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  Gar’rth stared at Kara, who looked away uneasily. He noted how Theodore shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.

  Then that is it.

  When Gar’rth spoke, he did so slowly, his voice unwavering.

  “Very well, my King,” he said. “I shall guide your embassy.”

  “Good. Now there remains one last task. You must swear fealty to me and all my descendants. I would have your oath, Gar’rth.”

  Gar’rth gritted his teeth and nodded again.

  First I am forced into helping them, now I must pledge my allegiance to him. Truly I am trapped.

  “Repeat the words after me,” Lord Ruthven said to him, and Gar’rth complied.

  “I swear by Saradomin that I will never bear arms against the rightful King of Misthalin or his descendants. That I will give my blood and my life to ensure the throne is safe from usurpers and assassins. That I will do all in my power to safeguard the King’s heirs…”

  “…and uphold the King’s will,” he concluded with grim finality.

  “Very good,” King Roald said. Then he turned to the leader of the guards. “Unchain him, and prepare to call in the representatives of the people.”

  Gar’rth’s shackles were removed from his wrists and ankles. The King dismissed Simon, though Gar’rth was certain he would wait nearby. When he stood, no longer a prisoner, the doors were opened and several people entered.

  At their head Gar’rth recognised the white-haired old figure of Albertus Black, Ebenezer’s friend whom he had met only very briefly on the day of the Midsummer Festival. Walking at the tiny man’s side, and towering over him as if she was a queen, was Ellamaria. He opened his mouth in surprise.

  She will see me. She will guess that something is amiss.

  Her eyes paused on him and he saw her frown slightly, then she gave a sudden smile and turned to curtsey the King.

  I can smell her now. With a stone wall between me and the wretched wolfbane, my powers are returning.

  He took the opportunity to explore his olfactory environment, feeling at once far less vulnerable than he had before. Such was his concentration that he ignored what the speakers were debating, focusing on their scents instead.

  Lord Despaard, leather, metal and sweat. Ellamaria, flowers and subtle perfume, the same as that used by Lady Anne. Papelford with his smell of books and mustiness. Doric, always with the scent of the earth.

  Finally he turned his attention to the discussion.

  “An embassy is more than acceptable to us,” Albertus Black was saying. “And I am glad to know that Lord Despaard has volunteered to lead such a mission. But who else will go?”

  A silence was left hanging after the old man’s question.

  “I will go,” Kara said. “Gar’rth and I have shared many dangers. We have travelled through The Wilderness together. I will not abandon him now.”

  Kara, you don’t know what you say!

  But before he could protest, Doric spoke.

  “Then I suppose we will both be going?” The dwarf said to Theodore.

  “We will, if the King permits,” the knight replied. “Now that we are back together, I would not wish to split our company again.”

  “And I will accompany them,” Arisha said. “As a priestess of the barbarian peoples seeking experience of the world, it seems right to do so, for an account of Morytania would be precious to my tribe.”

  “Then I shall go also,” Castimir stared at Aubury as he spoke. The older man said nothing, but Gar’rth could sense the animosity between them. Finally, Aubury gave a slight nod.

  “I will permit that,” the wizard said. “It is right that you should travel with your friends, although we have much to discuss before you leave.”

  “My friends,” Gar’rth said loudly, “Please. You must not do this. Morytania is a… different land. I don’t want any of you to come.”

  “If any wish to reconsider, then they may do so, now,” King Roald said.

  Don’t be so stubborn!

  “We are decided,” Kara said. “We are coming with you Gar’rth.”

  “That is appropriate,” King Roald observed. “But who shall go for Varrock? Lord Despaard will lead the expedition-that is already decided. Such a mission must represent Misthalin as a whole. It is not one of war, and someone must go to administer the blood mark. Would you be willing to go Papelford, or would this task be more suited to your apprentice who can better undertake the journey to Paterdomus?”

  “I am too old for such a journey, Sire,” Papelford said bitterly. At his side, Reldo smiled.

