RuneScape: Return to Canifis (63 page)

Daylight fell onto the paper before Ebenezer, illuminating seven marks that meant nothing to him but seemed to be imbued with such importance. Under each was a short paragraph of elegant writing which Ebenezer knew to be Sally’s hand.

She will be smiling now. I know it. Smiling behind my back.

He turned abruptly.

Sally smiled. Next to her stood Reldo and Lord William. The nobleman glanced anxiously at the clock on his wall.

I don’t doubt he spends every waking moment outside Sulla’s door now, listening for Lady Caroline.

“Right,” the alchemist said. “Well then. I think we might be onto something here.”

Sally’s smile faded. Her brow creased into a frown.

“I would say so,” she asserted. “It is the
only
link between those who are missing. All babies, none over a year old, all with birthmarks over their hearts. It has to be more than a coincidence. It has to be.”

Just a shame Sulla didn’t bring the Wyrd in alive, so we could ask her. I wonder if he meant it that way.

“Let us refresh ourselves,” Ebenezer said with a deliberately pompous tone. “We are theorising that the prophecy is real. That the Wyrd worked toward that end, and that to realise that end, the power of the Salve had to be broken.”

“Can I see, please?” Reldo asked quietly. “The paper with the seven birthmarks.”

Ebenezer nodded and handed it to him.

“I have to say, I think the King will laugh when we report this to him,” he said with a look to Sally. “Birthmarks on children... It’s just... It’s just not scientific.”

“Papelford told you that science was no way of analysing magic, Ebenezer,” Sally scolded, her arms crossed.

“Please uncross you arms and remove your scowl. It reminds me too much of your sister when she used to do the same. And that was never an occasion for joy. Especially when she was within reach of her rolling-pin.”

But she is right
, he admitted silently.
Papelford did warn us about that.

“This is interesting,” Reldo remarked from the desk, his young face bowed to the seven marks.

“Do you recognise them?” Lord William asked, showing interest now.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Then what is so interesting?” Ebenezer huffed, turning on his heel too quickly, his balance wavering. Only at the last moment did he seize the edge of his desk and feign a deep look at the paper, as if he had been bending down to read it rather than saving himself from an embarrassing fall.

I think I got away with it. Can’t have them peeling me up off the floor!

“Well, I don’t
think
I recognise them, but they are familiar. I will have to think.”

“I thought you were supposed to be blessed with a memory that allowed you to recall anything you ever read?” Lord William asked with a puzzled frown, his hand caressing the silver fox that he wore to clasp his cloak.

“Words, yes, but not so much images,” Reldo murmured as he gazed far away. “Let me search my memory.”

At his age, it shouldn’t take too long. He’s got less than twenty years worth of them. I barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning.

“I know that look, alchemist,” Sally mused. “Have you had a thought?”

“Huh? No... no, nothing of any consequence.”

Reldo held the the paper down by one corner, spinning it round and round slowly with his free hand, peering at the symbols intently.

“What are you doing?” Lord William muttered. “I can’t concentrate if you kee—”

“I’ve got it!” Reldo shouted with sudden verve. “My god... I
have
got it!” He put his hands to his head and looked at Ebenezer in amazement.

“Good. Can you give it to us, please?” the alchemist asked.

“Paterdomus! That’s where I’ve seen them before. They were etched onto the altar of Saradomin, and that altar is the oldest part of the temple, I believe. I saw them when I prepared the blood-mark for the embassy.”

“Well, this is a definite link now,” Ebenezer said humbly. “Sally, I owe you an apology. You were right to pursue the birthmarks.” He bowed slightly and extended his hand. She took it with a grin and then rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him and crushing him in a hug.

“I love it when you are wrong,” she laughed, and the sound reminded him so much of Eloise, who had herself often said the very same thing.

“But I don’t understand what this actually means,” Lord William said. “So we have children disappearing who each have birthmarks over their hearts that resemble ancient symbols found at Paterdomus. But how does this help us?”

Ebenezer managed to free himself after an affectionate struggle.

“If the prophecy was true—and I think Reldo, that enough has happened to assume it must be—then whoever this ‘true King’ is, he will have to cross the Salve. These children were specifically sought by the Wyrd, and that they share a mark with the oldest and most sacred area of the temple must mean they are linked.

“How the mechanism occurs though, and what it actually does is something we are no closer to understanding. That is what we need to ascertain next.”

“How?” Lord William said drily.

“We must peruse the archives. We must examine every source to see if there is any mention of such a link, and find out what they mean. We must send word to the High Priest of Saradomin in Entrana, to see if he can enlighten us. We can overlook nothing. Nothing!”

“Then we will need Papelford’s cooperation,” Reldo said gloomily. “He has so many tomes in his collection that without them our task will be hamstrung from the very start.”

Ebenezer nodded.

“Very well, I shall seek an appointment with King Roald to inform him of all we know. It is now apparent that Felicity is far more important than we thought, and must be guarded by only the most able and trusted men—for that child alone has the one birthmark that remains in our possession.”

Thank the gods for you, Gar’rth! If you hadn’t led us to the Wyrd that night, then she would already be in their possession. Wherever you are, I thank you.

“So if she is taken by the Wyrd... or whatever is sent next...” Lord William whispered, polishing the silver fox with his anxious finger strokes.

“Then we must assume that the Salve goes with it, in some shape or form,” Ebenezer concluded, nodding. “She must be watched at all times. She
must
be kept alive and safe.”

The alchemist stood, feeling as tall as he was when he was a young man, pride swelling in his chest.

And this time, he didn’t fall or stumble, and no black dots came to plague his vision.

This time, he was right—
they
were right—and he knew it.

