Read Online RuneScape: Return to Canifis by T. S. Church - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: T. S. Church
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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 realfrom 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.
William knows Theodore well , Castimir surmised. No doubt he has guessed the truth.
“And as to the question of where Gar’rth is from, we are all unsure, since we do not speak his language, and cannot ask him.” Castimir inclined his head thoughtfully. “I believe he may be from the southern isles, brought here by a merchant vessel.”
That will suffice much better than the truth , he thought to himself. Especially here in Varrock, so close to Morytania.
A murmur sprang up from the front of the crowd, and Castimir craned his neck to locate the cause.
“Aha! Here we go,” William said, pointing. “A royal messenger is approaching the door.”
The messenger was accompanied by yellow-clad guards on either side, and together they forced a path through the packed throng. As they went, an expectant hush fell over the crowd. Castimir watched as the man was met at the door by the innkeeper.
The two figures conversed for a moment before the messenger forced his way inside, pushing past the innkeeper, whose face displayed signs of distress.
Something is wrong here, the wizard realised.
And he wasn’t alone. Those nearest the messenger began to speak rapidly. Each turned to pass on what had been heard, and what started as an excited whisper spread contagiously from one person to the next, leaving in its wake a growing crescendo of angry shouts.
“What’s going on?” William called down to a guard. The nobleman goaded his horse aside, away from the increasing agitation of the crowd.
The answer came from a torrent of voices that grew so loud that the guard’s answer was lost. The sound of breaking glass told the wizard that the riot had begun.
“She’s vanished!” came the shout, and it quickly became a chorus. “She and the boy she took as her servant. And they’ve taken the money with them!”
The nobleman turned his horse and cantered away to escape the angry crowds. Castimir and his friends followed his lead. As they rode north to safety, two dozen of the city guard, tightly grouped and armed with wooden clubs, pressed into the crowd.
When they had reached a safe distance, William reined in his horse and peered back at the slowly dissipating chaos.
“Well,” he said as the others joined him. “What an auspicious start to the day. This will no doubt be a Midsummer Festival to remember. But we must return to the palace, for the King will want news of this, and to know the reason why
“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 realfrom 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.
William knows Theodore well , Castimir surmised. No doubt he has guessed the truth.
“And as to the question of where Gar’rth is from, we are all unsure, since we do not speak his language, and cannot ask him.” Castimir inclined his head thoughtfully. “I believe he may be from the southern isles, brought here by a merchant vessel.”
That will suffice much better than the truth , he thought to himself. Especially here in Varrock, so close to Morytania.
A murmur sprang up from the front of the crowd, and Castimir craned his neck to locate the cause.
“Aha! Here we go,” William said, pointing. “A royal messenger is approaching the door.”
The messenger was accompanied by yellow-clad guards on either side, and together they forced a path through the packed throng. As they went, an expectant hush fell over the crowd. Castimir watched as the man was met at the door by the innkeeper.
The two figures conversed for a moment before the messenger forced his way inside, pushing past the innkeeper, whose face displayed signs of distress.
Something is wrong here, the wizard realised.
And he wasn’t alone. Those nearest the messenger began to speak rapidly. Each turned to pass on what had been heard, and what started as an excited whisper spread contagiously from one person to the next, leaving in its wake a growing crescendo of angry shouts.
“What’s going on?” William called down to a guard. The nobleman goaded his horse aside, away from the increasing agitation of the crowd.
The answer came from a torrent of voices that grew so loud that the guard’s answer was lost. The sound of breaking glass told the wizard that the riot had begun.
“She’s vanished!” came the shout, and it quickly became a chorus. “She and the boy she took as her servant. And they’ve taken the money with them!”
The nobleman turned his horse and cantered away to escape the angry crowds. Castimir and his friends followed his lead. As they rode north to safety, two dozen of the city guard, tightly grouped and armed with wooden clubs, pressed into the crowd.
When they had reached a safe distance, William reined in his horse and peered back at the slowly dissipating chaos.
“Well,” he said as the others joined him. “What an auspicious start to the day. This will no doubt be a Midsummer Festival to remember. But we must return to the palace, for the King will want news of this, and to know the reason why
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