Obviously, Battleschool discipline and a few years' maturity had wrought some interesting changes.
He considered the boy again. Truth be told, it would be handy to have a companion along. He'd refused Gilan because he knew the other Ranger was needed here in Araluen. But Horace was a different matter.
His Craftmaster had given permission-unofficially. He was a more than capable swordsman. He was loyal and he was dependable. And besides, Halt had to admit that, since Will had been taken prisoner, he'd missed having someone younger around him. He'd missed the excitement and the eagerness that came with young people. And, God help him, he'd even missed the endless questions that came with them as well.
He realized now that Horace was regarding him anxiously. The boy had been waiting for a decision and so far had received nothing more than Halt's sardonic challenge as to the identity of the "good sword" suggested by Sir Rodney. He sighed heavily and let a savage frown crease his brow.
"I suppose you'll bombard me with questions day and night?" he said. Horace's shoulders slumped at the tone of voice, then, suddenly, he understood the meaning of the words. His face shone and his shoulders lifted again.
"You mean you'll take me?" he said, excitement cracking his voice into a higher register than he intended. Halt looked down and adjusted a strap on his saddlebag that required no adjustment at all. It wouldn't do to let the boy see the slight smile that was creasing his weathered face.
"It seems I have to," he said reluctantly. "You can hardly go back to Sir Rodney now that you've run away, can you?"
"No, I can't! I mean:that's wonderful! Thanks, Halt! You won't regret it, I promise! It's just that I sort of promised myself that I'd find Will and help rescue him." The boy was fairly babbling in his pleasure at being accepted. Halt nudged Abelard with his knee and began to ride on, Tug following easily. Horace urged his battlehorse to fall into step with Halt, and continued his flow of gratitude.
"I knew you'd go after him, Halt. I knew that's why you pretended to be angry with King Duncan! Nobody at Redmont could believe it when we heard what had happened, but I knew it was so you could go and rescue Will from the Skandians-"
"Enough!" Halt finally said, holding up a hand to ward off the flow of words, and Horace stopped in midsentence, bowing his head apologetically.
"Yes. Of course. Sorry. Not another word," he said.
Halt nodded thankfully. "I should think not."
Chastened, Horace rode in silence beside his new master as they headed toward the east coast. They had gone another hundred meters when he finally could stand it no more.
"Where will we find a ship?" he asked. "Will we sail directly to Skandia after the raiders? Can we cross the sea at this time of year?"
Halt turned in the saddle and cast a baleful eye on the young man.
"I see it's started already," he said heavily. But inside, his heart felt lighter than it had for weeks.
11
T HE UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL OF S LAGOR'S VESSEL, W OLF F ANG, made life even more unpleasant on Skorghijl. The crowded living conditions were now worse than ever, with two crews crammed into the space designed for one. And with the crowding came fighting. Skandians weren't used to long hours of inactivity, so they filled their time with drinking and gambling-an almost certain recipe for trouble. When the members of one crew were involved, the disagreements that arose were usually settled quickly and forgotten. But the separate loyalties of the two crews inflamed the situation so that arguments flared, tempers were lost and, at times, weapons were drawn before Erak could intervene.
It was noticeable, Will thought, that Slagor never raised his voice to quell the fights. The more he saw of Wolf Fang 's captain, the more he realized that the man had little real authority and commanded minimal respect from the other Skandians. Even his own crew worked for pay, not out of any sense of loyalty.
The work for Will and Evanlyn had doubled, of course. There was twice as much cooking, serving and cleaning to be done now. And twice as many Skandians to demand that they take care of any other job that needed doing. But at least they had retained their living space. The lean-to was too cramped for any of the massive Skandians to even consider co-opting it for their own use. That was one compensation for having been captured by giants, Will thought.
But it was more than just the fighting and the extra work that had made life miserable for Will and Evanlyn. The news of the mysterious Vallasvow taken by Ragnak had been devastating for the princess. Her life was now at risk and the slightest mistake, the slightest incautious word, from either of them could mean her death. She pleaded with Will to be careful, to continue to treat her as an equal, as he always had before she told him her real identity. The least sign of deference on his part, the smallest gesture of respect, might well raise suspicions and spell the end for her.
Naturally, Will assured her that he would guard her secret. He schooled himself never to think of her as Cassandra, but always to use the name Evanlyn, even in his thoughts. But the more he tried to avoid the name, the more it seemed to want to spring unbidden to his tongue.
He lived in constant fear that he would inadvertently betray her.
The bad feeling between them, born out of boredom and frustration as much as anything, had melted away in the face of this new and very real danger. They were allies and friends again, and their resolve to help and support each other regained the strength and conviction that they had enjoyed in their brief time in Celtica.
Of course, Evanlyn's plan for ransom was now totally destroyed.
She could hardly reveal herself to a man who had sworn to kill every member of her family. That realization, coupled with her own natural resentment at being forced to do menial, unpleasant work, made her life on Skorghijl miserable. The one bright spot in her life was Will-always cheerful, always optimistic, always encouraging. She noticed how he unobtrusively took the worst, messiest jobs for himself whenever possible and she was grateful for it. Thinking back on the way she had treated him a few days earlier, she felt ashamed. But when she tried to apologize-and she was straightforward enough to admit that she had been in the wrong-he dismissed it with a laugh.
"We're all a little cabin crazy," he said. "The sooner we get away, the better."
He still planned to escape, and she realized she must accompany him. She knew he had something in mind, but he was still working on his plan and so far he hadn't told her the details.
For now, the evening meal was over and there was a massive sack full of wooden platters, spoons and mugs to clean in the seawater and fine gravel at the water's edge. Sighing, she bent to pick them up.
She was exhausted and the thought of crouching ankle-deep in the cold water while she scrubbed at the grease was almost too much to bear.
"I'll do those," Will said quietly. He glanced around to make sure none of the Skandians were watching, then took the heavy sack from her.
"No," she protested. "It's not fair:" But he held up a hand to stop her.
"There's something I want to check anyway. This will be good cover," he said. "Besides, you've had a bad couple of days. Go and get some rest." He grinned. "If it makes you feel any better, there'll be plenty of washing up to do tomorrow. And the next day. You can do it all while I skive off."
She gave him a tired smile and touched his hand in gratitude. The thought of just stretching out on her hard bunk and doing nothing was almost too good to be true.