by T. S. Church
“Oh,” Philip said. “Good.” His eyes found Theodore’s. “His was no tourney blade, sir. He came out here to kill.”
“I know, Philip. I took it from him, and made sure he knew it.”
Afterwards, with the cheers of the crowd ringing in his ears, he found his way to a small tent set aside for the fighting knights, where Hamel poured cool water over his head and helped him remove his armour. Somewhere outside, members of the crowd laughed, and he heard the spectators daring the jester Gideon to run along a rope.
Then Theodore slumped in his seat, exhausted, and without intending to do so, he fell asleep.
When he awoke Hamel was still there. Outside the sound of trumpets was blaring and the crowd had fallen silent.
“The King has entered the box, sir,” Hamel explained as he finished bandaging Theodore’s wounds and applying salve to his bruised flesh. “How is your back, sir?”
“It is numb,” Theodore muttered. All of him was numb, and suddenly cold. The signs of fatigue. He wrapped his arms around his body and shivered.
“Drink this, sir,” the boy said, holding out a cup. “It is a beef soup. It should help you recover your strength.”
Theodore did as he was asked. He was too tired to even think.
But after what seemed like hours he stood and dressed himself in his white tunic with the four-pointed star of Saradomin stitched into its chest in silver thread. Hamel guided him from the tent, escorting him to the King’s box. As he made his way up the wooden steps, the crowd erupted in cheers, and he caught sight of Lady Anne.
She gave him a long look and smiled—not the sarcastic smile she so often teased him with, but something that Theodore thought was more akin to admiration, supplication almost. Very deliberately she dropped her handkerchief in a gesture of surrender.
Then the spectators closed in on him, and this time it was Castimir who rescued him. There were too many hands to shake and questions to be answered, and Theodore was too tired to do so. The wizard forced his way through the press and led him to a seat a healthy distance from the admiring courtiers.
“Thank you, Castimir,” he said. “If I fall asleep, nudge me.”
The wizard smiled as Theodore closed his eyes, content to listen to the world around him rather than participate in it. Even Kara and the mystery of her whereabouts did not agitate him for now, for he was simply too tired to care.
“...but we gnomes have our own science, master alchemist. Albertus’s vacuum chamber is a handsome gimmick, I don’t doubt, but are you aware of the demonstration made last year at this grand occasion by an esteemed cousin of mine, the able Master Peregrim?”
“Albertus was kind enough to write of it in his letters to me.” Ebenezer’s voice cut through to Theodore’s addled mind. “Tell me, Ambassador Fernook, has there been any news of his whereabouts since that time?”
Castimir laughed suddenly and Theodore opened his eyes to look curiously at the gnome ambassador. He knew Fernook, for the gnome was popular in King Roald’s court. He wore the traditional deep-green clothing of his people. The diminutive being was less than waist-high to Theodore, yet he made up for it with his personality.
“This is no laughing matter, master wizard,” the gnome said angrily. “Master Peregrim was demonstrating a hybrid hot air balloon, kept aloft by heat and phlogisticated air. It is a technology of which you humans have no conception. Many of Varrock’s nobles took an interest, amongst them Lord Despaard who wished to examine its potential for reconnaissance over The Wilderness... and elsewhere.”
“Tell me in detail of it,” Ebenezer begged. “Albertus only gave the barest description of it in his letter.”
The ambassador gave a broad smile, happy to share the achievements of his people. “It was a huge balloon with a gondola that hung beneath it, large enough to carry twenty people, I should say. Each day for a week Master Peregrim would ascend from the bailey with bold men and women eager to view the city from above.” The gnome’s face grew dark. “It was always tethered to the ground, of course, for only a fool or a lunatic would dare make a flight without a safety winch to bring it back down.”
“And which was he ambassador?” Ebenezer asked tentatively.
“Neither. He was just unlucky. Very, very unlucky.” The gnome shook his head. “He took off from here a year ago today, as he had done for the preceding days, to test his contraption before risking others in it. But the line broke from its knot on the balloon and very quickly he was carried away. Carried away to the east where he vanished across the Salve into... that place. I do not expect we shall ever hear anything of our intrepid balloonist again.”
