it was a constant tapping sound that roused will from his deep

8/7/2019 IT WAS A CONSTANT TAPPING SOUND THAT ROUSED WILL FROM his deep

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IT WAS A CONSTANT TAPPING SOUND THAT ROUSED WILL FROM his deep, untroubled sleep. He had no

Clear idea at what point he first became aware of it. It seemed to slide unobtrusively into his sleeping

mind,

magnified and amplified inside his subconscious, until it crossed over into the conscious world and he

realized he was awake, and wondering what it might be. Tap-tap-tap-tap...It was still there, but not as

loud now that he was awake and aware of other sounds in the small cabin.

From the corner, behind a small curtain of sacking that gave her a modicum of privacy, he could hear

Evanlyns even breathing. Obviously, the tapping hadn't woken her. There was a muted crackle from the

heaped coals in the fireplace at the end of the room and, as he became more fully awake, he heard

them settle with a slight rustling sound.

Tap-tap-tap...

It seemed to come from nearby. He stretched and yawned, sit ting up on the rough couch he'd

fashioned from wood and canvas. He shook his head to clear it and, for a moment, the sound wasobscured. Then it was back once more and he realized it was coming from outside the window. The

oiled cloth panes were translucent -t hey would admit the gray light of the pre-dawn, but he couldn't

see anything more than a blur through them. Will knelt on the couch and unlatched the frame, pushing

it up and craning his head through the opening to study the small porch of the cabin.

A gust of chill entered the room and he heard Evanlyn stir as it eddied around, causing the sacking

curtain to billow inward and the embers in the fireplace to glow more fiercely, until a small tongue of

yellow flame was released from them.

Somewhere in the trees, a bird was greeting the first l ight of a new day, and the tapping sound was

obscured once more.

Then he had it. It was water, dripping from the end of a long icicle that depended from the porch roof

and falling onto an upturned bucket that had been left on the edge of the porch.

Tap-tap-tap...tap-tap-tap.

Will frowned to himself. There was something significant in this, he knew, but his mind, still fuddled with

sleep, couldn't quite grasp what it was. He stood, still stretching, and shivered slightly as he left the last

warmth of his blanket and made his way to the door.

Hoping not to wake Evanlyn, he eased the latch upward and slowly opened the door, holding it up sothat the sagging leather hinges wouldn't allow the bottom edge to scrape the floor of the cabin. Closing

the door behind him, he stepped out onto the rough boards of the porch, feeling t hem strike icy cold

against his bare feet. He moved to the spot where the water dripped endlessly onto the bucket, realizing

as he went that other icicles hanging from the roof were also dripping water. He hadn't seen t his

before. He was sure they usually didn't do this.


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He glanced out at the trees, where the first rays of the sun were beginning to filter through.

In the forest, there was a slithering thump as a load of snow finally slid clear of the pine branches that

had supported it for months and fell in a heap to the ground below. And it was then that Will realized

the significance of the endless tap-tap-tap that had woken him. Behind him, he heard the door creak

and he turned to see Evanlyn, her hair wildly tousled, her blanket wrapped tight around her against thecold.

"What is it?" she asked him. "Is something wrong?"

He hesitated a second, glancing at the growing puddle of water beside the bucket.

"It's the thaw," he said finally.

After their meager breakfast, Will and Evanlyn sat in the early morning sun as it streamed across the

porch. Neither of them had wanted to discuss the significance of Will's earlier discovery, although they

had since found more signs of the thaw. Small patches of soaked brown grass were showing through the

snow cover on the ground surrounding the cabin, and the sound of wet snow sliding from the trees to

hit the ground was becoming increasingly common.

The snow was still thick on the ground and in the trees, of course. But the signs were there that the

thaw had begun and that, inexorably, it would continue.

"I suppose we'll have to think about moving on," Will said, finally voicing the thought that had been in

both their minds.

"You're not strong enough yet," Evanlyn told him. It had been barely three weeks since he had thrown

off t he mind-numbing effect soft he warmweed given t o him as a yard slave in Ragnak's Lodge. Will had

been weakened by inadequate food and clothing and a regimen of punishing physical work before they

had made their escape. Since then, their meager diet in the cabin had been enough to sustain life, but

not to rest ore his strength or endurance. They had lived on t he cornmeal and flour t hat had been

stored in t he cabin, along with a small stock of vegetables and t he stringy meat from whatever game

Evanlyn and he had been able to snare.

There was little enough of that in winter, and what game they had managed to catch had been in poor

condition itself, providing little in the way of nourishment.

Will shrugged. "I'll manage," he said simply. "I'll have to."

And that, of course, was t he heart of the problem. They both knew that once the snow in the high

passes had melted, hunters would again begin to visit t he high country where they found themselves.

Already, Evanlyn had seen one such-t he mysterious rider in the forest on the day when Will's senses

had returned t o him. Fortunately, since that day, there had been no further sign of him. But it was a

warning. Others would come, and before they did, Will and Evanlyn would have to be long gone,

heading down the far side of the mountain passes and across the bordering to Teutlandt.


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Evanlyn shook her head doubtfully. For a moment, she said nothing. Then she realized that Will was

right. Once the thaw was well and truly under way, they would have to leave whether she felt he was

strong enough to travel or not.

"Anyway," she said at last, "we have a few weeks yet. The thaw's only just started, and who knows? We

may even get another cold snap."

It was possible, she thought. Perhaps not probable, but at least it was possible Will nodded agreement.

"There's always that," he said.

The silence fell over them once more like a blanket. Abruptly, Evanlyn stood, dusting off her breeches.

"I'll go and check the snares," she said, and when Will began to rise to accompany her, she stopped him.

You stay here," she said gently. "From now on, you're going to have to conserve your strength as much

as possible."

Will hesitated, and then nodded. He recognized that she was right.

She collected the hessian sack they used as a game bag and slung it over her shoulder. Then, with a

small smile in his direction, the girl headed off into the trees.

Feeling useless and dispirited, Will slowly began to gather up the wooden platters they had used for

their meal. All he was good for, he thought bitterly, was washing up.

The snare line had moved farther and farther from the cabin over the past three weeks. As small

animals, rabbits, squirrels and the occasional snow hare had fallen prey to the snares that Will had built,

t the other animals in that area had become wary. As a consequence, they had been compelled to move

the snares into new locations every few days-each one a little farther away from the cabin than the one

before.

Evanlyn estimated that she had a good forty minutes' walking on the narrow uphill track before she

would reach the first snare. Of course, if she'd been able to move straight to it, the walk would have

been considerably shorter. But the track wound and wandered through the trees, more than doubling

the distance she had to cover. The signs of the thaw were all around her, now that she was aware of it.

The snow no longer squeaked dryly underfoot as she walked. It was heavier, wetter and her steps sank

deeply into it. The leather of her boot s was already soaked from contact with the melting snow. The last

time she had walked this way, she reflected, t he snow had simply coated her boot s as a fine, dry

powder. She also began to notice more activity among the wildlife in the area. Birds flitted through the

trees in greater numbers than she'd previously seen, and she startled a rabbit on the track, sending it

scurrying back into the protection of a snow-covered thicket of blackberries. At least, she thought, all t

his extra activity might increase the chances of finding some worthwhile game in the snares.

Evanlyn saw the discreet sign that Will had cut into t he bark of a pine and turned off the track to find

the spot where she and Will had laid the first of the snares. She recalled how gratefully she had greeted

his recovery from the warmweed drug. Her own survival skills were negligible and Will had provided


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5/49

look of endurance to it. Another horse, similar to the first, trotted behind, lightly laden with the bare

essentials for camping and t raveling. There was no lead rein on this horse. It followed obediently and

willingly.

Horace craned his neck up at the tallest of the mountains towering above t hem. His eyes squinted

slightly in the glare of the snow that still lay thickly on t he mountain's upper half and now reflected t helight of t he sun.

"You mean to t ell me we're going over that ?" he asked, his eyes widening.

Halt looked sidelong at him, with the barest suggest ion of a smile. Horace, however, intent on studying

t he massive mountain formations facing them, failed t o see it. "Not over," said t he Ranger. "Through."

Horace frowned thought fully at that. "Is t here a tunnel of some kind?"

"A pass," Halt told him. "A narrow defile that twists and winds through t he lower reaches of t he

mountains and brings us into Skandia it self."

Horace digested t hat piece of information for a moment or two. Then Halt saw his shoulders rise to an

intake of breath and knew that the movement presaged yet another quest ion. He closed his eyes,

remembering a time that seemed years ago when he was alone and when life was not an endless series

of quest ions.

Then he admitted to himself that , strangely, he preferred things the way they were now. However, he

must have made some unintentional noise as he awaited t he question, for he noticed that Horace had

sealed his lips firmly and determinedly. Obviously, Horace had sensed t he reaction and had decided

that he would not bother Halt with another question. Not yet, anyway.

Which left Halt in a strange quandary. Because now that the question was unasked, he couldn't help

wondering what it would have been. All of a sudden, there was a nagging sense of incompletion about

the morning. He tried to ignore the feeling but it would not be pushed aside. And for once, Horace

seemed to have conquered his almost irresistible need to ask the quest ion that had occurred to him.

Halt waited a minute or two but there was no sound except for the jingling of harness and the creaking

of leather from t heir saddles. Finally, the former Ranger could bear it no longer.

" What ?"

