The Burning Bridge ra-2
Page 8
"It seems these two caught you napping?" Gilan asked Will.
The boy nodded, shamefaced. Then, as the full import of the comment sank in, he asked: "Just how long have you been here?"
"Since they arrived," Gilan said. "I hadn't gone far when I saw them skulking through the rocks. So I left Blaze and doubled back here, trailing them. Obviously they were up to no good."
"Why didn't you say something then?" Will asked incredulously.
For a moment, Gilan's eyes hardened. "Because you two needed a lesson. You're in dangerous territory, the population seems to have mysteriously disappeared and you stand around practicing sword craft for all the world to see and hear."
"But," Will stammered, "I thought we were supposed to practice?"
"Not when there's no one else to keep an eye on things," Gilan pointed out reasonably. "Once you start practicing like that, your attention is completely distracted. These two made enough noise to alert a deaf old granny. Tug even gave you a warning call twice and you missed it."
Will was totally crestfallen. "I did?" he said, and Gilan nodded. For a moment, his gaze held Will's, until he was sure the lesson had been driven home and the point taken. Then he nodded slightly, signifying that the matter was closed. Will nodded in return. It wouldn't happen again.
"Now," said Gilan, "let's find out what these two beauties know about the price of coal."
He turned back to Carney, who was now going quite cross-eyed as he tried to watch the gleaming saxe knife pressed against his throat.
"How long have you been in Celtica?" Gilan asked him. Carney looked up at him, then back to the heavy knife.
"Tuh-tuh-tuh-ten or eleven days, my lord," he stammered eventually.
Gilan made a pained face. "Don't call me 'my lord,'" he said, adding as an aside to the two boys, "These people always try to flatter you when they realize they're in trouble. Now:" He returned his gaze to Carney. "What brought you here?"
Carney hesitated, his eyes sliding away from Gilan's direct gaze so that the Ranger knew he was going to lie even before the bandit spoke.
"Just:wanted to see the sights, my:sir," he amended, remembering at the last moment Gilan's instruction not to call him "my lord." Gilan sighed and shook his head with exasperation.
"Look, I'd just as soon lop your head off here and now. I really doubt that you have anything useful to tell me. But I'll give you one last chance. Now let's have THE TRUTH!"
He shouted the last two words angrily, his face suddenly only a few inches away from Carney's. The sudden transition from the languid, joking manner he had been using came as a shock to the bandit. Just for a few seconds, Gilan let his good-natured shield slip and Carney saw through to the white-hot anger that was just below the surface. In that instant, he was afraid. Like most people, he was nervous of Rangers. Rangers were not people to make angry. And this one seemed to be very, very angry.
"We heard there were good pickings down here!" he answered immediately.
"Good pickings?" Gilan asked, and Carney nodded dutifully, the floodgates of conversation now well and truly open.
"All the towns and cities deserted. Nobody there to guard them, and all their valuables left lying around for us'n to take as we chose. We didn't harm nobody though," he concluded, a little defensively.
"Oh, no. You didn't harm them. You just crept in while they were gone and stole everything of value that they owned," Gilan told him. "I should think they'd be almost grateful for your contribution!"
"It was Bart's idea, not mine," Carney tried, and Gilan shook his head sadly.
"Gilan?" Will said tentatively, and the Ranger turned to look at him. "How would they have heard that the towns were deserted? We didn't hear a thing."
"Thieves' grapevine," Gilan told the two boys. "It's like the way vultures gather whenever an animal is in trouble. The intelligence network between thieves and robbers and brigands is incredibly fast. Once a place is in trouble, word spreads like wildfire and they come down on it in their scores. I should imagine there are plenty more of them through these hills."
He turned back to Carney as he said it, prodding the saxe knife a little deeper into the flesh of his neck, just holding it back so that it didn't draw blood.
"Aren't there?" he asked. Carney went to nod, realized what might happen if his neck moved, gulped instead and whispered:
"Yes, sir."
"And I should imagine you've got a cave somewhere, or a deserted mine tunnel, where you've stowed the loot you've stolen so far?"
