“He is my friend,” Gar’rth replied, but somehow the words seemed feeble.
“Your friend?” the dark man said. “He hates what you are, Gar’rth. You know it. He fears you, as well, as they all do. Even Kara. If it were otherwise, would she have taken the wolfbane dagger without telling you?”
He knows everything.
“You don’t answer me because you have thought so before. Still, they are your friends, and I will respect that. The choice you have is a brutally simple one. If you submit to me, I will tell you of your history, and of your future, too. Your friends may go freely across the river and return home.”
“And if I don’t?”
“They will live in torment, forever, as has no other since the time of the God Wars. Believe me when I tell you that death will be but a dream to them. And in the end, you will submit to me, for there will be no alternative.”
What choice is that?
“King Roald offered you a similar choice, did he not, before you swore to serve him?” He looked deeply into Gar’rth’s eyes. “You should never have left Morytania, Gar’rth. This is your place. This is your home.”
“And my friends will be allowed to leave Morytania, unmolested?”
The man nodded.
“I will not try to stop them. I cannot make promises on behalf of others, of course, but they should be able to accomplish it. Already Vanstrom and the rebel Karnac near the Barrows. They will be here within a day. Time enough for you to make your choice. I shall even wake them before you go, so you can part from them cordially. And if you wish to help them further, then you may give each one a pouch filled with the most precious gems. None of them will want ever again.
“Tell me, Gar’rth, has a more reasonable offer ever been made?”
“You are offering no choice at all.”
“That is true,” the man admitted without hesitation. “But the lives of your friends are in your hands. Their welfare is entirely dependent upon you.”
“Then you know I will accept it. You know I have to.”
The man smiled.
“Very good, Gar’rth. Very good. You made the wise choice. Your friends will live, and likely prosper, and though you might never be with them again, you will be able to watch them whenever you want. Believe me, there are worse decisions people must make in this world.”
Gar’rth gritted his teeth, and clenched his hands.
“I said I accept, and I will,” he hissed. “But I want to write a letter, for Kara to open when she crosses the river. I could not stand to hear her voice, now that my mind is made up. And to Ebenezer, as well, for I owe him much.”
“Ah, the alchemist,” the dark man said. “You will be glad to know he is now back on his feet. I have seen him in the company of others in my pool. But now that you have accepted, I will tell you the truth of your life, and of why you are so important.
“Then you may write your letters, and if you want you may dictate them to Georgi, for I know how limited your skill is in their language. You can tell your friends whatever you wish them to know.”
32
“Theodore? Can you hear me, Theodore?”
The knight opened his heavy eyelids. He breathed deeply, and there was no trace of smoke in his lungs, no prickly fire that wanted to make him cough and wheeze. Still, he could smell it on his clothes, and on the clothes of Castimir, who lay next to him, asleep.
Or is it something worse than sleep?
He prodded the wizard with his hand. Castimir sighed, mumbled incoherently, and remained still.
“He is safe and unharmed, Theodore.” It was Gar’rth’s voice. “All our friends are.”
He could see the werewolf standing in the shadows of the darkened room with black walls and black furnishings. About him, on several large settees, lay the rest of the embassy. To his surprise, this included Albertus Black and Gideon Gleeman. The scientist lay motionless on a litter, as if someone had prepared him for a journey. Only Lord Despaard, Doric, and Arisha were absent.
“Good,” he breathed out, and his breath fogged the air. It was cold here. “How long have I slept for?”
“Nearly two days,” Gar’rth replied. “I want to talk to you, Theodore, before I wake the others.” Gar’rth strode forward and Theodore felt his brow crease in surprise. He was no longer dressed in his hood, cloak, and loose-fitting garments. Now he was attired in black trousers, with a black doublet covered by a jerkin inlaid with mysterious silver symbols. A black cloak hung from a metal brooch that lay across his throat. He had washed and shaved, and now he stood as fine as any prince the knight had seen.
Gar’rth stepped over to Kara’s side. She lay alone on a settee. The werewolf removed his right glove and gently clasped her cheek in his hand, caressing her skin lightly.
Is that what you choose to talk of now, Gar’rth? Or have you changed more than your dress?
Have you joined with Him, with Zamorak?
“She is very beautiful, isn’t she?”
Theodore made no answer. Instead, he stood stiffly.
“I know you think so. We both do. We both love her. But only one of us can have her.”
So this is it, then. The truth of it.
Slowly, he reached for his sword and drew it out an inch.
The werewolf smiled, his white teeth shining in the gloom.
“I know what you think of me. You have always thought so. You fear me. The others do, too. I had the same dream you had that night at Paterdomus. It frightened me, as well.” He sighed and put the glove back on. “But I have made my choice now, Theodore, and there is nothing you can do about it, I am afraid.”
“What choice?” Theodore asked warily.
“You can have her.”
What?
The words stopped Theodore dead.
“I don’t understand.”
“As far as she is mine to give, she is yours-and here, in this place, I could possess her absolutely. Whether she loves you or not, I do not know. But I have one request.
“When you return to Misthalin, you will do two things for me. You will give her a letter, but not before you are across the river. Secondly, take care of her, Theodore. If you do not marry her yourself then make sure she finds a good man, a dull one who is happy with his lot. In time she will put aside her sword and cease her wanderings. Make sure she has everything she can possibly need. I have eased the way. On your belt is a pouch. It holds jewels that are larger than any you will find in Varrock. You are a very rich man now. Use that power wisely.”
Gar’rth turned to a table nearby. On its surface Theodore saw two sealed envelopes.
“This is the one for Kara,” Gar’rth said. “This one you will deliver to Ebenezer in Varrock. You will be relieved to know that he is much improved since when we left him, although I doubt very much I will see him again.”
“How do you know that, Gar’rth?” the knight asked. “And what do you mean?”
He has changed. In only two days since we fought side by side in Canifis, his whole being is different.
“I have met my master, Theodore. The man who wanted me back. Papelford was right. I haven’t been harmed at all, and already I have learned so much.”
Gar’rth handed him the envelopes, sealed tight.
“Is it Lord Drakan?”
“No. It is another. He calls himself the Black Prince, but that is no longer important.”
“No longer important? What about our mission? What about the Wyrd?”
Gar’rth laughed.
“The mission was a lie from the start, Theodore. Of course, we didn’t know it then. The Wyrd herself is no longer a problem for Misthalin, I believe. And as for the missing victims, they have never been in Morytania at all. King Roald must seek elsewhere for them, though I do not know where.
“But like I said,” he continued, “I will likely never see Ebenezer again. For I cannot come with you, Theodore. This is my goodbye. It is a trade. I have to remain here, voluntarily, for you to go free. The alternative would be your deaths.”