The quest ion seemed t o explode out of him, with a greater degree of violence than he had intended.

Taken by surprise, Horace's bay shied in fright and danced several paces sideways. Horace turned an

aggrieved look on his mentor as he calmed the horse and brought it back under control.

" What ?" he asked Halt , and the smaller man made a gesture of exasperation.


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"That's what I want to know," he said irritably. "What?"

Horace peered at him. The look was all too obviously the sort of look that you give to someone who

seems to have taken leave of his senses. It did little to improve Halt 's rapidly rising temper.

"What ?" said Horace, now totally puzzled.

"Don't keep parroting at me!" Halt fumed. "Stop repeating what I say! I asked you 'what ,' so don't ask

me 'what' back, understand?"

Horace considered t he quest ion for a second or two, then, in his deliberate way, he replied: "No." Halt

took a deep breath, his eyebrows contracted into a deep V, and beneath them his eyes sparked wit h

anger. But before he could speak, Horace forestalled him.

"What 'what ' are you asking me?" he said. Then, thinking how to make his quest ion clearer, he added,

"Or t o put it another way, why are you asking 'what '?"

Controlling himself with enormous restraint , and making no secret of the fact, Halt said, very precisely:

"You were about to ask a quest ion."

Horace frowned." I was?"

Halt nodded." You were. I saw you take a breath to ask it ."

I see," said Horace. "And what was it about?"

For just a second or two, Halt was speechless. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then finally found

the strength to speak.

" That is what I was asking you," he said. " When I said 'what ,' I was asking you what you were about toask me."

"I wasn't about to ask you 'what ,'" Horace replied, and Halt glared at him suspiciously. It occurred to

him that Horace could be indulging himself in a gigantic leg pull, that he was secretly laughing at Halt.

This, Halt could have told him, was not a good career move. Rangers were not people who took kindly to

being laughed at. He studied the boy's open face and guileless blue eyes and decided that his suspicion

was ill-founded.

"Then what, if I may use that word once more, were you about to ask me?"

Horace drew breath once more, then hesitated. "I forget," he said. "What were we talking about ?"

"Never mind," Halt muttered, and nudged Abelard into a canter for a few strides to draw ahead of his

companion. Sometimes the Ranger could be confusing, and Horace thought it best to forget the whole

conversation. Yet, as happens so often, the moment he stopped trying to consciously remember t he

thought t hat had prompted his quest ion, it popped back into his mind again.

"Are t here many passes?" he called to Halt .


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The Ranger twisted in his saddle to look back at him. "What?" he asked.

Horace wisely chose to ignore the fact that they were heading for dangerous territory with that word

again. He gestured to the mountains frowning down upon them.

"Through t he mountains. Are there many passes into Skandia through the mountains?"

Halt checked Abelard's stride momentarily, allowing the bay to catch up with them, then resumed hispace.

"Three or four," he said.

" Then don't t he Skandians guard them?" Horace asked. It seemed logical to him that they would.

"Of course they do," Halt replied. "The mountains form their principal line of defense."

"So how did you plan for us to get past them?"

The Ranger hesitated. It was a question that had been t axing his mind since they had taken the road

from Chateau Montsombre. If he were by himself, he would have no trouble slipping past unseen. With

Horace in company, and riding a big, spirited battlehorse, it might be a more difficult matter. He had a

few ideas but had yet to settle on any one of them.

"I'll think of something," he temporized, and Horace nodded wisely, satisfied that Halt would indeed

think of something. In Horace's world, that was what Rangers did best , and the best thing a warrior

apprentice could do was let t he Ranger get on with thinking while a warrior took care of walloping

anyone who needed t o be walloped along the way. He settled back in his saddle, contented with his lot

in life.

3ERAK STARFOLLOWER, WOLFSHIP CAPTAIN AND ONE OF THE senior war jarls of t he Skandians, made

his way through the low-ceilinged, wood-paneled lodge t o the Great Hall. His face was marked with a

frown as he went . He had plenty to do, with the spring raiding season coming on. His ship needed

repairs and refitting. Most of all, it needed t he fine-tuning that only a few days at sea could bring.

Now t his summons from Ragnak boded ill for his plans. Particularly since the summons had come

through the medium of Borsa, the Oberjarl's hilfmann, or administrator. If Borsa were involved, it

usually meant that Ragnak had some little task for Erak to look after. Or some not -so-little task, the

wolfship skipper thought wryly.

Breakfast was long since finished, so there were only a few servant s cleaning up the Hall when he ar

rived. At t he far end, seat ed at a rough pine t able off t o one side of Ragnak's High Seat -a massivepinewood chair t hat served in place of a t hrone for t he Skandian ruler-sat Ragnak and Borsa, t heir

heads bowed over a pile of parchment scrolls. Erak recognized t hose scrolls. They were t he t ax ret urns

for t he various t owns and shires t hroughout Skandia. Ragnak was obsessed wit h t hem. As for Borsa,

his life was t ot ally dominat ed by t hem. He breat hed, slept and dreamed t he t ax ret urns, and woe

bet ide any local jarl who might t ry t o


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short change Ragnak or claim any deduct ion t hat wouldn't pass Borsa's fine-t oot h comb inspect ion.

Erak put t wo and t wo t oget her and sighed quiet ly. The most likely conclusion t hat he could draw

from t he t wo fact s of his summoning and t he pile of t ax ret urns on t he t able was t hat he was about

t o be sent off on anot her t ax-collect ing mission.

Tax collect ing was not somet hing t hat Erak enjoyed. He was a raider and a sea wolf, a pirat e and a

fight er.

As such, his inclinat ion was t o be more on t he side of t he t ax evaders t han t he Oberjarl and his

eager- fingered hilfmann. Unfort unat ely, on t hose previous occasions when Erak had been sent out t o

collect overdue or unpaid t axes, he had been t oo successful for his own good. Now, whenever t here

was t he slight est doubt about t he amount of t ax owing from a village or a shire, Borsa aut omat ically t

hought of Erak as the solut ion to the problem.

To make mat t ers worse, Erak's at t it ude and approach t o t he job only added t o his desirabilit y in Bor

sa's and Ragnak's eyes. Bored wit h t he t ask and considering it embarrassing and belit t ling, he madesure he spent as lit t le t ime on t he job as possible. The t ort uous argument s and recalculat ion of

amount s owing

aft er all deduct ions had been approved and agreed were not for him. Erak opt ed for a more direct

course, which consist ed of seizing t he person under invest igat ion, ramming a double-headed broadax

up under his chin and t hreat ening mayhem if all t axes, every single one of t hem, were not paid

immediat ely.

Erak's reput at ion as a fight er was well known t hroughout Skandia. To his annoyance, he was never

asked t o make good on his t hreat . Those recalcit rant s whom he visit ed invariably coughed up t he

due amount , and often a little extra that had never been in contention, without the slightest argument

or hesitation.

The t wo men at t he t able looked up as he made his way t hrough t he benches t oward t he end of t he

room.

The Great Hall served more t han one purpose. It was where Ragnak and his close followers t ook t heir

meals. It was also t he sit e of all banquet s and official gat herings in Skandia's rough and ready social

calendar. And t he small, open annex where Ragnak and Borsa were current ly st udying t ax ret urns was

also

Ragnak's office. It wasn't part icularly privat e, since any member of t he inner or out er council of j arlshad

access t o t he hall at any t ime of day. But t hen, Ragnak wasn't t he sort t o need privacy. He ruled

openly and

made all his policy st at ement s t o t he world at large.


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"Ah, Erak, you're here," said Borsa, and Erak t hought , not for t he first t ime, t hat t he hilfmann had a

habit of

st at ing t he bleeding obvious.

"Who is it t his t ime?" he asked in a resigned t one. He knew t here was no use t rying t o argue his way

out of t he assignment , so he might as well just get on wit h it . Wit h luck, it would be one of t he small t

owns down t he coast , and at least he might have a chance t o work up his crew and wolfship at t he

same t ime.

"Ost krag," t he Oberjarl t old him, and Erak's hopes of salvaging somet hing useful from t his assignment

faded t o not hing. Ost krag lay far inland, t o t he east . It was a small set t lement on t he far side of t he

mount ain range t hat formed t he rugged spine of Skandia and was accessible only by going over t he

mount ains t hemselves or t hrough one of t he half dozen t ort uous passes t hat wound t heir way t

hrough.

At best , it meant an uncomfort able journey t here and back by pony, a met hod of t ransport t hat Erak

loat hed. As he t hought of t he mount ain range t hat reared above Hallasholm, he had a quick memory

of t he t wo Araluen slaves he had helped t o escape several mont hs ago. He wondered what had

become of t hem, whet her t hey had made it t o t he small hunt ing cabin high in t he mount ains and

whet her t hey had survived t he last mont hs of wint er. He realized abrupt ly t hat Borsa and Ragnak

were bot h wait ing for his react ion.

" Ost krag?" he repeat ed. Ragnak nodded impat ient ly.

"Their quart erly payment is overdue. I want you t o go and shake t hem up," t he Oberjarl said. Erak not

iced t hat Ragnak couldn't quit e hide t he avaricious gleam t hat came int o his eyes whenever he t alked

about t ax and payment s. Erak couldn't help giving vent t o an exasperat ed sigh.

" They can't be overdue by more t han a week or so," he t emporized, but Ragnak was not t o be swayed

and

shook his head violent ly.

