“No,” he said calmly, “I think that’s my question. Who are you? What’s your name?”
“Why should I tell you?” the Outsider demanded. His tone was still blustering and overbearing. Halt scratched his ear reflectively for a second or two, then replied.
“Well, let’s just take stock of the situation, shall we? You’re the one who’s sitting there trussed up like a Yuletide goose. You can’t move. Your head probably aches. And for the time being you have two ears.”
For the first time, a shadow of fear passed across the man’s face.
“My ears?” he said. “What have they got to do with it?”
“Just this,” Halt told him. “If you don’t stop talking as if you’re in charge of things, I’ll remove one of them for you.”
There was a whisper of steel on leather as Halt drew his saxe knife. The razor-sharp blade gleamed dully in the starlight as he held it up for the Outsider to see.
“Now,” he repeated, “what’s your name?”
The thin smile had disappeared from Halt’s face now, and there was an edge in his voice that told his prisoner the time for discussion was past. His eyes dropped from Halt’s, the light of anger in them quickly fading.
“It’s Colly,” he said. “Colly Deekers. I’m an honest mill worker from Horsdale.”
Horsdale was a large town some fifteen kilometers away. Halt shook his head slowly. He slid the saxe back into its sheath, but somehow the disappearance of the weapon did nothing to raise Colly’s spirits.
“Ah, Colly,” he said, “we’re going to get on a lot better if you stop trying to lie to me. You may be from Horsdale, but I doubt that you’re a mill worker. And I know you’re not honest. So let’s just leave those details out of our conversation, shall we?”
Colly said nothing. He was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. This was, after all, the man that he’d been sent to find—and to kill if the opportunity arose. And he had no doubt that the stranger was well aware of the fact. His mouth was dry all of a sudden, and he swallowed several times.
“My friends will pay you if you release me,” he said. Halt regarded him, head tilted quizzically to one side.
“No they won’t,” he replied scornfully. “They’ll do their best to kill me. Don’t be so ridiculous—and don’t take me for a fool. It annoys me, and you’re in no position to do that. I might change my mind about my plans for you.”
Colly’s mouth was drier than ever now.
“Your plans for me?” he said. There was a slight croak in his voice. “What are they?”
“In the morning,” Halt told him, “just after first light, I’m going to release you.”
His tone was serious. There was no sign of sarcasm in his words, and Colly felt a surge of hope.
“You’ll let me go?”
Halt pursed his lips. “Yes. But there is one condition attached.”
The surge of hope died as quickly as it had come. Colly looked at the Ranger suspiciously.
“A condition?” he prompted, and Halt replied briskly.
“Yes. After all, you can’t expect me to just turn you loose and say ‘no hard feelings,’ can you? You would have killed me if the opportunity had arisen. I’m willing to give you a chance to escape. Uphill.”
“Uphill? There’s nothing up the hill,” Colly said, trying desperately to work out where this conversation was going.
“As a matter of fact, there is. There’s a bluff about twelve meters high, with a river running below it. The water’s deep, so it’ll be quite safe for you to jump.” In his brief glimpse of the river, Halt had noticed that the fast-flowing water cut under the bluff in a sharp curve. That should mean that the bottom had been scoured out over the years. A thought struck him. “You can swim, I assume?”
“Yes. I can swim,” Colly said. “But I’m not going jumping off some bluff just because you say so!”
“No, no. Of course not. That’d be asking far too much of you. You’ll jump off because if you don’t, I’ll shoot you. It’ll be the same effect, really. If I have to shoot you, you’ll fall off. But I thought I’d give you a chance to survive.” Halt paused, then added, “Oh, and if you decide to run downhill, I’ll also shoot you with an arrow. Uphill and off is really your only chance of survival.”
“You can’t be serious!” Colly said. “Do you really—”
But he got no further. Halt leaned forward, putting up a hand to stop the outburst.
“Colly, take a good, long look into my eyes and tell me if you see anything, anything at all, that says I’m not deadly serious.”
