RuneScape: Return to Canifis (6 page)

Doric winked at Theodore, and gestured.

“Haven’t you noticed Ebenezer’s new surcoat?” the dwarf asked.

“It looks more expensive than your previous garment,”
Theodore observed. “When last I saw you, you had been asked to find a way to drain the moat around the castle and retrieve the valuables the people had cast into the waters, in the effort to prevent the invaders from claiming them. Has this made you a rich man?”

“It has,” Ebenezer confessed. “And in the process, my reputation as an alchemist has reached new heights. After the fighting was over and the repairs begun, Sir Amik granted me the resources to construct just the thing that was needed to complete the task. Crowds gathered to see the monstrosity that my friends and I had built.”

Doric shook his head.

“You should have seen their faces, Theodore!” the dwarf said. “When Ebenezer lit the fires and fed the boiler with coal and wood, and the beam at the top began to rock on its fulcrum, powering the pump. The citizens were amazed. The steam engine drew nearly ten gallons of water from the moat each minute. It must have been the first time in its history that it was drained, for a great many objects were recovered that didn’t match any descriptions offered by the citizens.”

“And my work was well rewarded,” Ebenezer said. He gave a satisfied smile and returned his pipe to his mouth, exchanging a knowing glance with his travelling companion.

“And what of you Doric?” Theodore asked.

“I remained in Falador for nearly two months, helping the dwarfs under Commander Blenheim strengthen the walls and open the mining guild, and I also pursued my claim against those who burned my cabin. The magistrates ruled in my favour, and the guilty were ordered to help rebuild what they had destroyed.”

The old dwarf stirred his feet in the steaming tub.

“That was enough for me, for I was not looking for revenge.
And those who had done the damage admitted their ignorance and offered me their assistance and their friendship, both of which I accepted.” He looked furtively to Ebenezer. “And I have done something else, something which has taken me some time and no small expense. Something which will be a gift to my friends.”

With that, Doric yawned.

“Well?” Theodore prompted.

The dwarf gave a low laugh.

“All in good time,” he said. “When we are
all
gathered.”

“Very well Doric, you may keep your secrets,” Theodore said. “William has had rooms prepared for you both, here in the palace. All your needs will be met during your stay, for as companions to Kara-Meir you are honoured guests.”

The alchemist and the dwarf exchanged wary looks.

“Have you had any news of Kara?” Doric asked.

Theodore lowered his gaze to the floor.

“Apparently she is here, in Varrock,” he answered, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “But Gar’rth and Arisha are not.”

Ebenezer took the pipe from his mouth. Doric frowned in worry.

“They went into The Wilderness together,” Theodore continued angrily. “It might be that only Kara returned. And she has refused to see me.”

For a time no one spoke. Both of Theodore’s friends knew how he felt about Kara, and how hurt he must have been by her refusal.

Doric lifted his feet from the tub, water splashing onto the flagstones. He was about to speak when a commotion sounded outside in the passageway, of men running and giving commands in anxious tones.

Suddenly William burst into the room.

“There’s been a killing, Theodore!” he shouted. “They are no longer just rumours—the creature has entered the city!”

* * *

Theodore rode hard to the south of the city, to where the poorer inhabitants dwelt. Doric clung to his waist with his eyes shut, yet the mare easily outpaced William’s gelding. Even Ebenezer—had he decided to accompany them from the palace—could have outpaced the young nobleman on his horse.

But William is fearful,
Theodore realised.
I have never noticed it so acutely before. Even walking down stairs he is always unnaturally careful. And his behaviour at the inn today. His fear!

Thoughts of his friend evaporated as he saw a crowd gathered before him in the darkened street. Some held lanterns, and in the light he saw Lord Despaard and his black-clad men, already present. The yellow-cloaked city guard helped them in keeping order. He also saw Father Lawrence, the old priest at the head of the crowd, his four-pointed silver star held before him as he invoked Saradomin’s mercy.

As Theodore reined his mare in and dismounted he saw the anxious looks of the citizens. One was vomiting into the gutter.

The crowd surrounded a merchant’s house that had seen more prosperous times. Following their gaze, Theodore looked up and saw that upon the slanted lead roof lay a dead body—that of a man whose collar was wrapped about an iron peg that held the tiles in place, his feet hanging over the edge into empty space.

And down the side of the house’s grey wall ran a red streak.

Theodore himself felt suddenly nauseous. He had been in battle before this, and had seen all the horrors of men mutilated and dying, but this was different somehow.

This is a spectacle.

“But how did it get up there?” a man cried out. “How was this done?”

“This is nothing human!” someone else added.

Instantly the crowd bristled with a collective anger. Quickly, Lord Despaard’s men took up discreet positions, preparing to subdue the mob should it turn violent.

Lights shone from the opposite rooftop, illuminating the corpse.

All eyes were fixed upon the hideous sight. The man’s throat had been torn out, and his abdomen—revealed to the onlookers through his torn shirt—had been viciously clawed.

“Gods! All that blood,” William moaned from Theodore’s side, having left his horse with the squire’s mare. The noble staggered on his feet, unable to take his eyes off the red streak that seemed so similar to an arrow on the dirty grey stone.

“I’ve got you, William,” Theodore said, reaching out as his friend swayed. Doric assisted him.

“Here, have some of this, lad,” he said, offering William his hip flask. “It’s stronger than water but it’ll do the trick.” The dwarf peered again at the rooftop. “And when you’re done, pass it back. Think I’ll need some too.” William nodded as he took a generous swig before coughing violently.

“Look to the left of him—look!” someone shouted. “There’s writing!”

The lanterns above shifted to follow the anonymous instruction.

And there it was. Written in the man’s blood.

“What does it say? What does it say?” cried an onlooker.