"Ten days!" he snapped. "And it 's not t he first t ime! I've warned t hem before, haven't I, Borsa?" he

said,

turning to the hilfmann, who nodded.

" The jarl at Ost krag is St en Hammerhand," Borsa said, as if t hat were explanat ion enough. Erak st

ared


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blankly at him. " He should be called St en Gluehand," he elaborat ed wit h heavy sarcasm. " The t ax

payment s have st uck t o his fingers before t his, and even when t hey're paid in full, he always makes us

wait long past t he overdue dat e. It 's t ime we t aught him a lesson."

Erak smiled wit h some irony at t he small, sparsely muscled hilfmann. Borsa could be an ext remely

t hreat ening figure, he t hought -when someone else was available t o carry out t he t hreat s.

" You mean it 's t ime I t aught him a lesson?" he suggest ed, but Borsa didn't not ice t he sarcasm in his

voice.

"Exact ly!" he said, wit h some sat isfact ion. Ragnak, however, was a lit t le more percept ive.

"It 's my money, aft er all, Erak," he said, and t here was an almost pet ulant not e in his voice. Erak met

his

gaze st eadily. For t he first t ime, he realized t hat Ragnak was growing old. The once flaming red hai r

was

duller and t urning gray. It came as a surprise t o Erak. He cert ainly didn't feel t hat he was growing

older, yet Ragnak didn't have t oo many years on him. He could not ice ot her changes in t he Oberjarl

now t hat he had become aware of t he fact . His jowls were heavier and his waist line t hickening. He

wondered if he was

changing t oo.

"It 's been a severe wint er," he suggest ed. "Perhaps t he passes are st ill blocked. There was a lot of lat

e

snow."

He moved t o t he large scale map of Skandia t hat was displayed on t he wall behind Ragnak's t able. He

found Ost krag and, wit h one forefinger, t raced t he way t o t he closest pass.

"The Serpent Pass," he said, almost t o himself. "It 's not impossible t hat all t hat lat e-season snow and

t he sudden t haw could have led t o landslides in t here." He t urned back t o Ragnak and Borsa, indicat

ing t he posit ion on t he map t o t hem.

" Maybe t he couriers simply can't get t hrough yet ?" he suggest ed. Ragnak shook his head and again

Erak sensed t he irrit abilit y, t he irrat ional annoyance t hat seemed t o grip Ragnak t hese days

whenever his will was t hwart ed or his judgment quest ioned.

"It 's St en, I know it ," he said st ubbornly. "If it were anyone else, I might agree wit h you, Erak." Erak

nodded, knowing full well t hat t he words were a lie. Ragnak rarely agreed wit h anyone if it meant

changing his own posit ion. "Get up t here and get t he money from him. If he argues, arrest him and


11/49

bring him back. In fact , arrest him even if he doesn't argue. Take t went y men wit h you. I want him t o

see a real show of st rengt h. I'm sick of being t aken for a fool by t hese pet t y jarls."

Erak looked up in some surprise. Arrest ing a jarl in his own lodge was not somet hing t o be light ly

cont emplat ed-part icularly for such a pet t y offense as a lat e t ax payment . Among t he Skandians, t

ax

evasion was considered t o be almost obligat ory. It was a form of sport . If you were caught out , you

paid up

and t hat was t he end of it . Erak could not remember anyone being submit t ed t o t he shame of arrest

on

that count.

" That might not be wise," he said quiet ly, and Ragnak glared up at him, his eyes searching for Erak's

over

t he scat t ered account s on t he t able before him.

"I'll decide what's wise," he grated. "I'm Oberjarl, not you."

The words were offensive. Erak was a senior jarl and by long-est ablished cust om he was ent it led t o

air his

opinion, even t hough it might be cont rary t o his leader's. He bit back t he angry ret ort t hat sprang t o

his

lips. There was no point provoking Ragnak any furt her when he was in t his mood.

"I know you're t he Oberjarl, Ragnak," he said quiet ly. "But St en is a jarl in his own right and he may

well

have a perfect ly valid reason for t his lat e payment . To arrest him in t hose circumst ances would be

unnecessarily provocat ive."

"I'm t elling you he won't have what you call a 'valid reason,' damn it !" Ragnak's eyes were narrowed

now and his face was suffused wit h his anger. "He's a t hief and a holdout and he needs t o be made an

example to others!"

"Ragnak...," Erak began, t rying t o reason one last t ime. This t ime it was Borsa who int errupt ed.

"Jarl Erak, you have your inst ruct ions! Now do as you are ordered!" he shout ed, and Erak t urned angr

ily t o

face him.

"I follow the Oberjarl's orders, hilfmann. Not yours."


12/49

Borsa realized his mist ake. He backed away a pace or t wo, making sure t he subst ant ial bulk of t he t

able

was bet ween him and Erak. His eyes slid away from t he ot her man's and t here was an ugly silence.

Finally,

Ragnak seemed t o realize t hat some f orm of back-down might be necessary-alt hough not t oo much.

He

said, in an irrit at ed t one: "Look, Erak, just go and get t hose t axes from St en. And if he's been holding

out on

purpose, bring him back here for t rial. All right ?"

" And if he has a valid reason?" Erak insist ed.

The Oberjarl waved a hand in surrender. " If he has a valid reason, you can leave him alone. Does t hat

suit

you?"

Erak nodded. "Under t hose condit ions, all right ," he agreed.

He had t he loophole he'd been looking for. As far as he was concerned, t he fact t hat Ragnak was an

insufferable pain in t he but t ocks was a more t han valid reason for not paying t axes on t ime. Mind

you, he

might have t o find anot her way of phrasing it when he ret urned wit hout arrest ing St en.

4WILL CAME AWAKE WITH A JERK. HE HAD BEEN SITTING ON THE edge of t he porch in t he sun and he

realized t hat he must have nodded off. Ruefully, he t hought about how much of his t ime he spent

sleeping t hese days. Evanlyn said it was only t o be expect ed, as he was regaining his st rengt h. He

supposed she was right . But t hat didn't mean he had t o like it .

There was also t he fact t hat t here was so lit t le t o do around t he hut where t hey had spent t heir t

ime since

escaping from t he Skandian st ronghold. Today he had cleared away and washed t heir breakfast dishes,

t hen made t he beds and st raight ened t he few pieces of furnit ure in t he cabin. That had t aken barely

half

an hour, so he had groomed t he pony in t he lean-t o behind t he cabin unt il it s coat shone. The pony

looked at him, and at it self, wit h mild surprise. He guessed nobody had ever spent so much care on it s

appearance in t he past .


13/49

Aft er t hat , Will had wandered aimlessly around t he cabin and t he small clearing, inspect ing t hose

pat ches

where t he damp brown grass was beginning t o show t hrough t he snow cover. He had idly considered

making some more snares, t hen discarded t he idea. They had more t han t hey needed already. Feeling

bored and useless, he had sat down on t he porch t o wait for Evanlyn's ret urn. At some st age, he must

have

nodded off, affect ed by t he warmt h of t he sun.

That warmt h was long gone now, he realized. The sun had t raveled fully across t he clearing and t he

pines

were t hrowing long shadows across t he cabin. It must be midaft ernoon, he est imat ed.

A frown creased his forehead. Evanlyn had left well before noon t o check t he snares. Even allowing for

t he fact t hat t hey had moved t he t rapline fart her and fart her away from t he cabin, she should have

had t ime t o reach t he line, check t he snares and ret urn by now. She must have been gone for at leastt hree hours- possibly more.

Unless she had already ret urned and, seeing him sleeping, had decided not t o wake him. He st ood

now, his

st iff joint s prot est ing, and checked inside t he cabin. There was no sign t hat she had ret urned. The

game

bag and her t hick woolen cloak were missing. Will' s frown deepened and he began t o pace t he small

clearing, wondering what he should do. He wished he knew exact ly how long she had been gone and

silent ly berat ed himself for falling asleep. Deep down in t he pit of his st omach, a vague uneasiness st

irred

as he wondered what could have become of his companion. He reviewed t he possibilit ies.

She could have lost her way, and be wandering t hrough t he t hickly growing, snow-covered pines, t

rying t o find her way back t o t he cabin. Possible, but unlikely. He had blazed t he pat hs leading t o t

heir t rapline wit h discreet marks and Evanlyn knew where t o look for t hem.

Perhaps she had been injured? She could have fallen, or t wist ed an ankle. The pat hs were rough and st

eep in places and t hat was a definit e possibilit y. She might be lying now, injured and unable t o walk, st

randed in the snow, with the afternoon drawing on toward night.

The t hird possibilit y was t he worst : she had encount ered someone. Anyone t hat she ran int o on t his

mount ain was likely t o be an enemy. Perhaps she had been recapt ured by t he Skandians. His pulse

raced for a moment as he considered t he t hought . He knew t hey would show lit t le mercy t o an

escaped slave. And while Erak had helped t hem before, he would be unlikely t o do so again-even if he

had t he


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opportunity.

As he had been considering t hese possibilit ies, he had begun moving around t he cabin, collect ing his t

hings in preparat ion for set t ing out t o look for her. He had filled one of t heir wat er skins from t he

bucket of creek wat er t hat he brought t o t he cabin each day, and crammed a few pieces of cold meat

int o a carry sack. He laced on his t hick walking boot s, winding t he t hongs rapidly around his legs,almost up t o t he knee, and

unhooked his sheepskin vest from t he peg behind t he door.