  “I will go, my King,” the apprentice archivist said. “I will gather what books I need and accompany the embassy to Paterdomus.”

  “That makes sense. But Reldo, this needs to be right. There can be no margin of error.” The King looked around the chamber. “Now, who else for Misthalin?”

  Albertus Black gave the King a sideways look.

  “I would go,” the old man said meekly. “I haven’t many years left to me-I don’t need to be a seer to know that. And as Ebenezer has yet to regain consciousness, I feel it my duty as his friend to fill his place. As many of you know I, too, am a scientist, and I have studied many things in my life, but the tales of the land beyond the river have intrigued me since I was young. I would dearly like to see how different it is to everything I know here.”

  Despaard shook his head.

  “Your motives are honourable, but you are too old for this expedition.”

  “That is surely a fact in my favour?” Albertus replied. “As King Roald has said, this is not a military adventure. This is an embassy to petition Lord Drakan to withdraw his creature and to return those taken by her. And as an old man, I have less to lose than a young one, Lord Despaard. If I fall, then at best I have lost only a few short years that remain to me.”

  King Roald nodded.

  “I will accept your offer. Now, at least one other must go. Someone important at court but who can’t be threatening in any way…” The King leaned down to his guard and whispered in his ear.

  But Gar’rth heard every word.

  “Bring me the fool,” he said, and the guard departed.

  Only when Gideon Gleeman appeared before them, attired in his black-and-red chequered shirt and leggings, did Gar’rth understand.

  “I need your services, Gleeman,” the King said. “I need a man of importance at court to escort my royal seal. It can’t be a military man, for that is too confrontational, and this is a diplomatic mission. Will you go into Morytania with Lord Despaard and his expedition?”

  The jester’s face paled.

  “You want me to go to Morytania?” he replied. “Are you sure, Sire?”

  The King nodded, and the jester’s eyes ran over the court.

  “Usually I am the joker,” he muttered. “But I will go, if I am required, though I am neither strong nor brave, and the only sword I ever wielded was a wooden one.”

  “Then it is settled,” Despaard said. “We will leave at the earliest opportunity, and will make for Lord Ruthven’s manor, halfway between here and Paterdomus, where we will attempt our crossing. I shall go and make our arrangements now.”

  The council broke up, and Gar’rth suddenly found himself among his friends.

  “You are foolish to come with me,” he said, trying in vain to hide his smile.

  Grimly, he followed his friends from the throne room. As he passed through the doors a familiar and unwelcome sensation made him look over his shoulder. It was Simon, grinning horribly.

  Even giving my word isn’t enough. If they doubt mine, then should I doubt theirs? If I do return from Morytania, will it be a sword or a noose that awaits me?

  “I have been asked to accompany you,” Simon said. His hand was on his dagger, which was tightly sheathed. “For your own protection, of course.”

  Gar’rth said nothing, and as he continued on, he was aware of Simon’s steps echoing his own.

  15

  Castim
ir left the throne room as quickly as he dared, knowing Aubury’s eyes were on his back.

  If he wishes to lecture me again, then he will have to catch me first!

  He ascended the grand staircase in the company of his friends, for they all had much to do before the embassy departed.

  Ebenezer was still in his bed when they entered the room. Sally was sat beside him, her face drawn and tired.

  “He hasn’t stirred at all since you left him this morning,” she said to Arisha, who put her hand on the old man’s shoulder and closed her eyes in concentration. For a moment she remained still, yet very quickly she pursed her lips and gave a sigh.

  “I am sorry,” she said. “Guthix is unyielding. He refuses to help.”

  Castimir nodded and turned his head aside, eager not to add his own disappointment to the frustrated gazes of his friends.

  “Do not blame yourself-Father Lawrence says the same of Saradomin, Arisha,” Sally replied. “You have done all you can. Now it is up to Ebenezer.”

  “Where is Father Lawrence?” Kara asked quietly, looking at the old man’s ashen face.

