He was about to speak when a great cheer went up from outside.
“What is it?” he asked Reldo who stood nearest the window.
“I don’t know, but there is great deal of celebrating.”
Could it be that word has come of the embassy? Have they perhaps escaped?
The cries grew louder as Ebenezer staggered to his feet. Lord William took his arm and together they left the room as quickly as his aged limbs would allow.
Moments later, with Reldo ahead of them, they stopped at the top of the great staircase. Below, a throng of yellow-clad soldiers surrounded a man who was dressed in little more than rags, his grey shoulder-length hair dishevelled, hiding his face. Yet when he raised his arms Ebenezer saw that both his hands were missing.
No. No, that can’t be him. Not here.
“I am Sulla,” the beggar roared in triumph, his head thrown back. Ebenezer saw the scarred face he had seen only once before, in the heat of combat at Saradomin’s monastery. “I have brought King Roald the greatest of gifts. I have slain the Wyrd.” Someone taunted him from below but Sulla laughed. The yellow-clad guards forced their way through the press, dragging Sulla with them. “I am a hero now,” he shouted. “A hero!”
The madman’s words faded as he was taken forward in the direction of the dungeon.
“It’s true,” someone in the crowd yelled. “The body is outside in a cart. This man Sulla really has done it.” Ebenezer could not believe what was being said.
What is happening to the world, when a man like that enters Varrock a hero?
Outside, the bells of Father Lawrence’s church began ringing out in victory.
“Do you wish to go downstairs?” Lord William asked.
Ebenezer shook his head.
“No thank you. I wish to return to my bed. I fear I must be experiencing a nightmare of sorts, and I would prefer to be there when I wake.”
With a grumble, he turned himself about and made his way back to his room, a great deal slower than when he had left.
If it was a nightmare, then Ebenezer couldn’t wake from it. Hours later his mind was still too fraught to focus on the murders, and no small part of him wondered if it was even necessary any more.
If Sulla had slain her, then what would be the point?
He has beaten us today. My friends are imperilled in a foreign land, and Sulla has done what they couldn’t. He has won.
Lord William appeared at the door.
“Captain Rovin wants to know if you wish to talk to Sulla,” he stated politely.
“Why?” he said without thinking, and the young lord turned to leave.
But I do have questions for him, in fact. A lot of questions.
“Wait, William,” he said, motioning. “I do wish to see him. It was just unexpected.”
The young man helped him up, and together they began their journey.
“Where has Reldo got to?” the alchemist asked.
Inspire. Quench the doubt.
Sally has deserted, and Reldo is gone, and now one of our greatest enemies turns up a hero. Truly something to be added to the history books.
“Reldo is examining my suggestion about the link with the Salve. He is not convinced that even with the Wyrd dead, the danger is passed.”
“So she is dead then?” Ebenezer asked. “Sulla did it?”
“She is most definitely dead,” William acknowledged. “Her head sits atop a spike on the palace wall even now, and a host of people throng the square to cheer Sulla’s name.” Lord William gave him a sidelong glance. “I am afraid people have very short memories. Personally, I won’t cheer him in any way.”
“But he did do it? You are sure of that?”
“He led a band of mercenaries, apparently. They are well-known names in Varrock. But it was his instigation and plan.”
He continued as they moved down the corridor.
“Sulla is no longer in the dungeons,” he explained. “He has been moved to his own apartments. Lady Anne has been charged with seeing to it that he has everything he needs for now.”
Everything he needs? He should be hanging from the gallows tree.
“Here we are,” Lord William said as they neared a half-open door. Outside two guards waited, and Ebenezer saw more at either end of the corridor.
He is still a prisoner, then. That at least is something.
“…I will need a wife soon. You look rich. And of high birth. Think I’ll take you.” The words were spoken with a disgusting arrogance and were followed by a sick laugh.
“I wonder how Lady Anne will react to that?” Lord William said with a slight smile.
“Hopefully she’ll cut off his-”
“Or I might take your friend, perhaps,” Sulla continued. “The one with the gap between her pretty teeth.”
“Right!” Lord William strode in so quickly that Ebenezer nearly lost his balance. The beggar Sulla had become looked at them with interest reflected in his one good eye. His lank hair was unclean, his beard a mess, and he stank.
He has fallen far indeed. Gone is much of his strength.
Lady Anne sat near the window, and she spoke quickly, as soon as they entered.
“Ignore him, Lord William,” she implored him. “He has been hurling abuse at anyone within range, ever since coming here.” The blonde woman fixed Sulla with her blue-eyed stare. “It is either impressively bold for a man who will very likely hang, or unbelievably stupid. I haven’t decided which yet, though by the minute I am more inclined to the latter.”
“The people won’t permit it,” Sulla sneered. “I declared myself to Varrock upon entering the city. I told them I had the King’s word when I gave them the body. And besides, I know things.” His eye focused on Lord William, and Ebenezer saw the young man stiffen. “Lots of things. Lots of dirty little secrets.”
“Such as Jerrod, and his location?” the alchemist said. “Where is your werewolf? I have some unfinished business with him.”
The look of surprise on Sulla’s face was quietly gratifying.
“Come closer, old man. You are familiar to me. Have we met?”
“Only once, and then for a very short time, thankfully. I knocked you from your horse at the monastery of Saradomin. I left you clambering about in the mud, crawling aside to avoid being trampled. I see you have fared little better since then.”
Sulla exhaled, and said nothing for a long minute.
To him I really am a wizard, I suppose. The Kinshra hate magic, and Sulla is no exception. I can use that to my advantage.
“You are the alchemist,” Sulla said finally. “You made the water boil and flame, and scared my horses.”
“I could do it to your blood as well, Sulla. It is not a nice way to die.”
Let us see if he will believe that.
Sulla made a half sneer.
“What do you want then? Jerrod is my insurance policy. He remains at large until I am convinced of King Roald’s intentions-until the King grants my asylum. My werewolf has given his word not to harm anyone until then.”
Ebenezer laughed.
“That will certainly put the King’s mind at rest,” he said sarcastically, then his eyes narrrowed. “But tell me of how you caught the Wyrd. How you found her and what she did. We need to know.”
Sulla gave his horrific smile.
“She died. Jerrod hacked her head off. She didn’t speak or plead or bargain.”
He is going to be of no help. I cannot expect him to be-not until he has the King’s word that he won’t be harmed, and that his asylum has been granted.
Ebenezer sank into a chair opposite his enemy. Lord William remained standing, his eyes focused on Sulla.
“How did you get those scars?” the nobleman asked.
“They were a gift from my father, when I was a boy. He said it was to make me special in the eyes of Zamorak. Now, pour me more wine.”