“Will!” she shrieked. “You’re here at last! Welcome to my humble dining hall!”
She threw her arms around him, and he ducked instinctively, expecting the ladle in her right hand to whip around and crack the back of his head. But Jenny had it under control. She laughed at him.
“Oh, come on! I haven’t hit anyone since second year! At least, not anyone I didn’t mean to hit. Sit down! Sit down!”
Will hurried to hold Alyss’s chair while Jenny watched approvingly. He’d always had nice manners, she thought. Then he took his own chair and looked around the room, gesturing to the crowds of diners.
“Not so humble. There must be fifty or sixty people in here.”
Jenny appraised the room with a practiced eye. “They’re not all diners, however. Some are just here for a drink.”
“The place is usually this full,” Alyss put in. But Jenny shook her head.
“There are extras here tonight. Word got out that the famous Will Treaty and his beautiful girlfriend would be dining here and the bookings just flowed in.”
Will reddened slightly, but Alyss took the comment in stride. She and Jenny had known each other since childhood, after all. “How did that word get out, I wonder?” she said with a raised eyebrow.
Jenny grinned at her and spread her hands innocently. “I have no idea. But it’s great for business.” She looked back at Will, her smile widening. “It really is wonderful to see you again. It’s been too long. And I believe you’ll be staying with us from now on?”
Will’s eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know that?” He had assumed that the facts about Crowley’s Special Task Group were secret.
Jenny shrugged carelessly. “Oh, I heard about it a few weeks ago. Someone mentioned it. Not sure who.”
Will shook his head. He’d only been told within the past five days. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly people found out about so-called secrets. Jenny didn’t notice his reaction.
“Will there be just the two of you?” she asked.
Alyss shook her head. “Lady Pauline will be joining us.”
Jenny’s smile widened even further. “You people are going all out to give my little establishment a good name, aren’t you?” she said.
Alyss shook her head. “You don’t need us to do it.”
Jenny rubbed her hands briskly. It was time to get down to business.
“Now, did you want to order? Or would you like me to make some suggestions?”
Will sensed her eagerness to show off her skills. He set both hands palm down on the table in a gesture of readiness.
“I think we’d be mad to refuse your offer,” he said.
Jenny clicked her fingers at a passing table boy. “Set another place here, Rafe,” she said. The boy, a heavy-boned youth of about sixteen, looked as if he’d be more at home behind a plow or a blacksmith’s furnace, but he nodded eagerly.
“Yes, Mistress Jenny,” he said. Clumsily, he began to lay cutlery and another platter in the place she’d indicated. The tip of his tongue protruded slightly at the corner of his mouth with the effort of trying to remember where everything went.
“I’ve got a rather nice first course,” Jenny said. “I’ve deboned some quail and stuffed them with a mix of cranberries and apples, lightly spiced, then poached them in a red wine sauce.”
Without breaking her flow, or even looking at the table server beside her, she flicked her wrist, swinging the ladle in a diagonal arc so that it cracked noisily on Rafe’s head.
Will winced, but he had to admire her accuracy and skill.
“Knife on the right, fork on the left, yes? I’ve told you that, Rafe.”
Rafe looked at the offending implements in some confusion. His lips moved as he repeated the mantra, knife on the right, fork on the left. Jenny sighed.
“Hold up your right hand,” she said. Rafe hesitated, his eyes fixed warily on the ladle, swinging in a gentle arc like a snake about to strike. “The hand you write with,” she prompted.
“I don’t write,” he said in a dejected tone. To her credit, Jenny was a little taken aback, fearing that she’d embarrassed the boy. She was, after all, only trying to teach him so that he might have a career other than plodding along in the wake of a plow horse.
“ The hand you fight with,” Will put in. “Your sword hand.”
Rafe’s face cleared, and a wide smile spread across it as he raised his muscular right arm. Jenny smiled at Will.
“Thanks, Will,” she said. “Good thinking. All right, Rafe, that’s your right hand, your sword hand. And a sword is like a big knife, really, so that’s the side the knife goes on. All right?”
