“Failure is just a few seconds away from success.”
“Very impressive. Where did you learn that?"
Made it up just now.”
“How can you stay so calm?"
It helps if you're terrified.”
“Halt waited a minute or two but there was no sound except for the jingling of harness and the creaking of leather from their saddles. Finally, the former Ranger could bear it no longer.
What?”
The question seemed to 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 away.
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.
That’s what I want to know,” he said irritably. “What?”
Horace peered at him. The look was too obviously the sort of look that you give someone who seems to have taken leave of his senses. It did little to improve Halt’s rapidly growing 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 the question 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 with anger but before he could speak, Horace forestalled him.
What ‘what’ are you asking me?” he said. Then, thinking how to make the question clearer, he added, “Or to 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 me a question.”
Horace frowned. “I was?”
Halt nodded. “You were. I saw you take a breath to ask it.”
I see,” Horace said. “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 to ask 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 a breath once more, then hesitated. “I forget,” he said. “What were we talking about?”
“I'm the new Oberjarl."
I knew it," said Halt instantly, and the other three looked at him, totally scandalized.
You did?" Erak asked, his voice hollow, his eyes still showing the shock of his sudden elevation to the highest office in Skandia.
Of course," said the Ranger, shrugging. "You're big, mean, and ugly and those seem to be the qualities Skandian's value most.”
“It's surprising how often history is decided by something as trival as bad shellfish.”
“I thought told you to watch where you put your feet," he said accusingly. Erak shrugged.
I did," he replied ruefully. "But while I was busy watching the ground, I hit that branch with my head. Broke it clean in two."
Halt raised his eyebrows. "I assume you're not talking about your head," he muttered. Erak frowned at the suggestion.
Of course not," he replied.
More's the pity," Halt told him.”
“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 the Ranger get on with thinking while a warrior took care of walloping anyone who needed to be walloped along the way. He settled back in the saddle, contented with his lot in life.”
“You're a very amusing fellow," he told Halt. "I'd like to brain you with my ax one of these days."
Erak to Halt.”
“Well, I suppose you’re right about the forgery,” he admitted. “After all, it’s only the 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 go as far as that, would you?”
Of course not,” Halt replied smoothly. He began to pack away his forgery tools. He was glad he’d laid hands on the forged Gallican seal on his pack so easily. It was as well that he hadn’t had to tip them all out and risk Horace’s seeing the near perfect copy of King Duncan’s seal that he carried among other. “Now may I suggest you climb into your elegant tin suit and we’ll go sweet-talk the Skandian border guards.”
“Do you think you could persuade that horse of yours to stay with the other horses for a minute or two?” he said with a mock severity. “Otherwise he’ll wind up believing he’s one of us.”
He’s been driving Halt crazy since we found your tracks,” Horace put in. “He must have picked up your scent and known it was you we were following, although Halt didn’t realize it.”
At that, Halt raised an eyebrow. “Halt didn’t realize it?” he repeated. “And I suppose you did?”
Horace shrugged. “I’m just a warrior,” he replied. “I’m not supposed to be the thinker. I leave that to you Rangers.”
“Once again Erak bellowed with laughter. "Your master here went nearly the same shade of green as his cloak," he told Will. Halt raised an eyebrow.
"At least I found a use for that damned helmet," he said, and the smile disappeared from Erak's face.
"Yes. I'm not sure what I'm going to tell Gordoff about that," he said. "He made me promise I'd look after that helmet. It's his favorite-a real family heirloom."
"Well it certainly has a lived in feel to it now," Halt told him, and Will noticed there was a hint of malicious pleasure in his eye.”
“Halt shook his head. Frankly, he'd seen sacks of potatoes that could sit a horse better than Erak”
“I nearly forgot, Ragnak had a further message for you. He said if we lose this battle and loses his slaves as well, he's going to kill you for it," he said cheerfully.
Halt smiled grimly. "If we lose this battle, he may have to get in line to do it. There'll be a few thousand Temujai cavalrymen in front of him.”
“A good leader is someone who knows what he's bad at, and hires someone who's good at it to take care of it for him.”
“You may believe you're an excellent rider," he called, "but there are a score of Temujai back there who actually are.”
“After all, he did say you were the issue of an encounter between your father and a traeling hatcha-hatcha dancer."
There was a gasp of horror from the crowd.
Duncan, smiling thinly, said through gritted teeth: "Thank you so much for reminding us all, Anthony.”
“Are there bears in these mountains?" he asked.
