RuneScape: Return to Canifis (22 page)

Doric drank and talked with Lowe, the King’s fletcher, Castimir spent his time talking to Arisha, and Ebenezer fell into animated conversation with the merchant Draul Leptoc, explaining his steam engine and the role it had played following the war.

After the circle dances came the private ones. Gar’rth noticed Lady Anne’s look of triumph as she lifted Theodore’s hand in hers and led him to the floor. Kara shared a brief dance with King Roald.

Only I remain alone.

Gar’rth left the table and found his way into the crowd below the stage. At one point a young woman fell against him with a delightful cry, peering up at him, only to turn aside quickly when she saw his face.

Fear
, he thought.
They fear me. Even my friends. They all fear me. Do these people secretly know that I am different?

Gar’rth moved to the terrace door again, and this time continued outside. The sky was dark now. He took a deep breath at the terrace’s edge. The scent of nature, imprisoned in the walls of the palace, comforted him. He heard a voice behind, and he knew his privacy would not last.

I don’t want to talk now.

Not to anyone. Not even Kara.

He stepped back into the shadows, against the wall. Only a yard away a young man ran out, leading a woman by the hand. Quickly they ran down the terrace steps and disappeared into the darkness of the bailey.

But the night held no secrets from Gar’rth. He watched them find a spot below a yew tree, far enough from the hall to be private in their eyes. He tried to look away, but could not.

Suddenly his anger grew. There could never be anyone like that for him, not here.

He turned to the door as the old man Papelford appeared before him. The man’s scent was of old books. Behind him came Lord Despaard.

“Excuse me,” the old librarian muttered as both men passed him and walked some distance away, talking in low voices. “Not much farther Lord Despaard. I am not so young any more.”

“I just want to be sure we cannot be heard, Papelford.”

Gar’rth turned back to the balustrade, deliberately moving away from the two men who now stood at the farthest end of the terrace, out of the reach of the torchlight.

“Don’t be so paranoid Lord Despaard,” the old man whispered, though his voice was still clear to Gar’rth. “He can’t hear us. Not from that distance. No one could.”

Gar’rth smiled.

“This heroine, Kara-Meir,” Papelford said cautiously. “Do you think she knew to wear that dress? She risked the King’s wrath to do so.”

“I sense the hand of Lady Anne involved here, Papelford. Perhaps she sought to embarrass Kara-Meir, but it appears the King was more tolerant than she believed.” He glanced in Gar’rth’s
direction. “But tell me, what did you
really
want to speak about out here?”

“It is my apprentice.”

“Reldo?” There was genuine surprise in the nobleman’s voice. “He is perfectly suited for this work, surely. His memory is incredible, he can recall anything he’s ever read. He is from a good and trusted family. He’s—”

“All of that and more Lord Despaard. Yes, I know. But he asks too many questions about what we do. He’s guessed half the truth, I am sure of it.”

“That is not an issue. In fact, it was an inevitability, if he was doing the job properly. You are an old man, Papelford. We need someone in the archives who can be trusted. Reldo is good at what he does.”

Papelford made a noise that reminded Gar’rth of a bird choking.

“He’s not good. I want him moved.”

Lord Despaard sighed.

“I will talk to Lord Ruthven about it,” he said. “The Society of the Owl needs a good and trusted archivist, more now than ever— with these killings and the approach of the prophecy.”

The two men fell silent for a moment.

“Tell me, old friend, do you really believe it will come true?” Lord Despaard sounded weary.

“I don’t know,” Papelford responded. “But who could claim to be a truer king than King Roald? His line goes back at least a thousand years.”

“I hope you are right.”

A new tune started from inside the hall, and a poet began to speak.

“Ah, the ‘Ballad of Tenebra and Ailane’,” Papelford muttered. “Come, this tragedy is a favourite of King Roald’s, for it reminds
him—as well as the rest of us—of what his family have suffered at the hands of Morytania. Although he needs no reminding, not after this creature murdered his fiancée.”

Murdered his fiancée?

“The kingdom need not know that,” Lord Despaard warned as the two men walked back into the light of the torches. Gar’rth turned, feigning surprise.

They said nothing as they vanished into the hall, and Gar’rth was left alone.

He stood on the terrace for several minutes, half-listening to the ballad, before he caught a familiar scent behind him.

“Arisha,” he said without turning.

