by T. S. Church
With that he stepped down from the marble dais and exited through a door to his left, followed by Lord Despaard and two others. The first, an ancient man, was hidden under a black fur coat, the other was an elderly nobleman with sharp features that reminded Castimir of a hawk. Only when they had gone did the audience break up, to swarm throughout the narrow chamber in a buzz of voices, a hundred feet crumpling the yellow rug-for now the King had left its power had gone.
Castimir’s heart beat quicker as Lady Anne approached Theodore.
“So the King takes guidance from the librarian Papelford and the Lords Despaard and Ruthven,” she said. “Perhaps I should be included amongst such august company? Don’t you think so, Theodore?”
As she teased the squire, Castimir sensed Theodore’s anger build. He knew his friend as few others did. But the squire mastered his irritation.
“Good day, Lady Anne,” he said brusquely. “I have work to do, and time is running short.” He turned and gave a nod to his friends as he left the throne room.
From the look on Lady Anne’s face, if the insult had meant to wound, it had failed.
“He can be a bore, can’t he?” she said to no one in particular. “But I suppose that’s what makes him such a challenge.” Moving in their direction, she skipped by Castimir, ignoring him entirely as she put her arm through William’s. “Now William de Adlard, I want you to do something for me. When Theodore finishes his morning drill with his young men, I want you to lead him by the galleries. I will be waiting.”
“And why should I do this thing?” William asked, making no attempt to hide his own irritation.
“Because if you do as I say, I will put a good word in for you to Lady Caroline.”
Castimir saw Lady Anne’s spell work its magic.
“Would you?” the young noble said. “That’s very thoughtful of you.” Then, as he realised what he had said, his face wrinkled in a frown. “But what do I tell Theodore?”
Lady Anne gave that smile again. Castimir wasn’t sure, but he thought a part of it was aimed in his direction. He heard Doric huff behind him.
“You are both men,” she said blithely. “Men talk about things. I am sure you will think of something. I shall wait at the Salve gallery from midday until one o’clock. Don’t fail me, or Lady Caroline will be so disappointed that she may never talk to you again. I am very good at making things up William, a fact that could work to your advantage. Or not!”
With that she swept herself from the room.
“Come along, Castimir,” Ebenezer said with a cunning grin. “I think you need some air, and I know just where we can get it.” The alchemist turned to the noble who had been their guide. “Don’t worry William, I think we can find our own way. And I appreciate that you have greater priorities now.”
4
“Welcome my friends, to my home,” Ebenezer said. “Here, I am sorry to inform you, you are likely to meet more of my scientific friends.” The alchemist ignored Castimir’s sour expression and looked at the house he had left many years before.
Over twenty years before. More time than Castimir has been alive!
The dark oak door had been nicely varnished, while the white adobe walls-rare in a city built mainly from grey stone-had been recently repainted. To him, the whole townhouse looked fresher than he had ever remembered it being.
“It’s a big house, Ebenezer” Castimir said. “I’m surprised that you and your science cronies haven’t blown the roof off.”
Doric glared at him and shook his head slowly. The young wizard looked suddenly uneasy.
“It is all right, Doric,” the alchemist said in a good-natured tone. “Time has mellowed my pain.” Then he looked back at the structure. “My friends and I used to gather here to discuss the latest developments of architecture and engineering, chemistry and astronomy. Here, Castimir, you would have been the heretic.” He gave the wizard a smile. “But a welcome one nonetheless. Now, let us see who is in.”
He banged the knocker against the door. Almost immediately it was opened an inch. A woman peered through the gap, her round face and grey hair showing symptoms of her age. But her eyes sparkled with a formidable intelligence and, Ebenezer thought, force of will.
After all these years, can it be?
“Sally? Sally is that really you?” he said, peering at her closely through his glasses.
The woman remained silent for a moment, then suddenly she broke into laughter.
