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  They didn’t run or cower. They took the Boar’s beating head on, and we prevailed.

  He was about to speak, to congratulate them all, to tell them how proud he was, when the door at the end of the passageway opened.

  It was Lady Anne.

  “Excuse me gentlemen,” he said as they perceived her.

  As he left them he was certain he could feel their smiles behind him.

  “So,” Lady Anne said as they found their way up a flight of stairs to the gallery level. Memory of their last time there made Theodore’s heart race quicker. “You are to go to Morytania,” she said, and she nodded to the tapestry depicting the fall of the four princes at the battle of the Salve.

  “How did you know I was going with the embassy?” he asked.

  Lady Anne gave a smile devoid of humour.

  “I am good at finding things out, Theodore,” she said coldly. “And you sought to leave me without saying goodbye?”

  “No, my lady,” he said hesitantly. “It has all happened so fast-”

  “Or is it Kara-Meir?” she said furiously. “Now that she has returned to you, and you have had your fun with me…” Her voice cracked and she turned angrily away.

  “Lady Anne, that is not true.” His hands were on her shoulders and gently he turned her around to face him. “It has nothing to do with Kara. It is my sense of duty that impels me to go, duty to my friends and to Saradomin-”

  “Saradomin,” she spat. “You’re a fool, Theodore. A fool.”

  She broke away from him and once more turned her back.

  So be it, he decided reluctantly.

  “Lady Anne, I wish to part on good terms. I have much to do and my time is short.”

  She didn’t reply.

  Saradomin take you then!

  “Goodbye, my lady,” he said bitterly.

  Theodore turned toward the stairs and cursed under his breath.

  “Wait, Theodore,” she said softly. Her tone caused him to hesitate. “Just promise me one thing.” She ran over to him and looked up into his face. Her tearful blue eyes sparkled like dewy sapphires. “Just promise me you won’t be brave, Theodore.” Suddenly she balled her fist and beat it against his chest. “Don’t you dare to be brave!”

  And then she fled, running from the gallery.

  Theodore breathed deeply.

  I haven’t time for this. I can’t go after her, much as I would like to.

  He forced himself to remain impassive. After a moment, and with another look at the tapestry of the four long-dead princes of Varrock, he left for the armoury.

  Kara remained behind as Castimir and then Theodore left Ebenezer’s bedside to prepare themselves. She had arrived in Varrock with very few belongings, and although she knew she could ready herself for another journey in only a short time, she was painfully aware that she no longer possessed her own precious sword, thanks to Pia. The young girl had also stolen one of the wolfbane daggers.

  “Gar’rth,” she said, after composing her own short letter to Ebenezer, with its promise to look after the werewolf especially. “I must find myself a sword. I will go to the armoury and see Captain Rovin. Will you be all right here?”

  “I’ll be here for a while anyhow,” the dwarf told her. “Gar’rth can wait with me. We’ll meet you in the bailey.”

  The werewolf nodded from his seat at Sally’s side. He had already written a letter of his own, without any help from Sally or Kara, or from Simon who waited silently outside the door.

  Arisha taught him well, she thought as she made her way to the palace armoury. It won’t be long now before he can write as well as any noble’s son.

  “I knew you would come,” Captain Rovin said when she arrived. “Take your pick of these available weapons.” The man pointed to a rack along one wall, where numerous swords were arrayed.

  “What of the wolfbane daggers I took from the barn?” Kara asked. “I think we should each take one with us, only I would not want them to impede Gar’rth.” She noted his look of surprise. “It would limit his value to us in a way that would not be wise.”

  Captain Rovin shook his head with a grunt.

  “I was not aware that you had them,” he said with a combination of irritation and admiration. “You can take them in splitbark sheaths-that should prevent the silver blades interfering with your friend. But they are valuable. The bark is cut from trees in that realm, and they are fashioned by the Wizards’ Tower. I will have a man attend to that shortly.” He stared at her intently. “Where are they?”

  “They are in my room, in my satchel next to my bed.”

  At least Pia left me that. Suddenly angry at the thought of the theft, Kara took the nearest sword and gave it a quick swing, gauging its weight and balance.

  “No,” she said.