The barbarian priestess approached him, her booted feet crunching the gravel.

“I saw you leave,” she said. “You’ve been gone some time.”

“Yes.”

“Are you all right, Gar’rth?”

“I don’t like it here, Arisha. I am afraid.”

“You?” She didn’t attempt to mask her surprise. “Afraid of what? Jerrod won’t...”

Gar’rth gave a harsh laugh.

“Not Jerrod, Arisha. I am afraid of...” He paused and shook his head. “I have run from one place to another, then another. I can’t keep running.”

He looked at her, and felt a sudden anger when he saw her eyes widen in sympathy.

“Then speak to Kara, Gar’rth,” she said. “Tell her how you feel.”

“She knows, Arisha.”

“No she doesn’t,” the barbarian replied. “She
suspects,
but she does not know.”

Gar’rth shook his head again.

“She would say no,” he said grimly. “She knows what I am.”

“And she knows
who
you are, as well. She knows the good you’ve done at her side.” Arisha fell silent, and Gar’rth saw her shiver. “It is cold out here,” she said after a moment. “Will you come inside with me?”

“Yes,” he said. He looked her straight in the eye, and he thought he saw her blink nervously. “But not because I feel the cold. I rarely do.”

Inside the hall, the ballad was ending and had given way to more raucous behaviour. From his position near the door Gar’rth saw a small crowd gathered around a table, cheering. He noted Lady Anne looking on, watching from the stage.

The crowd around the table jostled slightly, revealing two men engaged in an arm wrestle.

“It’s Theodore,” Arisha murmured with a slight smile.

Gar’rth watched the contest with interest before the crowd hid the contestants from view. Someone gave a cry and then another man shouted in victory as half the crowd cheered and the rest groaned.

“Sir Theodore loses! It seems not even the finest warrior in Varrock can beat Sir Frey.” The crowd parted and Gar’rth saw Theodore stagger up and massage his right hand. The knight’s opponent was a much larger and older man, with arms thick and powerful like a blacksmith’s.

I could beat him
, Gar’rth thought.
I would be able to do so easily.

Arisha noted his hesitation.

“Come along, Gar’rth. Let us return to the stage.”

They got only halfway up the steps before Lady Anne stopped them.

“Oh, Gar’rth,” she said sweetly. “Would you care to escort me outside for some air on the terrace? You are the only one of Kara’s
companions I have yet to speak with.” She pointedly ignored his silent frown.

“I am afraid Castimir requires his presence, Lady Anne,” Arisha cut in sharply.

“Castimir can wait,” Gar’rth said, anger edging into his words. “The hall, inside, too much noise,” he explained. “Outside is better.”

He felt Arisha’s concerned stare as Lady Anne put her arm through his.

They are not my keepers. I am not an animal
, he thought as she led him back toward the terrace yet again.

“I can tell that you do not enjoy these occasions,” Lady Anne remarked. “I understand that. You are not from Misthalin, and our ways must seem strange to you.” They were outside now, in the cool air, alone. “And I have also seen the way you look at Kara-Meir.”

Gar’rth shook his head slowly.

Lady Anne laughed.

“Oh, don’t be so coy!” she said. “Your feelings for her are obvious.” Her blue eyes fixed Gar’rth’s back pupils. “And so are Theodore’s.” She turned her back on him and waited. But he did not reply. Instead, a man’s voice coughed gently, and Gar’rth turned to see a youth waiting nearby.

“Lady Anne,” the boy said. “Forgive my interruption, but I bring a message from Lord Hyett.”

“Oh,” her voice was flat. “Where is it?”

“I have been asked to relay it to you in private, Lady Anne.”

“Oh, how tiresome. Does the Black Boar have time enough to waste on me, rather than make his peace with whichever god he believes in? Very well.” She turned to him briefly. “Excuse me Gar’rth.”

He bowed awkwardly as Lady Anne strode to the opposite end of the terrace. As with Lord Despaard and the librarian Papelford,
their hushed voices were clear to him over such a distance.

“Lord Hyett begs you to see him, Lady Anne.”

“I will go tomorrow to pay my respects.”

“He will be dead by then,” came the reply. “Sir Theodore gave him a heinous wound.”

“Well, good for Sir Theodore,” Lady Anne hissed coldly. “I have never liked your master. He is a brute. The Black Boar can go to his grave pining for me, for all I care. Go and tell him that, and tell him that I will think of his last hours with relish.”

