“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.