`I suppose so,' Horace agreed. Halt invariably knew more about this sort of thing than he did. Horace, like most soldiers, hated politics, and avoided it as much as he could. Rangers, as he'd noted on more than one occasion, seemed at home with the secret dealing, scheming and subterfuge that seemed to go with ruling a country. If Halt was satisfied, Horace thought, that was good enough for him. He had more pressing matters to engage his attention.
Like lunch.
`What do we do now?' he asked after a few more minutes of silence. Halt looked up, snapped out of his reverie by the question.
`I suppose we find a comfortable inn,' he said. Horace nodded, then a thought struck him.
`What about Will? How will he know where to find us?' `He'll manage,' Halt said confidently. Then he stretched his stiff back and shoulder muscles. 'Let's find that inn. I don't know about you but I could do with a few hours' sleep.'
Horace nodded agreement. 'Yes, a good meal and then a few hours in a soft bed would do wonders.'
`I think I'll skip the meal,' said Halt.
Horace looked at him, horrified. How anyone could contemplate such a thing was beyond him.
They found a suitable inn at the base of the hill that led up to Dun Kilty castle. The inn was a two-storey building – as most inns were – but this was more substantial than most. The tap room and bar were large and the ceilings a little higher than normal, avoiding the cramped feeling that Horace had experienced in the Mountshannon and Craikennis inns. He could stand erect under the ceiling beams in this building and he gave a small sigh of relief when he realised the fact. More than once since they'd been travelling in Hibernia, he'd managed to crack his head on low ceiling beams.
The guest rooms were on the second floor. They were large and airy, with glass-paned windows that opened wide to let the breeze in and allowed a view of the high street in either direction. If you craned out, as Horace did; you could even catch a glimpse of the castle, high on the hill above them.
The sheets on the beds were clean and the blankets had been well aired. Too often in his long career, Halt had been forced to stay in establishments where the sheets bore ample evidence of those who had gone before him. He looked around the room with approval, tested the mattress with his hands and the approval grew.
`We'll take it,' he told the landlady who had showed them the room. She nodded. She had expected no less.
`How many nights?' she asked. Halt considered the question.
`Tonight and tomorrow night,' he told her. 'We may stay longer but that'll do for the moment.' He reached into the wallet hanging at his belt and paid her in advance for the,two nights. The landlady curtseyed with surprising grace for one with such a large girth and squirrelled the money away into a pocket in her apron.
`Thank you, your honour,' she said and Halt nodded. She stood expectantly. 'Will there be anything else?' `No. We'll be fine,' Halt said. But Horace interrupted him.
`Are you still serving food in the tap room?' he asked and her face was wreathed in a huge smile.
`God's love but of course we are, young man! And you with the look on you that you could eat a horse!'
Halt never ceased to be fascinated by the way women, young or old, big or small, could never resist the temptation to feed Horace.
`I'd prefer a steak,' the young warrior said, grinning.
The landlady chuckled, her multiple chins wobbling with the effort. 'And you'll have it, young sir! I'll tell Eva to put one on for you.'
`I could be a bit peckish myself,' Halt said peevishly. He wasn't. He merely said it to see what would happen. As he guessed, his comment was completely ignored. The landlady continued to beam at Horace.
`Just come on down whenever you're ready, young sir,' she told Horace effusively.
Halt shrugged and gave up. He slumped back on the bed, hands behind his head, and heaved a sigh of satisfaction. The landlady regarded him icily.
`Boots off the bed cover!' she said archly and Halt complied quickly.
She sniffed and was turning away as he mumbled, 'Bet you wouldn't have said that to Horace.'
She swung back instantly, suspicion written large on her face. 'What was that?'
In his life, Halt had faced Wargals, the terrible Kalkara, blood-mad Skandians and charging Temujai hordes without a quaver. But a bad-tempered landlady was a different matter altogether.
`Nothing,' he told her meekly.
When Horace returned an hour later, his belt satisfyingly tight around his middle, Halt was stretched out on one of the beds. Horace locked and bolted the door, then smiled as he saw that the Ranger's boots were standing together beside the bed and the cover had been turned back.
Halt was snoring softly, a fact that interested Horace. He had never known Halt to snore when they were camped out in hostile territory. The Ranger always slept as light as a cat, woken by the slightest sound. Perhaps when they were in such situations, Halt never reached the realm of deep sleep that led to the gentle whiffling sound that he heard now.
Horace yawned. The sight of the Ranger stretched out and relaxed made him realise how tired he was himself. It had been a hectic few days and the only good night's sleep they had enjoyed had been at Mountshannon, in the deserted inn. Since then, there had been a lot of hard riding. He sat on the other bed, removed his boots and lay back. The pillow was soft and the mattress, after weeks of sleeping on cold, unyielding earth, was heavenly. He was still marvelling at how comfortable he felt when he fell asleep.
Someone coughed.
Instantly, Horace shot upright in the bed, confused and disoriented, wondering where he was for a few seconds before he remembered. The light outside the window was dying as dusk crept over Dun Kilty. He glanced at Halt. The Ranger was still prone on the bed, hands behind his head. In the dimming light, Horace could see that Halt's eyes were closed, but the Ranger spoke now without opening them.
`That's a nasty cough you've got there,' he said.
`I thought I'd stumbled on Sleeping Beauty and her ugly sister,' said another voice, 'waiting for the kiss of true love to wake them from their slumbers. Forgive me if I didn't oblige.'
Horace spun round at the voice. A cloaked, cowled figure was sitting in the darkest corner of the room – Will, he realised.
Halt's voice was scornful when he replied. 'Sleeping? I've been wide awake since you stumbled up the stairs and crashed through the door like a one-legged kick-dancer. Who could sleep through that racket?'
I could, obviously, Horace thought. Then he remembered that he had locked the door behind him and wondered how Will had managed to bypass that littleproblem. He shrugged. Will was -a Ranger. They could do such things. His friend laughed as he replied to Halt's statement.
`That's a strange noise you make when you're wide awake,' he said, the smile evident in his voice. 'What is it they call it? Oh yes, snoring. Quite a talent. Most people can only do it when they're asleep.'
Halt sat up now, swung his legs off the bed, stretched his arms above his head and shook himself.
`Well, of course I continued with the pretence of snoring,' he said. ' I wanted to see how long you'd continue to sit there.'
`And how long did 1?'Will challenged.
Halt shook his head sadly and turned to Horace. `Horace, when you get older, try to avoid being saddled with an apprentice. Not only are they a damned nuisance but apparently they constantly feel the need to get the better of their masters. They're bad enough when they're learning. But when they graduate, they become unbearable.'