He eased the pressure on the knife and this time Carney was able to manage a nod. His fingers fluttered toward the belt pouch that he wore at his waist, then stopped as he realized what he was doing. But Gilan had caught the gesture. With his free hand, he ripped open the pouch and fumbled inside it, finally withdrawing a grubby sheet of paper, folded in quarters. He passed it to Will.
"Take a look," he said briefly, and Will unfolded the paper, revealing a clumsily drawn map with reference points, directions and distances all indicated.
"They've buried their loot, by the look of this," he said, and Gilan nodded, smiling thinly.
"Good. Then without their map, they won't be able to find it again," he said, and Carney's eyes shot wide open in protest.
"But that's ours:" he began, stopping as he saw the dangerous glint in Gilan's eyes.
"It was stolen," the Ranger said, in a very low voice. "You crept in like jackals and stole it from people who are obviously in deep trouble. It's not yours. It's theirs. Or their family's, if they're still alive."
"They're still alive," said a new voice from behind them. "They've run from Morgarath-those he hasn't already captured."
12
S IR M ONTAGUE KEPT A LYSS WAITING FOR OVER AN HOUR BEFORE
deigning to receive her.
Halt and Alyss waited in the anteroom to Montague's office. Halt stood to one side, leaning impassively on his longbow. Montague was an oaf, he thought. As a Courier on official business Alyss should have been greeted without delay. Obviously aware of her youth, the Master of Cobram Keep was attempting to assert his own importance by treating her as an everyday messenger.
He watched the girl approvingly as she sat, straight-backed and erect, in one of the hard chairs in the anteroom. She appeared calm and unflustered in spite of the insult she was being offered. She had changed from her riding clothes when they were a few kilometers from the castle and she was now dressed in the simple but elegant white gown of a Courier. The bronze laurel branch pin, the symbol of her authority, fastened a short blue cape at her right shoulder.
For his part, Halt had left his distinctive mottled Ranger's cloak folded on the pommel of Abelard's saddle. His longbow and quiver, however, he retained. He never went anywhere without them.
Alyss glanced up at him and he nodded, almost imperceptibly, to her. Don't let him make you angry. She returned the nod, acknowledging the message. Her hands, which were clenched into fists on her knees, slowly relaxed as she took several deep breaths.
This girl is very good, Halt thought.
Montague's secretary had obviously been well briefed by his master. After peremptorily waving Alyss to a chair and leaving Halt to stand, he had busied himself with paperwork and resolutely ignored them-rising several times to take items in to the inner office. Finally, at the sound of a small bell tinkling from beyond the door, he looked up and gestured toward the office.
"You can go in now," he said disinterestedly. Alyss frowned slightly. Protocol dictated that a Courier should be properly announced, but the man obviously had no intention of doing so. She rose gracefully and moved toward the door, Halt following. That got the secretary's attention.
"You can wait here, forester," he said rudely. Without the cloak, there was little to distinguish Halt from a yeoman. He was dressed in simple brown leggings, soft leather boots and a green surcoat. The double knife scabbard had apparently escaped the secretary's notice. Or perhaps he didn't realize its significance.
"Very well. But you'd better leave that bow with me," he said, without quite the certainty that he had displayed earlier. He held out his hand for the bow, then met Halt's eyes. He saw something very dangerous there and he actually flinched.
"All right, all right. Keep it if you must," he muttered. He backed away, more than a little flustered, retreating behind the secure bulk of his desk. Halt opened the door for Alyss, then followed her as she entered the office.
Montague of Cobram was seated at a large oaken table that served as a desk. He was studying a letter and didn't look up from it as Alyss approached. Halt was willing to bet that the letter was about something totally unimportant. The man was playing silly mind games, he thought.
But Alyss was up to the challenge. She stepped forward and produced a heavy scroll from her sleeve, slapping it briskly down on the table before Montague. He started in surprise, looking up. Halt hid a smile.
"Alyss Mainwaring, Sir Montague, Courier from Redmont Castle. My credentials."
