T. Church - Return to Canifis

Fitting for a realm whose enemy lives in a land of darkness.

One person in particular caught his attention as they approached the front. A tall, lean man, with streaks of white in his dark hair stood a slight distance behind the throne. He was dressed in black cloth decorated with intricate silver stitching, and when he moved slightly, the wizard noted that the stitching was in the odd shape of an owl, with its head turned behind it.

He is a man who is used to the shadowy work of government, Castimir guessed. Every monarch needs a knife in the dark, or a little something extra in the wine. He felt the man’s eyes upon him. It was an unnerving experience.

“Lord Despaard, again,” he heard Doric whisper.

And then it was William’s turn to step onto the yellow carpet and kneel before the monarch.

“My Lord William de Adlard, you were not expected to offer homage to me this morning,” King Roald said. “For you have duties in guiding our famous guests in the day’s event.” The King’s voice echoed from the narrow walls, strong, clear. Castimir was close enough now to view him properly. His frame was hidden under a ceremonial vermilion robe boasting soft ermine edges, but the wizard guessed he was of lean build. His narrow face displayed a short brown beard and moustache, and upon his head he wore his golden crown, with a bright red gem set in its centre, as big as Castimir had ever seen.

“But since you are here,” the King continued, “I will take what is given to me by God. I will accept your pledge to me in Saradomin’s name.”

Castimir saw the priest step onto the yellow rug, standing deliberately between the King and the kneeling William in what was supposed to form a spiritual bridge between the men. As the man spoke the words that scores of others had echoed that very morning, William repeated them.

“I pledge my blood and my life. I pledge my sons and daughters. I pledge all my worldly possessions and passions to keep King Roald Remanis the Third in good health upon the throne. I make this pledge under the eyes of Saradomin-”

William coughed suddenly. Then he hesitated.

A woman in the audience giggled behind Castimir.

“This is not the time for levity, Lady Anne,” King Roald chastised the woman who Castimir turned to see for the first time. She appeared to have only just come in. He could not avert his eyes.

She was beautiful. In fact, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She can’t be real. Try as he might, he could not stop himself from staring. Women like her only exist in fairy tales, and live in towers assailed by knights and guarded by dragons. Or is it the other way round?

The blonde-haired woman caught his gaze and smiled. It was anything but demure. Her tongue curled between her white teeth as her blue eyes sparkled.

Castimir gurgled. To his relief, William continued.

“…My true god. The infinite and everlasting to whom all deceits are known.” His voice ceased, and the young wizard turned toward the front of the room again, feeling a red flush come to his face.

“I accept your allegiance Lord William de Adlard,” the King said. “Now you may rise, and tell me why you have come here when your duties did not necessitate it. Although I am glad my subjects are so loyal.”

“Even one who is remiss in his duty to Saradomin,” the priest muttered caustically, stepping back from the yellow rug.

William stood and bowed his head, to the laughter of the court.

“Please Master Raispher,” King Roald said. “Today is a day of celebration for all my realm. It is the longest day of the year, when the powers of our enemy across the river are at their weakest.” He turned his gaze again. “Now William de Adlard, explain yourself.”

The nobleman laid out the circumstances of Kara-Meir’s appearance the previous night, of how she had persuaded others to hand her money, and of how she had disappeared. The jovial atmosphere of the court grew frosty as his tale progressed, and finally, when it ended with an account of the dispersal of the rioters, silence fell while they awaited the King’s response.

In the silence, booted feet could be heard approaching.

It was Theodore, still wearing the practice armour he had donned for putting his recruits through their paces. His fair hair was in disarray, his face flushed and his breathing fast.

“My noble friend Theodore. Approach,” King Roald ordered. William bowed quickly and stepped away from the yellow carpet as Theodore stepped on. The squire’s heavy footfall became muted as he advanced down the centre of the narrow room. He bowed in front of the throne, and the King gestured for him to stand upright.

I don’t like the look on the King’s face , Castimir mused.

“Now then, young squire, how do you explain Kara-Meir’s presence, and the larceny she has perpetrated?” King Roald asked.

“I don’t think it is her at all,” Theodore answered, his expression resolute. “My King, Kara is not interested in wealth. She has rich friends who owe her their lives. She could simply ask any of them for money, rather than commit this subterfuge. There are others here today who will tell you the same.” Theodore gestured toward Castimir, with Ebenezer and Doric standing behind.

A voice sounded from the crowd.

“Kara should hang.” It was Lady Anne, speaking quietly to one of her coterie. “Such a crime is punishable by death.” The whisper fell in a moment of silence, and in the narrow room it was clearly heard by all.

Or maybe it was meant to be heard, Castimir thought as all eyes turned toward the young woman. She lowered her head, seemingly ashamed, and yet even that action was so artfully exaggerated it seemed to pour scorn on any apology.

“So you seek to usurp the position of my judges, Lady Anne?” King Roald asked. “It is a role that hardly befits a lady.” He gave an amused sigh. “Although perhaps you are thus eminently qualified.”

The court rippled with polite laughter, and if Castimir expected her to be angered by the King’s riposte, he saw at once it wasn’t so, for she even gave a curtsey to the throne.

Shameless , he thought with a mixture of amazement and admiration. She’s absolutely shameless. And quite clearly a favourite of the King.

Theodore however shot her an impatient stare as the King spoke once more.

“Nevertheless, Kara-Meir gave her word to be here for the Midsummer Festival, and that is today,” he said. “Yet still we wait. Tell me Theodore, have you heard from her? Has she made clear her intentions?”

Castimir saw Theodore hesitate. He knew the squire had heard nothing from Kara, for it had been Arisha who had forwarded word of her plans. He looked quickly behind him to Doric and Ebenezer, to ask their advice, and as he did so the motion caused him to step forward.

A sharp intake of breath caught his attention, followed by several more.

He turned and saw angry gazes from the members of court who were aligned along the opposite wall, facing him.

He felt the blood drain from his face.

“Do you approach me without my leave?” the King declared.

Castimir glanced down.

His foot was upon the yellow rug.

“Well?” the King continued. “Speak, wizard.”

Theodore gave him a resigned glare and stepped back, clearing his way. Casitimir moved forward.

“My name is Castimir, my King,” he mumbled.

Speak louder. You are a wizard , he thought furiously. A famous one, at that. Not a mouse in a room of cats. Marshalling his wits, he raised his head and spoke again.

“I am a wizard of Saradomin who fought at Kara’s side in the unrest in Asgarnia last year,” he said. “She and two others have undertaken an expedition into The Wilderness in pursuit of an evil that remained at large after the siege of Falador.”