“Lady Anne, please, have compassion to a man who has only ever deSired your love.”

She laughed.

“Don’t be a fool, boy,” she scolded. “The Black Boar was a monster in life. It is an open secret that he worshipped Zamorak, just as he was known to work with the Kinshra in their patrols in The Wilderness. He was an evil, evil man who sought to reclaim his lands by marriage and murder. His first two wives died horribly—and he then attempted to marry me. No doubt I would have died also. No. I am glad Sir Theodore has killed him. It has saved me the job.”

Lady Anne stepped toward Gar’rth. She stopped once and spoke again, this time without any attempt at privacy.

“Be sure to tell that to Lord Hyett, as I dance and enjoy myself tonight in the company of better men. And tell him I smiled when I said it. Smiled and laughed.”

As if to illustrate she gave a laugh that reminded Gar’rth of breaking glass. The youth bowed his head and ran quickly away into the darkness of the bailey. Lady Anne turned back.

“You must forgive me, Gar’rth,” she said. “It is news of Lord Hyett, the knight Theodore fought. He is not expected to live out the night.” She smiled happily. “As you can probably tell, I have no fondness for
him. Theodore’s wound is a just one, and long overdue.”

She rested her hands on the balustrade.

“But what were we talking of? Oh, yes. Theodore and Kara. He wrote her a letter, you see. One that I read—quite by accident I assure you.”

Now it was Gar’rth’s turn to laugh. Lady Anne looked suddenly hurt, though he couldn’t tell if it was sincere.

“It was!” she protested. “I knocked her satchel over when she was bathing, and a strange dagger fell out of it. When I put it back I found a letter to Kara from Theodore. I know it was wrong, Gar’rth, but I couldn’t resist... what are you frowning for?”

“Which dagger?” he demanded. “Kara carries none in her satchel.” He knew that for certain, from their time in The Wilderness.

“It was a strange one, with two blades.” She waved her hand. But that’s not important—” She continued, but he didn’t hear her now.

The same dagger that Pia used to cut Jerrod
, he knew with growing certainty.
It must be! That was why I felt so ill on our journey to Varrock! Exactly as Velko said Jerrod suffered, I suffered too.

Fear and anger twisted themselves up in Gar’rth’s stomach as he doubled over, holding the balustrade, his face hidden in shadow. He breathed deeply, gasping, and felt fire burn his skin.

Not now!

He saw Lady Anne’s shadow move closer.

“Gar’rth, what is it?” she asked, confusion in her voice. “Shall I get help?”

Her scent was suddenly far more real than before.

Stronger, more tempting.

He felt her hand on his shoulder and he turned to see her, his face in the torchlight.

Lady Anne gasped when she saw him.

“Your eyes!” she said. “What’s wrong with you?” But she didn’t
wait for an explanation. Instead, her face more pale than before, she fled back into the hall, leaving Gar’rth alone again.

He felt his tears on his face, and his skin went suddenly cold.

Why didn’t you tell me, Kara? You are a friend to me, more than a friend.

The fever subsided.

He breathed in deeply.

“Gar’rth?” It was Arisha’s voice now. Somehow he hadn’t picked up her scent.

“I am all right, Arisha,” he said angrily. “I don’t need you, or Kara or Ebenezer to keep watching me.”

“I saw Lady Anne come back into the hall,” Arisha replied. “She was afraid, I think.”

Gar’rth laughed.

“Perhaps you should be more careful,” she advised.

Does she know about the dagger also? Has she kept the secret from me?

“More careful?” He laughed again. “Perhaps I’ve been
too
careful.”

He turned and strode purposefully into the hall, Arisha following.

“Gar’rth! What are you doing?” There was a panic in Arisha’s voice—fear that he had never heard before. Not even in battle.

It made him feel powerful.

He strode over to the seated Lord Frey. The old noble gave him a grin.

“You wish to wager boy? I sent your Sir Theodore packing. Nearly snapped his wrist.”

“I am no Sir Theodore,” Gar’rth growled, and the man raised an eyebrow.

“Gar’rth you mustn’t,” Arisha told him sternly. Someone laughed.

“Listen to the barbarian, if you wish to keep your money,” an anonymous man joked.

Gar’rth dropped his belt pouch on the table. Lord Frey overturned it and then gave a gasp. For it was a gem, worth a small fortune.