gar’rth found himself unable to speak. He had so many questions to ask. So many that he did not know where to start. The newcomer spoke first.

“My name is Georgi. I knew your parents, Gar’rth, served by their side, seeing to the whims of our masters-in particular the Black Prince himself. I was proud to have known them.” The old man put the tray down without making a sound, taking delicate care to ensure that it was so, as if fearful of making any noise. “Here, under the eye of such a master, we shared danger every day. I learned to trust those at my side in such a place. As will you.”

Georgi’s craggy face was framed by his white hair, which ran down in two thick sideburns all the way to his chin. When he spoke, Gar’rth saw that his teeth were pointed.

“Where am I?” he said after a moment of silence. “And my friends-”

“You are safe in Castle Drakan. Your… friends from beyond the holy river are also safe. You were brought here, together, on the Prince’s instructions, carried by the Vyrewatch. You will see them soon, but now you must eat and dress.”

Suddenly Gar’rth remembered his nakedness. In his curiosity, he had forgotten it entirely. He took a step to the bed, to wrap himself in one of the black sheets, when the old werewolf held up his hand.

“You are to dress in these,” he told him, pointing to a neatly folded pile of clothes that lay upon a closed chest at the end of the bed. “And you should wash and shave, also. I shall bring you a bowl of water and a razor. Should you require anything, just pull the bell rope above your bed. But you cannot leave this room. Not yet.

“Please, for the friendship I had with your parents-and especially your mother-do not try to do so.” With that he turned to leave.

“Wait! Wait! I must know, why am I here? Why does Lord Drakan need me? And tell me, tell me please of my father.”

Georgi shook his head.

“I do not know such things, Gar’rth. And you would do well not to wonder about them. They are not our concern. But as for His Majesty, I have never seen him, and I have lived here for many years. It is not he who