His companion nodded. "Of course. But it's a bit early in the year for them to be moving around. Why?"
Halt let go a long breath. "Just a vague hope, really. There's a chance that when the Temujai here you crashing around in the trees, they might think you're a bear."
Erak smiled, with his mouth only. His eyes were as cold as the snow.
"You're a very amusing fellow," he told Halt. "I'd like to brain you with my ax one of these days."
"If you could manage to do it quietly, I'd almost welcome it," Halt said.”
“Do you have a death wish?" he asked. Will grinned at him.
I'm just relying on your judgment," he replied. "I can't keep track of everything in my head.”
“Gorlog's teeth!" Erak exclaimed, stunned at the numbers. "How many are there?"
"Ten thousand, maybe twelve," Halt replied briefly. The Skandian let out a low whistle.
"Are you sure? How can you tell?" It wasn't a sensible question, but Erak was overwhelmed by the size of the horse herd and he asked the question more for something to say than for any other reason. Halt looked at him dryly.
"It's an old calvary trick," he said. "You count the legs and divide by four.”
“Evanlyn smiled grimly as she thought how once she might have objected to the cruelty of the bird's death. Now, all she felt was a sense of satisfaction as she realized that they would eat well today.
Amazing how an empty belly could change your perspective, she thought.”
“Now," said Halt, "all I have to do is work out a way of beating these horse-riding devils."
Erak grinned at him. "That should be child's play," he said. "The hard part will be convincing Ragnak about it.”
“What do you mean, Araluen? Death?"
Halt made a careless gesture. "The usual, I suppose: the sudden cessation of life. The end of it all. Departure for a happier place. Or oblivion, depending upon your personal beliefs.”
“We're going to see Ragnak," Halt told him. "He's going to have to promise to free every slave who fights for Hallasholm."
Will shook his head doubtfully. "He won't like that," he said. Halt turned and looked at him, a faint grin touching the corner of his mouth.
He'll hate it," he agreed.”
“She's missing," he said, in that same worried tone. He cast his hands out and looked around the empty practice field, as if he somehow expected to see her appear there. "Nobody's seen her since midmorning yesterday. I've looked everywhere for her, but there's no sign."
Missing?" Will repeated, not quite understanding. "Missing where?"
Horace looked up at him with a sudden flare of asperity. "If we knew that, she wouldn't be missing would she?"
Will put up his hands in a peacmaking gesture.
You're right!" he said. "I didn't realize. I've been a little tied up trying to get these archers organized. Surley somebody must seen her last night. Her room servants for example?”
“It's not what I expected," he said. "They're far more organized than our intelligence had led us to believe.”
“It was not polite for a Temujai general to allow his emotions to show.”
“Let's face it, she can't have simply disappeared...can she?"
Horace shrugged. "That's what I keep telling myself," he said morosley. "But somehow it looks as if she has.”
“Evanlyn opened her mouth to scream. But the horror of the moment froze the sound in her throat and she crouched, openmouthed, as death approached her. It was odd, she thought, that they had dragged her here, left her overnight and then decided to kill her.
It seem such a pointless way to die.”
“Problems postponed have a habit of solving themselves”
“It's amazing how photography can capture just a split second of something exquisite.”
“I can not think for others or without others,nor can others think for me. Even if the people's thinking is superstitious or naive,it is only as they rethink their assumptions in action that they can change. Producing and acting upon their own ideas—not consuming those of others.”
“…I have never understood the concept of infatuation. It has always been my understanding that being ‘infatuated’ with someone means you think you are in love, but you’re actually not; infatuation is (supposedly) just a foolish, fleeting feeling. But if being ‘in love’ is an abstract notion, and it’s not tangible, and there is no way to physically prove it to anyone else… well, how is being in love any different than having an infatuation? They’re both human constructions. If you think you’re in love with someone and you feel like you’re in love with someone, then you obviously are; thinking and feeling is the sum total of what love is. Why do we feel an obligation to certify emotions with some kind of retrospective, self-imposed authenticity?”
“I kept glancing at her animated face, scrunched up as though imitating an adult. I got hit with that overwhelming feeling. It sneaked up on me. Parents get it from time to time. You are looking at your child and it is an ordinary moment, not like they are onstage or hitting a winning shop, just sitting there, and you look at them and you know that they are your whole life and that moves you and scares you and makes you want to stop time.”
“When a good woman knows an important thing needs to be done, she won't let death prevent her from doing it.”
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