  She returned it and took another, trying out several different thrusts, followed by a hack and then a sudden block. This one, too, was returned to the rack.

  And so it went. It was only on her twelfth attempt did she find one that satisfied her. Even so, her face must have reflected her uncertainty, for one of Rovin’s men spoke up.

  “Could we not ask Sir Prysin for his blade,” he suggested. “The sword Silverlight?”

  Rovin ran his bandaged hand through his hair.

  “No, not even on a good day,” he said firmly. “And today is a particularly unfortunate day for him. His heir is very likely to die.”

  Nonetheless, the name Silverlight had caught Kara’s attention.

  “What is its history?” she asked the guard, putting the sword down before attaching its sheath to her belt.

  “Silverlight was used-” the young man began.

  “-In legend. Never forget that,” Rovin interrupted.

  “Yes, sir. Sorry.” He turned to Kara and continued. “Legend has it that Silverlight was used by Sir Prysin’s ancestor to save Varrock from a demon. It is a sword famed in song from the dales of Lumbridge to The Wilderness sentries. But the present Sir Prysin is very protective of it.”

  “It has never been out of its cupboard, not in many a year,” Captain Rovin said harshly. “Tell me Kara-Meir, what was your own blade’s name?”

  “I never named it. The dwarfs, who gave me shelter as a child, don’t often name their weapons. They consider the weapon an extension of the body, of the warrior himself, rather than a separate being.” She looked at the blade she had chosen. “Does this sword have a name?”

  Captain Rovin smiled grimly.

  “It does. It was wielded by one of my predecessors, many years ago, and it is aptly named for the man’s duty to his monarch. It is called Kingsguard.”

  Kara sheathed it slowly as Theodore entered the armoury. She could tell by his demeanour that something was amiss.

  He is angry at something.

  The knight nodded to them, and didn’t speak as he gathered his own blade and checked his armour. Behind him she saw his aide, the boy Hamel.

  “I have some news for you, Sir Theodore,” Captain Rovin said respectfully. “The Black Boar died earlier today, no more than an hour ago. Lord Hyett leaves a six year-old son, and as he is under the age of the majority his estates-if you could call them that- will now pass to the crown. Well done.”

  Kara saw Theodore’s face blacken.

  “It is not a victory I am proud of, Captain Rovin. Nor one I was looking for.”

  Rovin laughed.

  “You should be glad of it, though,” he said frankly. “The Black Boar was an evil man. There are rumours-and I must say they are only rumours, as far as I know-that he even rode to war alongside the Kinshra against Falador last year, in the guise of a Kinshra knight. No, you should spare no sympathy for him, nor his son. For the boy’s life will be better without the influence of his father. And likely longer, too, I dare say. If you ask anyone about Lord Hyett, and they speak truthfully, you will only hear ill of him. Long has he been a thorn in King Roald’s side.

  “So I say again, well done.”

  Rovin lef
t the armoury with the guard in tow then, and Kara watched as Theodore gathered his equipment.

  “Take the armour to the horses, Hamel,” Theodore said. “I won’t ride in it.”

  “Yes, sir. The others are readying your mare.”

  “Good. That will save me time.”

  The clubfooted young man left with Theodore’s breastplate and helm, and for a moment they were left alone. The knight strapped his sword belt around his waist.

  “Are you ready, Kara?”

  “I am, now that I have a sword.”

  “I am sorry,” he said, “about Pia and Jack and the theft. I know how much Master Phyllis’s blade meant to you.” He straightened his back and grimaced, then reached over his right shoulder with his left hand and probed gently.

  “They ran because they thought I couldn’t protect them, Theodore,” Kara replied. “Pia is wanted for murder in Ardougne, and Sir Cecil said he wanted them sent back to face trial. Little wonder that they bolted.”

  “You can’t protect them from that, Kara,” Theodore said slowly. “If they are accused then they must face trial, the rule of law and justice-”

  “King Lathas’ justice, Theodore,” she countered. “He is no King Roald, nor is he any Sir Amik Varze. Need I remind you of your master’s honour and dedication to law?”

  She saw his face twist uncomfortably.

