RuneScape: Return to Canifis (43 page)

This isn’t right.

Ebenezer felt his eyes water. He groaned on the bed.

“Please,” he said, his voice broken. “Please leave me. I need some time. Just a little time.”

But it will take more than that. They were my friends.

He hid his face in his hands and didn’t hear the door close. But when he looked up a short time later, he found only Sally remaining.

She was crying.

How utterly selfish of me! She has lost Albertus, too.

“I am sorry, Sally. I am so sorry.”

She nodded and sat by his side, her head on his shoulder.

Sometime later, a knock at the door disturbed them. Ebenezer looked through blurred eyes as a man in a wizard’s robes stepped into the room.

“I do not know if you remember, but my name is Layte Aubury,” he said softly. “I am sorry to intrude on you like this, but I feel it necessary to tell you that all is not lost. Castimir, at least, lives still, and I believe he is unharmed.”

Sally rubbed her eyes.

“How can you know that?” she asked.

Aubury lowered his gaze briefly to the floor before raising his head again.

“I have been in contact with the Wizards’ Tower. In light of the message from Paterdomus, I asked them if they could discern news of Castimir. They have informed me that he is alive and unhurt. Thus far.”

Wizards and their magical ways
, the alchemist fumed.
Confound them all.

“But how?” Sally asked again. “So soon. I don’t understand.”

Aubury gave Ebenezer a long look. The alchemist saw how his hand dipped to the wand at his belt, and how he brushed it with his fingers.

“Magic exists that allows people to travel vast distances in the blink of an eye, Sally,” Ebenezer explained. “You know I once tried out as a wizard, years ago. I know that certain spells exist but such power was far beyond me.”

Aubury nodded.

“It is not a spell for the novice,” he said. “But just as individuals may travel long distances, so too can we commune. And that is what we have been doing. I have asked for Castimir’s yak to be sent on to Varrock, for it is not appropriate that his belongings may fall into the hands of someone who is not of our order.

“Castimir is alive, and it may well be that his comrades are also.”

Sally’s face lit up. Ebenezer’s heart raced.

Then there is hope still. And now is the moment when all our efforts must be put to the task.

Now.

“Thank you, Layte, for your consideration,” he said, his voice firm. “It has lifted my spirits. Now I must go and help where I am able. Please inform me if the situation... changes.”

* * *

Ebenezer’s sudden energy was turned to exasperation at the very first hurdle.

A palace guardsman refused to allow him an audience with the King. His pleas were for nothing, and with an angry turn he found himself walking hesitatingly into the eastern bailey, where only a few days before, the Midsummer Festival had been held.

There was no sign of the celebration now.

That seems like so long ago. And my body feels every minute of it.

He gripped the walking stick tightly, aware that he couldn’t manage without it. Once, he stumbled and cursed loudly as he guided himself down onto a step in a slow ignominious landing. He sat in the late afternoon sunlight, gritting his teeth.

And now Varrock refuses my help. All my fame, all my experience, for what? They see me as a tired old man who is in everyone’s way.

He hacked at a stone in anger, and as it flew across the ground a shadow fell across his face.

“Ebenezer?” said a female voice.

He couldn’t see her face, for the sun was behind her shoulder, blinding him.

This is all I need...

“I am,” he replied brusquely, wondering if he could reach her ankles with the stick.

“I know Sir Theodore. He is a good man,” the woman said. “My name is Ellamaria. I helped tend your injury as you lay abed. Tell me, is there any news of the embassy?”

Yes. And it’s all bad.

He mastered his frustration and marshalled his thoughts.

“There is some news,” he said with a sigh. “And it isn’t good. Some of their steeds returned in a panic to Paterdomus, without their riders. But there is still cause for hope. Castimir the wizard is alive, according to the Tower, which bodes well for the rest.
However, there is nothing definite.”

She nodded in the sunlight, and then sat down on the step at his side. When her face was out of shadow, Ebenezer saw her clearly. She was an attractive woman, with long dark hair and high cheekbones.

He exhaled in an exasperated huff.

