The trader pointed the dwarf toward a squalid quarter with narrow streets and dark alleys that people called the Dens.
“Most people in Falador know of her, my friend,” he said, his tone almost conspiratorial now. “If you head that way and continue asking, then you should be able to find her.”
Doric thanked the man and slung his axe over his shoulder. As he left the marketplace he ran his hand over the two sharp daggers he had secured in his belt, and the smaller throwing axes that hung from his hip.
He took comfort in his weapons, and he had a grim feeling that he would be glad to have them.
Theodore pulled back the cloth and smiled as Kara’s eyes widened in happiness.
“I thought you should have it back.” The words came surprisingly easy to Theodore as he watched her examine the adamant sword closely.
It is because I am telling her the truth, he thought to himself.Kara should have her sword, and not just in case she might need it to protect herself from the traitor.
“Thank you, Theodore.” She put the sword down and embraced him. The young man stiffened at her touch. She released him with an embarrassed look.
“You said you had received a message-was it important?” she asked suddenly, changing the subject to that of the anxious guard who had knocked nervously at the door some hours earlier.
“Not really” Theodore lied. The guard had told him how angry Doric had been at being denied entry to the castle, and how he had raved about the monster. Perhaps, Theodore thought, he had been drinking again.
And yet…
He went to the window and looked up at the ramparts. The day was cloudy. Sir Amik had invited the residents of the almshouse into the castle, and quite unexpectedly. He had requested their help in teaching the peons, for their training was suffering because many knights had been sent to hunt the monster in the countryside north of Falador. The old warriors had willingly agreed, thankful to be of use to their order once more.
Yet Theodore knew the truth. He knew it was a ploy by Sir Amik to bring the traitor back amongst them, to let him think he had a realistic chance of striking at Kara before he could be identified.
That was why the young squire refused to leave her. That was why he had ignored Doric’s warning in the morning. Kara’s safety was more important to him than anything else. He would not leave her side while the residents from the almshouse were in the castle.
The peon Bryant had been sequestered by the amiable Sir Balladish. The old knight needed the youth to run to the apothecary to purchase the ingredients for one of the many potions he consumed to ease the pains of an old body dented in battle.
“Make sure you get everything, young soldier,” Sir Balladish told Bryant as he eagerly took the list. “We old war dogs need all the medicine we can get to keep us going. Isn’t that right, Sir Finistere?”
“Indeed it is, Sir Balladish,” the bearded man agreed, turning to add his own encouragement to the young man. “Run along, and be sure to get everything he requires.”
Bryant ran all the way, his face beaming in pleasure that he had been chosen for the task. In his eagerness, he turned a corner swiftly and ran directly into someone who was coming the opposite way.
“I’m very sorry, sir!” he said as he regained his balance. The newcomer had hardly flinched. “It was entirely my fault!”
The tall figure in the red robes said nothing, and Bryant’s face wrinkled as he caught a sweet smell from the man. He could feel the man’s eyes, concealed deep within the cowl, watching him eagerly. After a moment he spoke.
“Are you one of the knights?” the man asked. “I am new to these parts, and I am eager to meet the warriors of Falador.” He spoke in a guttural tone, an animalistic accent which Bryant couldn’t place, emanating from deep inside his body.
“I wish to be, sir!” the young man said eagerly. “I am Bryant, a peon, under the tutelage of Squire Theodore.”
“Squire Theodore?” The man said the words with a tone Bryant assumed was reverence.
“Yes, indeed-you have heard of him, sir? He’s the squire who rescued the dwarf from the monster, and found the corpses of the human supremacists. He’s the best of our order, and promises to be a great knight!”
“Indeed, I have heard it said so.” The man spoke softly, his voice suddenly gentle. “I would like to meet him, young peon. Do you think you could arrange that?”
Bryant shook his head.
“I am afraid not, sir. The squires are far too busy to meet with the citizens of Falador, especially with so many of the knights away hunting the monster!”
“That is unfortunate” the man said slowly.
For a second Bryant stiffened, suddenly feeling as if, for some unknown reason, he was in great peril.
“But I do understand,” the man uttered finally, and his soft words diffused Bryant’s concerns. He said nothing more, however, and stepped past, briskly disappearing into the crowds.
Aware that the delay had cost him time, Bryant ran quickly on.
A few seconds later, the red-hooded man turned the corner once again, this time following the peon’s path, even though the young man was no longer in sight. He found his way easily to the apothecary several streets away, as if following an invisible trail that only he could see.
He watched the youngster through the murky pane as a list was handed over to the apothecary, and he noted, too, how the shopkeeper’s eyes widen as he read the list.
“I hope your knight knows what he is about, master peon,” the older man said grimly. “If he mixes these in the right doses, then he will come up with a rather nasty poison.”
A look of confusion swept over Bryant’s face.
“He does know-he must, for he often uses potions as a salve for his ancient injuries. Many of the older knights do.”
“Be that as it may, master peon, you just remind your knight of what I’ve said.” Then the apothecary disappeared, hunting amongst his jars and powders to fulfil the needs of the list in his hand.
Several minutes later, Bryant emerged from the shop, closing the door behind him and looking downcast. The apothecary had charged him more than he had expected, and Bryant had not had enough money to pay him. Knowing he was a peon of the knights, however, the kind apothecary had given Bryant all he had asked for, on the condition that he would return that same day to pay the outstanding sum.
“You have my word, sir!” Bryant had told him as he left.
In his disappointment, knowing he would have to make another trip and have to explain the embarrassing situation to his tutor, he failed to notice the tall man in the red robes who was concealed in the shadows of a large doorway, watching him depart.
“I trust you, boy” the figure muttered to himself, unheard by all. “You will return to the apothecary today and in an hour it will be dark. Then I shall have my bait!”
Red eyes glowed under the hood.
THIRTY
Doric had spent five hours asking about the “mad old beggar lady” and had narrowed down her place of residence to all but a few streets. But the deeper he got into the Dens, the less people were willing to volunteer information, for their poverty formed a bond between them that was hard for an outsider to penetrate.
It will be dark soon, he thought. He hefted his axe from his shoulder and leaned on it, deep in thought, and as he did so some coins chinked in his tunic.
They may not volunteer information to an outsider, he thought, but they will very likely sell it.
He considered briefly going back to the castle to see if Theodore had become available, but his mood soured when he remembered the morning guard.