“Ebenezer! We’ve been waiting for you, Albertus and I! Your house is just as you left it.” The door was pulled open and Sally charged out to embrace him. Then just as suddenly she stepped back.
“Let me look at you!” Her eyes ran over the yellow waistcoat and blue jacket that he wore under his old travelling cloak. She stared at the golden fob watch that Lord Tremene had given him in Falador, in gratitude for all he had done in the war. Suddenly, her eyebrows rose quizzically.
“Surely this isn’t the same cloak you left Varrock with, all those years ago?”
Ebenezer laughed, feeling a happy tear appear in the corner of his eye.
“It is, Sally. The very one you hurled over my back as I promised never to return. It’s the one item of clothing that I have never parted with, even though the rest of my clothes are far too expensive, and hand-made by the tailors of Falador.”
Sally laughed again and looked past him, to Doric and Castimir.
“When he left Varrock, with his wagon full of rocks and chemicals, he sat out here in the road in the pouring rain, drenched. It was all I could do to force the travelling cloak on him, for it once belonged to my husband.”
Your husband… Ebenezer thought. I had forgotten Erasmus, and that is certainly no way to remember a friend. Have I really grown so old?
He felt more tears gather and threaten to spill over the lip of his eye. Yet somehow, he didn’t mind.
“It’s true,” he said with a tremulous voice. “I would have died of a chill if you hadn’t given it to me all those years ago, Sally.” He coughed and regained his composure. “Indeed, I have often thought that I wouldn’t have even made it to the home of the barbarian tribes, only a few days west of here.”
A silence fell, in which the two old friends stared at each other.
How you have changed Sally. You have replaced your beauty with dignity and grace, yet I am more glad for your kind heart.
But how have I changed in your eyes?
Finally, Sally spoke.
“Welcome home, Ebenezer, my dear, dear friend. Welcome home.”
“It was Eloise’s fifty-first birthday three weeks ago, Ebenezer. Albertus and I went to lay flowers by her grave. Your annuity has kept it in good shape since you left Varrock. She and the children rest well under the tree you planted next to them.”
The ash tree? Was it ash, or willow? How Eloise hated the children getting the sun on them. That was why I planted it there.
“Thank you for doing so, Sally. Your sister would be happy if she knew.”
“If she knew? So your travels have not yet persuaded you of the existence of the gods or an afterlife?” Sally laughed and he saw her look to Doric and Castimir, who sat opposite-somewhat stiffly, he thought, uncomfortably so. Castimir laboured with a biscuit, chewing slowly and deliberately, while Doric lit his pipe.
“Come Sally, our mawkish talk is making my friends uncomfortable,” he said, hoping to lighten the mood. “Although I feel I must answer your question, for that was a tradition of our debates, was it not? A question asked had to be answered. Yes, I believe in the gods. I think I always did. But I just don’t believe they care for mortals. I have seen too much ill in all areas of the world to think otherwise.”
“That I can believe,” she answered. “You don’t have to go far these days to prove such a hypothesis, alas.” Her voice trailed off, and Ebenezer saw the looks of his friends grow interested.
“What is happening in Varrock, Sally?” he asked. “What is this Wyrd that keeps taking people?”
Sally took a sip of her tea, avoiding his stare.
Ebenezer was content to wait.
“I first heard of it some months ago,” she said slowly. “Farmers from the east said that children had been taken from their beds at night, and devoured. Later on it started happening to adults, to farm hands. Strong young men who would fight a wolf, if it threatened.”
She lowered her cup.
“But it’s been said no one ever fought this thing,” she continued. “It kills with absolute impunity. Always in the night. Some have seen it, or so they say. It has been described as a giant bat, with fangs that drip blood, or poison. Some people say it is a woman. It has taken indiscriminately-men, women, children, the old and the young. Some vanish never to be seen again, other times remains are found, but still no one has an answer to stop it. Some say it has taken over a hundred souls since it first arrived in our lands.”
One hundred!
“What you say matches Theodore’s description to the letter,” Doric growled.
