John Flanagan - The Kings of Clonmel

'I suppose you're right,' she said. Then, changing the subject, she said: 'So you've decided to join this special group of Crowley's?'

'Yes,' he replied. 'I assume you approve?'

She looked sidelong at him. 'Let me put it this way. If you'd declined, I would have come after you and dragged you back here feet first until you came to your senses.'

'That might have been fun,' he murmured and she jerked at his arm in mock anger. He noticed that she didn't let go of his hand, however. As they approached the stable, one of the younger grooms hurried eagerly out to meet them.

'Good afternoon, Ranger Will,' he said, and made a gesture of welcome with his arms spread wide, as if inviting Will to inspect conditions in the stable. 'May I look after the famous Tug for you?'

Will hesitated for a second. He had been trained to look after Tug himself and not assume that someone else would do it for him. He felt a nudge against his shoulder. Tug, of course.

Hear that? The famous Tug.

At the same time, Alyss squeezed his hand. She could see that the stable hand would be bitterly disappointed if his offer were refused. For a young man like him, Will was a figure to be admired and looked up to. He was Will Treaty, with a list of accomplishments and famous deeds as long as your arm. It would be a privilege to take care of his horse. And she loved Will all the more because he didn't realise the fact.

'I'd be honoured, Ranger,' the groom added.

'Let him do it,' Alyss said softly. Will shrugged and passed the reins to him.

'Very well He hesitated. He didn't know the youth's name.

'It's Ben, Ranger. Ben Dooley.'

'Very well, Ben Dooley. I'm sure you'll take excellent care of the famous Tug.' He looked meaningfully at the little horse. 'And you behave yourself.'

Tug came as close as a horse could to raising one eyebrow. He looked at Will and Alyss, still hand in hand.

You're talking?

Will realised, not for the first time, that he would never get the last word with this horse. He shook his head ruefully.

'Let's go see the Baron,' he said.

So much was familiar. So many sights and sensations and memories came crowding back to him as he climbed the steps to Baron Arald's office. Again, Will felt Alyss twitch his arm.

'Remember that day?' she said. She didn't need to say which day. She meant the day when she and Will and Horace, along with Jenny and George, had climbed these stairs to be chosen by their eventual masters. In truth it was only a matter of years but it seemed as if decades had passed.

'Who could forget it?' he asked. 'What's George up to these days?'

'He's become one of the fief's leading defence attorneys,' she said. 'He's in great demand for legal matters.'

Will shook his head. 'He always had a brain for them, didn't he? And Jenny? Is she still working with Master Chubb?'

She smiled. 'No, much to his disappointment. He sees her as his finest creation and he'd love to have her with him. But some time back, she told him, "Master Chubb, there's not room in this kitchen for two artists such as we. I need to find my own space."'

'And did she?'

'She did indeed. She bought a share of the inn atRedmont village and runs one of the finest dining halls for miles around. Chubb's a regular customer, too.'

'Really?'

'Really. Apparently, one night he made a suggestion, very politely, I must say, that perhaps a dish might benefit from a hint more spice. She told him, "Less is more, Master Chubb. Less is more." And then she rapped him on the head with her ladle.'

Will was incredulous. He couldn't imagine anyone with the nerve to rap Chubb on the head.

'I guess it was ladles at ten paces after that?' he said but Alyss shook her head.

'On the contrary. He very meekly apologised. Secretly, I think he loved it. He's very proud of her. Here we are,' she added as they arrived at the anteroom to the Baron's office. Reluctantly, she released his hand. 'I'll leave you to report in. Come and find me later.'

She leaned forward, kissed him lightly on the lips and slipped away, waving her hand in a farewell gesture behind her. She skipped down the steps. It was such an excellent day, she thought.

Will watched her go. Then he turned, gathered his thoughts and knocked on the door to the Baron's anteroom.

The first hint of daylight was showing over the top of the bluff. Off to the right and left, it was already touching the treetops where the mass of the steep hill didn't cast a long shadow. That suited Halt's purpose ideally. When the sun finally broke clear of the top of the bluff, it would be in the eyes of the men at the bottom of the hill, adding to their uncertainty.

Colly was dozing uncomfortably as Halt released the thumb 'and toe cuffs, wrinkling his nose once more as he came close to the man's feet. Then he stepped back and nudged him with the toe of his boot, his hand ready on the hilt of his saxe.

As he woke, realisation dawned in the criminal's eyes that his hands and feet were free. He tried to rise quickly, but the stiff, cramped muscles in his arms and legs defeated him. He cried out in pain and rolled onto his side, making helpless little scrabbling movements.

`It'll take a few minutes for those muscles to loosen up,'Halt told him. 'So don't try anything foolish. In the meantime, slip off your jacket.'

Colly, lying on his side, looked up at him. 'My jacket?' Halt raised an eyebrow impatiently.

`Your ears aren't cramped,' he said. 'Take off the jacket.'

Slowly, Colly worked himself into a sitting position and unbuttoned his thigh-length over-jacket. He tossed it to one side, then looked a question at Halt. The Ranger nodded.

`So far so good. Now put on the cloak beside you.'

For the first time, Colly noticed that Halt's camouflage cloak was lying on the ground near him. Clumsily, he threw it round his shoulders and fastened it in place. He had obviously decided that there was no future in asking questions. And besides, he was beginning to understand what Halt had in mind.

`Now let's get you on your feet,' Halt said. He gripped one of Colly's forearms and hauled him upright. For a second or two, Colly stood unmoving, testing the feeling in his arms and legs. Then, rather predictably, he – tried to throw a punch at Halt. Halt ducked under the wild blow, then, stepping in and pivoting his upper body, he hit Colly with a palm strike to the jaw, sending him sprawling again.

`Don't try that again,' he said. There was no anger in his voice. Just a calm certainty that he could handle anything Colly attempted. While the Outsider clambered shakily to his feet again, Halt slid on the thick woollen jacket he had discarded. His nose twitched again at the combined smells of grease, sweat and dirt.

`This is nearly as bad as your socks,' he muttered.

Then, stooping, he picked up Colly's narrow-brimmed felt hat and placed it on his own head.

`Move around a little,' he told his prisoner. 'Shake your arms and legs to get the blood flowing. I want you in top form when you start up the hill.'

Colly's jaw set in a stubborn line as he tried once more for defiance.

`I ain't running up that hill,' he said.

Halt shrugged. 'Then die here. They're the only two choices you have.'

For the second time, Colly looked into those dark eyes and saw no sign of pity or compromise there. And for the second time, his gaze dropped from the other man's. He began to shake his arms and legs, grimacing with pain as blood flowed back into his muscles. While he did so, Halt retrieved his longbow and quiver, slinging the latter around his shoulders with one easy movement.

After a few minutes, when he judged that the man's movements had become easier, Halt motioned for him to stop. He beckoned him towards the uphill side of the rock outcrop that sheltered them from sight.