“Tha’s fine,” Rafe replied happily. “Why didn’t you tell it to me like that before?”
Jenny sighed. “I suppose I never thought of it because I’m not a famous Ranger,” she said.
“Nay, mistress. But thee’s a fine cook, I’ll say that for thee.”
Confidently, he switched the knife and fork to their proper places. Then he checked to make sure he was right, wielding an imaginary sword. Satisfied, he nodded and turned to Jenny.
“Will there be any more, mistress?”
“No. Thank you, Rafe. That’ll be all for now.”
He grinned and bowed slightly to her and her guests, then ambled contentedly back toward the kitchen.
“He’s a nice boy,” she said. “I’m hoping I can turn him into a good headwaiter one of these days.” She hesitated, then amended the statement. “One of these years.”
Will looked at her appraisingly. He had noticed there was something different about her when she had first approached the table. Now he realized what it was.
“You’ve lost weight, Jen,” he said. Jenny beamed, then twisted to look over her shoulder, trying to assess herself from behind.
“You think so? Maybe a little. It’s funny, when you run a restaurant, you don’t get so much time to eat. Tasting, yes. Eating? No.”
“It suits you,” he said. He remembered how taken with her Gilan had been when they’d first met at Halt and Pauline’s wedding. Wait until he sees you now, Will thought.
She smiled at him, then rubbed her hands together briskly, getting back to business.
“The main course is a rack of lamb, seasoned in oil and lemon juice and rosemary. I’ll be doing that with new potatoes, roasted alongside the lamb, and wilted green vegetables. Or I have a beautiful fresh turbot that I can steam and serve with ginger and a little chili. Which would you prefer?”
Alyss and Will exchanged glances. She knew what he was thinking and answered for him.
“We’ll have the lamb,” she said.
Jenny nodded. “Good choice. And then . . . hullo, here’s Lady Pauline.”
She’d noticed a slight movement at the entrance, and as Alyss and Will turned to follow her gaze, they saw the tall figure of Lady Pauline entering the restaurant. A few paces behind her, and somehow seeming to fade into the background, was another figure—a cloaked and cowled Ranger.
“Halt!” said Will, rising from his seat, a wide smile of welcome starting to spread over his features. Then the smile faded as the Ranger threw back his cowl and he saw the sandy hair and beard. “Crowley!” he said in surprise.
Jenny frowned slightly, trying to assess whether her main dish would stretch to another diner. Then, remembering the keen appetite that most Rangers displayed, she decided it wouldn’t.
“I’d better get another lamb rack in the oven,” she said, turning away.
As she hurried to the kitchen, they heard her calling, “Rafe! Another setting at table one!”
Alyss had risen as well and was beckoning to her mentor. Lady Pauline saw her and led the way through the crowded room to the table. She seemed to glide, Will thought. He noticed that all conversation had died away in the room as the other occupants stared expectantly at the two Rangers and their Courier companions. This gathering, they sensed, was something out of the ordinary.
The two newcom
ers joined Will and Alyss. Lady Pauline beamed at the young Ranger and leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the cheek. Like Halt, she had come to look upon Will as a son.
“How lovely to see you here, Will. I’m so glad you decided to come home.”
He smiled at her.
“Someone has to keep Halt out of trouble, my lady.”
She nodded at him. “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking. He’s not getting any younger, after all,” she replied.“And, Will, that’s enough of the ‘my lady,’ if you don’t mind. I think ‘Pauline’ will do quite nicely.”
“Very well, Pauline.” He tried the name out and found that he quite liked it. They smiled at each other across the table.
Crowley cleared his throat noisily. “I assume you were planning to greet your Corps Commandant, weren’t you, Will? I know I’m just another silver-haired dodderer like Halt, but you could say hello, at least. Alyss, you’re looking more beautiful by the moment,” he added before Will could respond.
“You’re a silver-tongued flatterer, Crowley,” Alyss replied easily. “Welcome to Redmont.”