On t he whole, he t hought , t he second possibilit y was t he most likely. The chances were t hat Evanlyn

was injured somewhere, unable t o walk. The chance t hat she might have been ret aken by t he

Skandians was very slim indeed, he realized. It was st ill t oo early in t he season for people t o be

moving around t he

mount ain. The only reason for doing so would be t o hunt game. And it was st ill t oo scarce t o be wort

h t he trouble of fighting through the thick drifts of snow that blocked the way in so many parts of themountain. No, on t he whole, it was most likely t hat Evanlyn was safe, but incapacit at ed.

Which meant his next logical move would be t o put a bridle and saddle on t he pony and lead him along

as he t racked her, so t hat she could ride back t o t he cabin once he found her. He had no doubt t hat

he would find her. He was already a skilled t racker, alt hough nowhere near t he st andard of Halt or

Gilan, and

tracking the girl through snow-covered territory would be a relatively simple matter.

And yet ...he was reluct ant t o t ake t he pony wit h him. The lit t le horse would make unnecessary

noise and a

nagging doubt t old Will he should proceed wit h caut ion. It was unlikely t hat Evanlyn had encount ered

st rangers, but it wasn't impossible.

It might be wiser t o t ravel unobt rusively unt il he found out t he real st at e of affairs. As he came t o t

his

decision, he st ripped t he beds of t heir blanket s, t ying t hem int o a roll t hat he slung over his

shoulder. It

might prove necessary t o spend t he night in t he open and it would be bet t er t o be prepared. He

picked up

a flint and st eel from near t he fireplace and dropped it int o one of his pocket s.

Finally, he was ready t o go. He st ood at t he door, t aking one last look around t he cabin t o see if t

here was

anyt hing else he might need. The small hunt ing bow and a quiver of arrows leaned by t he doorjamb.


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On an

impulse, he picked t hem up, slinging t he quiver across his back wit h t he roll of blanket s. Then anot

her

t hought st ruck him and he crossed back t o t he fireplace, select ing a half-burned st ick from t he

ashes.

On t he out side of t he door, he print ed in crude let t ers: "Looking for you. Wait here."

Aft er all, it was possible t hat Evanlyn might t urn up aft er he had left and he want ed t o make sure she

didn't

go blundering off, trying to find him while he was trying to find her.

He t ook a few seconds t o st ring t he bow. Halt 's voice echoed in his ears: "An unst rung bow is just

somet hing ext ra t o carry. A st rung bow is a weapon." He looked at it disdainfully. It wasn't much of a

weapon, he t hought . But t hat and t he small knife in his belt were all t hat he had. He moved t o t he

edge of

t he clearing, picking up t he clear t rail of Evanlyn's foot print s in t he snow. They were blurred aft er a

morning of spring sunshine, but t hey st ill showed up. Maint aining a st eady t rot , he moved off int o t

he

forest.

He followed her t rail easily as it wound up int o t he higher reaches of t he mount ain. Before t oo long,

his

pace had dropped from t he st eady jog and he was walking, breat hing hard as he went . He realized t

hat he was in poor condit ion. There had been a t ime when he could have maint ained t hat ground-eat

ing lope for hours. Now, aft er barely t went y minut es, he was puffing and exhaust ed. He shook his

head in disgust and continued to follow the footprints.

Of course, following t he t rail was made easier by t he fact t hat he already had a good idea of t he

direct ion

Evanlyn had been heading. He had helped her relocat e t he snares a few days earlier. At t hat t ime, he

recalled, t hey had gone at an easier pace, rest ing frequent ly so as not t o t ire him out .

Evanlyn had been reluct ant t o allow him t o walk so far, but had given in t o t he inevit able. She had no

real idea how t o place t he snares where t hey might have t he best chance of t rapping small game.

That was one of Will's areas of expert ise. He knew how t o look for and recognize t he small signs t hat

showed wher e t he rabbit s and birds moved, where t hey were most likely t o poke t heir unsuspect ing

heads int o t he looped snares.


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It had t aken Evanlyn about fort y minut es t o reach t he t rapline t hat morning. Will covered t he dist

ance in an hour and a quart er, st opping more frequent ly as t he t ime went on t o rest and recover his

breat h. He resent ed t he st ops, knowing t hey were cost ing him daylight . But t here would be no point

pushing himself unt il he was ut t erly exhaust ed. He had t o keep himself in condit ion t o give Evanlyn

any assist ance she might need when he found her.

The sun had dropped over t he crest of t he mount ain by t he t ime he reached t he blazed t ree t hat

marked t he beginning of t he t rapline. He t ouched one hand t o t he cut bark, t hen t urned t o head off

t he t rack int o t he pines when he saw somet hing out of t he corner of his eye. Somet hing t hat froze

his heart in midbeat .

There was t he clear imprint of a horse's hooves in t he snow-and t hey overlay t he t racks t hat Evanlyn

had

left . Someone had followed her.

Forget t ing his weariness, Will ran, half crouching, t hrough t he t hick pines t o t he spot where t he firstsnare had been laid. The snow t here was dist urbed and scuffed. He fell t o his knees, t rying t o read t

he st ory t hat was written there.

The empt y snare first : he could see where Evanlyn had reset t he noose, smoot hing t he snow around

it and

scat t ering a few grains of seed. So t here had been an animal in t he snare when she'd arrived.

Then he cast wider, seeing t he ot her set of foot print s moving int o posit ion behind her as she had

knelt ,

engrossed in t he t ask of reset t ing t he snare and probably jubilant at t he fact t hat t hey had caught

somet hing. The horse's t racks had st opped some t went y met ers away. Obviously, t he animal was t

rained t o move silent ly-much as Ranger horses were. He felt an uneasy sense of misgiving at t hat . He

didn't like t he idea of an enemy who had t hose sort s of skills-and by now he knew he was dealing wit h

an enemy of some kind. The signs of t he st ruggle bet ween Evanlyn and t he enemy were all t oo clear t

o his t rained eye. He could almost see t he man-he assumed it was a man-moving quiet ly behind her,

grabbing her and

dragging her back t hrough t he snow.

The wild dist urbance of t he ground showed how Evanlyn had kicked and st ruggled. Then, suddenly, t

he

st ruggling had st opped and t wo shallow furrows in t he snow led back t o where t he horse wait ed.

Her

heels, he realized, as her unconscious body had been dragged away.


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Unconscious? Or dead, he t hought . And a chill hand seized his heart at t he t hought . Then he shook it

away

det erminedly.

"No sense in carrying her away if he'd killed her," he t old himself. And he almost believed it . But he st ill

had t hat gnawing uncert aint y in t he pit of his belly as he followed t he horse's t racks back t o t he

main t rail, and t hen in t he opposit e direct ion of t he t rail t hat led back t o t he cabin.

He was glad he'd t hought t o bring t he blanket s. It was going t o be a cold night , he t hought . He was

also

glad t hat he'd t hought t o bring t he bow, alt hough he found himself wishing t hat he st ill had t he pow

erful

recurve bow t hat he had lost at t he bridge in Celt ica. It was a far superior weapon t o t he low-

powered

Skandian hunt ing bow. And he had t he uncomfort able cert aint y t hat he was going t o need a weaponin t he

very near fut ure.

5THE WORLD WAS UPSIDE DOWN AND BOUNCING. GRADUALLY, AS Evanlyn' s eyes came int o f ocus,

she

realized t hat she was hanging, head down, her face only cent imet ers away from t he front left

shoulder of a horse. The invert ed posit ion made t he blood pound painfully in her head, a pounding t

hat was accent uat ed by t he st eady, bouncing t rot t hat t he horse was maint aining. He was a chest

nut , she not ed, and his coat was long and shaggy and badly in need of grooming. The small area she

could see was mat t ed wit h sweat and dried mud.

Somet hing hard ground int o t he soft flesh of her belly wit h every lurching st ep t he horse t ook. She t

ried t o wriggle t o relieve t he pressure and was rewarded for her effort s wit h a sharp blow t o t he

back of her head. She t ook t he hint and st opped wriggling.

Turning her head t o face t oward t he rear, she could make out her capt or's left leg-clad in a long, skirt -

like fur coat and soft hide boot s. Below her, t he churned snow of t he t rail passed rapidly by. She

realized her unconscious body had been slung unceremoniously across t he front of a saddle. That

project ion st abbing dully int o her st omach must be t he pommel.

She remembered now: t he slight noise behind her, t he blur of movement as she st art ed t o t urn. A

hand, st inking of sweat and smoke and fur, clamped over her mout h t o prevent her screaming. Not t

hat t here had been anyone wit hin earshot t o hear, she t hought regret fully.

The st ruggle had been brief , wit h her assailant dragging her backward t o keep her off balance. She

had


18/49

tried to fight her way free, tried to kick and bite. But the man's thick glove made her attempts at biting

useless, and her kicks were ineffect ive as she was dragged backward. Finally, t here had been an inst ant

of

blinding pain, just behind her left ear, and t hen darkness.

As she t hought of t he blow, she became aware t hat t he area behind her left ear was anot her source

of

t hrobbing, anot her source of pain. The discomfort of being carried along helplessly like t his was bad

enough. But t he inabilit y t o see anyt hing, t o get a look at t he man who had t aken her prisoner, was,

if anyt hing, worse. From t his doubled-over, facedown posit ion, she couldn't even see any feat ures of t

he land t hey were passing t hrough. So if she did event ually escape, she would have no memory of any

landmarks t hat might help her ret race her st eps.