  “No, you need not,” he said defensively. He shook his head and took a breath. “Oh, enough, Kara. I am sorry for what happened, of course I am-”

  “Three innocent people died, Theodore, because of his, and your, idea of justice. Among them your own peon, Bry-”

  “You go too far, Kara,” Theodore said coldly. “Not a day goes by when I don’t ask for Saradomin’s forgiveness for my failure. But I won’t stand here and be beaten with that stick. Not any more.”

  She let it drop, but it still preyed on her thoughts.

  It was your order that endangered me, Theodore. And you were a participant in that deceit.

  Neither spoke again, and after a moment Theodore strode from the armoury, leaving Kara alone.

  She cursed under her breath.

  I still haven’t forgiven him for that. I don’t think I ever will be able to, even though I know he acted under orders from Sir Amik.

  From far off, the bells of Father Lawrence’s church rang the first hour of the afternoon. Kara gripped the hilt of her sword and left the armoury to gather with the embassy. She hadn’t meant to wound Theodore so, but part of her was savagely happy that she had.

  A few minutes later she walked out into the bailey where the group was assembling. A collection of horses and mules were being laden with supplies. She saw Doric clapping his hands in joy in response to something that his companion had said. It was someone she vaguely recognised from the dance. The King’s fletcher, a man called Lowe. Not too far away, standing on his own, was Gar’rth, sorting his pack. Kara noticed that even here Simon was keeping a watchful eye.

  Doric noticed her gaze and waved her over.

  “I was keeping this as a surprise,” the dwarf said with a wink. “Ah, Theodore, you will want to hear of this, too, for it was what I hinted at the first night I was in Varrock. The thing that took me many hours of hard labour.”

  Lowe smiled as Kara watched Theodore approach. The knight gave her only the briefest of glances as Doric held an arrow up for their inspection.

  “Look at the tip, my young friends.”

  Kara leaned forward and saw green-tinted light reflect off the metal’s surface.

  “It’s adamant,” she observed. “You’ve forged adamant-tipped arrows!”

  Theodore gave a slight smile as he took a second one from the dwarf to inspect more closely.

  “It was Ebenezer’s idea,” Doric said. “Remember those adamant bars that you helped me cart all the way from my burned cabin to Falador, Theodore? The ones you thought would give your mare a heart attack? Well, I melted one of them down last month and Lowe here kindly fitted them for me. Fletching isn’t a skill with which I have any experience, truth be told.”

  “Doric told me of your adamant blade and the injury it did to Jerrod, Kara-Meir,” Lowe said in a deep voice. “It was the least I could do, fixing these dozen arrows for you, and Lord William paid me generously. With luck, they will pierce wolf flesh soon enough.” The fletcher looked to Doric quickly and Kara saw the dwarf nod. “And I have this for you also.” Lowe reached to the horse at his side and took a longbow from its flank. It was taller than Doric himself. The bow had attracted the attention of several onlookers, and now Gar’rth strode toward them.

  “That is a fine bow,” Theodore said. “It will take a strong man to draw it.”

  “It is a yew composite bow, with a coating of tallow to protect it from the weather,” Lowe explained. “Would you care to try it?”

  Theodore took the bow and drew back the flax string with obvious difficulty.

  “Let Gar’rth try it,” Doric said, waving him forward.

  “He is no stranger to the bow,” Kara said. “I taught him how to shoot in The Wilderness.”

  Responding to the dwarf’s wave, Gar’rth stepped over and took the composite bow from Theodore. He drew the string back in a single easy move.

  “That would fell any werewolf,” Lowe promised. “With Doric’s adamant arrows, you need have no fear of such demons. Make sure you bring back a few pelts!”

  Gar’rth released the string with a grim look at Lowe. The smile had frozen on Doric’s face, and Theodore pursed his lips. Not far away, Simon grinned. Lowe frowned, aware he had spoken amiss, but not entirely sure of exactly how.

  “Thank you, Lowe,” Kara said quickly. “With luck we won’t have to use it at all. This is, after all, a diplomatic mission.”

  The unfortunate man bowed and left.

  “I will take the bow and the arrows on my mare, if you like,” Theodore volunteered. Gar’rth nodded and handed the bow across as the knight returned to his horse, which stood among three busy young men who checked straps, saddle packs and horseshoes.