“Pay it no mind,” Lord Despaard shouted in reply. “It is designed to cause fear in all of us, and we cannot allow it to do so.” His words silenced the crowd, but then someone spoke up again, his voice heard by all.

“It says, ‘I am coming.’”

Pandemonium erupted as everyone spoke at once, every other person asking his neighbour what such a message could mean. Some wailed in fear, others cursed loudly. Theodore, seeing
William regain his calm, moved away quickly and approached Lord Despaard.

“We can’t conceal this, Lord Despaard,” he said. “This
Wyrd...”

“Just you remember your promise to me, boy,” the man in black replied angrily. “This is my business, and has been since before you were born. Now go back to the palace and enjoy a dance with a pretty girl, or a glass of wine—I care not. But keep the silence, or so help me I will have you returned to Falador in chains!” Hearing the exchange, Father Lawrence stepped up.

“You must do as he says, Theodore,” the priest said. “As must I. There is a survivor, a child, a witness in fact.” The old man lowered his voice. “I will take her to the others, and care for her as best I can with my meagre skills.” He hastened off toward a group of black-cloaked soldiers stood in a loose circle. Meanwhile, Lord Despaard’s eyes never left Theodore.

“You know far more than I would like,” he said. “But I trust you. I know your reputation for honesty and I know that your word is your bond. Everyone who would know confirms it. But do not interfere in my business.” Despaard followed in Father Lawrence’s footsteps as Doric appeared at his side.

“Come, Theodore,” the dwarf said. “We can do nothing here. Who ever this murderer is, it’s the duty of the guards to bring him to justice.”

Theodore smiled grimly and shook his head.

“Not
he
, Doric,
she
. And not human,” he muttered. “I shall explain when we return to the palace.” Together they headed back to their steeds. Theodore mounted his mare and helped Doric up behind him. As he did so he turned in his saddle, suddenly aware that he was being watched.

“You!” he cried suddenly.

It was the woman who had hurled the stone at him the night before. She held his gaze for a long second as a crowd of people
bustled between them. Finally, she shook her head in disgust before vanishing into the masses.

Doric witnessed the exchange.

“Is there some reason we should go after her?” Doric asked.

“No, Doric,” the squire answered. “Her only crime is that she knows the truth.”

With an uneasy feeling, he turned his horse and rode away. William followed at his own speed.

Have I forfeited the obligations of my order in my promise to keep the silence?
Theodore wondered silently.
I must ask Saradomin for guidance in this matter.

Perhaps, indeed, she knows more of the truth than I
.

Theodore’s doubts were interrupted by a nudge from Doric.

“So tell me what you know,” the dwarf instructed as they left the crowds behind them and rode out of earshot of anyone save William. “Tell me of this woman. This inhuman woman.”

Ebenezer was sleeping in his chair, his spectacles fallen to his chest, when Theodore and his two friends got back.

“It was a tiring journey to Varrock,” Doric explained softly, in an effort not to disturb the alchemist. “Even for me, and we are meeting King Roald tomorrow. Perhaps it is best if we got some rest so we can present ourselves in our best possible light, and be neither weary nor frayed?”

“I will ask a servant to escort you to your rooms, master dwarf, if you care to wake your friend,” William offered. He peered outside and gestured to a man who waited nearby.

Gently, Doric shook Ebenezer’s shoulder. The old man awoke with a sharp intake of breath.

“Oh-ho! You’re back,” he said groggily. “What time is it?”

“It’s half past ten,” Doric said, looking at the intricate clock that
hung above the fireplace. “Although it feels a lot later. I for one need rest. Lots of fresh air and being bungled about on a wagon is enough for me. Now I know how a potato feels on its way to market. Come on, alchemist!”

Ebenezer stood delicately. As he did so a book slipped from his lap and onto the cushion.

“A history of the lives of the kings of Varrock?” William said as he picked it up. “Well, that’s enough to send anybody to sleep.”

“Oh, yes. I found it on the shelf over there. I remembered my childhood when I was forced to learn all their names from the Battle of the Salve down to the present day.” The alchemist smiled sorrowfully. “I must have had a better memory then than now, I fear. I had forgotten the names of the four princes who were lost at that battle.” He shook his head. “Never mind. It is ancient history. Now, what happened in Varrock tonight? Were your fears justified?”

Theodore nodded.

“They were. Another slaying. I don’t know how many there have been so far, but this time the killer left a message—and it was more public than any so far.”

“Tell me about it, while we find my bedroom.”

“We must not talk too freely, my friend,” William cautioned. “This knowledge is prohibited in Varrock by the highest authority.”

“I will tell you, when we get you to your room,” Doric said. “Theodore told me all on our return to the palace.” The dwarf took the alchemist’s arm and led him from the room, following the servant, while Theodore moved to extinguish the lights.

“Are you going to bed Theodore?” William asked, rubbing his own eyes and yawning.

“Not just yet,” the squire answered. “I think I will spend a moment in the chapel, in prayer. Will you join me, to ask for guidance in this matter?”

William shook his head.

“No. I am sorry Theodore. I find the chapel to Saradomin a very cold place indeed. I am aware of its importance to your order of course, but I prefer the guise of the roguish nobleman. Goodnight, good knight!”

The nobleman walked toward the door, then turned before leaving, his eyes holding Theodore’s for several seconds.

“I am sorry about my outburst at the inn today, Theodore,” he said earnestly. “Truly I am. Please believe me when I say that I will always be your friend.” He closed the door behind him quickly, preventing Theodore from replying.

After a moment of careful thought, the squire extinguished the final candle and left the room to make his way through the dim corridors of the great palace and to the cold chapel upon the second floor.

There, alone with his doubts, he knelt in prayer.