Will finally had an opportunity to speak. “Yes. Welcome, Crowley. And, tell me, what brings you here?”
Crowley was about to reply when Rafe appeared beside him, a bundle of knives, forks and platters in his arms. He hesitated a moment, shifted the load to his left arm and mimed a sword stroke in the air. Crowley looked over his shoulder at the serving boy with some concern.
“Planning on beheading me, are you?” he asked.
Rafe smiled at him. “No sir, Ranger. Just getting the right side, like. Just shift yourself over while I put these down, before I forget which side is which, now.”
Crowley glanced a question at Will. The younger Ranger shrugged.
“Jenny’s training him as a headwaiter,” he explained. Crowley turned to watch the server, whose lips were moving, framing the words knives on the right, forks on the left, platter in the middle.
“She’s got a way to go, then,” he said. As Rafe finished and moved away, he replied to Will’s question.
“What brings me here is Halt,” he said. “He sent me a pigeon message from one of our West Coast stations two days ago. Asked me to meet him here. Asked for Horace to come as well—he’ll be following in a day or so. Had a few loose ends to tie up.”
Knowing the value of speedy communications, Crowley had recently set up a network of message stations around the kingdom. At each one, a station manager looked after a flock of homing pigeons trained to return to Crowley’s headquarters in Castle Araluen.
At the mention of Halt’s name, Will leaned forward eagerly.
“Did he say what it was all about?” he asked. But Crowley shook his head.
“Said he’d tell us when he got here. I actually expected he might get here before me.”
“I was delayed. I had a prisoner to drag along,” said a familiar voice behind him.
“Halt!” Will sprang to his feet in delight. None of them had noticed the Ranger’s entry into the room, nor his silent approach. Now Will hurried around the table, upsetting his chair as he went to embrace his teacher.
“So what’s this all about?” he asked. Then, before Halt could answer, he continued with a barrage of further questions. “Who’s this prisoner you mentioned? Where have you been? Why did you want Horace to come here as well? Have we got our first mission? Where are we going?”
Halt broke from his bear hug and rolled his eyes to heaven.
“Questions, questions, questions!” he said. “Now that I remember what you were like, I wonder if I haven’t made a horrible mistake. Would you mind terribly if I said hello to my wife before we go any further?”
But as he turned to embrace Pauline, he couldn’t keep up the pretense that he was displeased. A smile was lurking at the corner of his mouth, breaking through in spite of his best efforts to stop it.
Jenny, emerging from the kitchen, saw the extra person at the table and spun on her heel.
“Frances!” she called. “Fetch another lamb rack from the cool room. And, Rafe—”
“I know, I know, mistress! Another setting at table one!”
14
THE MEAL WAS EXCELLENT. HALT INSISTED THAT THEY SHOULD enjoy the food without being distracted by discussing business.
“Time enough for that when we have coffee,” he said firmly. He successfully dodged the subject of what he had been doing by asking for details of the Gathering. He smiled quietly as Will described his effort with the three first-year apprentices, and nodded in satisfaction when he heard of Gilan’s promotion to Whitby Fief—and the fact that he would be available to take over Redmont if Halt and Will were sent on a mission.
“I wondered how you’d manage that,” he said to Crowley. “Good thinking.”
Crowley smiled, in a self-satisfied way. “As I told Will, I’m a genius when it comes to organization,” he said. Halt raised an eyebrow at that but made no further comment.
Then, at Halt’s prompting, Lady Pauline brought him up to date on events at Castle Redmont. His eyes widened when she related how Sir Rodney, head of the Battleschool, had recently been keeping company with Lady Margaret, a rather attractive widow.
“Rodney?” he asked incredulously. “But he’s a dyed-in-the-wool, cranky old bachelor!”
“Just what they used to say about you,” Pauline replied calmly, and he nodded, conceding the point.
“So, Rodney ready to settle down, eh? Who would have thought it? I suppose you’ll be next, Crowley?”
Crowley shook his head. “Married to the job, Halt. And never found the right woman.”
