John Flanagan: The Ruins of Gorlan

The musicians took their cue from her. Jenny was a difficult person to refuse. They quickly struck up a popular local folk tune and the sound filled the room. The other villagers gradually realized that their attention was making Will uncomfortable. They remembered their manners and began talking among themselves again, only occasionally casting glances his way, marveling that one so apparently young could have been part of such momentous events.

The four former wardmates took their seats at a table at the back of the room, where they could talk without interruption. "George sent his apologies," Alyss said as they took their seats. "He's snowed under with paperwork – the entire Scribeschool is working day and night." Will nodded his understanding. The impending war with Morgarath, and the need to mobilize troops and call in old alliances, must have created a mountain of paperwork.

So much had happened in the ten days since the battle with the Kalkara.

Making camp by the ruins, Rodney and Will had tended to the wounds of Baron Arald and Halt, finally settling the two men into a restful sleep. The following morning saw the arrival of a leg-weary Gilan, riding a sway-backed plow horse. The tall Ranger gratefully reclaimed Blaze. Then, after being reassured that his former master was in no danger, he set off almost immediately for his own fief, after Will promised to return the plow horse to its owner.

Later in the day, Will, Halt, Rodney and Arald had returned to Castle Redmont, where they were all plunged into the nonstop activity of preparing the castle's fighting men for war. There were a thousand and one details to be handled, messages to be delivered and summonses sent out. With Halt still recuperating from his wound, a great deal of this work had fallen to Will.

In times like these, he realized, a Ranger had little chance for relaxation, which made this evening such a welcome diversion. The innkeeper bustled importantly to their table and set down four glass tankards and a jug of the nonalcoholic beer he brewed from ginger root before them. "No charge for this table tonight," he said. "We're privileged to have you in our establishment, Ranger." He moved away, calling to one of his serving boys to come and attend the Ranger's table, "And be quick smart about it!" Alyss raised one eyebrow in amazement. "Nice to be with a celebrity," she said. "Old Skinner usually holds on to a coin so tight, the king's head suffocates." Will made a dismissive gesture. "People exaggerate things," he said. But Horace leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "So tell us about the fight," he said, eager for details. Jenny looked wide-eyed at Will. "I can't believe how brave you were!" she said admiringly. "I would have been terrified. "Actually, I was petrified," Will told them with a rueful grin. "The Baron and Sir Rodney were the brave ones. They charged in and took those creatures on at close quarters. I was forty or fifty meters away the whole time. " He described the events of the battle, without going into too much detail in his description of the Kalkara. They were dead and gone now, he thought, and best forgotten as soon as possible. Some things didn't need dwelling on. The three others listened, Jenny wide-eyed and excited, Horace eager for details of the fight and Alyss calm and dignified as ever, but totally engrossed in his story. As he described his solo ride to summon help, Horace shook his head in admiration.

"Those Ranger horses must be a breed apart," he said. Will grinned at him, unable to resist the jibe that rose to his mind.

"The trick is staying on them," he said, and was pleased to see a matching grin spread over Horace's face as they both remembered the scene at the Harvest Day Fair. He realized, with a small glow of pleasure, that his relationship with Horace had evolved into a firm friendship, with each viewing the other as an equal. Eager to slip out of the spotlight, he asked Horace how life was progressing in Battleschool. The grin on the bigger boy's face widened.

"A lot better these days, thanks to Halt," he said and, as Will adroitly plied him with more questions, he described life in the Battleschool for them, joking about his mistakes and shortcomings, laughing as he described the many punishment details he attracted. Will noticed how Horace, once inclined to be boastful and a little arrogant, was far more self-effacing these days. He suspected that Horace was doing better as an apprentice warrior than he let on.

It was a pleasant evening, all the more so after the strain and terror of the hunt for the Kalkara. As the servers cleared their plates, Jenny smiled expectantly at the two boys. "Right! Now who's going to dance with me?" she said brightly and Will was just too slow in responding, Horace claiming her hand and leading her to the dance floor. As they joined the dancers, Will glanced uncertainly at Alyss. He was never quite sure what the tall girl was thinking. He thought that perhaps it might be good manners to ask her to dance as well. He cleared his throat nervously. "Um… would you like to dance too, Alyss?" he said awkwardly. She favored him with the barest trace of a smile. "Perhaps not, Will. I'm no great shakes as a dancer. I seem to be all legs." In fact, she was an excellent dancer but, a diplomat to the core, she sensed that Will had only asked her out of politeness. He nodded several times and they lapsed into silence-but a friendly sort of silence.

After some minutes, she turned toward him, placing her chin on her hand to consider him closely. "A big day for you tomorrow," she said, and he flushed. He had been summoned to appear before the Baron's entire court the following day. "I don't know what that's all about," he muttered. Alyss smiled at him. "He possibly wants to thank you in public," she said. "I'm told barons tend to do that to people who have saved their lives." He began to say something, but she laid one soft cool hand over his and he stopped. He looked into those calm, smiling gray eyes. Alyss had never struck him as pretty. But now he realized that her elegance and grace and those gray eyes, framed by her fine blond hair, created a natural beauty that far surpassed mere prettiness. Surprisingly, she leaned closer to him and whispered, "We're all proud of you, Will. And I think I'm proudest of all." And she kissed him. Her lips on his were incredibly, indescribably soft. Hours later, before he finally fell asleep, he could still feel them.

WILLSTOOD, TRANSFIXED BY STAGE FRIGHT, JUST INSIDE THE massive doors to the Baron's audience hall.

The building itself was enormous. It was the main room of the castle, the room where the Baron conducted all his official business with the members of his court. The ceiling seemed to stretch upward forever. Shafts of light poured down into the room from windows set high in the massive walls. At the far end of the room, seeming to be kilometers away, the Baron sat, wearing his finest robes, on a raised, throne-like chair.

Between him and Will was the biggest crowd Will had ever seen. Halt propelled his apprentice gently forward with a shove in the back. "Get on with it," he muttered.

There were hundreds of people in the Great Hall and every eye was turned toward Will. All of the Baron's Craftmasters were there, in their official robes. All of his knights and all the ladies of the court-every one in their best and finest clothes. Farther down the hall were the men-at-arms from the Baron's army, the other apprentices and the trademasters from the village. He saw a flutter of color as Jenny, uninhibited as ever, waved a scarf at him. Alyss, standing be side her, was a little more discreet. She unobtrusively kissed her fingertips to him.

He stood awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He wished that Halt had let him wear his Ranger's cloak, so he could blend into the background and disappear.