Unobt rusively, she t ried t o t wist her head t o t he side, t o get a look at t he rider mount ed behind

her. But he obviously felt t he movement , minimal as she t ried t o keep it , and she felt anot her blow

on t he back of her head. Just what she needed, she t hought ruefully.

Realizing t hat t here was no fut ure in ant agonizing her capt or, Evanlyn slumped down, t rying t o relax

her muscles and ride as comfort ably as possible. It was a fairly unsuccessful at t empt . But at least

when she let her head hang down, her cramping neck and shoulder muscles felt some relief.

The ground went by below her: t he snow churned up by t he horse's front hooves, showing t he sodden

brown grass t hat lay underneat h. They were making t heir way downhill, she realized, as t he rider

reined in

t he horse t o negot iat e a st eeper t han normal part of t he t rail at a walk. She felt t he rider lean back

away

from her as she slid forward, saw his feet pushing forward against t he st irrups as he leaned back t o

compensat e and help t he horse balance.

Just ahead of t hem, visible from her facedown posit ion, was a pat ch of snow t hat had melt ed and

refrozen. It was slick and icy and t he horse's hooves went ont o it before she could sound any warning.

Legs br aced, t he horse slid downward, unable t o check it s progress. She heard a st art led grunt from t

he rider and he leaned fart her back, keeping t he reins t aut t o st ill t he horse's panic. They slid,

scrabbled, t hen checked.

Then t hey were across t he icy pat ch and t he rider urged t he horse back int o it s st eady t rot once

mor e.

Evanlyn not ed t he moment . If it happened again, it might give her a chance t o escape.


19/49

Aft er all, she wasn't t ied ont o t he horse, she realized. She was merely hanging eit her side like a

bundle of

old clot hes. If t he horse fell, she could be off and away before t he rider regained his feet . Or so she

t hought .

Perhaps fort unat ely for her-for she couldn't see t he bow slung over t he rider's back, nor t he quiver

full of arrows t hat hung at his right side-t he horse didn't fall. There were a few more st eep sect ions,

and a couple of ot her occasions when t hey slid, legs locked forward and rear hooves scrabbling for

purchase, for several met ers down t he slope. But on none of t hose occasions did t he rider lose cont

rol or t he horse do more

t han whinny in alarm and concent rat ion.

Finally, t hey reached t heir dest inat ion. The first she knew of it was when t he horse slid t o a st op and

she felt a hand on her collar, heaving her up and over, t o send her sprawling in t he wet snow t hat

cover ed t he ground. She fell awkwardly, winding herself in t he process, and it was several seconds

before she could regain her presence of mind and t ake t he t ime t o look around her.

They were in a clearing where a small camp had been set up. Now she could see her capt or as he swung

down from t he saddle. He was a short , st ocky man, dressed in furs-a long, wide-skirt ed fur coat

covered most of his body. On his head he wore a st range, conical fur hat . Beneat h t he skirt s of t he

coat he wore shapeless t rousers made from a t hin kind of felt , wit h soft hide boot s pulled up over t

hem, about knee high.

He walked t oward her now, rolling slight ly wit h t he bowlegged walk of a man who spent most of his t

ime in

t he saddle. His feat ures were sharp-almond-shaped eyes t hat slit t ed t o almost not hing from years of

looking across long dist ances int o t he wind and t he glare of a hard land. His skin was dark, almost nut

brown from exposure t o t he sun, and t he cheekbones were high. The nose was short and wide, and t

he lips

were t hin. Her first impression was t hat it was a cruel face. Then she amended t he t hought . It was

simply

an uncaring face. The eyes showed no signs of compassion or even int erest in her as t he rider reached

down and grabbed her collar, forcing her t o her feet .

"St and," he said. The voice was t hick and t he accent gut t ural, but she recognized t he single word in t

he

Skandian t ongue. It was basically similar t o t he Araluen language and she had spent mont hs wit h t he


20/49

Skandians in any event . She allowed herself t o be raised t o her feet . She was nearly as t all as t he

man, she

not iced, wit h a slight feeling of surprise. But , small as he was, t he st rengt h in t he arm t hat dragged

her

upright was all t oo obvious.

Now she not iced t he bow and t he quiver, and was inst inct ively glad t hat no chance had arisen for her

t o t ry

t o escape. She had no doubt t hat t he man shoving her forward was an expert shot . There was somet

hing

t ot ally capable about him, she realized. He seemed so confident , so much in cont rol. The bow might

have

simply marked him as a hunt er. The long, curved sword in a brass-mount ed scabbard on his left hip said

that he was a warrior.

Her st udy of t he man was int errupt ed by a chorus of voices from t he camp. Now t hat she had t he t

ime t o look, she saw anot her five warriors, similarly dressed and armed. Their horses, small and

shaggy-coat ed, were t et hered t o a rope slung bet ween t wo t rees, and t here were t hree small t ent

s placed around t he

clearing, made from a mat erial t hat appeared t o be felt . A fire crackled in a small circle of st ones set

in t he cent er of t he clearing and t he ot her men were grouped around it . They rose t o t heir feet in

surprise as she was pushed t oward t hem.

One of t hem st epped forward, a lit t le apart from t he ot hers. That fact , and t he commanding t one inhis voice, marked him as t he leader of t he small group. He spoke rapidly t o t he man who had capt

ured her. She couldn't underst and t he words, but t he t one was unmist akable. He was angry.

While he was obviously t he leader of t he small part y, it was equally obvious t hat t he man who had br

ought

her here was also relat ively senior. He refused t o be cowed by t he ot her man's angry words, replying

in

equally st rident t ones and gest uring t oward her. The t wo of t hem st ood, nose t o nose, becoming

louder

and louder in t heir disagreement .

She st ole a quick glance at t he ot her four men. They had resumed t heir seat s around t he fire now, t

heir

init ial int erest in t he capt ive having subsided. They wat ched t he argument wit h int erest , but wit h

no


21/49

apparent concern. One of t hem went back t o t urning a few green t wigs wit h fresh meat spit t ed on t

hem over t he fire. The fat and juices ran off t he meat and sizzled in t he coals, sending up a cloud of

fragrant smoke.

Evanlyn's st omach growled soft ly. She hadn't eat en since t he meager breakfast she had shared wit h

Wi ll.

From t he posit ion of t he sun, it must be lat e aft ernoon by now. She calculat ed t hat t hey had been t

raveling

some t hree hours at least .

Finally, t he argument seemed t o be resolved-and in favor of her capt or. The leader t hrew his hands in

t he air angrily and t urned away, walking back t o his place by t he fire and dropping t o a cross-legged

posit ion. He looked at her, t hen waved dismissively t o t he ot her man. Her fat e, it appeared, was in

his hands.

The horseman t ook a lengt h of rawhide rope from his saddle bow and quickly ran t wo loops around

her

neck. Then he dragged her t oward a large pine at t he edge of t he clearing and fast ened t he rope t o it

. She

had room t o move, but not t oo far in any direct ion. He t urned her around, shoving her roughly, and

grabbed her hands, forcing t hem behind her back and crossing t he wrist s over each ot her. She resist

ed. But

t he result was anot her st inging blow across t he back of her head. Aft er t hat , she allowed her hands t

o be

roughly t ied behind her, wit h a short er piece of rawhide. She winced and mut t ered a prot est as t he

knot s

were drawn painfully t ight . It was a mist ake. Anot her blow across t he back of her head t aught her t o

remain silent .

She st ood uncert ainly, hands bound and t ied by her neck t o t he t ree. She was considering t he best

way t o sit down when t he problem was solved for her. The horseman kicked her feet out from under

her and sent her sprawling in t he snow. That , at least , brought a couple of low chuckles from t he men

around t he fire.

For t he next few hours she sat awkwardly, her hands gradually growing numb from t he pressure of t he

bonds. The six men now seemed cont ent t o ignore her. They at e and drank, swigging what was

obviously a st rong spirit from leat her bot t les. The more t hey drank, t he more boist erous t hey

became. Yet she not iced t hat , even t hough t hey seemed t o be drunk, t heir vigilance didn't relax for a

second. One of t hem was


22/49

always on guard, st anding out side t he glare of t he small fire and moving const ant ly t o monit or t he

approaches t o t he camp from all direct ions. The guard changed at regular int ervals, she not iced, wit

hout

any dissension or need for persuasion. All of t hem seemed t o t ake an equal t urn t oo.

As it grew t o full night , t he men began t o ret ire int o t he small felt t ent s. They were dome shaped

and barely waist high, so t heir occupant s had t o crawl int o t hem t hrough a low ent rance. But , she t

hought enviously, t hey were probably a lot warmer t han she would be, sit t ing out here.

The fire died down and one of t he men-not t he one who had capt ured her-walked in t hat same

bandy-

legged st ride t oward Evanlyn and t ossed a heavy blanket over her. It was rough and carried t he rank

smell

of t heir horses, but she was grat eful for t he warmt h. Even so, it was not really enough for comfort .

She

huddled against t he t ree, shrugging t he blanket higher around her shoulders, and prepared for a

supremely uncomfort able night .

6HALT LEANED BACK AND SURVEYED HIS HANDIWORK WITH A sat i sf i ed si gh.

"There," he said. " That should do t he t rick."