  “Sir Prysin’s heir is near death,” Sally told them. “He was grievously wounded in the lists at the festival. His father has demanded that a priest of Saradomin attend him, as is his right.”

  “Then it must be up to you to care for our friend, Sally,” Theodore told her gently. “We are all to go with Lord Despaard on an embassy to Morytania. We leave very soon, probably today.”

  Sally gasped in surprise.

  “All of you?”

  “Albertus also, Sally,” Arisha confided. “I am sorry.”

  The small woman looked in danger of choking on her disbelief.

  “Albertus? Into Morytania?” The words died in her throat when she saw the serious looks of the companions. After a moment, Castimir turned his attention back to the alchemist on the bed.

  “Perhaps it would be best if we each wrote him a note, for when he wakes,” he suggested. “I shall write one to explain the situation. He will know that we had no choice.”

  “I shall, too,” Gar’rth said. “As best I can. There is much I need to thank him for.”

  So Castimir moved to the small desk that stood in the corner of Ebenezer’s room and quickly scrawled a note, explaining Gar’rth’s impossible predicament and how it was only right that they go with him under the auspices of the blood mark. He rolled the parchment up and moved to allow his friends to prepare their own messages. While they did so, he said a silent prayer.

  Saradomin keep you, old friend. I will miss you at my side on the dangerous road. But as he embraced Sally tightly at the door, then departed from the room, he couldn’t help but feel that perhaps Ebenezer would be far safer than any of them.

  The wizard then made his way to his own quarters, and when he opened the door he was dismayed-and somewhat angered-to find Layte Aubury sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting.

  Not here! Not on my bed!

  “We need to have a talk, Castimir,” the wizard said as he stood, adjusting his monocle. “Here, in private.”

  Another lecture. Another threat. Will there ever be an end to it? But I need to appear busy. I cannot let my true fear give me away.

  “Very well, Master Aubury. I am yours for the next few minutes, and as did Gar’rth, I promise not to lie. I have to say, however, that I do believe he saw through your ruse.” Castimir walked to the window and pretended to look out.

  “My ruse?” Aubury smiled. “Perhaps. But it may be worth your while not to doubt your betters so much, young man.”

  Aubury sighed.

  “Nevertheless, I did as I said I would do. I have spoken to the Tower about your actions last night.”

  Castimir’s heart leaped.

  “And?” he said anxiously. “I acted for the best… you know I did.”

  To his surprise, Aubury’s face softened.

  “I am sorry, Castimir,” he said. “You are a good wizard. But you are young, you are inexperienced-”

  “Yet I have fought in battles other wizards can only imagine,” Castimir protested loudly. “I have helped win wars. I am not inexperienced-”

  “You are young and you are foolish,” Aubury gritted. “You are arrogant and naive! You think because you’ve ridden to war you know more than the rest of us about living magic.” He laughed mockingly. “The greatest of our order may no longer walk the world at large, but be under no illusion, Castimir-their powers are vast indeed. Their counsel is sought by Kings, their will works in ways often unperceived, protecting us from dangers that harken to other realms, dangers you cannot comprehend.” Aubury calmed and shook his head. “No, Castimir. There is much indeed you don’t know.”

  The older man sighed and again adjusted his monocle.

  “As I said, you are a good wizard, Castimir,” he continued. “But you have acted rashly. You want too much too soon. There are those in the Tower who wish to expel you, immediately, but I have calmed their anger and-whether you believe it or not-I spoke on your behalf. They have granted your wish to go on this adventure. And be under no doubt, this quest to Morytania is no small undertaking. Your friends will need you, and if it proves a success then your rashness will be forgotten.

  “When you return, you will report back to the Tower and tell all you have learned,” he concluded, and then he took a single step toward the door, where he paused.

  “Ah, I have nearly forgotten the most important reason for my visit. Here…” He gave Castimir a small leather satchel that was weighted with runes. “Try to bring some of them back. You know how rare they are.”

