But it was no frivoling peon. It was Marius, and his face was full of alarm.
“It is Kara!” he cried. “She’s not in the ward, and has not been seen for half an hour.”
“She cannot have got out again, can she?” Doric asked, looking wearily from one young man to the other.
“Search everywhere, Marius,” Theodore said. “She must not be allowed to leave the castle. Sir Amik still has questions for her.” His voice faded as he issued the instruction. He didn’t know exactly what Sir Amik wanted from her. She could provide no useful information about her past. But Theodore knew he didn’t want Kara to leave, for she had become very special to him.
“Peons are scouring every room” Marius said. “If she were in the castle, she would have been found by now.”
Theodore recalled how angry she had been with him at his deception, and he knew she had escaped from the castle.
“Then I shall go after her” he said. “She is my responsibility.”
He moved forward, but Marius’s hand stopped him.
“You cannot leave, Theodore. There is unfinished business between us. In a few days’ time we have a challenge to settle. I called you a coward and you called me to answer for it by trial of combat.”
Theodore met his gaze.
“I haven’t time for this, Marius. Kara is everything at the moment.” He made to go, but Marius’s hand remained fixed against his chest. Theodore’s eyes burned. “Let me pass, Marius, or I shall force you aside!”
“If you pursue Kara, Theodore, you will miss our trial and bring dishonour upon yourself. I cannot allow that.”
“I am warning you, Marius. Stand aside!”
“I will not, Theodore. Another squire can pursue her.”
Theodore smashed his fist against Marius’s jaw and knocked him to the floor. Marius tried to stand but Theodore hit him again, bloodying his nose before racing past him, Doric following close behind.
Theodore grabbed the first peon he found and the boy looked up into his fiery eyes.
“What is the news of Kara?”
“A guard has come from the city gates. Kara stole a horse and headed east!”
Theodore ran to the stables, shouting instructions to those peons he came across. One was sent running for maps, another for a sword and shield, still another for food and water skins. He had decided to wear his leather armour rather than his full plate, for his mare would need all her speed.
Within five minutes he trotted swiftly across the courtyard, Doric hanging precariously behind him. He would not gallop on the stones. He would wait until he was out of the city before urging his mare on over the soft earth.
As soon as he recovered, Marius went to Sir Amik, and now the squire stood in the knight’s study high up in the tower.
Sir Amik listened to his report.
“Theodore was right to pursue her, Marius” the knight said when he had finished. “They have a connection between them that neither understands, but they are both aware of it.”
Marius shifted uncomfortably. He had not been able to stop entirely the blood that flowed from his nose. He had even wasted a few precious minutes attempting to hide his injury before reporting to his superior.
“Who broke your nose, Marius?” Sir Amik asked. Marius’s eyes darted briefly out of the window, and then quickly back.
“Nobody, Sir Amik,” he said earnestly. “I ran into a door in my haste to inform you of the news.”
Even as he spoke, however, he knew the knight could tell that he was lying. He felt his face flush under Sir Amik’s unflinching gaze.
“It has nothing to do with Theodore, does it?” Sir Amik pressed. “I know you two are scheduled to fight each other. If he struck you before the challenge, then he would forfeit the match. You would be declared right and just in the eyes of Saradomin.”
Marius’s face fell. He knew now with absolute certainty that Theodore was no coward, and that the grievance between them had been of his own making.
“Sir Amik,” he said slowly, his head pounding and his eyes feeling a huge pressure swell up behind them, “Sir Amik, I must confess to a lie. The grievance between us was instigated by me. I accused him of cowardice, and I know he is no coward.”
He breathed deeply, and the swelling behind his eyes relieved itself as tears on his face. Then he continued.
“I hadn’t expected him to challenge me, but he did so, and now I admit my lie. I offer myself for the harshest penalty appropriate to my actions. I admit now what I think I have always known-I admit that Theodore is a better man than I.” His words were broken by muffled sobs, and his hands shook at his sides.
Sir Amik’s face softened slightly.
“A lie is a very serious offence, Marius. Deception is not a part of our order and is against what we stand for. You realise I could expel you for this?”
Marius nodded in miserable understanding.
“I have no wish to do that, however,” the knight continued. “You are a good squire, perhaps as good as Theodore, but you shall have to do penance for your transgression.”
“I will do it gladly, Sir Amik!” he declared.
“You will be confined to the castle; the city is off limits to you until I say otherwise. And you are to take over the management of Theodore’s peons. You will train them alongside your own. I would advise you to adopt more of Theodore’s methods, as well.”
The squire bowed his head, and left without another word.
THIRTY-SEVEN
When he was young, Castimir had read with wide-eyed interest of the barbarian tribes that lived east of Falador.
Now he had spent the day with Ebenezer and Gar’rth, exploring the village’s wooden huts and marvelling at the fine beauty of the pottery and metalwork. The barbarians offered the travellers food and ale in their great hall, an immense building with a thatched roof that stood so high that the beams were in perpetual shadow. Their belongings, left on Ebenezer’s wagon, were protected by the barbarian code of hospitality to the extent that they did not even need a guard. Truly their word was their bond.
“You are quiet tonight, Castimir,” Ebenezer remarked, readying his pipe.
The young wizard sighed and raised his eyes to look discreetly at the two barbarian women who stood several yards away. They dressed themselves in short fur skirts and leather brassieres that allowed the eager Castimir a good view of their midriffs. They adorned themselves with finely crafted jewellery, so subtly and intricately fashioned that Castimir could not recall seeing any finer. He examined the necklace of one of the women, the blue stone shining at its centre, and wondered how many years of practice it would take to craft something of such beauty.
He laughed quietly to himself when he recalled his first attempt to make even a simple ring while under the tutelage of his uncle. He had dropped the mould and the boiling metal had scalded him, ending his career as a craftsman that same day. Truly, he thought, the reputation of the barbarian women’s skill in the art of crafting, from fine pottery to cunningly-fashioned bracelets and necklaces, was well deserved.
One of the women returned his gaze, direct and unembarrassed. Castimir choked on his drink and looked away.
“You might have insulted her, averting your gaze like that,” Ebenezer chuckled.
“How did you know I was looking at her?” Castimir asked, for the alchemist was facing him across the table, his back to the two women.
“I may be old now, Castimir, but I was young once. Though I cannot remember when.”
Castimir didn’t respond. The journey from Taverley to the barbarian settlement had taken nearly three days. The entire way their minds were fraught with fear of the monster.
The young wizard glanced to his side and observed Gar’rth. The youth was trying hard at his lessons in the common tongue. He had mastered several dozen words that gave him a limited ability to communicate.