John Flanagan - Oakleaf bearers

Will continued to rub the shaggy head as it leaned down to him. He smiled broadly around the campsite. Now that Halt was here and he was surrounded by his closest friends, he felt safe and secure once more-a sensation he hadn't enjoyed in over a year. He smiled at the Ranger, relieved that Halt had been pleased with his actions. Evanlyn had described their journey across the Stormwhite Sea, and the series of events that had led to their arrival at Hallasholm.

Horace had looked at Will with open admiration as she described the way he had humbled the wolfship captain Slagor in the drafty, smoky cabin on the barren island where they had sheltered from the Stormwhite's worst excesses. Halt had merely studied his apprentice with a keen glance and nodded once. That single movement meant more to Will than volumes of praise from anyone else-particularly since he wasn't terribly proud of the way things had turned out at Hallasholm, and his subsequent addiction to warmweed. He had been fearful that Halt would disapprove, but when Evanlyn had spoken of her near despair when she had found him in the yard slaves' compound, mindless and unthinking, the Ranger had merely nodded once more and uttered a curse under his breath at people who would inflict such a substance on others. His eyes had met Will's anxious gaze across the fire and Will had seen a deep, deep sadness there.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," his master said softly, and Will knew that everything would be all right.

Eventually, they had talked their fill. There would be details that could be filled in over the coming weeks, and there were items that they had forgotten. But in general terms, they were up to date with one another.

There was, however, one aspect of Halt's story that hadn't been revealed. Neither Will nor Evanlyn had learned of Halt's banishment, or his expulsion from the Ranger Corps.

As the shadows lengthened, Halt moved once more to the spot where their captive was tied hand and foot. He loosened the bonds for a few minutes, first the hands, then the feet, retying the hands before he released the second set of bonds. The Temujai warrior grunted a brief appreciation of the temporary relief. Halt had already done this several times during the afternoon, ensuring that the man wasn't permanently disabled by the restriction of the flow of blood to his hands and feet.

It also gave him an opportunity to make sure the man's bonds were tight and that he hadn't managed to loosen them or wriggle free. Knowing he would receive no reply, Halt asked the man for his name and his military unit. Although he spoke the Temujai tongue with reasonable fluency, having spent several years among the People, as they called themselves, he saw no reason to apprise the prisoner of that fact. As a consequence, Halt used the trader's language common to all the people of the Hemisphere-a melange of Gallic, Teuton and Temujai words in a simple, pidgin-language structure that took no notice of grammar or syntax.

As he had expected, the Tem'uj simply ignored his overtures. Halt shrugged and moved away, deep in thought. Horace was sitting by the fireplace, carefully cleaning and oiling his sword. Evanlyn was in the sentry position at the brow of the hilltop, keeping watch over the hillside below them. She would be due to be relieved in another half hour, he thought idly. As Halt paced back and forth, turning over the problem that taxed his mind, he became aware of another presence beside him. He glanced around and smiled to see Will pacing with him, wrapped in the gray mottled Ranger cloak that Halt had carried with him, along with the bow he'd made and a saxe knife. The double-knife scabbards were a Ranger-issued item of equipment and Halt, expelled from the Corps, had been unable to find one for the boy. As yet, Will hadn't remarked on the fact.

"What's the problem, Halt?" the young man asked now.

Halt stopped pacing to face him, his eyebrow arcing in an expression that was familiar to Will.

"Problem?" he repeated. Will grinned at him, refusing to be put off, refusing to be diverted. He's grown up a lot in the past year, Halt thought, remembering how that response would once have left the boy confused and disconcerted.

"When you pace back and forth like a caged tiger, it usually means you're trying to think through a problem of some kind," Will said. Halt pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"And I suppose you've seen so many tigers in your time?" he asked. "Caged and otherwise?"

Will's grin widened a little. "And when you try to distract me from my question by asking a question back, I know you're thinking over some problem," he added. Halt finally gave in. He had no idea that his habits had become so easy to interpret. He made a mental note to change things, then wondered if he wasn't getting too old to do so.

"Well, yes," he replied. "I must admit I do have something on my mind. Nothing major. Don't let it worry you."

"What is it?" said his apprentice bluntly, and Halt cocked his head sideways.

"You see," he explained, "when I say 'don't let it worry you,' I mean, there's no real need for us to discuss it."

"I know that," said his apprentice. "But what is it anyway?"

Halt drew a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh. "I seem to remember that I once had much more authority than I seem to have these days," he said to no one in particular. Then, realizing that Will was still waiting expectantly, he relented.

"It's these Temujai," he said. "I'd like to know what they're up to." He glanced across their campsite to where the Tem'uj was sitting, securely bound. "And I've got a snowball's chance in a forest fire of finding out from our friend there."

Will shrugged. "Is it really any of our concern?" he asked. "After all, surely we can leave them and the Skandians to fight it out."

Halt considered this, scratching at his chin with forefinger and thumb. "I take it you're thinking along the lines of the old saying 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'?" he said. Will shrugged once again.

"I wasn't thinking of it in those words exactly," he said. "But it does sum the situation up pretty well, don't you think? If the Skandians are kept busy fighting these Temujai, then they won't be able to bother us with their coastal raids, will they?"

"That's true, up to a point," Halt admitted. "But there is another old saying: 'Rather the devil you know.' Have you ever heard that one?"

"Yes. So you're saying that these Temujai could be a lot more of a problem than the Skandians?"

"Oh yes indeed. If they defeat the Skandians, there's nothing to stop them from moving on Teutlandt, Gallica, and finally Araluen."

"But they'd have to beat the Skandians first, wouldn't they?" Will said. He knew, from firsthand experience, that the Skandians were fierce, fearless warriors. He could see them forming an effective buffer between the invading Temujai and the other western nations, with both sides ending up severely weakened by the war and neither presenting a threat in the near future. It was a perfect strategic position, he told himself comfortably. Halt's next words made him feel considerably less comfortable.

"Oh, they'll defeat them, all right. Make no mistake about that. It will be a savage, bloody war, but the Temujai will win."

A FTER THE EVENING MEAL, H ALT CALLED THE SMALL GROUP together. The wind had risen with the onset of night and it whistled eerily through the branches of the pines. It was a clear night, and the half-moon shone brilliantly above them as they huddled in their cloaks around the remnants of the fire.

"Will and I were talking earlier," he told them. "And I've decided that, since our discussion concerns all of us, it's only fair to tell you what I've been thinking."

Horace and Evanlyn exchanged puzzled looks. They had both simply assumed that the master and the apprentice were catching up on lost time together. Now, it appeared, there was something else to consider.