Betrayal at Falador by T. S. Church Page B

opinion on a matter of which we are unsure. A weapon has come into our hands in the most exceptional circumstances—a sword we believe to be made of adamant. Would you be willing to examine it, to confirm or deny our suspicions?”
    Doric nodded without hesitation.
    And following an order from Sharpe, Theodore left the room at once.
    As the young man walked swiftly across the courtyard he could feel the excitement in the air. He felt eyes focus upon him from high windows and shaded arches. He could feel the jealousy of the younger knights, who envied the fact that fate had dropped the girl into his life, and his subsequent adventure to and from Taverley. It wasn’t that the town was far from Falador—many of the squires and all of the knights had been farther afield—but the existence of the monster had given his short journey an adventurous tone that few of theirs could equal.
    He saw the longing looks of the young peons, and in them he noted a different light—an aspiration, an increased willingness to be more like him. But he noted too the jealous looks of his fellow squires. To them, he had always been seen as the hardest worker, and recent events would most likely turn their envy into anger.
    He knew his life would be more difficult from that moment on.
    The excitement that permeated the castle was enhanced by the fact that the mysterious girl had awoken, lending a breathless fever to all who crossed his path. One old knight, whom Theodore held in high regard as the ideal of restraint and humility, glanced at him with open curiosity.
    “She’s awake, is she?” he asked the squire.
    “Yes, sir—so I’ve heard.”
    The old knight pulled on his moustache in excited thought.
    “What can it herald?” he mused aloud. “There is a meaning to this mystery, Theodore, I know there is!”
    The squire bowed in acknowledgment of the knight’s experienced words before continuing.
    The excitement had also seized Theodore. He tried to resist it, but couldn’t. As he retrieved the sword from the armoury, wrapping it in a dark cloth under the watchful gaze of the duty guard, he decided to take a different route back to the interview, one which would take him directly past the ward.
    He stepped rapidly as he descended the steep spiral staircase that wound itself inside the tower. His footsteps were louder than he would have liked, as if the stone were intent on betraying his presence. As he turned a corner he caught sight of two peons he knew by name, keeping a secret vigil outside the doorway in case any person left it open long enough for them to catch a sight of the mysterious girl who lay within.
    “Be on your way Bryant! I expect better of my peons!”
    The peon farthest away fled immediately, but the boy Bryant stood his ground.
    “I am sorry Squire Theodore. We meant no harm.”
    Theodore nodded. Bryant was one of his twelve charges, and it was his duty to coach them in the best traditions of the knights, looking after their physical and spiritual needs. He had tried hard with Bryant—more so than with any other peon—for the boy was neither dexterous nor strong, and often he would lag behind the others in their exercises. But he was popular nonetheless, for his great strengths were history and lore, much as Castimir’s had been when they were children together.
    He was imaginative, clever, and quick-witted.
    Still, Theodore often doubted if it would be enough. Knights had to be fighters first and thinkers second.
    “Everybody is talking about her, Squire Theodore,” the peon stammered. Theodore knew Bryant was right. The thought of the girl and her identity was irresistible to him, as well.
    Am I any different? I too have made my way to the ward when there was no need for me to do so.
    Theodore drew a long breath and put his hand on Bryant’s shoulder.
    “I can’t fault you for your curiosity Bryant. I would be a hypocrite if I did so. But skulking in shadows and passageways is not a habit I wish to see