The werewolf smiled.
“You have my promise, boy. Now, the letter…”
THIRTY-ONE
Kara was looking out of the window.
Theodore stood near the entrance to the ward. Both of them had been silent for a time, and when he spoke, she jumped slightly.
“You should come away from there, Kara,” he said. “I would like to see you practise with your sword.”
She looked at him curiously.
“Why are you armed, Theodore? You have never been armed before, on your visits to me.”
“It is the rumour of the monster, Kara. Doric left a message at the guard house, saying that it might be inside the city. I just wish to be ready in case we are called.” He was getting better at lying, he thought grimly. He was armed simply to protect Kara in case the traitor decided upon a desperate attack.
A loud thump at the door drew their attention. Theodore’s hand tightened on the hilt of his weapon, as if he expected to fight. But it was the same guard with whom Doric had argued that morning, and he saluted before handing the squire a rain-soaked envelope.
“It’s just been delivered, Squire Theodore. By one of Emily’s boys from The Rising Sun” The owner of the inn kept several street urchins on her payroll to run chores for her around the city, and they acted as Falador’s couriers, at least for those willing to pay to have their messages delivered.
Theodore took the message and read quickly. A look of alarm spread across his face.
“It’s from a citizen writing on Bryant’s behalf! He’s been hit by a runaway horse on a street corner near the apothecary.” He continued to read. “Bryant has asked that I come to aid him.” He hesitated-what was he to do? Go to Bryant and abandon Kara, or remain at her side?
She noticed his sudden anxiety.
“Well, Theodore?” she prompted. “What are you waiting for? Bryant is your peon, and he is under your care. You must go to him.”
Sir Amik’s words came back to him. He knew guarding Kara was the most important of his duties, yet abandoning Bryant would be against every rule of the order, and an insult to everything he had pledged his life to. After what seemed like long, agonizing moments, he came to a decision.
“Keep your sword close, Kara” he said firmly. “And do not leave the ward on any account!”
“I remember my orders, Theodore,” she said, an irritated note in her voice. “I am to remain here until Sir Amik is satisfied about my health.” Her brown eyes lapsed into deep thought. “But if Bryant has been hurt, then perhaps I should accompany you.”
“No, Kara. You will stay here-and you will not leave the ward” Theodore insisted. “I shall not be long, Saradomin willing.”
As he closed the door behind him, Theodore could not help but feel that fate was following closely on his heels.
Despite the promises made by his captor, Bryant was in pain.
His tormentor had sunk his claws into his left arm, and several times he had passed out. It was during one of his fainting sessions that his captor had hastened out to The Rising Sun, passing along the message he had written in the guise of a concerned citizen.
Upon his return he had splashed Bryant with cold water, waking the peon in order to find out more about Theodore.
“So I shall become a werewolf?” Bryant asked him after a silence. His voice was taut.
The creature looked confused.
“Do you not pass on your curse to those you injure?” the peon elaborated.
“Of course! I had forgotten about the fairy tales that you humans whisper to one another before bedtime. You believe that if I bite you, then you will change at the next full moon.” He laughed mockingly. “It isn’t true. A normal human being cannot be infected in such a manner. Maybe a half-breed, but I doubt if your ancestors deigned to marry into any of my race-not after Saradomin’s armies drove us back and cursed the River Salve to prevent us from leaving Morytania.”
“Then how did you get out?” Bryant asked, growing bolder. “How did you cross over the holy river?” His voice was weak from blood loss.
“Holy places can be defiled by sacrifices and powerful magic. But it was still very difficult for me to do it, and the dark lord of my realm had to have a hand in it himself. It has put me in debt to him, and that has put me in danger should I fail.”
Bryant fell silent, and the look on his face bespoke the pain he was enduring. Finally he gasped for air as he blacked out once more.
The werewolf was grateful for the silence, but he checked Bryant’s breathing to ensure that he was still alive. He wasn’t going to kill him just yet-for if Theodore proved to be as stubborn as his pupil, then threats would make little headway.
He would simply torture Bryant instead, until the squire complied with his requests.
Scant moments after Theodore rode across the moat, Doric rounded the corner.
“Not you again,” the guard said, noting the dwarf’s breathlessness. “What do you want this time?” He moved to stand on the centre of the bridge, his arms crossed tightly as if to dissuade the dwarf from any more nonsense.
Doric was angry. He was wet from the rain, he had been on his feet all day, and he was certain the monster was in the city and that the old woman knew where. A feeling in his gut had made him afraid of her house, as if he could somehow sense the monster’s presence there. It was a feeling he would never forget.
He needed Theodore, and nothing would deter him now.
“I only want to speak to Squire Theodore” he replied.
“Squire Theodore is not here” the man responded. “He has gone out in response to a letter that came from a citizen in the southern quarter.”
Doric’s attitude changed at once. His face paled, and his voice shook.
“Not Dagger Alley, not the Dens?” he said.
The guard nodded. “It is in the Dens but I do not know the address,” he replied. “Why should he not go there? Every citizen is entitled to the protection of the knights, no matter what their situation of birth or wealth. Saradomin is not an exclusive deity.”
“But he is in danger!” Doric insisted. “I trailed the monster there today.”
“Why would the monster want Theodore?” The guard’s patience appeared to be at an end.
“It followed us on our journey south! If it does not want me, then surely the only alternative is Theodore? Quickly, man, you must send help!”
“I will not be ordered about like a common guard. I am a knight of Saradomin!”
“Then Saradomin take you!” the dwarf roared, and before the guard could answer Doric turned and ran, heading south.
For a moment the guard stood on the bridge, his mind racing as he wondered what to do.
Dagger Alley, was that what the note had said?
A deep echo of thunder rolled across the rooftops, prompting his decision. He turned and ran from the bridge, heading for the ward to retrieve the note he had delivered to Theodore, just a short time before.
As the storm rumbled overhead, the kitchens of the knights were busy. The visitors from the almshouse expected the best from those for whom they had spent their lives fighting, and the cooks were eager not to let them down.
Elise moved with purpose. She was keen to get out of the hot kitchens and return to the ward with Kara’s meal.
“It is not ready yet, Elise,” the cook told her. “I have prepared Lady Kara’s drink. I have even mixed some chocolate into it for a treat. From the gossip going around the castle, I think she deserves it.”
The woman sighed and looked at the retired knights. Eager to look in on the places where they had spent their youth, they had even invaded the domain of the kitchen. Two of them-Sir Erical and Sir Balladish-were standing close by, and as she waited she listened to their conversation.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been down here,” the one-armed knight said with fond nostalgia.
“And for me, Sir Erical,” his companion agreed. “I was taught to cook on this stove as a peon.”