“I am sorry ambassador,” Castimir said. “Truly I am. I had no idea of his fate.” His words were sincere, and Theodore saw the suddenly shamed look in his friend’s eyes.
You laugh too quickly for a diplomat, Castimir, he mused. If you are to take on the role the Wizards’ Tower has asked of you then you will have to learn patience and to treat every word as if it was a trap.
The conversation ended as whispers of excitement rippled through the occupants of the royal box. Theodore saw a King’s messenger kneeling before the monarch, who was standing, reading a letter in absolute concentration. Captain Rovin appeared at his side, grim-faced as ever.
A silent moment passed during which the tension was so great that Theodore wondered if a foreign nation had announced its intention to declare war on Misthalin. Then the King’s expression changed to one of excitement.
“Bring her to me!” he shouted. “Immediately.”
Can it be?
The King’s messenger stood and waved. The signal was repeated and passed on, out of the sight of the onlookers. After a few moments, as murmuring grew, an escort of yellow-clad soldiers of the city guard marched forward with a small group clustered in their middle.
“She’s here,” someone whispered amongst the crowd.
“Can it be true?” another asked. “Has she really come?”
“That’s what the messenger said.”
“It is her. It’s Kara-Meir!”
Theodore’s blood froze. His vision blurred slightly, whether from a thankful tear or from his earlier combat he could not tell.
“Is it her Castimir?” Ebenezer asked. “My eyes are not so young as yours.” Doric walked to the box’s edge to see for himself.
Theodore wiped the moisture from his eyes and looked again. At the centre of the yellow escort were six figures. The first was a man whose hands were bound before him. Behind him came a boy and a blonde-haired girl, ushered forward by three cloaked figures who came last.
“That could be Kara’s younger sister, if she had one,” Castimir observed.
As they neared, Theodore saw that the man at the front was missing his nose.
“Well, Kara-Meir, you have come,” King Roald called. “As you promised you would.”
Two of the three cloaked figures pulled their hoods back.
And Theodore grinned.
“It’s her!” Doric said. “She seems unhurt!”
“And Arisha, as well. Thank the gods.” Castimir gasped.
Behind him, Theodore sensed a movement.
“So that is Kara-Meir?” Lady Anne whispered in his ear. “She is pretty, in a certain peasant sense no doubt, but she does remind me of a wild cat. I suppose some men’s tendencies lean that way, however. If they are low-born.”
Theodore didn’t answer, for Kara began speaking.
“I have come, and I know that I am later than I promised,” she shouted up. “But I bring you the impostor, Pia, and her accomplice who tricked many good people out of their money by using my name. And I bring you also a wanted felon from The Wilderness who had taken shelter in a barn to the east of Varrock. I have provided your messenger with a list of his associates, who now lie slain and untended. Fourteen of them.”
The crowd gasped, and then clapped wildly.
It is your gift Kara, Theodore thought. You have always been able to win peo
ple’s hearts.
Eventually, the King held up his hand for silence, which the crowd granted with some reluctance.
“Captain Rovin tells me that these fourteen outlaws are wanted for serious crimes, each with a considerable bounty on their heads. You claim that you and your companions dispatched all of them? Three against fifteen, including your prisoner?”
Kara-Meir smiled now, her own urchin expression filled with mischief.
“No, Sire... and captain,” she said. “I accounted for them alone while my friends prevented any from escape.”
A murmur ran through the crowd, and someone clapped at the reply that left Captain Rovin speechless. King Roald laughed.
“Even my best knight would have been hard-pressed to accomplish such a feat.” Theodore felt the monarch’s eyes turn on him for a second. “But you must come up here—you and your friends—and tell us of your adventures. Come, we will have music, we will have celebration! Take the prisoners to the dungeons, for they will be dealt with later.”
The crowd responded to his commands with yet more cheering as Kara ascended the wooden steps, followed by Arisha and now, as they neared, Theodore saw for certain that the tall hooded man was indeed Gar’rth.
My friends. All safe and well. Thank Saradomin.