“I should have gone with them,” he said angrily, aiming his stick at a stone and missing it by a good margin.

“And what could you have done, had you been there?”

“Sometimes just to be there is enough. It was like that at Falador.”

“I have heard others tell of your part in Falador—in the siege, commanding your levies. They held the breach that night. They saved the city and the lives of all its citizens.” She peered at him intently. “You, master alchemist, were key to the victory.”

Ebenezer laughed bitterly.

“And now look at me. Only six months ago I was the saviour of Falador, apparently. Now I am turned away from the King by a simple guard, my words ignored without even being heard.”

He growled angrily and swung again at the stone, this time leaning forward. He overextended himself, however, and his leg slipped on the step. He fell to the one below with a grim snarl and a half-uttered expletive.

But Ellamaria seemed not to notice.

She hides her laughter well.

Then when she spoke, Ebenezer knew he had misjudged her.

“Sir Theodore showed me kindness in the dungeon that night,” she offered. “If you think you can help them in any way, and Varrock itself, then you must allow me to do you a service, for I am to see the King tonight. Privately.”

“Ah.” He felt himself blushing. “Oh, my.”

“It is nothing salacious,” she assured him, this time with a hint of amusement. “But a man of your reputation cannot be ignored. I
feel that everything that can be done must be done.”

Her eyes took on a steely look, and her voice was determined. “I believe Varrock to be in danger. I believe in this prophecy, and any help we can have we would be wise to accept.” She stood quickly and gazed down at him.

“Goodbye, master alchemist. You shall hear from me tomorrow. Until then, you must be patient.”

She stood and left him alone on the steps. But somehow, he felt, a great victory had been won.

The morning came and went. Lucretia brought Ebenezer breakfast in bed, and as he ate the thick porridge flavoured with the King’s own honey, he realised just how famished he was.

“Don’t eat too much too quickly. Your body isn’t used to it just yet.” Lucretia warned him. Lady Caroline’s maid had already cleaned his wound and examined his injured forehead with a critical eye. Satisfied, she now sat opposite him as if she were guarding a dangerous felon.

He tried to move, to get up and walk, but the maid forced him back. When she heard that Sally had let him out the day before, she was angry.

“You could still faint,” she fumed. “If that happened outside, then your head would most likely hit a stone and not a pillow! I’ll have none of that. You must remain here for the time being.”

“I will not!” he protested. “I have work to do. I have—”

“You have to rest,” she insisted. “You are not twenty-five,
old man
.” Lucretia glared at him, and he hid behind his porridge bowl. Silently, he wished that Sally would return, rather than deciding to spend the day at home.

Her concern for Albertus is still very raw.
But it didn’t improve his situation.

Trapped by a ghastly harridan. What an end for the saviour of Falador!

And so it continued all morning, to the extent that Lucretia even confiscated his walking stick, and made him promise not to move from his bed.

“Unless I have the King’s permission,” he replied. At that she had screwed up her face and acquiesced with the barest of nods.

By afternoon, the King’s permission still hadn’t materialised. Lucretia began to smile from the side of her mouth.

“Too much light could hurt your eyes,” she said. “Best we close the curtains.”

And now I lie in a dark cell, taunted by the sounds of life just beyond my reach.

Accursed woman!

The light began to wane, and Lucretia reopened the curtains to reveal a cloud-laden sky. As Ebenezer peered at the coming storm, the door fell open and in walked Lord William de Adlard.

“I have just returned from Paterdomus,” the young man said solemnly. “I am glad to see you so well, master alchemist. Your friends were overjoyed when they heard that you had woken. It gave the embassy a good omen...”

His voice trailed off.

“They could well use it, if they have lost their steeds,” Ebenezer said. “But there is still cause for hope. The Wizards’ Tower believes that Castimir still lives, and that he is unharmed. Therefore, I would be remiss in my duty to them if I did not help where I could.”

“And where can you help, sir?”

He saw Lucretia purse her lips.

Just another tiresome old man? Is that what you think of me?

Well, not yet.

“I need to investigate the Wyrd. She is after something specific, and we must find out what that is.”

