Betrayal at Falador (27 page)

In the small hours before dawn, she pondered the death of Elise and the morality of Sir Amik’s actions in placing her in danger. An innocent woman had been killed by a calculating murderer. The poison’s components had been found on Sir Balladish. She knew that it was accepted by many, without question, that he had been the traitor all along, and that while he was murdering Bryant, the peon had managed to deliver a lethal blow with his own dagger before collapsing to the ground of the alley.

Sir Balladish.

Had
her father ever mentioned that name to her, all those years ago? If he had, she could not recall it. Of course, for all she knew her father wasn’t Justrain at all.

Would they have lied about that also? Could they really be so deceitful? I have been a pawn in their game, used only to suit their purposes.

Suddenly she hated the knights and their hypocrisy. An innocent life had been taken—and she felt as if she was partly to blame. If she hadn’t arrived at the castle, then Elise would still be alive. Was it her own fault that Sir Amik had used her as bait? Was it her fault that she had so swiftly and unquestioningly embraced the possibility that Justrain might be her father, thus letting Theodore spy on her on Sir Amik’s behalf?

Theodore!

She thought of the young man and her affection for him, and the remembrance of how he had used that affection turned her heart bitter. He was Sir Amik’s instrument. He had lied to her as much as anyone else.

Kara lifted her head from her pillow. She knew what she needed to do.

Sir Amik and Sir Tiffy analysed the situation. Neither man had visited the scene at Dagger Alley, so Sir Finistere’s and Sir Pallas’s reports were used to provide the facts from which they were to draw their conclusions. The two men had debated throughout the night, Sir Tiffy with his books spread before him, documenting the history of the traitor’s existence since the revelations of Justrain had prompted a quiet investigation all those years ago.

“Does it add up?” Sir Amik asked. “Could Balladish have been the traitor?”

“Any of them could have been,” Sir Tiffy replied sombrely. “Sir Balladish was in the right places at the right times; he had access to all of the necessary knowledge. It would not have been easy for him, however, and luck must have played a significant part in his ability to remain undetected for so long. That he should be brought to justice at the hand of his own young victim...” The old knight shook his head in wonder.

Sir Amik nodded.

“So you believe that Sir Balladish was the traitor.”

Sir Tiffy thought for a moment before answering. The evidence was overwhelming. The man had been found with the components for a lethal poison on his person, a blood-stained dagger next to him, close to the body of a murdered peon. It had been Bryant’s knowledge that had posed such a threat to him, for if Kara had been killed by the poison in her drink, then the peon would have come forward to raise uncomfortable questions. Only Bryant, who had delivered the herbs, knew of the deadly ingredients that came from the apothecary.

“Yes, I believe it to be so” he replied finally. “As a matter of caution, however, I suggest you send the residents back to the almshouse and away from Kara. She has suffered enough at our hands.”

Sir Amik nodded, painfully aware that he had acted ruthlessly. He remembered Bhuler’s long looks of reproach as his valet had guessed at the turmoil in his mind. With a pull of the red rope that hung over his desk, he summoned his valet, who waited patiently outside.

“Have them take the traitor’s body away at dawn,” Sir Amik ordered. “See to it yourself. Take it far away, out of the city, to a desolate spot south of here, and bury it deep in the earth in an unmarked grave.”

Bhuler nodded and left to carry out the grisly instructions.

Guilt assailed Marius over how he had behaved to Bryant when the boy was alive.

Yet Bryant needed to be strong,
he told himself,
and he needed to be goaded harder than the others.

Was I wrong to do that?
he wondered.
Is it wrong to drive the peons, to ensure they appreciate the harshness of life outside the castle walls? Even if it is right to do so, why did I enjoy humiliating him so much?

He could not escape from the uncomfortable truth. He had singled Bryant out time and again to illustrate the weakness of the peon and to highlight what he perceived as Theodore’s indulgent leadership. The knights were warriors. They were expected to give their lives in the service of Saradomin. They needed to be strong.

But then his actions toward Kara had reminded him that in his own way he was weak.

If I were truly strong, I would have taken her hand after our battle.

He recalled the tears on Theodore’s face throughout the night as he had stood amongst his fellow squires. Theodore had been unashamed to show his grief. And Marius admired him all the more for it, for it showed his belief in himself, uncaring of what others thought.

Do I have such strength?
Marius wondered inwardly.

He stood outside the ward as first light illuminated the eastern sky, unsure of how to apologise to Kara. Apologies did not come easily to him, but he knew he had to give one. He knew he had been wrong.

He knocked first and waited for a moment. When there was no answer he knocked again and the door opened under the force of his fist.

The ward was empty.

Kara was gone.

THIRTY-SIX

“Come lad, drink this” Doric held a steaming mug out to the youngster.

Theodore took it and drank without bothering to check what it was. His mind was far away and his eyes were still misty from tears.

The sound of running feet caught his attention, however. No one should be running in the chapel while Bryant lay there. Theodore rose in anger, his face flushing as his temper soared.

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.