His eyes were deep brown, almost black. They were steady and unwavering and there was no sign of anything there but utter determination. Colly looked at them and after a few seconds, his eyes dropped away. Halt nodded as the other man’s gaze slid away from his.
“Good. Now we’ve got that settled, you should try to get some sleep. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”
11
AS THEY CRESTED THE LAST HILL BEFORE THE GROUND FELL AWAY to a flat plain, Will eased Tug to a stop.
“Hold it here, boy,” he said softly. He always enjoyed this moment, the moment when Redmont first came into view. The plain below spread away, cut by the Tarbus River, with Redmont village nestled along its banks. Then, on the far bank, the ground rose again to create the natural defensive position where Castle Redmont stood—massive, solid and beginning to glow red in the late afternoon sun.
He remembered previous times he’d stopped here to draw breath: when he had almost finished the wild ride to alert the Baron and Sir Rodney about the Kalkara. And, more recently, in a happier time, when he had received Alyss’s letter and ridden through the night to see her. His mouth moved in a slight smile at that thought. She was down there somewhere. He narrowed his eyes, peering into the distance to see if, just possibly, there was some sight of her tall, white-clad shape on the battlements or in the village or on the flat land in front of the castle. Not surprisingly, there was none. He shrugged, smiling at his fanciful expectation.
Away to one side, among the trees where the forest encroached on the open ground cleared around the castle, he caught a glimpse of the little cabin where he had spent his apprenticeship with Halt. The smile widened.
“We’re home,” he said to Tug, and the little horse tossed his head impatiently.
Not so long as we’re standing here gawking, the action said, and Will twitched the reins lightly on his horse’s neck.
“All right. Let’s get down there.”
Suddenly, they were both seized with the same sense of urgency to be home, and Tug rocketed away from a standing start to a full gallop as only he could. Ranger horses were renowned for their amazing acceleration, but there wasn’t one in the Corps that could match Tug.
There were still workers in the fields and they looked up from their humdrum tasks of plowing and sowing at the sound of the drumming hoofbeats. Several of them waved, recognizing the slightly built figure on the stocky little horse as he thundered past them, crouched forward over Tug’s neck, his mottled cloak streaming out behind.
For a brief moment, they wondered what news the fast-moving Ranger was bringing. Then, they went back to their work. Whatever it was, good or bad, there were other people more qualified than they to deal with it. In the meantime, there was farming to be done.
There was always farming to be done.
Tug’s hooves rattled briefly on the removable bridge across the Tarbus, then they began the final climb up to Redmont itself. The sentries at the main gate had come to the ready position at the sound, alerted to the approach of the galloping horse. Then, recognizing a Ranger, they relaxed, lowering their weapons—although they continued to watch with interest as he approached.
Will eased Tug down to a canter, then a trot, in the last twenty meters. He acknowledged the salute of the sentries as he rode across the moat and under the raised portcullis. One of the soldiers, who had grown up in the service of Redmont, called a gr
eeting, in defiance of good discipline.
“Welcome back, Ranger Will!”
Will grinned and waved. “ Thanks, Jonathon. Good to be here.” They trotted into the courtyard, the sound of Tug’s hooves changing again as they went from wooden drawbridge to the cobbled surface of the castle forecourt. There were more people moving around here, and they looked up curiously, wondering what had brought Will Treaty back to Redmont.
But Will didn’t notice them because emerging from the bottom doorway of the main tower was a tall, graceful girl in an elegant white Courier’s gown, and he couldn’t stop the ridiculous grin of pleasure that broke out across his face.
Alyss.
He dropped to the ground and she raced toward him, her usual air of dignity and reserve deserting her. She threw herself into his arms and they stood embracing, each drinking in the other’s presence. Passersby stopped to look and smile at the young couple, unconscious to all around them.
“You’re back,” she whispered, her voice muffled by the fact that her face was pressed to the rough material of his cowl.