  “I am sorry, Gar’rth,” Kara said quietly. He nodded, accepting her sympathy.

  The bailey was busier now. Albertus Black arrived from Ebenezer’s town house. He rode upon a horse with a pack mule behind him. Seeing him, Kara heard Castimir sigh in exasperation as he readied the packs upon his yak.

  “So we have another alchemist now,” the wizard chided. “Have you brought any sodium, Albertus? Or that phosphorous? That one could be useful in dark places.”

  “I have brought those and more,” Albertus replied excitedly. “And several of our black-powder tubes. That will wake Lord Drakan, if our embassy does not stir him.”

  “Be careful what you wish for old man,” Despaard cautioned. “I would be happy for Lord Drakan to remain still for many years to come, yet this Wyrd is proof he is already stirring.”

  “But it isn’t proof that he is, for certain,” Albertus said. “We don’t know enough about the Wyrd to form an accurate hypothesis.” Kara didn’t hear how-or if-the argument progressed, for she caught sight of Arisha, leading her horse into the bailey.

  “One of the blacksmiths has reshod our horses, Kara,” Arisha told her. “Yours is still in the stables but will be ready very soon.”

  “I will get it, Arisha,” Kara told her friend. “I am ready to go now, anyhow, as soon as Captain Rovin brings us the wolfbane daggers. He has offered us splitbark sheaths so they won’t incapacitate Gar’rth.”

  Arisha nodded and led her horse on as Kara walked to the stables. She approached the terrace they had stood upon the night before, at the dance, meaning to head south, directly past it to the inner courtyard. She was nearly there when a sudden movement above its short balustrade caught her eye.

  It was Lady Caroline. As Kara watched, Lord William stepped out behind her and put his arms around her waist, drawing a squeak and a smile from her.

  Lord William and Lady Caroline? She smiled inwardly. Lady Anne has me
t with success again. Kara waited until their two voices faded as they vanished back inside again. Then, at a fast walk, she made her way to the stables, found her horse, and led him quickly back to the bailey.

  When she returned she found Reldo in a heated discussion with Papelford, the old man insisting that his apprentice should take certain books with him on the journey. Nearby stood Gideon Gleeman, his long face fraught with worry, the King’s Seal held tightly in his hands, while at the entrance to the bailey waited Despaard and Ruthven, both men impatient to get underway.

  “I want to be at my manor before dark,” Lord Ruthven shouted to everybody. “It will mean a supper for us if we can do it, and a bed for the night.”

  “I am ready,” a young monk in brown robes said. Kara saw the four-pointed star dangle from a necklace. His tonsured head was burned by the sun, yet he showed no discomfort. “My pilgrims have prepared their wagons and they will follow us tomorrow. It should be enough to ensure that Paterdomus is supplied till winter.”

  “I am glad you are travelling with us, Drezel,” Despaard said. “The Pass of Silvarea can be treacherous on occasion.” The monk Drezel gave a slight bow in his saddle as another horse trotted through the entrance to the bailey. On it rode Lord William.

  “May I accompany the embassy to Paterdomus, Lord Despaard?” he asked. “It is, after all, my duty to ensure that Kara-Meir’s companions have all they need while in Varrock.”

  Lord Despaard glared at the younger man. When he didn’t answer, Kara saw Lord William turn his gaze toward her.

  “Do you find my company so unpleasant, Kara-Meir?” he asked sweetly.

  Kara smiled.

  “Not at all,” she replied. “I would be glad to have you with us on the road, and I know my friends would be too.”

  “Just don’t go getting lost or left behind,” Despaard said, impatiently. Kara found it amusing. “We cannot afford time to pander to the vagaries of a dilettante.”

  But Lord William replied at once.

  “I can assure you, Lord Despaard, this dilettante is more than capable of pandering to his own vagaries.”

  Despaard nodded grimly and looked about the bailey carefully.

  “Very well. Then let me do a head count. There are nine of us in the embassy itself, with Lord Ruthven and Drezel to act as our guides as far as Paterdomus. Reldo also, of course. And an escort of twelve trusted men.” He caught Kara looking at him. “My rangers,” he explained, “including Simon. Twenty-four of us in total.”