She conducted them up the staircase and away from the crowd. As they went, Theodore could feel inhospitable eyes watch him intently.
The people are scared, he thought, and their fear will lead to anger that may be directed at the knights, if they are blamed for not preventing the coming storm. Civil unrest inside the walls of Falador, while an enemy camped outside, could spell his order’s defeat, he knew.
The smell of a pipe and the crackle of a roaring fire greeted them as Emily ushered them into a room at the top of the stairs. Ebenezer stood gazing thoughtfully out of the window and into the darkening evening. When he saw them his eyes shone with happiness.
“So you are all here then?” he said cheerfully as Castimir was the first to cross the room and embrace his dear friend. “You are all safe?”
No one replied, for their very presence answered his question. Suddenly, spontaneously, each of their faces erupted in a smile. They had faced danger and triumphed and now the danger, still in a place far away and many miles from the white walls of Falador, was forgotten. At least for the moment.
They drank and ate more than they needed. The rumours of war and their shared hardships over the previous few days made them ravenous, and they were aware that such revelry would be unlikely to come again for a long time. As they ate, each of the companions questioned the others about their experiences. It soon became apparent that the question on everybody’s mind was how Ebenezer, an old man with little strength, had come to so dominate his aggressive prisoner.
“I thought he would strangle you” Castimir confided, the drink making his face shine. “I did not expect you to be able to control him. Tell us, alchemist, how you did it?”
Ebenezer smiled mischievously.
“Watch!” he said. With a sudden mysterious gesture, as if he were casting a spell, he waved his hands in the air, murmuring. Suddenly, with a shout, his eyes opened and a bright burst of white flame erupted near the window, setting the curtain alight with its vigorous heat.
With a cry of alarm, Castimir ran forward with his full tankard of ale, smothering the flames with the dark liquid. The wizard turned to face Ebenezer.
“That wasn’t magic, alchemist. That was a trick! We wizards are trained to spot charlatans, and I saw right through your sleight-of-hand. You threw something on the floor when you raised your voice and opened your eyes.”
Ebenezer laughed heartily.
“So I did. It was a trick. My voice and my eyes were the distraction. In reality I used science again.”
Castimir refilled his tankard and sat again while the old man continued.
“As soon as I left with my prisoner, allowing you to head back to the monastery, I knew I had to employ a deterrent or else I would wake up with his hands around my throat one night. And so I set my mind to how best I could use my chemicals to achieve that end. Fortunately he knew nothing of science, and he didn’t pay me any attention as I prepared my mixture.
“I did not need much-potassium and magnesium powder are a dangerous mix, needing little friction to set them off. At the right moment I threw my compound at his feet and the heat singed his eyebrows! After that I had no trouble from him at all.”
“So he believed you were a wizard?” Doric asked with a grin. “Brilliant!”
All save Theodore broke out in laughter. Even Gar’rth, though largely ignorant of the words, shared in their humour, for the atmosphere was contagious.
With a low sigh Theodore turned to the window, his face etched with concern as he looked at the burning lights of the city he had come to accept as his home. His mood affected his companions and with sudden sobriety they returned to their chairs, each aware of what was on his mind.
“You have proved your worth time and again to us, alchemist,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “Is there anything you can do for my city? Can any of your chemistry or your science give us an advantage over the Kinshra?”
Ebenezer shook his head.
“Since I returned to Falador I have been occupied with no other question but that one” he said. “But I must be truthful, Theodore. I have few chemicals at my disposal, and those I do have were prepared over many long months, with the help of my associates in Varrock. I’m afraid I do not have enough of them to turn the tide in our favour. I am sorry.”
The alchemist’s expression was pained as he watched the young man’s head fall. After a moment’s silence, he spoke again.
“But there are other ways I may be able to help. The people of Falador must be kept busy-they must not be allowed to dwell on the possibility of defeat. They know that the Kinshra are likely to come, and no doubt the agents of the Kinshra are spreading rumours of their strength before them. This is the war that must be won now-this is the immediate threat. The people must be rallied, and they must be convinced that the knights will protect them.”
Theodore knew he was correct. The knights could not afford to ignore the people of Falador this time, not when the threat was so close.
“They must be managed, Theodore” Ebenezer continued. “The people must be turned into a service for the city. We may not have cannons, but we can still use artillery. Catapults! Trebuchets!”
“The enemy will sit beyond our range and smash the high white walls to dust with their guns,” Doric said despondently.
“But Ebenezer is right” Kara countered. “The people need to be kept occupied, lest their idleness work against us all.”
Theodore looked at his companions, and renewed conviction shone in his eyes.
“You should check the city walls tomorrow, Doric. Your knowledge of the cannon and your engineering experience should give us a good idea of just how long they will stand up to the Kinshra bombardment.” He turned to Ebenezer. “And you, alchemist, in your infiinite wisdom, shall find other ways we can prepare, and in doing so boost morale. We will not let the enemy defeat us before he has even arrived.”
Theodore hoped that such thoughts would bolster his friends as they considered the future.
Outside, it began to rain.
FIFTY-FIVE
A week passed, and each day a herald of the knights passed through the gates carrying messages to the crown prince in Burthorpe-messages that so far resulted in no promises of action.
“The crown prince wants a diplomatic solution” Sir Amik announced. The tone of his voice told the listeners how much faith he placed in the suggestion.
“If the reports are correct, then Sulla has managed to amass an army many times larger than anything we can hope to deploy,” Sir Tiffy offered. “He has recruited the goblin tribes to his cause. Our scouts think their armies will meet within two days” His long fingers were clasped to his chin as he spoke.
“But most of his army are bandits from The Wilderness, drawn to his banner by the promise of plunder,” master-at-arms Sharpe said. “The Kinshra themselves are no more numerous than us. If we can strike at the core of Sulla’s army before it attacks, then it might be enough to scatter his followers-the majority of his army is an undisciplined rabble who will not fight in the face of organised resistance.”
A murmur went up at this glimmer of hope.
“We cannot do that,” Sir Amik said immediately. “If we initiate hostilities then we will have lost our moral imperative. In a pitched battle they are more numerous than us, but if it turns into a siege of Falador, then we will have the city guard to help us fight on the walls. His advantage in numbers will be reduced, and his new cannon will be incapable of working so well in such close fighting.”
Sir Amik let his words sink in amongst the small circle of men. As doubt crept into their faces, a single voice dared to speak what they all knew. It was Bhuler’s voice.
“Your strategy will sacrifice Falador, drawing us into a siege!” he said loudly. “Do you expect every citizen to fight?” His hand slapped down upon the oak tabletop, the sound reverberating around the room.