He watched the curve of Lady Caroline’s neck as she stood by the window, staring at the afternoon sun. His eye lingered on the shape of her body beneath the long green dress she wore.

“You are a rich woman, Lady Caroline?” Sulla asked as he reclined in his chair.

“My family are wealthy, Lord Sulla,” she said quietly.

She is afraid of me. She is wise, this one, wiser than that Lady Anne.

He held his wrists up for inspection. The crude prosthetics he now wore were bound to his stumps by leather straps that wrapped around his elbows. Now at least he could raise a glass without spilling half its contents over him. And he had bathed for long hours in a deep hot tub. After that he had been shaved and his hair had been cut.

Now—his face revealed in all its scarred horror—he felt more like the man he had once been.

“Are you to be married? Do you have a lover?”

I have seen the Silver Fox, and the way he looks at you—and you him. I am only blind in one eye.

“No... no, I haven’t,” she lied. “Please, you must not be so impertinent.”

Sulla laughed.

“Where is Lord William today, anyhow? I am missing his company. Our theological discussions on the church of Zamorak are nicely diverting while I await King Roald’s decision on my fate. Tell me, Lady Caroline, do you think I will hang?”

“I don’t... I don’t know.”

“But do you care?” He grinned wickedly as he raised the goblet to his lips. It wasn’t yet midday, and already he had drunk a whole bottle of red wine.

Nothing else to do in this gilded prison. No one to talk to but Lord William and that old man who makes a pain of himself. Idiot.

Lady Caroline made no answer as the door opened.

It was Captain Rovin, flanked by two guards.

You don’t need guards to deliver a message. This is looking far from good.

“Would you please leave us, Lady Caroline,” the hard-faced man ordered in the guise of a polite request. Sulla watched the demure woman nod, and he caught a look in her eyes that he didn’t like at all.

“At least they’ve cleaned you up a bit,” Captain Rovin said as she closed the door. “It’ll please the crowds more when you hang. Take him.”

What?

No!

“Wait, Captain. Wait! I know things—”

The two big guardsmen strode forward and took one arm each.

“I know things! Things that will help Varrock against Drakan! Wait!”

“Get him up,” Captain Rovin ordered. The two men heaved him
to his feet. He made to speak again when one of them punched him hard in the stomach.

He doubled over, bile rising into his throat.

“Shut up, Sulla,” the other said. “Save your breath for your weeping on the scaffold.”

“You can’t hang me!” he choked, gasping for breath. “I’m of noble blood. A Lord of the Kinshra! I am no commoner.”

“No, Sulla. You are worse than any commoner. You’re an animal.” Captain Rovin nodded to the two men and suddenly he was pushed back into his seat.

They’re laughing. Laughing at me!

“But you are not going to hang—not today. I just thought I’d remind you of how close to the edge you stand. One false word or deed from you, and the King’s mercy will be withdrawn. Already he faces stern opposition for holding you. The Knights of Falador have sent an emissary to King Roald asking for your extradition, and I understand your own order are also demanding you be handed over. It would do you well to tread cautiously.”

“Then has King Roald accepted my proposal?” Sulla asked, slowly regaining his composure. “Am I to be granted asylum?”

“Not just yet. Jerrod remains at large, and we want him either dead or locked up.”

“But you
need
him! You need him for what he knows about Morytania. You see, Gar’rth won’t be coming back. I am certain of it. Jerrod is the
only
source you have available to give you accurate information about Drakan’s realm—and I am the only one who can tell you how you can bring him in.” It was Sulla’s turn to smile now. “Need I remind you that he
did
hack the head off the Wyrd?”

Captain Rovin snarled down at him.

“Your fate and his is not my decision to make, Sulla. If he doesn’t surrender, Jerrod will be hunted down and killed.”

The door opened and Sulla recognised Lord Ruthven.

“No, Captain Rovin it is not your decision to make.” The nobleman glanced around Sulla’s quarters and finally at Sulla himself. “It is mine.

“Leave us Captain Rovin,” he added, motioning them out. “I have something I wish to discuss with this man in private.”

Sulla saw Ruthven hold his right hand up. A curious ring caught the light, and when the belligerent captain saw it, he nodded.

“Very well, my Lord. We’ll be outside. If he gives you any trouble, just call.”

The room emptied, leaving them alone. After a long minute, Ruthven approached Sulla and leaned down close to him, and when he spoke it was in an angry whisper.

“Where are the documents, Sulla?” he hissed. “Where are the records you used to blackmail me? I paid your man handsomely for your silence, when you first came to me, and now you need to fulfil your end of the bargain. Where are they?”

Hold your tongue. Let him sweat.

Sulla took the goblet in his prosthetics and moved it awkwardly to his mouth. He took a single slow sip, swallowed, and then took another.

Then he looked Lord Ruthven in the eye.

“They are safe with my associate, the werewolf Jerrod. But let me make a suggestion to you, Lord Ruthven. I plan to stay and live in Varrock. A man like me can be very useful to your King. You see, I have other documents, copied from the Kinshra records when I was in charge. Think what your government could do with these!” He laughed at that. “All the dirty little secrets of anyone who matters—from here all the way to Kandarin. The diplomacy of Misthalin would be unstoppable, as would your own rise—”

“Don’t try and tempt me with such insipid talk, Sulla. I have risen
well enough without you, and ambition as you have described is the want of weak men. I fight for a greater purpose than myself.”

“Then why did you pay me off in the first place, if you are such a strong and principled man?” Sulla said with a sneer.

“It was easier. Simply that. And I never said I was a principled man, Sulla.” Lord Ruthven moved toward the drawers that sat below the window. “That is something you should appreciate. You see, I have the King’s ear in many matters. If I wish it, I am quite sure I can condemn you to hang. Thus, I am the one making the demands. Not you.”