Lord William shrugged, and looked doubtful.

“The Wyrd is just a mindless killer from Morytania,” he said. “A rampant beast, and a dangerous one—”

“Who targets specific individuals,” Ebenezer interjected. “Who leaves us messages on rooftops. No, there is a purpose here. And we must discover what it is.”

Lord William nodded as the door opened again. It was Reldo. The archivist was still attired in his riding clothes, his boots muddy from his journey. In his hand he held a parchment.

“I have been asked to help you, master alchemist,” he said, and there was a look of satisfaction in his eye. “Papelford is up in arms about it, and he refuses to cooperate.” He smiled suddenly. “That might give us more freedom, in truth.”

Ebenezer gave a devilish smile.

So the young man is enthusiastic. And he has an aim now—to outdo his master.

Lucretia screwed her face up again.

“Pray tell me who asked this of you, Reldo?” she demanded.

“The King himself asked me to spare what time I could. I should say now that I suspect they will be generous hours indeed, since Papelford seems to wish me to vanish entirely. It makes my apprenticeship... awkward.”

Ellamaria, I owe you my thanks.

“Very well, then,” Ebenezer said. “We shall start with what we know. Hard facts only. We need a list of the victims.”

Reldo smiled.

“I might be able to better that, sir,” he said. “The bodies have been interred in the palace crypts, on the advice of Papelford himself. That was the only place large enough to keep them. It was
one of Lord Despaard’s little secrets, but it has become public— secrets are very difficult to keep in these times of fear and gossip. Shall I ask Lord Ruthven if we can see them?”

The alchemist felt his stomach roil.

That is a great deal more than I wanted. But I must be brave. I am not a useless old man just yet.

“Very well,” he replied, “though most will be skeletons by now. Ask him, and we shall begin.”

Somehow, that almost sounded decisive.
Reldo must have thought the same thing.

“But before I ask him, sir, I offer you this. It is my account of Gar’rth’s history of his life in Morytania. Doric asked me to write it down for you so that you might have his own words to hand.” He handed over a parchment. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must seek Lord Ruthven.”

The young man left, followed by William and Lucretia. Ebenezer stared at the document he held in his hand, still rolled tightly.

So many answers to questions I have pondered for months. And he might already be dead.

Or worse.

Slowly he unrolled the parchment and began to read.

Two hours later, standing in the dimly lit tunnel stairwell that led to the crypt beneath the palace, Ebenezer wasn’t feeling quite so bold.

A single glance at the faces of those gathered around him told him that he he wasn’t alone.

Lord William stood away from the small group, a few steps above. On the step next to the alchemist stood Lord Ruthven, his eyes closed in despair as Papelford harangued him.

“I do not need these interruptions, Ruthven,” he spat. “My work
is vital at this hour, vital to us all, and here I am dragged from my studies by the whim of an interfering old man.” He gazed at Ebenezer balefully. “What do you think you can do that we haven’t already done?”

“The key to this is in the victims, Papelford,” the alchemist said firmly. “Lord Despaard was so busy covering up the attacks that he barely catalogued the dead and missing.”

“That was my job!” The archivist complained bitterly. “Yet it very soon became apparent that there is no pattern, if that’s what you hope to identify.”

“It is,” Ebenezer persisted. “I will take up where you left off.” He stepped toward the great iron-clad double door, then turned suddenly back. “If, as you say, it is such a waste of time, then I will be the one who is wasting it, and not you. You will have ample time to do what really matters in your studies. Now the key, if you please.”

He saw Reldo standing behind his master, grinning wickedly.

“I sincerely hope you know what you are about Ruthven. Logic and reason are no guard against the magic that afflicts us,” Papelford uttered.

“Ebenezer has the King’s confidence,” the nobleman replied.

“And this young popinjay?” Papelford queried, nodding to Lord William.

“He accompanied the embassy, and he knows about, Gar’rth,” Lord Ruthven said. “He can be trusted. Now, open the door.”

“Very well. Prepare yourselves.”

The two guards stood to one side. Ebenezer saw them ready their weapons uneasily.