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all.”
    William turned and with a sudden shout he flicked his reins, galloping north toward the palace at a dangerous pace.
    * * *
    It had been years since the old man had last seen Varrock. He had been born there nearly sixty years ago, leaving only after his wife had died in childbirth and his children had died of smallpox.
    Twenty years ago , Ebenezer thought. Time enough for heroes to be born, and for some even to become legend .
    “We could stop, if you like?” the old man’s companion said. There was a tender note in the dwarf’s voice that was seldom heard, but which Ebenezer had come to know well.
    “I made a vow that I would never return to Varrock,” Ebenezer said. “I made it after burying my family. I decided to travel the world in the name of science, to combat dogmatic religion.”
    The dwarf sat in silence by the old man’s side as the wagon stopped. Ebenezer glanced over the horses’ heads to the city in the east. The sun was losing its warmth, and the final leg of their journey had taken longer than expected. He hadn’t realised how difficult it would be for him to return.
    “But time mellows all men’s rage,” Ebenezer continued, brushing his hand across his white hair. “The vow doesn’t seem so important any more. Come, Doric, let us press on. I would like to be at the palace in time for supper.”
    He goaded his horses on, and the wagon rolled forward.
    “I wonder whether Castimir will be there already,” Doric said, laughing suddenly.
    “I, too, am eager to see our young friends. I find as I get older that the company of youth is more rewarding. Although I am worried about Gar’rth,” he said. “And Kara.”
    Doric nodded.
    “Kara can take care of herself, Ebenezer. It was she who rescued Theodore and me from Jerrod in Falador.”
    You are right, my good friend. Kara-Meir can take care of herself. I just hope she hasn’t had to take care of Gar’rth.
    * * *
    The bells from Father Lawrence’s church, situated not far to the east of the palace, chimed the eighth hour of the evening as Theodore and William led their steeds onto the great square.
    William had grown increasingly pensive since reining his horse in a few minutes from the inn, and Theodore knew his anger had turned to embarrassment. Perhaps , he thought, it would be best not to press him. Whatever he feels, he will likely tell me in time.
    To that end, he persuaded William to dismount and walk with him back to the palace. But by the time they entered the square, it was Theodore who had apologised.
    “I am sorry, William,” he said earnestly. “Kara’s actions defy reason—any that I can identify at least, and it angers me.”
    William accepted the apology with a nod, but as he made to reply the sound of a man riding swiftly from the west caught their attention. It was Lord Despaard entering the square. The Varrock noble gave the squire a cold stare as he rode through the palace entrance, and Theodore bowed in return, once again conscious of the tension between them.
    “Who is Lord Despaard?” he asked. “He claims to know me, and I’ve heard it said that he has tremendous influence, yet none have ever elabourated to explain how that influence is exercised.” And if the things he does became known , Theodore mused silently, would they be considered the actions of a man, or a monster?
    William looked suddenly secretive.
    “Some say he leads men into Morytania. He is apparently one of the few who has seen Meiyerditch, the capital of that realm, and lived to speak of it.”
    “Has he ever fought a werewolf?” Theodore asked, allowing himself a moment of pride. Then he thought the better of it. But William responded.
    “If he genuinely does cross the holy river, then likely so. People say his father died in Morytania years ago, and that it is his hatred of that place that drives him on.”
    “Do you think he has anything to do with this secret society people keep talking about? The Society of Owls?” How much