Horace looked at him doubt fully, his eyes moving from Halt 's pleased expression t o t he official-looking

document t hat he had just complet ed forging.

"Whose seal is t hat at t he bot t om?" he asked finally, indicat ing t he impression of a rampant bull t hat

was

set in a large splodge of wax in t he bot t om right -hand corner of t he parchment . Halt t ouched t he

wax

gent ly, checking t o see if it had hardened complet ely.

"Well, I suppose if it 's anyone's it 's mine," he admit t ed. "But I'm hoping t hat our Skandian friends willt hink

it belongs to King Henri of Gallica."

" Is t hat what his royal seal looks like?" Horace asked, and Halt st udied t he symbol impressed in t he

wax a


23/49

little more critically.

"Pret t y much," he replied. "I t hink t he real one may be a t rifle leaner in t he body, but t he forger I

bought it

from had a pretty indistinct impression t o work from."

"But ..." Horace began unhappily, t hen st opped.

Halt looked at him, one eyebrow raised quizzically. "But ?" he repeat ed, making t he word int o a quest

ion.

Horace merely shook his head. He knew Halt would probably laugh at his object ion if he voiced it . "Oh,

never mind," he said at last . Then, realizing t hat t he former Ranger was st ill wait ing for him t o speak,

he

changed t he subject .

"I t hought you said t here was no ruling court in Gallica," he said. Halt shook his head.

"There's no effective ruling court," he told the young man. "King Henri is the hereditary king of the

Gallicans, but he has no real power. He maint ains a court in t he sout hern part of t he count ry and let s

t he

local warlords do as t hey please."

"Yes. I not iced some of t hat ," Horace said meaningfully, t hinking about t he encount er wit h t he

warlord

Deparnieux t hat had delayed t heir progress t hrough Gallica.

"So old King Henri is somet hing of a paper t iger," Halt cont inued. "But he has been known t o send

envoys int o ot her count ries from t ime t o t ime. Hence t his." He gest ured at t he sheet of parchment

t hat he was waving gent ly in t he air so t hat t he ink might dry and t he wax seal might harden. The

sight of t he seal brought back all of Horace's misgivings.

"It just doesn't seem right !" he blurt ed out , before he could st op himself. Halt smiled pat ient ly at

him,

blowing gent ly on some damp pat ches of ink.

"It 's as right as I can get it ," he said mildly. "And I doubt t hat t he average border guard in Skandia will

see

t he difference-part icularly if you're dressed in t hat fine suit of Gallican armor you t ook from

Deparnieux."

But Horace shook his head doggedly. Now t hat his concern was out in t he open, he was det ermined t o


24/49

plow on.

"That 's not what I meant ," he said, t hen added, "and well you know it ."

Halt grinned easily at t he young man's t roubled expression. "Somet imes your sense of moralit y

amazes me," he said gent ly. " You do underst and t hat we have t o get past t he border guards if we're t

o have any chance of finding Will and t he princess?"

"Evanlyn," Horace correct ed him aut omat ically. Halt waved t he comment aside.

"Whoever." He knew t hat Horace t ended t o refer t o Princess Cassandra, t he daught er of t he Araluen

King,

by t he name she had assumed when Will and Horace had first encount ered her. He cont inued: " You

do

realize t hat , don't you?"

Horace heaved a deep sigh. " Yes, I suppose so, it 's just t hat it seems so...dishonest , somehow."

Halt 's eyebrows rose in a perfect arch. "Dishonest ?"

Horace went on, awkwardly. "Well, I was always t aught t hat people's seals and crest s were sort of...I

don't

know, sacrosanct . I mean..." He gest ured t oward t he figure of t he bull impressed in red wax. "That 's

a

king's signat ure."

Halt pursed his lips t hought fully. "He's not much of a king," he replied.

"That 's not t he point . It 's a principle, don't you see? It 's like..." He paused, t rying t o t hink of a

reasonable

parallel, and finally came up wit h: "It's like tampering with the mail."

In Araluen, t he mail was a service cont rolled by t he Crown and t here were dire penalt ies proscribed

for

anyone who t ried t o int erfere wit h it . Not t hat such penalt ies had ever st opped Halt in t he pastwhen he'd

needed to do a little tampering in that direct ion. He decided that it wouldn't be wise to mention that to

Horace right now. Obviously, t he moralit y code t aught in Cast le Redmont 's Bat t leschool was a good

deal more rigid t han t he behavior embraced by t he Ranger Corps. Of course, t he knight s of t he realm

were ent rust ed wit h t he prot ect ion of t he Royal Mail, so it was logical t hat t hey should have such

an at t it ude ingrained in t hem from an early part of t heir t raining.


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" So how would you suggest t hat we deal wit h t he problem?" he asked at last . " How would you get us

past

t he border?"

Horace preferred simple solut ions. "We could fight our way in," he suggest ed wit h a shrug. Halt raised

his

eyes t o heaven at t he t hought .

"So it 's immoral t o bluff our way past wit h an official document -" he began. "A false document ,"

Horace correct ed. "Wit h a forged seal at t he bot t om." Halt conceded t he point .

"All right -a forged document if you like. That 's reprehensible. But it would be perfect ly all right for us t

o go

t hrough t he border post hacking and shoot ing down everyone in sight ? Is t hat t he way you see it ?"

Now t hat Halt put it t hat way, Horace had t o admit t here was an anomaly in his t hinking. "I didn't say

we

should kill everyone in sight ," he object ed. "We could just fight our way t hrough, t hat 's all. It 's more

honest

and above board, and I t hought t hat 's what knight s were supposed t o be."

" Knight s may be, but Rangers aren't ," Halt mut t ered. But he said it below his breat h so t hat Horace

couldn't hear him. He reminded himself t hat Horace was very young and idealist ic. Knight s did live by a

st rict code of honor and et hics and t hose fact ors were emphasized in t he first few years of an apprent

ice knight 's t raining. It was only lat er in life t hat t hey learned t o t emper t heir ideals wit h a lit t le

expediency.

"Look," he said, in a conciliat ory t one. "Think about it t his way: if we just barged on t hrough and

headed for Hallasholm, t he border guards would send word aft er us. The element of surprise would be

t ot ally lost and we could find ourselves in big trouble. If we decide to fight our way in, the only way to

do it is by

leaving nobody alive t o spread t he word. Underst and?"

Horace nodded, unhappily. He could see t he logic in what Halt was saying. The Ranger cont inued in t he

same reasoning t one. "This way, nobody get s hurt . You pose as an emissary from t he Gallican court ,

wit h a

dispat ch from King Henri. You wear Deparnieux's black armor-it 's obviously Gallican in st yle-and you

keep

your nose st uck in t he air and leave t he t alking t o me, your servant . That 's t he sort of behavior t

hey'd


26/49

expect from a self-import ant Gallican noble. There's no reason for any word t o be sent informing

Ragnak

t hat t wo out landers have crossed t he border-aft er all, we're supposed t o be going t o see him

anyway."

"And what 's in t he dispat ch t hat I'm supposed t o be t aking?" Horace asked.

Halt couldn't resist a grin. "Sorry, that's confident ial. You don't expect me to breach the secrecy of t he

mail syst em, do you?" Horace gave him a pained look and he relent ed. "All right . It 's a simple business

mat t er, act ually. King Henri is negot iat ing for t he hire of t hree wolfships from t he Skandians, t hat 's

all."

Horace looked surprised. " Isn't t hat a lit t le unusual?" he asked, and Halt shook his head.

"Not a bit . Skandians are mercenaries. They're always hiring out t o one side or anot her. We're just

pret ending t hat Henri want s t o subcont ract a few ships and crews for a raiding expedit ion against t

he

Arridi."

"The Arridi?" Horace said, frowning uncert ainly.

Halt shook his head in mock despair. "You know, it might be more useful if Rodney spent less t ime t

eaching you people et hics and a lit t le more t ime on geography. The Arridi are t he desert people t o t

he sout h." He paused and saw t hat t his made no impression on t he young man. Horace cont inued t o

look at him wit h a blank expression. " On t he ot her side of t he Const ant Sea?" he added, and now

Horace showed signs of

recognit ion.

"Oh, t hem," he said dismissively.

"Yes, t hem," Halt replied, mimicking t he t one. "But I wouldn't expect you t o t hink about t hem t oo

much.

There are only millions of them."

" But t hey never bot her us, do t hey?" Horace said comfort ably. Halt gave a short laugh.

"Not so far," he agreed. "And just pray t hey don't decide t o."

Horace could sense t hat Halt was on t he verge of delivering a lect ure on int ernat ional st rat egy and

diplomacy.

That sort of t hing usually left Horace's head spinning aft er t he first few minut es, while he t ried t o

keep up wit h who was aligned wit h whom and who was conspiring against t heir neighbors and what t


27/49

hey hoped t o gain from it . He preferred Sir Rodney's t ype of lect ure: right , wrong, black, whit e, out

swords, hack and bash. He t hought it might be expedient t o head off Halt 's incipient harangue. The

best way t o do t hat , he had learned from past experience, was t o agree wit h him.

"Well, I suppose you're right about t he forgery," he admit t ed. "Aft er all, it 's only t he Gallican's seal

we're forging, isn't it ? It 's not as if you're forging a document from King Duncan. Even you wouldn't goas far as t hat , would you?"

"Of course not ," Halt replied smoot hly. He began t o pack away his pens and ink and his ot her forger' s

t ools.