“Then it is true?” Sally asked.
Ebenezer nodded. “Theodore confronted her two nights ago. She took a tailor’s child and killed the father. Her talons are poisoned, he believes. She also slew a man last night and left his body on public display, with a message written in his blood. The message read, ‘I am coming.’ Theodore thinks it was her, anyhow.”
“‘I am coming,’” Sally repeated with a shiver. “It’s not just this that is scaring people, however. Have you heard of the prophecy of the High Priest of Entrana, made a century ago upon his death bed?”
“Theodore mentioned it in his explanation,” Doric said. “Something about a true king returning.”
Sally nodded. “That is what makes people afraid. They think it is Drakan, and that soon he will cross the Salve and take Varrock. Others believe it is tied to the legend of Arrav and the Necromancer. This Wyrd seems to me to be a thing from Morytania.”
“That is what Theodore believes,” Ebenezer agreed.
Sally shook her head.
“I haven’t seen Theodore since he first came to Varrock with your request for the steam engine.” Her expression relaxed. “I would have liked to have seen it working.”
“It worked better than we could have hoped,” the alchemist replied. “And speaking of science, what else do you have to show me? Your recent letters have mentioned phosphorous.”
“Ah, phosphorous is the least of our efforts. We have had some success in our experiments with the Kinshra’s black powder, but for that you must be patient. Albertus Black will be here shortly, and I know he is excited to show you what new inventions we have come up with. Only when he is here, and you have both shared a drink, will I unlock the door to the wine cellar.”
“That sounds like a very good idea,” Doric said. “I favour a strong red myself.”
Sally laughed.
“Then you are out of luck, master dwarf, for the wine cellar holds no wine. It is where Albertus and I carry out our research.”
Doric gave a brief curse and rolled his eyes-to the amusement of his friends-when suddenly the front door opened with a loud bang.
“That is him now,” Sally said in excitement. “Albertus is here!”
Albertus Black was a white-haired old man only three years older than Ebenezer. His sideburns crept down his face and met at his chin, where they ended in a short, ill-kept beard. Age had withered him to the extent that he was barely taller than Doric, no more than chest height compared to Castimir, and when he shook hands with Ebenezer, the alchemist was startled by how frail his old friend appeared to be.
“I am glad you have come back, Ebenezer,” Albertus said. “I had hoped to sit with you again for a time, and to talk about the past.”
“Not you, as well?” Sally chided. “We’ve already been over Eloise and her grave. We’ve even talked about the disappearances and killings that plague Varrock.”
“Oh, please!” Albertus said with sudden vigour. “She does go on, doesn’t she? Often I thought it would have been best if I had gone with you twenty years ago. It would have saved me years of nagging. No wonder poor Erasmus died so young.” He sat at the table, next to Castimir, and eyed the wizard with a hint of suspicion. “Do you know young man, I am only twenty years old? Yet look what she has done to me!”
Sally laughed and scolded him for a fool.
“If your bones weren’t so brittle, you would be out, Albertus Black!”
“So you don’t believe in this creature then?” Doric asked cautiously. “The one that is doing the killing?”
“No,” Albertus said without hesitation. “It is the imaginings of peasants drunk on cider or religion. Possibly it is a contamination in the wheat-sometimes that can happen with ergot. And if that is the case, coming at a time when this ridiculous prophecy is talked of and spread about, then is it any surprise that a fearful figure grips the imagination of a folk weaned on legends of vampires and werewolves from over the river? No, it is all stuff and nonsense, and would never stand up to the scrutiny of a scientific mind.”
“You remind me of when I first met Ebenezer,” Castimir said, turning to his friend. “Didn’t we argue about the gods? You believed that Saradomin, Zamorak, and Guthix were all elements of the same god. You are fortunate Theodore didn’t declare you a heretic.”
“I believed that they were like fingers on the same hand,” Ebenezer explained. “Although I have seen much since that time, only six months ago.”
Near enough to make me reconsider my opinions, perhaps.