A guard seized the girl Pia, and she cried out.
“Please Kara. You know we are not bad people!”
The crowd laughed gleefully.
“You promised.” At that, Kara turned to the monarch.
“Sire, may I ask that you not separate the girl and her brother?” Kara spoke loudly, so all could hear. “They should remain together, and I would appreciate it if they were kept away from this fugitive. I also wish to speak to you about their fate, for they are little more than children, and I think I can offer the crown a suitable bargain for their disposition.”
“She does not lack for boldness, this wildcat of yours,” Lady Anne said softly, a touch of irritation in her voice. “Coming here and presuming to bargain with a King whose lineage goes back over a millennia. Very bold indeed.”
“Kara knows what she is doing, Lady Anne,” he replied without anger.
“The justice of Varrock is not usually open to negotiation,” King Roald said, though his mood still seemed light. “However, in consideration of your reputation and the honesty of your friend, Squire Theodore, and of the gift of justice that you have delivered here today, we shall hear what you offer, and consider it with a generous heart.”
He saw Kara look toward him and nod in greeting, and suddenly he felt Lady Anne move close behind him. Very close indeed.
Too close. An obvious ploy to state her intention to Kara.
If Kara noticed, she gave no sign, and turned aside to sit on an empty chair at King Roald’s side. Quickly, both Arisha and then Gar’rth were presented to him and dismissed, for the monarch’s attention was entirely held captive by Kara.
As Arisha approached, Castimir advanced to meet her. Theodore caught her smile as they drew together in a long embrace.
“Well, Gar’rth, you are looking well.” Ebenezer’s first words to their friend were hesitant.
Can he now speak the common tongue? Theodore wondered. If he can, there is much I would ask him. When Gar’rth responded, it was plain how far he had come.
“Ebenezer, I am happy to see you. I have learned your language since Falador, thanks to the monks of the monastery. And with Arisha’s help.”
“Then we must sit and speak, Gar’rth,” Doric said. “For I have much to ask you, as I know we all have.”
“Some of your questions must wait,” Gar’rth replied. “I will answer those in private. Alone. But Arisha will tell you of The Wilderness.”
Gar’rth gave Theodore a long look, his dark eyes settling on Lady Anne next to him. He frowned slightly. Lady Anne laughed.
“Your friend is not from these parts, is he?” she said. “We must welcome him to Varrock, Theodore. Tell me, where do you hail from?”
For a cold second no one spoke.
“He comes from the southern islands, Lady Anne,” Castimir answered quickly. “You have heard of Gar’rth, have you not?”
“As I have heard of you all, save this young woman.” Her blue eyes focused on Arisha, who spoke without hesitation.
“My name is Arisha,” she said. “I am a priestess of the tribes to the west of here, across the River Lum.” She bowed gracefully, and Castimir beamed.
“A barbarian? I have known people from your tribes before, yet I cannot recall one ever as civil as yourself—nor so beautiful.” Before Arisha could reply, Lady Anne nodded in the direction of King Roald. “Ah, it appears that I am needed by His Majesty. I suspect I will be asked to find Kara and yourself something appropriate to wear for tonight.” She took two steps before turning back again. “I am so looking forward to our dance, Theodore.”
Suddenly it felt as if the eyes of all of his friends were upon him.
The occupants of the royal box thankfully left them alone, and very quickly news was shared and questions posed.
“It was at the monastery of Saradomin when we first heard word of Sulla and Jerrod,” Arisha explained. “An injured man was brought to us from The Wilderness, and he identified them. We set out some weeks ago, travelling northward in pursuit.” She shivered. “Everyone hears tales of The Wilderness, but it is a land of desolation beyond anything I would have imagined. Often, for miles and miles, day after day, there is nothing that grows there. Nothing thrives. It seems as if nature herself has given up in that land.
“On at least two occasions we missed them by misfortune alone.” Arisha and Gar’rth shared a look. “Or at least we thought it was misfortune. But we now believe that Jerrod is receiving help. It may be from his master.” She smiled grimly. “We do not know why he is doing so now, and didn’t before. We may never know. But Jerrod and Sulla are now in Varrock.”
