Gilan studied the troubled young man beside him and felt a surge of affection for him.
'Were you going to say "unready"?' he asked and Will seized on the word gratefully. It was less insulting than the one he had nearly used.
'Yes! Exactly! Did you feel unready for it all?'
Gilan nodded several times before answering. His smile became a little wistful as he thought back to those days years ago when he felt exactly the same doubts he was sure Will was feeling now.
'You know, a year before my finals, I was quite sure I knew it all.'
'Well, yes. Of course,' Will said. Gilan would have been more than ready a year before most apprentices. Then he realised that a year ago, he had felt exactly the same way. He turned to look at the tall Ranger.
'Then,' Gilan continued, 'in my last few weeks, I realised how much I didn't know.'
'You?' Will said incredulously. 'But you're – '
Gilan held up a hand to silence him. I started thinking, "What am I going to do without Halt to advise me? What will I do when he's not around to clear up the mistakes I make?" And the whole thing had me shaking in my boots.
'I thought, "I can't possibly do this job. I can't be Halt! How can I ever be as wise and clever and, let's face it, as downright sneaky as he is?" Is that pretty much the way you're feeling now?' he concluded.
Will was shaking his head in amazement. 'That's it in a nutshell! How can I be like Halt? How can anyone?' Again, the enormity of it all weighed down on him and his shoulders slumped. Gilan put a comforting arm around them.
'Will, the very fact that you're worrying about it says you'll be up to the job. Remember, nobody expects you to be Halt. He's a legend, after all. Haven't you heard? He's eight feet tall and kills bears with his bare hands… '
Will had to smile at that. Halt's reputation throughout the Kingdom was pretty much the way Gilan had stated it. People meeting him for the first time were surprised to find he was actually a little smaller than average.
'So you can't possibly live up to that. But remember this, you have been trained by the very best in the business. And you've been privileged to stand beside him for the past five years and see how he approaches a problem. Believe me, a lot of that rubs off. Once you have your own fief, you'll soon realise how much you do know.'
'But what if I make a mistake?' Will asked.
Gilan threw back his head and laughed. 'A mistake? One mistake? You should be so lucky. You'll make dozens! I made four or five on my first day! Of course you'll make mistakes. Just don't make any of them twice. If you do mess things up, don't try to hide it. Don't try to rationalise it. Recognise it and admit it and learn from it. We never stop learning, none of us. Not even Halt,' he added, seriously.
Will nodded his gratitude. He felt a little better. He cocked his head suspiciously.
'You're not just saying this to make me feel better, are you?' he asked.
Gilan shook his head. 'Oh no. If you don't believe me, ask Halt to tell you about some of my whoppers. He loves reminding me of them. Now let's go see what they've been talking about so seriously.'
And with his arm around the younger man's shoulders still, he led him away from the bow and back to the small group by the tiller. Halt glanced up as they approached, caught a look from Gilan and had a pretty shrewd idea what they had been talking about.
'Where have you two been?' he asked, his tone light.
'Admiring the view,' Gilan told him. 'Thought you might need some advice from the two wisest heads on board.'
Halt said nothing. But his suddenly raised eyebrow spoke volumes.
Chapter 15
Wolfwind slipped through the narrow opening in the breakwater that protected Al Shabah harbour. She was under oars, and the sail had been gathered and furled to the yardarm. At the peak of the mast flew Evanlyn's pennant – four metres long, undulating slowly in the offshore breeze to display a red hawk on a white field.
Even if the red hawk device itself were not recognised, the extreme length of the pennant, and its shape – broad where the hawk device was shown, then narrowing rapidly until it split into two swallow tails a metre from its end – were enough to indicate that the ship was carrying a royal delegation – an ambassador at least, or perhaps even a member of a royal family. Svengal had ordered the pennant unfurled when they were still a kilometre offshore, making it clear that his ship had no warlike intent.
In spite of that fact, the crews of the dozen or so merchant ships that were anchored in the harbour or tied up to docks had armed themselves and stood ready along their bulwarks to repel any attempted attack by the Skandians. Sailors in this part of the world, and most others, for that matter, knew the Skandian reputation all too well. The presence of a royal standard did little to allay their suspicions.
Wolfwind, lean, narrow and deadly looking, slipped past the first of the anchored ships, for all the world like a wolf slinking among a flock of fat, nervous sheep.
'Looks like we have a reception committee,' Halt said, indicating the main wharf that ran along the inland side of the harbour. There, they could see a body of men drawn up – perhaps fifty in all – and from time to time, the sun glinted off burnished armour or weapons. A green banner was waving from the pier – the international signal that they were cleared to come alongside.
Svengal leaned on the tiller and the bow swung towards the inner harbour. The bow oarsman called the stroke and the wolfship moved smoothly up the harbour.
'I'd better get my reception clothes on,' Evanlyn said. She slipped below, into the small triangular cabin at the stern of the ship. There was barely head room for her to stand erect there but at least she had a little privacy. A few minutes later, she re-emerged. She had replaced her usual leather tunic with a longer one of dull red satin, which came almost to her knees. It was beautifully embroidered and carried a small red hawk device on the left breast. A broad leather belt gathered the red tunic at the waist. Will noticed idly that the belt was decorated with what seemed to be interwoven leather thongs, threaded in and out through slits in the belt itself, and Criss-crossing for its entire length.
The long boots and hose remained, as did the white silk shirt she wore under the tunic. On her blonde hair, hastily brushed and gathered, she wore a red, narrow-brimmed hat with a long bill. A single hawk's feather was set in the hat band.
She wore a necklace Will had never seen before. It was made of dull grey stones, all the same size. They didn't look to be expensive or even semi-precious stones. More like smooth marble, in fact. He assumed it was just a favourite piece of costume jewellery. Maybe she wore it for luck.
Evanlyn tugged the tunic straight, removing a few last wrinkles where the belt had cinched it too tightly. She cleared her throat nervously.
'How do I look?' she asked Halt.
He nodded approval. 'Just the right blend of practicality and formality,' he replied.
She flashed a quick grin at him. She was nervous, Halt saw.
'Svengal and I will do the talking for the time being. These will just be minor officials – the harbourmaster and so forth,' he said. 'Your turn will come when we meet with the Wakir. For the time being, look arrogant and condescending.'
She started to smile, realised that such an expression didn't fit his instructions and instead arched her eyebrows and raised her chin, tilting her head back imperiously so she could stare down her nose at him.
'How's that?' she asked. She thought she saw the faintest trace of a grin in the shadows under his cowl. 'That's perfect. You could have been born to it.'
'Don't make me smile or I'll have you flogged,' she said quietly.
Halt nodded. 'You could be catching on too fast,' he said. Then his attention was drawn to the business of docking the ship.