  Aubury stopped at the door and gave a last look back.

  “Good luck,” he said. “Keep your runes, your wand and your staff close to you, always.”

  “Thank you, Master Aubury. I will.”

  The door closed, and Castimir was left alone.

  Perhaps he is not so ferocious as he appears.

  And perhaps I have grown too used to my fame.

  The footsteps faded outside the door and Castimir moved quickly to his bed. He pulled back the blanket in a single move and gave a cry of relief when he saw the book where he had left it that morning in his haste to attend the parliament. It was Master Segainus’s diary.

  Could Aubury know, though? How could he suspect that he had been sitting on Segainus’s diary. If he did, I would be expelled from the Tower in an instant.

  He picked it up and flicked through the worn pages to where his leather bookmark waited. Beneath the bed, he knew, were the other volumes of the deceased Master’s works.

  Yet as he read he suddenly grew cold.

  I read part of it last night, after the excitement with the Wyrd. But I am sure I didn’t leave the marker on this page…

  Or did I?

  Castimir felt the chill grow in his stomach. He had been too tired to remember where he had left it, but a sneaking doubt gnawed his innards.

  Has Aubury seen it? Did he move the bookmark?

  If he did, if he knows I stole these books, then my expulsion will no longer be in any doubt.

  It was a question he couldn’t answer.

  With a silent curse he gathered his belongings and made his way toward the stables to prepare his yak and horse for the journey ahead.

  As Theodore left Ebenezer’s bedside, his mind was already building a list of all he had to do in the short time available. He knew his first duty, and that was to see to his candidates.

  He found Philip sitting up in his bed, his head wrapped in a bandage with a dried-brown stain upon his forehead. He was tended to by the knight’s own unofficial squire, Hamel.

  The youth moved to leave, but Theodore put his arm on the young man’s shoulder. “Wait, Hamel-I need to speak to you, as well.” Then he turned back to the wounded man.

  “Sir,” Philip acknowledged.

  “How are your injuries, Philip?” the knight asked. “I am glad to find you awake.”

  “The Black Boar’s bite wa
sn’t as severe as it felt.” Philip smiled weakly. “How is Lord Hyett?”

  Theodore shook his head.

  “No one has said anything, as yet, but from what I saw of the wound, he is unlikely to live.” The knight breathed out. “I didn’t mean for him to die, in truth, but when I saw what he did to you…”

  “Justice was done, sir,” Hamel muttered.

  “Yes, yes, I think it was. But that is not why I am here.” He looked at Philip, then at Hamel. “I am leaving, and shortly. I will send word to Sir Amik Varze of my intention, for I am to accompany an embassy into Morytania.”

  Neither of his two charges spoke, but both paled noticeably.

  The fear inspired by that realm is a magic in itself.

  “Hamel,” he continued quickly on. “I would ask you to go to Falador for me, to deliver a message to Sir Amik’s own hand. Can you do that?”

  “Me, sir? Go to Falador?” The youth’s excitement had him flustered. “Yes sir, of course. I will leave today.”

  “Good,” Theodore replied. “Now be about your duties while I write my letter to Sir Amik.”

  There was a desk in the room, and he moved to it in silence. Within moments, his quill was scratching the parchment, and it was the only sound. He didn’t have the time to write in code, and in truth, he did not deem it necessary.

  Who will come to take my place? he wondered. Will they perhaps send Marius?

  The thought made Theodore smile. Theirs was a friendship that had been forged as others had died, for many of their own friends had fallen to Sulla’s army, lured into a trap by treachery. He and Marius had been among the few squires to survive the war.

  He had just finished writing when he heard a small group of men gathering outside Philip’s room.

  It was Hamel, he knew. He had assembled the candidates for a final farewell, and now they entered. Theodore handed his aide the letter, and looked at the familiar faces with a feeling of pride. He was even prouder when he noted that none were without bruises from the tourney-all upon the front of their bodies, not on their backs.