“I’m back,” he agreed, the light scent of the perfume she always wore filling his nostrils. Her long blond hair was soft against his cheek. After several moments, they were buffeted by a sudden shove and had to break the embrace to retain their balance. Tug was regarding them with slight embarrassment.
Cut it out. There are people watching.
Then he nudged Alyss’s shoulder, urging her to notice him and stroke his soft muzzle.
I’m back too.
She laughed as she stroked him. “Hullo, Tug. I’m glad to see you too.”
While she fussed over the horse, Will took her free hand and stood, simply looking at her. Finally, they became aware of the small crowd who had gathered to watch them. Will turned and shrugged, his face reddening slightly.
“It’s been a long time,” he said. Nobody said anything, and he indicated Alyss.
“Since we saw each other. A long time,” he elaborated. Several people nodded knowingly. One middle-aged gentleman tapped the side of his nose with that familiar gesture. Finally, since the spectators showed no sign of moving on, Will thought it was time to break up this little tableau. Like most Rangers, he had an aversion to being the center of attention. He said to Alyss, out of the side of his mouth, “Let’s get out of here.”
Her own smile widened a little. “Come on. We’ll put Tug in the stables. Then you’d better report to the Baron.”
He nodded and they turned, hand in hand still, to lead Tug to the stables. Alyss knew that Will would see his horse cared for before anything else. That was the Ranger way. Behind them, the small crowd broke up, going about their separate endeavors. Some of them looked after the young couple, smiling approval. Alyss was a popular figure at Castle Redmont, and the entire population took great pride in Will’s achievements. He was a local, after all.
“Any sign of Halt yet?” Will asked.
Alyss’s smile faded a little. “No. I think Lady Pauline is becoming a little worried. She tries not to show it, but I can tell she’s uneasy.”
Will considered this. It had been a long time since Halt had someone to worry about him, he thought.
“That’s natural, I suppose,” he said. “But Halt can look after himself.”
Halt was Halt, and Will couldn’t conceive of any person or situation that he couldn’t handle. Alyss nodded. She was concerned because Pauline, her mentor, was worried. But Will knew Halt’s capabilities better than anyone, and if he wasn’t worried, she felt there was no need for anyone else to be anxious.
“I suppose you’re right,” she said. Then, changing the subject, she said, “So you’ve decided to join this special group of Crowley’s?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I assume you approve?”
She looked sidelong at him. “Let me put it this way. If you’d declined, I would have come after you and dragged you back here feetfirst until you came to your senses.”
“That might have been fun,” he murmured, and she jerked at his arm in mock anger. He noticed that she didn’t let go of his hand, however. As they approached the stable, one of the younger grooms hurried eagerly out to meet them.
“Good afternoon, Ranger Will,” he said, and made a gesture of welcome with his arms spread wide, as if inviting Will to inspect conditions in the stable. “May I look after the famous Tug for you?”
Will hesitated for a second. He had been trained to look after Tug himself and not assume that someone else would do it for him. He felt a nudge against his shoulder. Tug, of course.
Hear that? The famous Tug.
At the same time, Alyss squeezed his hand. She could see that the stable hand would be bitterly disappointed if his offer were refused. For a young man like him, Will was a figure to be admired. It would be a privilege to take care of his horse. And she loved Will all the more because he didn’t realize the fact.
“I’d be honored, Ranger,” the groom added.
“Let him do it,” Alyss said softly. Will shrugged and passed the reins to him.
“Very well . . .” He hesitated. He didn’t know the youth’s name.
“It’s Ben, Ranger. Ben Dooley.”
“Very well, Ben Dooley. I’m sure you’ll take excellent care of the famous Tug.” He looked meaningfully at the little horse. “And you behave yourself.”
Tug came as close as a horse could to raising one eyebrow. He looked at Will and Alyss, still hand in hand.
You’re talking?
Will realized, not for the first time, that he would never get the last word with this horse.
“Let’s go see the Baron,” he said.
So much was familiar. So many sights and sensations and memories came crowding back to him as he climbed the steps to Baron Arald’s office. Again, Will felt Alyss twitch his arm.