What? Why? Theodore opened his mouth to give voice to his questions but Doric and Castimir both spoke first. Arisha put her hands up for calm.
“We don’t know why, though Pia told Kara that Sulla plans to blackmail wealthy individuals with some coded documents he has in his possession. It is dangerous of them to come here, yet they have taken that risk. We informed the city guard this afternoon, although we didn’t tell them the truth about Jerrod. That is a decision that should be made by the King and his councillors.”
“But I don’t understand,” Ebenezer said thoughtfully. “How is this Pia girl linked to Sulla?”
Arisha shook her head.
“She isn’t. The fraud she committed was of her own initiative, but she grew greedy and attempted to run without paying the gangs their dues. They sent her to Sulla as an amusing gift, aware she resembled Kara. When we first entered Varrock, this morning, we heard stories that ‘Kara-Meir’ was already here, and then later of the fraud she had committed. Kara insisted that we hunt the imposter down. Gar’rth tracked them from the Flying Donkey Inn, and this led us to Jack, who had followed his sister’s abductors.
“By the time we arrived at the barn they were using as a hideout, Sulla and Jerrod had left.”
“Can you track Sulla, Gar’rth?” Doric asked.
Gar’rth shook his head.
“No. Not in a crowded city, without a trail to follow. Not with Jerrod, who knows how to mask himself.”
Suddenly Theodore stifled a yawn. The relief at seeing his friends in good health had given him a momentary burst of energy, but it was not enough to keep him going for much longer. As he did so, William approached, and was introduced to Arisha and Gar’rth.
“Ah, Theodore,” the young noble said, “I am sorry to interrupt your well-earned reunion, but I am afraid your presence is required by King Roald.”
Theodore yawned again as he stood. His body ached in protest and, as ever, his back burned from his old wound.
“He’s been boar-hunting,” William explained to Arisha, who noted his fatigue. Before she could ask for an e
xplanation, he turned to the squire. “Now, come along.”
William led Theodore quickly forward as the trumpets sounded. The squire saw King Roald stand, and he saw Kara’s smiling face.
“Come on, Sir Theodore. It’s time.” William muttered so quickly that Theodore thought he had imagined the words.
“What did you call—?”
But William pushed him before the King and stepped back as the trumpets ended their cry. Then the King spoke.
“Squire Theodore, of the Knights of Falador, kneel,” came the command
He did so, his legs stiff and heavy.
What is happening here?
He cast his eyes sideways to where he could just see Kara’s beaming face. Her dark eyes were filled with pride.
Is that all there is? he wondered. Pride and honest friendship? No chance of anything more?
Then he saw the vermilion cloak of King Roald swish gently as the monarch moved above him. Suddenly he felt the light tap of a thin blade upon his right shoulder, and then again upon his left.
What is he doing?
He looked to Kara again, and suddenly the look on her face made sense. Elation mixed with fear and, inexplicably, a sense of loss.
This is where I forsake all worldly passions.
King Roald’s voice sounded above him. He was a messenger ordained by god.
“Rise, Sir Theodore Kassel, Knight of Falador. And let all who stand here this day bear witness to his ascension.”
Knighted by a King of Misthalin! Few of my order have ever had such an honour! But where is the oath?
Sir Theodore stood as the crowd exploded with cheers. Trumpets sounded, and Kara jumped up to wrap her arms around him, her lithe body crushed against his in the press.
His mind went numb. He was aware of a thousand clapping spectators, of the trumpets that drowned them out, of Castimir, standing nearby under the canopy, shouting wildly.
He felt the tears tug at the corner of his eyes.
King Roald raised his hand, and the crowd fell quiet. Then he turned to the object of their celebration.
“I received a diplomatic missive from Sir Amik Varze, just yesterday,” he revealed, “asking me to elevate you as is my right as a close ally of your order. He offers you his congratulations, and bade me tell you that thanks in part to you, the Knights of Falador have renewed their numbers. Of course, you have yet to take the oath to Saradomin, but even I cannot ask that on behalf of your order. That is for Sir Amik himself to do when you next return home.”