In truth, Crowley had long harbored a deeply felt admiration for Lady Pauline. But, being one of the few people in the Kingdom who had been aware of how things were, he had never let the fact be known.
Eventually, the meal was finished, and Rafe set the coffeepot and cups out on the table, fortunately without having to resort to any phantom sword brandishing.
Pauline watched with a tolerant smile as Halt took a long sip of his coffee, smacking his lips in appreciation. Then he set his cup down and leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“Right!” he said. “Let’s get to it. The Outsiders are back in business, and they’re planning on returning to Araluen. Just as soon as they’ve got Hibernia under their thumbs.”
“Hibernia?” Lady Pauline said in surprise. “What are they doing there?”
“Basically, taking control of the country,” Halt told her. “When we chased them out of Araluen, some of them made it to Hibernia. They’ve been waiting there, gathering strength and numbers and gradually undermining the six kingdoms. They’ve almost completed that task. They’ve got control of five of the kingdoms. Only Clonmel is left—and that’s due to go soon.”
“Clonmel?” said Crowley. “That’s where you originally came from, isn’t it, Halt?”
Will looked up in interest as Halt nodded. He’d always had a vague idea that Halt had originally come from Hibernia, but this was the first time he’d heard it confirmed.
“Yes,” he said. “King Ferris of Clonmel is weak. And like all the Hibernian kings, he’s so busy worrying that one of the other kings is about to betray him or usurp his throne, he’s missed the real threat.”
“These Outsiders are getting ambitious, aren’t they?” Lady Pauline said. “They used to be thieves and criminals, which was bad enough. But now you say they’re actually seizing power in Hibernia?”
Halt nodded. “ They create chaos and fear throughout the countryside. When the king is too weak or self-centered to protect his people, they step in and offer to solve the problem.”
“Easy for them to do, of course,” Crowley put in, “since they’re the ones causing it.”
“That’s right,” Halt replied. “Pretty soon, they’re seen as the only people who can keep the peace. They gain power and influence. More and more converts join their band, and from there it’s a short step to taking control.”
“The leader of the Outsiders is a man called Tennyson,” Halt told him.“And he’s been clever enough not to oppose any of the kings directly. He lets them stay on the throne—but he effectively takes control of the kingdom. He assumes all the real power and influence and money.”
“While the king retains the appearance of being in charge?” Pauline asked.
“That’s right. And for most of them so far, that’s enough.”
“They can’t be much use as kings, then,” Will said in disgust.
Halt nodded, a look of sadness in his eyes. “ They’re not. They’re weak and self-interested. And that’s created an opportunity for a strong, charismatic leader like this Tennyson to step in and provide leadership and a sense of stability. He’s already managed it in five of the kingdoms. Now it looks as if Clonmel will be next.”
“Halt.” Crowley leaned forward in his turn now, his eyes seeking out those of his old friend. “All of this is tragic for Hibernia, of course. But how does it concern Araluen? I’m sorry if I sound a little cold-blooded there, but I’m sure you take my meaning.”
Will looked quickly between the two senior Rangers.
“I do indeed, Crowley,” Halt was saying. “No need to apologize. It affects us because once Tennyson has taken control in Clonmel, the last of the six Hibernian kingdoms, he’s planning to use it as a base to return to Araluen.”
“You know this for a fact?” Crowley asked.
Halt nodded. “I have a prisoner who’ll swear to it,” he said. “His name is Farrell, and he was sent to prepare a foothold in Araluen—at the port of Selsey. That’s where I’ve been,” he added. “It’s a safe harbor, and it’s out of the way. Just the place Tennyson would choose to bring his damned cult back here.”
“And you’re suggesting that we should stop him before he does so,” Lady Pauline said. Halt glanced at her.
“You don’t wait for a snake to bite you before you kill it,” he told her. “I’d rather stop them now before they gather any more momentum.”
Ranger's Apprentice, Book 8: The Kings of Clonmel: Book 8 Page 9