He was glad he'd laid hands on t he forged Gallican seal in his pack so easily. It was as well t hat he

hadn't

had t o t ip t hem all out and risk Horace's seeing t he near-perfect copy of King Duncan's seal t hat he

carried,

among ot hers. " Now may I suggest t hat you climb int o your elegant t in suit and we'll go and sweet -t

alk t he

Skandian border guards."

Horace snort ed indignant ly and t urned away. But anot her t hought had occurred t o Halt -somet hing t

hat

had been on his mind for some t ime.

" Horace..." he began, and Horace t urned back. The Ranger's voice had lost it s former light t one and he

sensed t hat Halt was about t o say somet hing import ant .

" Yes, Halt ?"

"When we find Will, don't t ell him about t he...unpleasant ry bet ween me and t he King, all right ?"

Mont hs ago, denied permission t o leave Araluen in search of Will, Halt had devised a desperat e plan.

He

had publicly insult ed t he King and, as a result , was banished for a period of one year. The subt erfuge

had caused Halt a great deal of ment al anguish in t he past mont hs. As a banished person, he was aut

omat i cally expelled from t he Ranger Corps. The loss of his silver oakleaf was possibly t he worst

punishment of all, yet he bore it willingly for t he sake of his missing apprent ice.

"What ever you say, Halt ," Horace agreed. But Halt seemed t o t hink, for once, t hat furt her explanat

ion was

necessary.

"It's just that I'd prefer to find my own way t o tell him-and the right time. All right?"


28/49

Horace shrugged. " What ever you say," he repeat ed. " Now let 's go and t alk t o t hese Skandians."

But t here was t o be no t alking. The t wo riders, t railed by t heir small st ring of horses, rode t hrough t

he pass t hat zigzagged bet ween t he high mount ains unt il t he border post finally came int o sight .

Halt expect ed t o be hailed from t he small wooden st ockade and t ower at any moment , as t he guards

demanded t hat t hey dismount and approach on foot . That would have been normal procedure. But there was no sign of life in t he small fort ified out post as t hey drew nearer.

" Gat e's open," Halt mut t ered as t hey came closer and could make out more det ail.

" How many men usually garrison a place like t his?" Horace asked.

The Ranger shrugged. " Half a dozen. A dozen maybe."

" There don't seem t o be any of t hem around," Horace observed, and Halt glanced sideways at him.

"I'd not iced t hat part myself," he replied, t hen added, " What 's t hat ?"

There was an indist inct shape apparent now in t he shadows just inside t he open gat e. Act ing on t he

same

inst inct , t hey bot h urged t heir horses int o a cant er and closed t he dist ance bet ween t hem and t he

fort .

Halt already felt cert ain what t he shape was.

It was a dead Skandian, lying in a pool of blood t hat had soaked int o t he snow.

Inside t here were t en ot hers, all of t hem killed t he same way, wit h mult iple wounds t o t heir t orsos

and

limbs. The t wo t ravelers dismount ed carefully and moved among t he bodies, st udying t he awful

scene.

" Who could have done t his?" said Horace in a horrified voice. " They've been st abbed over and over

again."

"Not st abbed," Halt t old him. "Shot . These are arrow wounds. And t hen t he killers collect ed t heir ar

rows

from t he bodies. Except for t his one." He held up t he broken half of an arrow t hat had been lying

concealed under one of t he bodies. The Skandian had probably broken it off in an at t empt t o remove

it

from t he wound. The ot her half was st ill buried deeply in his t high. Halt st udied t he flet ching st yle

and t he

ident ificat ion marks paint ed at t he nock end of t he arrow. Archers usually ident ified t heir own shaf t

s in


29/49

such ways.

" Can you t ell who did t his?" Horace asked quiet ly, and Halt looked up t o meet his gaze. Horace saw

an expression of deep concern in t he Ranger's eyes. That fact alone, more t han t he carnage around t

hem, sent a wave of uneasiness t hrough him. He knew it t ook a lot t o worry Halt .

"I t hink so," said t he Ranger. "And I don't like it . It looks like t he Temujai are on t he move again."

7THE TRACKS LED TO THE EAST. AT LEAST, THAT WAS THE general direct ion Will had discerned from t

hem.

As t he unknown horseman had made his way down t he mount ain, t he t rack wound and t wist ed on it

self,

of necessit y, as he followed t he narrow, circuit ous t rails t hrough t he t hick pine. But always,

whenever

t here was a fork in t he t rail, t he horseman chose t he one t hat would event ually t ake him east ward

once

more.

Exhaust ed before t he first hour was out , Will kept doggedly on, st umbling in t he snow from t ime t o t

ime

and, on occasions t oo numerous t o count , falling full lengt h t o lie groaning.

It would be so easy, he t hought , t o just st ay here. To let t he aches in his unfit muscles slowly ease, t o

let

t he pounding of t he pulse in his t emples calm down and t o just ...rest .

But each t ime t he t empt at ion seized him, he t hought of Evanlyn: how she had hauled him up t he

mount ain. How she had helped him escape from t he st ockade where t he yard slaves wait ed for t heir

event ual deat h. How she had nursed him and cured him of t he mind-numbing addict ion t o

warmweed.

And as he t hought of her and what she'd done for him, somehow, each t ime, he found a t iny, hidden

reservoir of st rengt h and purpose. And somehow he dragged himself t o his feet again and st aggered

on in

pursuit of t he t racks in t he snow.

Will kept dragging one foot aft er anot her, his eyes cast down t o t he t racks. He saw not hing else, not

iced

not hing else. Just t he impressions of t he hooves in t he snow.


30/49

The sun dropped behind t he mount ain and t he inst ant chill t hat accompanied it s disappearance at e

t hrough his clot hes, damp wit h t he sweat of his exert ions, and gnawed deep int o his flesh. Dully, he

reflect ed t hat he was lucky he had t hought t o bring t he blanket s wit h him. When he finally st opped

f or t he

night , t he damp clot hes would become a pot ent ial deat h t rap. Wit hout t he warmt h and dryness of

t he

blanket s t o cocoon him, he could freeze t o deat h in his damp clot hes.

The shadows deepened and he knew night fall wasn't far away. St ill he kept on, keeping going as long as

he

could dist inguish t he scuffed hoofmarks in t he t rail. He was t oo exhaust ed t o not ice t he variat ions

in t he t racks-t he deep t roughs dug by t he horse's locked-up front legs as it had slid down t he st eeper

sect ions of t he pat h. Those areas were only remarkable t o him for t he fact t hat he fell down t hem

himself, more oft en t han not . He could read none of t he subt let ies and secret messages t hat he had

been t rained t o see. It was enough t hat t here was a clear t rail t o follow.

It was all he was capable of.

It was long aft er dark and he was beginning t o lose sight of t he t racks now. But he cont inued as long

as

t here was no possible deviat ion, no fork in t he t rail where he might have t o choose one direct ion

over

anot her. When he came t o a place where he must choose, he t old himself, he would st op and camp

for t he night . He would wrap himself in t he blanket s. Perhaps he might even risk a small, well -

shielded fire where he could dry his clothes. A fire would bring warmt h. And comfort.

And smoke.

Smoke? He could smell it , even as he t hought of a fire. Pine smoke-t he all-pervading smell of life in

Skandia, t he scent ed fragrance of t he burning pine gum as it oozed from t he wood and crackled in t he

flames. He st opped, swaying on his feet . He had t hought of fire and, inst ant ly, he could smell smoke.

His

t ired mind t ried t o correlat e t he t wo fact s, t hen realized t here was no correlat ion, only

coincidence. He

could smell smoke because, somewhere near at hand, t here was a fire burning.


31/49

He t ried t o t hink. A fire meant a camp. And t hat almost cert ainly meant t hat he had caught up wit h

Evanlyn and whoever it was who had abduct ed her. They were somewhere close by, st opped for t he

night . Now al l he had t o do was find t hem and...

"And what ?" he asked himself in a voice t hickened by fat igue. He t ook a long swallow from t he wat er

skin

t hat he'd hung from his belt . He shook his head t o clear it . For hours now, his ent ire being had been

focused on one t ask-t o cat ch up wit h t he unseen horseman. Now t hat he had almost accomplished t

hat , he realized he had no plan as t o what t o do next . One t hing was cert ain: he wouldn't be able t o

rescue Evanlyn by brut e force. Swaying wit h fat igue, almost unconscious, he barely had t he st rengt h

t o challenge a

sparrow.

"What would Halt do?" he wondered. It had become his mant ra over t he past mont hs whenever he

found himself uncert ain over a course of act ion. He would t ry t o imagine his old ment or beside him,

eyeing him quizzically, prompt ing him t o solve t he problem at hand by himself. To t hink it t hrough, t

hen t o t ake act ion. The well-remembered voice seemed t o sound in his ear.

Look f irst , Halt had been f ond of saying. Then act .

Will nodded, cont ent t hat he had solved t he problem for t he t ime being.

"Look first ," he repeat ed t hickly. "Then act ."

He gave himself a few minut es' rest , hunkered down and leaning against t he rough bole of a pine, t

hen he

st ood erect once more, his muscles groaning wit h st iffness. He cont inued on t he t rack, moving now

wit h

ext ra caut ion.