Montague wasn't just an oaf, Halt thought. He was a fop as well. His satin doublet was formed in alternating quarters of scarlet and gold. His reddish blond hair was left in overlong curls, framing a somewhat chubby face with slightly bulging blue eyes and a petulant mouth. He was of average height, but of some what more than average weight. He would be passably handsome, Halt supposed, if he could shed a few kilos in weight, but the man obviously liked to indulge himself. He recovered now from his momentary surprise and leaned back in his chair, adopting a languid, slightly disapproving tone.
"Good heavens, girl, you can't come in here throwing your credentials on the desk like that! Don't they teach good manners at Redmont Castle these days?"
He looked distastefully at the scroll and shoved it to one side.
"They teach protocol, Sir Montague," Alyss replied, very evenly. "And it requires that you examine and acknowledge my credentials before we proceed."
"Yes, yes, yes," Montague said, waving a dismissive hand at the scroll. "Take it as read. Take it as read. Now, girl, what brings you here?"
Halt interjected quietly, "The correct form of address, Sir Montague, is 'Lady Alyss.'"
Montague looked at Halt in genuine surprise, as if he considered him some lower form of life who lacked the ability of speech.
"Is that so, forester?" he said. "And what might your name be?"
Alyss went to speak, but a warning glance from Halt stopped her. He replied, still in the same quiet tone: "Some people call me Arratay, Sir Montague. It's Gallican," he added mildly.
Montague raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Gallican, you say? How exotic! Well, Master Arratay, perhaps you could leave the talking to me and young Alyss here, would that suit you?"
Halt shrugged and Montague took the movement for assent.
"Wonderful." Then, dismissing Halt, he turned his attention back to Alyss. "So, sweetheart, what do you have for me? A letter perhaps? Some self-important note from Fat Baron Arald, I'll be bound?"
There were two small spots of color in Alyss's cheeks, the only outward sign of the anger that was building up inside her at the man's offhanded manner. She produced Nigel's heavy linen envelope from the satchel she wore at her side and offered it across the desk.
"I have an official legal position, prepared under Baron Arald's seal. He requests that you study it."
Montague made no move to take the letter.
"Set it down. I'll look at it when I have time."
"The Baron requests that you look at it now, sir. And give me your answer."
Montague rolled his eyes to heaven and took the envelope. "Oh, very well, if it will make you happy." He sliced the envelope and took out the sheet of parchment inside it, skimming through it, muttering to himself, "Yes:yes:seen it:heard it before:nonsense:rubbish:nonsense."
He set the page down and pushed it away from him, shaking his head wearily.
"When will you people learn? You can send me all the letters you like. The fact remains, Cobram is an independent hold, owing no allegiance to Redmont Fief. The treaty makes that very clear."
"I'm instructed to draw your attention to Items Three and Five in the letter, sir. And paragraph nine as well. They make it quite clear that the wording of the treaty is faulty and your claim to independence is totally spurious," Alyss replied. And now, for the first time, Montague shed the air of world-weariness that he'd assumed. He stood angrily.
"Spurious!" he shouted. "Spurious? Who the devil are you, a little girl in a grown-up's dress, to come in here insulting me and saying my claim is spurious? How dare you?"
Alyss stood her ground, unmoved by his sudden anger.
"I repeat, sir, you are requested to read those items," she said quietly. Instead, Montague threw the letter down on the desk between them.
"And I refuse!" he shouted. Then his eyes narrowed. "I know who's behind this. I see the hand of that sour-faced shrew Lady Pauline here!"
Now Alyss's own anger flared. "You will speak respectfully of Lady Pauline, sir!" she warned him. But Montague was too angry to stop.
"I'll speak of her, all right! I'll tell you this. She's a woman meddling in a man's world, where she has no place. She should have found a husband years ago and raised a brood of squalling babies. Surely there's a deaf and half-blind man somewhere who would have taken her."
"Sir!" said Alyss, her own voice rising. "You are going too far!"
