"Gil," Will said, as an awkward thought struck him. "What are we going to do about those two?" He jerked a thumb toward the two bandits, still tied back to back, still trying to doze off and still jerking each other awake as they did so.
"That's the question, isn't it?" said the Ranger. "I suppose I could hang them. I do have the authority. After all, they did try to interfere with officers on the King's business. And they're looting in time of war. They're both capital offenses."
He cast his gaze around the rocky hills surrounding them. "The question is whether I can actually do that here," he murmured.
"You mean," said Will, not liking the way his friend was thinking, "you may not have the authority to hang them now that we're not in the kingdom itself?"
Gilan grinned at him. "I hadn't considered that. I was actually thinking that it'd be a bit difficult when there isn't a tree over a meter high within a hundred kilometers."
Will heaved a small inner sigh of relief as he realized Gilan hadn't been serious. Then the Ranger's grin faded and he said warningly:
"The one thing I do know is that we don't want them coming after you three again. So make no mention of my plans until we've gotten rid of them, all right?"
In the end, the solution was a simple one. First, Gilan had Horace break the blade of Carney's sword by levering it sharply between two rocks. Then he hurled Bart's cudgel into the ravine by the road's edge. They heard it clattering and bouncing off the rocky slope for several seconds.
Once that was done, Gilan forced the two men to strip to their underwear.
"You needn't watch this," he told Evanlyn. "It won't be a pretty sight."
Smiling to herself, the girl retreated inside the tent while the two men stripped down to their ragged underpants. They were shivering now in the cold mountain air.
"And your boots," Gilan ordered, and the two men sat awkwardly on the stony ground and removed their boots. Gilan nudged the piles of clothing with one toe.
"Now bundle 'em up and tie them in a ball with your belts," he ordered, and watched as Bart and Carney complied. When all was ready, he called Horace over and jerked a thumb at the two bundles of clothes and boots.
"Send 'em after the cudgel, Horace," he ordered. Horace grinned as he began to understand. Bart and Carney understood too and started a chorus of protest. It stopped as Gilan swung an icy stare upon them.
"You' regetting of flightly," he told them in a cold voice. "As I mentioned to Will earlier, I could hang you if I chose to."
Bart and Carney instantly went quiet, then Gilan gestured for Horace to tie them up again. Meekly, they submitted, and in a few minutes they were back to back again, shivering in the keen wind that circled and dipped around the hills. Gilan considered them for a moment or two.
"Throw a blanket over them," he said reluctantly. "A horse blanket."
Will obliged, grinning. He took care not to use Tug's blanket, but used the one belonging to the sturdy pack pony.
Gilan began to saddle Blaze, speaking to the others over his shoulder. "I'm going to scout around Gwyntaleth. There may be someone there who can shed a little more light on what Morgarath is up to." He looked meaningfully at Will and the apprentice realized that Gilan was saying this to throw the two bandits off. He gave a slight nod.
"I should be back about sunset," Gilan continued loudly. "Try to have something hot waiting for me then."
He swung up into the saddle and beckoned Will closer. Leaning down, he whispered: "Leave those two tied up and head off at sunset. They'll eventually get themselves loose, but then they'll have to retrieve their boots and clothes. They won't go anywhere in these mountains without them. It will give you a day's start over them and that should take you clear."
Will nodded. "I understand. Ride safely, Gilan." The Ranger nodded. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then came to a decision.
"Will," he said quietly. "We're in uncertain times and none of us knows what might be around the corner. It might be a good idea if you told Horace Tug's code word."
Will frowned. The code word was a jealously guarded secret and he was reluctant to let anyone know it, even a trusted comrade like Horace. Seeing his hesitation, Gilan continued.
"You never know what might happen. You could be injured or incapacitated and without the code word, Horace won't be able to make Tug obey him. It's just a precaution," he added. Will saw the sense in the idea and nodded.
"I'll tell him tonight," he said. "Take care, Gilan."
The tall Ranger leaned down and gripped his hand tightly.
"One other thing. You're in command here, and the others will take the lead from you. Don't give them any sign that you're not sure of yourself. Believe in yourself and they'll believe in you too."
He nudged Blaze with his knee and the bay swung around toward the road. Gilan raised a hand in farewell to Horace and Evanlyn and cantered away. The dust of his passage was quickly dispersed by the keening wind.
And then Will felt very small. And very alone.
15
T HEY RODE AS HARD AS THEY COULD THAT NIGHT, HELD BACK somewhat by the docile pace that was all the pack pony could manage. The rain came back during the night to make them more miserable. But then, an hour before dawn, it cleared, so that the first streaks of light in the east painted the sky a dull pearl color. With the gathering light, Will began to look for a place to make camp.
Horace noticed him looking around. "Why don't we keep going for a couple more hours?" he suggested. "The horses aren't really tired yet."
Will hesitated. They'd seen no sign of anyone else during the night, and certainly no evidence of any Wargals in the area. But he didn't like to go against Gilan's advice. In the past, he'd found that advice given by senior Rangers usually turned out to be worth following. He hesitated, then came to a decision as they rounded the next bend and saw a thicket of shrubs set back about thirty meters from the road. The bushes, while not more than three meters high at their tallest point, offered a thick screen, providing shelter from both the wind and any unfriendly eyes that might chance to come along.
"We'll camp here," Will said, indicating the bushes. "That's the first decent-looking campsite we've passed in hours. Who knows when we'll see another?"
Horace shrugged. He was quite content to let Will make the decisions. He had only been making a suggestion, not trying to usurp the Ranger apprentice's authority in any way. Horace was essentially a simple soul. He reacted well to commands and to other people making decisions. Ride now. Stop here. Fight there. As long as he trusted the person making the decisions, he was happy to abide by them.
And he trusted Will's judgment. He had a hazy idea that Ranger training somehow made people more decisive and intelligent. And of course, in that he was right, to a large degree.
As they dismounted and led their horses through the thick bushes into a clearing beyond, Will gave a small sigh of relief. He was stiffer than he'd realized after a full night in the saddle with only a few brief rests. Several good hours' sleep seemed like a capital idea right now. He helped Evanlyn down from the pack pony-riding on the pack saddle as she had to, it was a little awkward for her to dismount. Then he began unstrapping their packs of food supplies and the rolled canvas length that they used as a weather shelter.
Evanlyn, with barely a word to him, stretched, then walked a few paces away to sit down on a flat rock.
Will, his forehead creased in a frown, tossed one of the food packs onto the sand at her feet.