The smell of smoke grew st ronger. Now it was mixed wit h somet hing else and he recognized t he smell

of

meat roast ing. A few minut es lat er, moving carefully, he could discern an orange glow up ahead. The

"It 's t heir way," he said. "Besides, Ragnak died in bat t le, as a berserker, and t hat 's a fat e t hat every t

rue

Skandian would envy. It gains him inst ant ent ry t o t he highest level of t heir version of heaven."

Evanlyn t wist ed her mout h in a disapproving pout . "St ill," she said, "it seems so disrespect ful. And he

did

save our lives, aft er all."


32/49

There was an awkward silence in t he room. None of t he ot her t hree could t hink of a t act ful way of

point ing

out t hat had Ragnak survived, he was sworn t o kill Evanlyn.

Finally, t he period of mourning was over, and t he senior jarls gat hered in t he Great Hall t o elect t heir

new

Oberjarl. Will said hopefully, "Do you t hink Erak has a chance?" But Halt shook his head.

"He's a popular war leader, but he's only one of four or five. Add t o t hat t he fact t hat he's no administ

rat or.

And he's cert ainly no diplomat eit her," he added wit h some feeling.

"Is t hat import ant ?" Horace asked. "From what I've seen, diplomacy is very low on t he list of required

skills

in this count ry."

Halt acknowledged t he point wit h a nod. "True," he admit t ed. "But a cert ain amount of but t ering up

is

necessary when t here's an elect ion among peers like t his. Nobody gives t heir vot e because you' re t

he best

candidat e. They vot e for you because you can do somet hing for t hem."

" I guess t he fact t hat Erak's spent t he last few years as Ragnak's chief t ax collect or isn't going t o help

either," Will chipped in. "After all, a lot of the people voting are the ones he's threatened to brain with

an

ax."

Again Halt nodded. " Not a good career move if you hope t o be Oberjarl one day."

In t rut h, t he Ranger was indulging in a mild form of personal superst it ion by t alking down Erak's

chances in

t he elect ion. There were st ill issues t o be set t led bet ween Skandia and Araluen and he would have

preferred t o be set t ling t hem wit h Erak as t he Skandian supreme leader. St ill, t he more t hey t

alked, t he slimmer Erak's chances became. He hadn't known about t he t ax collect ing unt il Will ment

ioned it . That would seem t o put t he final st opper on t he jarl's chances.

"He probably wouldn't make a good Oberjarl anyway," Horace decided. " What he really want s t o do is

get


33/49

back t o sea in his wolfship and go raiding somewhere."

The ot hers agreed wit h t his st at ement . It was reasonable and logical.

But reason and logic have lit t le t o do wit h polit ics. On t he fift h day, a st unned-looking Erak st epped

int o

Halt 's apart ment . He looked around at t he f our expect ant faces and said:

"I'm the new Oberjarl."

"I knew it ," said Halt inst ant ly, and t he ot her t hree looked at him, t ot ally scandalized.

"You did?" Erak asked, his voice hollow, his eyes st ill showing t he shock of his sudden elevat ion t o t he

highest office in Skandia.

" Of course," said t he Ranger, shrugging. " You're big, mean and ugly and t hose seem t o be t he qualit

ies

Skandians value most ."

Erak drew himself up to his full height, trying to muster the sort of dignity that he felt an Oberjarl should

assume.

" Is t hat how you Araluens speak t o an Oberjarl?" he asked, and Halt finally grinned.

"No. That 's how we speak t o a friend. Come in and have a drink."

Over t he next few days, it began t o appear as if t he council of jarls had chosen wisely. Erak quickl y

moved

t o end old feuds wit h ot her jarls, part icularly t hose he had visit ed in his role as t ax collect or. And,

surprisingly, he kept Borsa in t he role of hilfmann.

"I t hought he couldn't st and Borsa," Will said, puzzled. But Halt merely nodded his head in

acknowledgment of Erak's choice.

"Borsa's a good administ rat or, and t hat 's what Erak's going t o need. A good leader is someone whoknows

what he's bad at , and hires someone who's good at it t o t ake care of it for him."

Will, Horace and Evanlyn had t o t hink t hat t hrough for a few seconds before t hey saw t he logic in it .


34/49

Horace, in fact , was st ill pondering it some t ime aft er t he ot hers had nodded and moved on t o

discuss

other matters.

As Oberjarl, Erak would no longer be able t o go on his annual raiding cruises at t he helm of Wolfwind,

and t hat fact t inged his sudden elevat ion wit h a cert ain amount of regret . But he announced t hat he

would be making one last voyage before he handed t he ship over t o t he care of Svengal, his longt ime

first mat e.

"I'll be t aking you lot back t o Araluen," he announced. "Seems only fair, since I was t he one responsible

for

your being here in t he first place."

Will was quiet ly pleased wit h t he news. Now t hat t he t ime was almost here t o ret urn home, he

realized

t hat he would be sad t o farewell t he big, boist erous pirat e. Wit h some surprise, he recognized t he

fact t hat he had come t o regard Erak as a good friend. Anyt hing t hat delayed t he moment of part ing

found favor in his eyes.

Spring had come, t he geese were ret urning from t he sout h and t here were deer back in t he hills, so t

here was plent y of fresh meat in place of t he dried and salt ed provisions t hat had formed t he bulk of t

he wint er fare in Hallasholm.

When he saw t he first hunt ing part ies ret urning from t he high reaches inland of t he Skandian capit al,

Will remembered one debt he st ill owed. Early one morning, he slipped quiet ly away on Tug and

headed up t he t rail t hat he and Evanlyn had followed so many mont hs ago, in a freezing blizzard.

At the little cabin where they had shelt ered through the winter, he found the uncomplaining, shaggy

little

pony who had saved his life. The pat ient creat ure had broken t he light t et her holding him in t he lean-

t o

st able behind t he cabin, and was quiet ly cropping t he new season's grass in t he clearing when Will

arrived.

Tug looked a lit t le askance at his mast er when Will unfast ened a small sack of oat s, indicat ing t hat it

was

for t he pony alone. Will consoled his horse wit h a quiet pat on t he muzzle.

" He's earned it ," he t old Tug, and t he Ranger horse shrugged-insofar as any horse is capable of

shrugging.

The nondescript pony may well have earned t he sack of oat s, but t hat didn't st op Tug's mout h from


35/49

salivat ing at t he sight and smell of t hem. When t he pony had finished t he oat s, Will remount ed Tug

and,

holding on t o t he lead rein, rode back down t o Hallasholm, where he quiet ly ret urned t he pony t o

Erak's

st able.

The night before t hey were due t o leave, Erak t hrew a farewell banquet in t heir honor. The Skandians

were

eager to show their appreciation of the efforts of the four Araluens in defending their land against the

invaders. And wit h t he shadow of t he Vallasvow lift ed from Evanlyn, t hey paid part icular at t ent ion t

o her- repeat edly t oast ing her bravery and resourcefulness in cont inuing t o direct t he fire of t he

archers as t heir posit ion was being overrun.

Halt , Borsa and Erak sat in a quiet huddle at t he head t able, discussing out st anding mat t ers such as t

he repat riat ion of t he slaves who had served in t he archers' corps. Sadly, many of t hem hadn't

survived t he bat t le, but t he promise of freedom had been made t o t heir dependant s as well, and t

he det ails had t o be t hrashed out . When t he subject was finally closed, Halt judged t he moment right

and said quiet ly:

"So what will you do when t he Temujai come back?"

There was a deafening moment of silence at t he head t able. Erak pushed his bench back and st ared at

t he

small, grim-faced man next t o him.

" Come back? Why should t hey come back? We beat t hem, didn't we?"

But Halt shook his head slowly. "As a mat t er of fact ," he said, "we didn't . We simply made it t oo cost

ly for

t hem t o cont inue-t his t ime."

Erak t hought about what he had said and glanced at Borsa for his opinion. The hilfmann nodded, a lit t

le

reluct ant ly.

"I t hink t he Ranger is right , Oberjarl," he admit t ed. "We couldn't have held out much longer." Then he

shift ed his eyes t o Halt 's and asked him: " But why should t hey come back?"

Halt t ook a sip of t he rich Skandian beer before he answered. "Because it 's t heir way," he answered

simply.


36/49

"The Temujai don't t hink in t erms of t his season or t his year, or next year. They t hink of t he next t en

or

t went y years and t hey have a long-t erm plan t o dominat e t his part of t he world. They need your

ships. So

t hey'll be back."

Erak considered t he point , t wist ing one end of his must ache in his fingers. "Then we'll beat t hem off

again,"

he said.

"Wit hout archers?" Halt asked quiet ly. "And wit hout t he element of surprise next t ime?"

Again t here was a silence. Then Erak said, half hopefully, "You could help us t rain archers. You and t he

boy?" But Halt shook his head immediat ely. And very definit ely.

"I'm not prepared t o provide Skandia wit h such a pot ent weapon," he said. "Once you learned t hose

skills,

I'd never know when t hey might be t urned against us in t he fut ure."

Erak had t o admit t he logic in t he Ranger's st at ement . Skandia and Araluen were t radit ional

enemies, aft er

all. But Borsa, wit h his negot iat or's ear, had caught an overt one in Halt 's refusal.

" But you do have a suggest ion?" he said keenly, and Halt almost smiled at him. He' d hoped t he hilf

mann

would see where he was heading.

"I was t hinking," he said, "t hat a force of, say, t hree hundred t

it was a constant tapping sound that roused will from his deep

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