"Is that right, sweetheart?" Montague replied sarcastically. "Well, let me give you some advice. Get away from that shrill, pinch-faced witch while you still have time. Find a husband and learn to cook. That's all women are good for, girl. Cooking and raising the babies!"
Halt stepped forward before Alyss could reply. "The correct form of address," he repeated quietly, "is not 'girl' or 'sweetheart.' It is 'Lady Alyss.' You will show respect for the laurel branch that this Courier wears. And you will show respect for Lady Pauline as well."
For a moment, Montague was too startled to reply. First a girl, now a common forester had told him how to behave!
"Oh, is that so?" he raged. "I'll show you respect!" He picked up the letter and tore it in half. Then he did the same to the scroll bearing Alyss's credentials. "There's my respect! Now get out!"
Very carefully, Halt set his longbow to one side, leaning it against a chair. Alyss raised a warning hand.
"Halt, don't get into trouble on my behalf," she said. But Halt looked at her and shook his head.
"Lady Alyss, this:fop:has insulted you, your Baron, your mentor and the Diplomatic Corps as a whole. He has shown absolute disregard for the laurel branch you wear. And by destroying your credentials, he has committed a crime that warrants a jail term."
Alyss considered his words for a second or two. Then she nodded. Montague had been more than rude to her. His behavior was totally beyond acceptance.
"You're right," she said. "Carry on."
But Montague had heard nothing after the word "Halt." The entire kingdom knew the legendary Ranger's reputation and the Keeper of Cobram paled now and stepped back as the grim-faced figure came toward him.
"But:you said:you said your name was:" He struggled to remember it. Halt smiled at him. It was the smile of a wolf.
"Arratay? Yes, well, more correctly, Arretez. It's Gallican for 'Halt.' My pronunciation has never been good."
His hand shot forward and locked in the scarlet-and-gold collar of the other man's doublet. The satin tore momentarily, then Halt gained a firmer grip and dragged the struggling knight across the table toward him.
Montague was taller and heavier than Halt. But Halt's hands, arms, shoulders and back were conditioned by years of drawing the massive longbow, with its pull weight of sixty kilos. The thousands of arrows he had shot, over and over again, had turned his muscles into steel cord. Montague was dragged off his feet,
hoisted across his own desk.
"The question is," said Halt, glancing at Alyss, "what should we do with him?" She hesitated, then that wonderful smile spread over her face.
"I wonder," she said. "Does this castle have a moat?"
A group of servants were busy emptying the privy buckets into the moat when they were startled by a sudden drawn-out cry. They looked up in time to see a scarlet-and-gold-clad figure sail out of a first-story window, turn over once and then land with an enormous splash in the dark, rancid waters. They shrugged and went back to work.
"I suppose I'll be in trouble again now," Halt said as they were riding home. Alyss glanced at him. He didn't look very repentant.
"I doubt it," she said. "Once people hear my report, I should think they'll say Montague got off lightly. After all, phrases like 'Fat Baron Arald' and 'sour-faced shrew' won' t exactly endear him to Baron Arald or Lady Pauline. And he did sign an acceptance of the letter in the end. As the official courier on this mission, I thank you for your service."
He bowed slightly from the saddle. "It's been a pleasure working with you," he said, and they rode in companionable silence for awhile.
"I suppose you'll be leaving with the army soon?" she said after a few minutes, and when Halt nodded, she continued: "I'll miss you. How will I ever carry out diplomatic missions without someone to throw unpleasant nobles out the window?"
"I'll miss you too." Halt smiled. And he realized that he meant it. He enjoyed being around young people-enjoyed their energy, their freshness, their idealism. "You're a good influence on a jaded, old, bad-tempered Ranger."
"You'll soon have Will back to keep you busy," she said. "You really miss him, don't you?"
The Ranger nodded. "More than I realized," he said. Alyss urged her horse close beside his and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.
"That's for Will when you see him." A ghost of a smile touched Halt's face.
"You'll understand if I don't pass it on in person?" he said. Alyss smiled and leaned over to kiss him again.