T. Church - Return to Canifis

With that he turned away.

Castimir bristled at the deliberate slight.

Not so fast.

“Only if I think such use is worthy of me, Captain Rovin,” he replied loudly, so all could hear. “But regardless, a wizard still needs to sleep, and to eat, and to bathe-especially those of us who are famous. So if you will be so kind, I think I will take my leave of you now.

“Goodnight!”

The young wizard nearly missed breakfast, so unwilling was he to stir from the comfort of the soft bed. It was only when Doric threatened to split his door asunder did he finally dress and join his friends.

“You are pale, Castimir,” Theodore said as soon as he saw him.

“I have spent too long indoors, Theodore, at the Wizards’ Tower.”

“And you are late, Castimir,” Ebenezer taunted. “Could you not magic yourself here, or is that beyond your meagre capabilities?”

Castimir smiled, for he, like the alchemist, enjoyed their banter over which discipline was more important, that of science or magic.

“My tardiness is entirely the fault of my yak,” the wizard protested. “Arisha sent him to me after the war, but the summer weather is too hot for him. You know how stubborn he is.”

His greeting was curtailed when he spied the food on offer before him. Many of the palace’s inhabitants had already eaten, for it was the day of the festival and preparations were still to be finalised, which necessitated an early start for most. Nevertheless, there was still a feast to be consumed, and he dug in with great enthusiasm.

In between mouthfuls, Castimir told of what he had been doing since their separation in Falador, six months before. His reputation as one of Kara’s companions had made his position in the Wizards’ Tower uneasy. Older and more powerful sorcerers were jealous of his fame, and yet they knew how important it was that their order maintained a visible presence amongst the common folk of the human kingdoms. Castimir’s renown had given them exactly the excuse they needed to remove him from their presence, and he found himself being pushed toward a diplomatic role.

“But is that not what you always wanted?” Ebenezer asked. “To travel and see the world?”

“Yes, but it means I will not be kept aware of the goings on in the Tower,” he replied. “And it will cause me to forego any additional training I might have received, and that does not bode well for my future.”

“What of the spell books of Master Segainus?” Doric said, his voice lowered. “Have they yielded anything of interest?” Segainus was a master wizard who had died on the ramparts of Falador, and his diaries had fallen into Castimir’s possession. Such knowledge, he knew, could be very dangerous in the hands of one as inexperienced as he, yet he guarded it jealously.

“I have spent many hours poring over Master Segainus’s books,” Castimir admitted. “So many hours that I think I now know them by heart. I even used some of his theories in my thesis, though carefully, so they could not be identified as such. In truth, however, I fear I may have been too ambitious-some of his diaries contain text written in an ancient language that is unknown to me. Even the libraries of the Tower have provided no clues.”

He fell silent in order to focus on his meal, but his mind wandered over the books that had become his prized possessions. One phrase, scrawled in a margin, plagued him day and night, and refused to make sense.

Will the Dark Lady and her order be able to help?

Nothing in his studies had shed any light on the identity of Segainus’s “Dark Lady,” and more than one of his fellow wizards had dismissed the phrase as the ramblings of an old man past his prime. Yet Castimir had refused to do so.

Suddenly aware that his friends were waiting for him to continue, he looked up from his rapidly diminishing breakfast and grimaced.

“Indeed, I fear I might have failed my thesis,” he confessed. “If that is so, I will be required to submit another next year, and for now must remain an apprentice. While I am here, I am to meet a representative of the Tower in Varrock. Aubury is his name. He has been tasked to judge my work, and will tell me if I have passed… or not.”

The group looked up as William entered the chamber, and Theodore introduced Castimir.

“I have been asked to act as host to your friends, Theodore,” the young noble said, and he turned to face them all. “Will you accompany us to see Kara-Meir this morning?”

“So she is here?” Castimir said. “Is Arisha with her?”

“Neither Arisha nor Gar’rth are in Varrock.” Theodore lowered his gaze. “And Kara refused to see me last night.”

Castimir froze, his appetite souring instantly.

“Not here? But they went with Kara to The Wilderness.” He paused to remember. “Arisha sent me letters, and there was no word of them parting. Both of them went…”

“We don’t know anything definite yet, Castimir,” Doric said slowly, reaching out so his hand was resting on the wizard’s shoulder. “No one has spoken to Kara.”

Theodore nodded.

“In fact, I am far from convinced that it is her.” The squire described the behaviour that had caused him to doubt the identity of the woman in the inn. “It seems so unlike her.”

“But today we shall go and confront her,” Ebenezer declared. “If it is Kara-Meir, we must see how she fared in The Wilderness, and determine whether she needs our help.”

Theodore stood.

“I cannot come with you,” he said bitterly. “I have to ensure that my candidates are prepared for the festival. But I hope you have better success than I.” The squire gave a curt nod and left to attend his duties, while William offered to guide them to the Flying Donkey Inn, there to answer the riddle that was Kara-Meir.

A crowd stood outside the Inn, although the promised appearance by Kara-Meir was still some hours away. The sun had risen and the heat, made all the more stifling by anticipation, was causing visible discomfort, Castimir noted.

“I had no idea she was so famous,” he said, still seated on his horse to better peer over the heads of the masses.

“She has been the most discussed subject at court since the day of Theodore’s arrival,” William informed him. “Stories of her-and of you, her companions-are told daily.”

“And exaggerated no doubt,” Doric said with a grunt of laughter. “The way these things are told no doubt I am a giant by now!”

“What do they say of Gar’rth?” Ebenezer asked cautiously.

I hadn’t considered that, alchemist , the wizard mused. Exactly what do the minstrels say of our friend?

“He is the least known of your group,” William admitted, “and I was hoping you might tell me something that would give me an advantage over the other nobles. The tales generally agree that he is immensely strong, and never speaks. He is a mysterious warrior whom Kara rescued from certain death.”

Ebenezer mumbled something under his breath. When the alchemist went silent, William continued.

“With all of your group, it is impossible to separate what is real from what is not,” he said. “The things I know about you come from Theodore, and they are precious few. All he would say about Gar’rth was that he is from a foreign land, and speaks none of the common tongue.” He paused for a moment, as if carefully considering his next words. “Tell me, is there any bad blood between them?”

“Bad blood between Gar’rth and Theodore?” Castimir said as Doric and Ebenezer exchanged looks. “No, nothing nearly so strong as that. But there is a rivalry, of sorts.”

And her name is Kara.

William looked to each of the friends in turn. They all gave a brief nod, as if satisfied by the answer.