“Remember that day?” she said. She didn’t need to say which day. She meant the day when she and Will and Horace, along with Jenny and George, had climbed these stairs to be chosen by their eventual masters. In truth, it was only a matter of years, but it seemed as if decades had passed.
“Who could forget it?” he asked. “What’s George up to these days?”
“He’s become one of the fief ’s leading defense attorneys,” she said. “He’s in great demand for legal matters.”
Will shook his head. “He always had a brain for them, didn’t he? And Jenny? Is she still working with Master Chubb?”
She smiled. “No, much to his disappointment. He sees her as his finest creation, and he’d love to have her with him. But some time back, she told him, ‘Master Chubb, there’s not room in this kitchen for two artists such as we. I need to find my own space.’ ”
“And did she?”
“She did indeed. She bought a share of the inn at Redmont village and runs one of the finest dining halls for miles around. Chubb’s a regular customer, too.”
“Really?”
“Really. Apparently, one night he made a suggestion, very politely, I must say, that perhaps a dish might benefit from a hint more spice. She told him, ‘Less is more, Master Chubb. Less is more.’ And then she rapped him on the head with her ladle.”
Will was incredulous. He couldn’t imagine anyone with the nerve to rap Chubb on the head.
“I guess it was ladles at ten paces after that?” he said, but Alyss shook her head.
“On the contrary. He very meekly apologized. Secretly, I think he loved it. He’s very proud of her. Here we are,” she added as they arrived at the anteroom to the Baron’s office. Reluctantly, she released his hand. “I’ll leave you to report in. Come and find me later.”
She leaned forward, kissed him lightly on the lips and slipped away, waving her hand in a farewell gesture behind her. She skipped down the steps. It was such an excellent day, she thought.
Will watched her go. Then he turned, gathered his thoughts and knocked on the door to the Baron’s anteroom.
12
THE FIRST HINT OF
DAYLIGHT WAS SHOWING OVER THE TOP OF the bluff. Off to the right and left, it was already touching the treetops where the mass of the steep hill didn’t cast a long shadow. That suited Halt’s purpose ideally. When the sun finally broke clear of the top of the bluff, it would be in the eyes of the men at the bottom of the hill, adding to their uncertainty.
Colly was dozing uncomfortably as Halt released the thumb and toe cuffs, wrinkling his nose once more as he came close to the man’s feet. Then he stepped back and nudged him with the toe of his boot, his hand ready on the hilt of his saxe knife.
As Colly woke, realization dawned in his eyes that his hands and feet were free. He tried to rise quickly, but the stiff, cramped muscles in his arms and legs defeated him. He cried out in pain and rolled onto his side, making helpless little scrabbling movements.
“It’ll take a few minutes for those muscles to loosen up,” Halt told him. “So don’t try anything foolish. In the meantime, slip off your jacket.”
Colly, lying on his side, looked up at him. “My jacket?”
Halt raised an eyebrow impatiently.
“Your ears aren’t cramped,” he said. “ Take off the jacket.”
Slowly, Colly worked himself into a sitting position and unbuttoned his thigh-length over-jacket. He tossed it to one side, then looked questioningly at Halt. The Ranger nodded.
“So far so good. Now put on the cloak beside you.”
For the first time, Colly noticed that Halt’s camouflage cloak was lying on the ground near him. Clumsily, he threw it around his shoulders and fastened it in place. He had obviously decided that there was no future in asking questions. And besides, he was beginning to understand what Halt had in mind.
“Now let’s get you on your feet,” Halt said. He gripped one of Colly’s forearms and hauled him upright. For a second or two, Colly stood unmoving, testing the feeling in his arms and legs. Then, rather predictably, he tried to throw a punch at Halt. Halt ducked under the wild blow. Stepping in and pivoting his upper body, he hit Colly with a palm strike to the jaw, sending him sprawling again.
Ranger's Apprentice, Book 8: The Kings of Clonmel: Book 8 Page 7