“I too believe they aren’t as people say they are,” Albertus huffed. “Since time immemorial we have listened to High Priests of Entrana as they lay down laws that govern our lives, setting calendars and dictating marriage ceremonies. And, of course, collecting money from the masses. I have never been to Entrana, but I expect the Holy Isle is a wealthy place indeed!”
“So what do you believe in?” Castimir asked politely.
“Science. Theories to test and then to predict. Let me show you.” The old man struggled to his feet and approached the cupboard that stood against the far wall. From inside he took a copper globe with a pump protruding from the bottom. Gently, he laid it on the table, wheezing from the effort.
“Now, master dwarf or wizard, would one of you be so kind as to use the pump?”
Castimir stood and did as the old man asked. He did so until he had gone red in the face and sweat dripped from his brow.
“That is quite enough. Now, you have just pumped out the air that was inside this hollow globe, creating a vacuum. I believe that not even two horses could pull the two halves of this globe apart.” He peered at them, amusement in his eyes. “Try it.”
Ebenezer watched as Doric and Castimir did so. Once, when Doric spied a small plug, Albertus interrupted. “Not yet, master dwarf. Try using strength alone.”
Sally shook her head.
“It is impossible, Albertus. Show them how it’s done.”
The white haired old man bent over the copper globe and gripped the plug.
“Listen” he said as he pulled it aside. The sound of air passing through the gap filled the silence. Then, with a slight twist of his hand, he pulled the globe apart, and it fell into two neat halves.
“And what does that mean?” Castimir asked.
Albertus frowned.
“It means that the atmosphere that we breathe exerts a pressure.” He peered upward and waved a hand toward the ceiling. “It means we live at the bottom of an ocean of air and gasses. You see, the weight of the atmosphere presses the two halves together when there is a vacuum inside. However, when I remove the plug, as demonstrated, the air inside becomes the same as the air outside, the pressure is balanced, and it becomes extremely easy to separate them. I plan to show it to the King this very afternoon.”
Ebenezer caught sight of Castimir’s bewilderment.
“Well, perhaps you can show us something a little more practical,” he proposed. “Something
that my sorcerer friend will appreciate. How about this phosphorous?”
“Yes. More practical and more fun,” Albertus said excitedly. “Come along!”
The small party followed Sally to the door that led to the wine cellar, where she made a great show of fiddling with her keys while the grandfather clock announced midday. Finally the lock parted and they descended into a stone room with arched ceilings, where tables, barrels, and all manner of glass-shaped beakers and tubes were arrayed. To one side was a furnace, and to another was a separate chimney.
Albertus opened another cupboard while Ebenezer looked on with great interest.
This is home to me. I recognise these smells and instruments.
“Here it is,” Albertus announced. “Just a small sample of phosphorus the light-giver. Stand back.” He held out a small stoppered tube containing a white powder. He approached a table, first filling a jug of water from a barrel nearby. Then he spilled the powder onto a dry cloth.
In seconds a pale smoke rose. It was followed by a flash of light as the cloth caught fire.
Ebenezer saw Castimir’s eyebrow rise in interest.
“That could be magic,” the wizard said. “Truly.”
“But it isn’t.” Albertus smiled as he doused the cloth in water. “It’s science. Now, is there anything else you would like to see?”
“Sally said you had experimented with black powder taken from the Kinshra weapons,” Ebenezer said. “Can we see those?”
Albertus smiled even more broadly as he returned to the cupboard.
“Here.” He held a metal tube up for their inspection. A fuse protruded from its top, and Ebenezer heard Castimir breath in sharply.
“But I don’t think we will do a demonstration down here,” Albertus warned, returning the explosive to its proper place in the cupboard. “For obvious reasons.”
5
When they finished training, as they did every morning, the twelve recruits made certain their equipment was cleaned and maintained. This was the part of the daily ritual Theodore’s men hated most of all, for there was no glory or excitement to be had in such a menial job.