“I hope so, Doric. I hope so.”
Somewhere beyond the gatehouse and near the moat, a goose honked several times. A duck replied with a high-pitched squawk of its own, as if they were two neighbours arguing.
“Do they have birds in Morytania?” Doric asked quietly.
Theodore shook his head.
“I don’t think so. Gar’rth never mentioned them.”
“Ah, but I am glad I know his tale now. Long have I wanted to understand his history.” Doric took the pipe from his mouth. “And Ebenezer would wish to know also. Might we ask Reldo to write down Gar’rth’s account of his past, so that it can be relayed to Varrock for when he wakes?”
“Yes. I will do that tomorrow,” Theodore agreed. “He can complete it at Paterdomus if necessary. It would good for Ebenezer to know what we have heard from Gar’rth’s own account, and William can take it back to the city when he returns.”
Doric nodded and remained silent.
“Are you afraid Doric?” Theodore spoke quickly, fearing he would falter unless he rushed the words. “I am, of what we will find in Morytania.”
Doric took the pipe from his mouth and beat it gently against his palm.
“Me, too. I think we all are. Especially Gar’rth himself. Lord Despaard’s man sticks to him like a second shadow. Perhaps they suspect he will run.”
The dwarf gave the knight a long look.
“What would you do if he did?” Doric asked quietly. “If you knew he was going to go tonight, with Kara?”
No! They won’t make it. Not with all of Misthalin in pursuit. Kara is too hot-headed.
“Are they planning that?” Theodore asked with a gasp. “Truly, Doric, are they going to do so?”
The dwarf shook his head.
“Kara suggested it to me on the journey here. Arisha and I talked her out of it, I think.”
“And what did Gar’rth wish to do?”
“Kara didn’t mention it to him. He was watched too closely. She thinks that if he goes back to Morytania, he will die.”
“Gar’rth doesn’t believe so, though,” Theodore said, but he knew he sounded uncertain. “And he knows better than any of us.”
Doric sighed.
“That is what I told her. The blood mark should be his guarantee, but she didn’t believe so-not against Lord Drakan.”
“That’s the real riddle behind all of this,” the knight said. “Why is Gar’rth wanted so much?”
The two friends fell into silence. From the moat, the goose and the duck exchanged a final insult before they too fell quiet.
It’s like a calm. A calm before a storm.
They stood a moment longer, enjoying the night, looking up at the clear sky away from the light of the torch, before they turned inside and made their way to their beds.
Theodore could not find sleep-Doric’s words plagued him.
It was shortly after the chimes sounded again, far off, muted by distance, and no more than four or five bells, that he heard another sound, the sound of a footstep in the passageway outside.
It’s her. I know it is.
He stood in silence, grimacing as his shoulder ached. He had kept the latch lifted on his door, so it would not give him away should he need to enter the passageway undetected.
She can’t be so foolish as this. I will confront her, quietly. If Despaard finds out, then she will be sent back to Varrock as a prisoner.
The door opened as silently as he hoped it would.
In the dim light, a shadow moved.
“Kara?” Theodore whispered.
The shadow stopped and turned, and then stepped closer.
It was Arisha.
“I know who you are watching for, Theodore. But she promised me she would not run. Not until Paterdomus at least. Once there, we will hopefully be able to test the power of the blood mark and see if it holds.”
“And if it doesn’t? Do you run then?”
“I shall do as my conscience dictates, Theodore. Goodnight.”
She vanished, leaving him alone and feeling oddly guilty.
He ground his teeth in silent anger and returned to his room.
And this time, he closed the latch behind him.
They left early, riding in a northerly direction before the sun was up. Theodore was tired from lack of sleep, and they had only been going a few hours when Simon gave a curse.
“It’s my horse,” he said angrily as the eastern horizon was drenched in a shade of pink which grew lighter by the moment. “There’s something wrong with him.”
The column halted as the man dismounted. Theodore rode near to see for himself.
“His breathing is irregular,” Simon muttered as the animal gave an excited neigh. “That is unlike him,” he commented, stepping back to avoid a kick from a rear leg. They waited several minutes, Despaard becoming increasingly impatient, as the man tried to persuade his steed to rejoin the column.
“We have a long ride today,” Drezel observed. “We cannot afford delays. We are still not far from Lord Ruthven’s manor, but there are few places along the road ahead where we will find shelter and aid. If the animal can’t go on, you should turn back.”
“He will come,” Simon shouted grimly. He mounted once more and glared at Gar’rth. “You’ll not lose me that easily, wolf.”
They continued on until midday, by which time it was obvious that something was wrong. And not solely with Simon’s horse. Four other animals that belonged to Lord Despaard’s men slowed and then stopped altogether.
“They are unwell,” one of the men observed. “My lord, these animals won’t make it to Paterdomus tonight.” He gave them a careful look. “Maybe not anywhere else, either.”
Ruthven cursed.
“We don’t have spare steeds for the men. They will have to turn back and take the animals with them.”
“You would reduce our escort by half?” Despaard asked.
“Is that safe?” Gideon Gleeman stammered.
“My lords,” Drezel intervened, “I have travelled this route many a time. The road from here-through the Mountain Pass of Silvarea-is rarely plagued by bandits, or anything else. Many pilgrims travel this route without a guard, so I think we shall be safe so long as the daylight holds. It is the darkness on the mountain road that is more dangerous, and no escort will alleviate that.”
“Very well,” Despaard said. “We will stop for lunch now. Then those with the failing horses will have to return home.” The column dismounted while three of the escort kept a loose lookout from a hillock at the road’s eastern edge. Theodore noted instantly how exhausted Albertus Black was, and knew he wasn’t alone in thinking so.
“You should rest Albertus,” Arisha told him as she helped him find his seat on a tree-stump.
“It’s my old bones is all, Sally,” he said wearily.
Theodore saw the amused smile on Arisha’s face.
“Sally isn’t here, Albertus. She is in Varrock. With Ebenezer.”
The old man made a gruff apology as he leaned his head back against the tree. Within a short moment he was asleep.
“He is not well,” Arisha confided to her friends a short while later. “Sally told me so before we left. That is one reason why he insisted upon coming.”
“A last adventure?” Kara sighed angrily. “We can’t protect him, though. If things go wrong in Morytania, then our swords-”
“Will be next to useless anyhow,” Doric interrupted. “It is Castimir’s magic in which we should have more faith against the forces of Lord Drakan. Besides, we go to parley, not to fight.”
Castimir nodded.
“Doric’s right, Kara. With luck we shouldn’t have to fight at all. Although thanks to a canny suggestion by Arisha, no longer will I make the mistake of keeping my runes in one place, where they can easily be taken from me the way Jerrod did at the monastery. Watch.”
Theodore saw him flick his wrist and a weighted paper, twisted at both ends, slipped from the inside of his voluminous sleeve, directly into his right hand. He pulled the paper apart and revealed three of the pebble-like runes inside.