John Flanagan - Oakleaf bearers

"Then," he said, bewildered by this turn of events, "if you didn't do it, who did?"

Halt jerked a thumb at the bound prisoner. "Him-and his friends," he said. "He was in a Temujai scouting party we ran into yesterday. There was a larger band who attacked the border garrison, then six of them came on into Skandia."

"Temujai, you say?" Erak asked him. He knew of the warlike people from the east, of course, but it had been decades since they had come this way in any numbers.

"We killed a couple of them," Halt told him. "Two got away and we captured this one."

Erak stepped to where the prisoner stood, hands tied in front of him, glaring fiercely at the big northerners who surrounded him. He studied the flat-featured, brown-skinned face and the furs the man wore.

"He's a Tem'uj, all right:but what were they doing here?" he asked, almost to himself.

"That's the question I was asking," Halt replied.

Erak glanced at him with a flash of anger. He hated being confused. He preferred a simple, straightforward problem-the kind he could solve with his broadax. "For that matter," he snapped, "what are you doing here?"

Halt faced him evenly, uncowed. "I came for the boy," he said quietly. Erak looked at him, then at the smaller figure beside him, his face still largely concealed by the gray mottled hood. His anger faded as quickly as it had flared.

"Yes," he said, in a calmer tone. "He said you would."

Like most Skandians, Erak valued loyalty and courage. Another thought struck him-something he'd wondered about for some time.

"At the beach," he said. "How did you know to find us there?"

"You left one of your men behind," Halt said. "He told me."

The disbelief was plain on Erak's face.

"Nordal? He'd have spat in your eye before he told you anything."

"I think he thought he owed me," Halt said quietly. "He was dying and he'd lost his sword, so I gave it back to him."

Erak went to speak, then hesitated. Skandians believed that if a man died without a weapon in his hand, his soul was lost forever. It seemed the Ranger knew about the belief.

"Then I'm in your debt," he said finally. Then, after another pause: "I'm not sure how that affects this current situation, however." He rubbed his beard thoughtfully, looking at the fierce little Temujai warrior, for all the world like a tethered hawk. "And I'd still like to know what this lad and his bunch are up to."

"That's what I had in mind," Halt told him. "I was planning to get my companions here across the border into Teutlandt. Then I thought I might come back with our friend here and find the rest of the Temujai-and see how many of them there are."

Erak snorted. "You think he'll tell you?" he asked. "I don't know too much about the Temujai, but I know this much: you can torture them to death and they'll never tell you anything they don't want to."

"Yes. I've heard that too," Halt said. "But there might be a way."

"Oh, might there?" the jarl asked scornfully. "And what might 'that way' be?"

Halt glanced at the horse warrior. He was following their discussion with some interest. Halt knew he spoke the trading language but he had no idea how much of the common tongue he might understand. As a member of a scouting party, it was probable that he had some command of the language. He took the jarl's arm and led him a few paces away, out of earshot.

"I rather thought I might let him escape," he said mildly.

T HE TWO MEN STOOD OVER THE TANGLE OF DISCARDED ROPES lying in the snow. Erak pursed his lips, then turned to Halt. "Well, so far, you're right," he said. "The little beggar escaped once Olak pretended to fall asleep on guard duty." He glanced sideways at the large Skandian who had been assigned to the last watch. "You did pretend to fall asleep, didn't you?" he added, with a touch of sarcasm.

The warrior grinned easily at him. "I was wonderful, Jarl Erak," he said. "You've never seen such a lifelike impersonation of a sleeping man. I should have been a traveling player."

Erak grunted skeptically. "So what now?" he asked Halt.

"Now, I follow him while he leads me to the main body of Temujai," the Ranger said. "As we discussed last night."

"I've been thinking about that," Erak replied. "And I've decided we're going to make a change. I'm going with you."

Halt had been walking toward the spot where the horses were tethered. He stopped and turned to face the Skandian leader, a determined look on his face. "We discussed this last night. We agreed that I would be quicker and less noticeable if I went alone."

"No. We didn't agree that. You agreed that," Erak corrected him. "And even if you're right, you're just going to have to settle for being slower and noisier, and make allowances for the fact."

Halt drew in breath to begin a protest, but Erak forestalled him.

"Be reasonable," he said. "We've agreed that circumstances seem to make us temporary allies-"

"Which is why you'll keep my three companions here as hostages," Halt put in sarcastically, and Erak simply shrugged.

"Of course. They're my surety that you'll come back. But put yourself in my shoes. If there is a Temujai army out there somewhere, I don't want to take a secondhand report to my Oberjarl. I want to see it for myself. So I'm coming with you. I may need you to track the prisoner, but I can do my own looking."

He paused, waiting to see Halt's reaction. The Ranger said nothing, so Erak continued: "After all, the hostages might ensure that you come back. But they're no guarantee that you'll give me an accurate report-or even an honest one."

Halt seemed to weigh the statement for a few seconds. Then he saw a possible advantage.

"All right," he agreed. "But if you're coming with me, there's no need to keep my companions as hostages to guarantee my return. Let them go back across the border while you and I go find the Temujai."

Erak smiled at him and shook his head slowly. "I don't think so," he replied. "I'd like to think that I can trust you, but there's really no reason why I should, is there? If you know my men are holding your friends, it might make you less likely to stick one of those knives in me the minute we're out of sight over the hill there."

Halt spread his hands in a an innocent gesture. "Do you really think an undersized little runt like me could get the better of a big, hulking sea wolf like you?"

Erak smiled grimly at him. "Not for a moment," he said. "But this way I'll be able to sleep nights and turn my back on you without worrying."

"Fair enough," Halt agreed. "Now, could we get going while these tracks are still fresh, or would you prefer to argue until the snow melts?"

Erak shrugged. "You're the one who's doing all the arguing," he told him. "Let's go."

Halt glanced over his shoulder as Abelard set his hooves more securely against the steep slope. Behind him, Erak was swaying insecurely on the back of the Temujai horse. The captive had made his escape on foot, and Halt had decided that the small, shaggy and sure-footed steppes pony would be a better mount for Erak than either of Horace's battlehorses. The Skandian warriors, as was their custom, had been traveling on foot.

"I thought you said you could ride," he challenged as the jarl grabbed nervously at his mount's shaggy mane, holding himself in the saddle more by brute strength than any inherent sense of balance.

"I did," Erak replied through gritted teeth. "I just didn't say I could ride well."

They had been following the escaped Temujai warrior's trail all day. After making their way through the Serpent Pass, their trail had swung back in an arc from the Teutlandt border and they were some thirty kilometers into Skandian territory once more. Halt shook his head, then went back to peering at the ground in front of them, looking for the faint traces that the fleeing Tem'uj had left behind him.