`I'll bear it in mind,' Horace said gravely. But he noticed that Halt had contrived to avoid answering Will's question. The younger Ranger had noticed it too but he decided to let his mentor off the hook.
Halt busied himself lighting the small lantern on the table between the two beds. As the flame flared up and the lens of the lamp spread its soft light into the corners of the room, he turned to Will curiously.
`I didn't expect you so soon,' he said. 'Did something go wrong?'
Will shrugged. 'Not really. Tennyson decided that minstrels weren't welcome in his camp and wanted to confiscate my mandola, so -'
`Your what?' Halt asked, frowning.
Will sighed in frustration. 'My lute.'
Halt nodded, understanding now. 'Oh. Right. Carry on.'
Will raised his eyebrows at Horace and the warrior smiled in sympathy.
`So,' Will continued, 'I decided to get out. They're breaking camp anyway and they're heading directly here.'
Halt rubbed his beard reflectively. 'I didn't expect that,' he said. 'I thought he'd spend a few more days gathering supporters.'
`He doesn't need them. He must have four hundred with him now. Plus I think the news of Craikennis has spooked him. A messenger arrived the other day and his news had Tennyson very upset indeed. I think he had the messenger killed, as a matter of fact.'
`Makes sense,' Horace put in. 'He wouldn't want news of the Sunrise Warrior's victory getting out.'
`No. He wouldn't,' said Halt. 'And you say he has four hundred people with him now?'
`At least,' Will said. 'Of course, the bulk of them are country folk, not trained fighters. But he's got an inner circle of supporters, including those two giant bruisers, Killeen and Gerard.'
`Still, a force of four hundred isn't to be sneezed at. I doubt if Ferris could raise more than a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty troops. That's if they chose to obey him.'
`How did it go with Ferris?' Will asked. 'Was he pleased to see you after all this time?'
`Hardly,' Halt said dryly. 'He'd already been in contact with Tennyson. He was thinking of selling out.'
`Was?' Will prompted.
`I think Halt persuaded him otherwise,' Horace said, with a grim smile. 'We're going back for his decision tomorrow.'
Will shook his head doubtfully. 'You're cutting it fine then. The Outsiders could be here by tomorrow.'
`That could make things awkward,' Halt said. 'But there's nothing we can do about it. If I try to rush him and see him tonight, he'll dig his heels in. Particularly if he thinks we're panicking.' He considered the matter in silence for a few seconds, then continued. 'No. We'll stick to the original schedule. Will, for the moment, we'll keep you out of sight. You stay here.'
Will shrugged. 'If you say so. Any particular reason? You're not ashamed of me, are you?' he added in a bantering tone.
A faint smile touched Halt's face, the equivalent of a guffaw in anyone else. 'No more than normally,' he said. `No. But Ferris is used to the two of us. If we turn up with an extra person, it'll make him suspicious.' He sighed. `Anything makes that man suspicious. And besides, it might be useful if we keep you in reserve. It never hurts to have a potential ace up your sleeve.'
`So I'm an ace?' Will grinned. 'I'm flattered, Halt, flattered. I had no idea you regarded me so highly.'
Halt gave him a long-suffering look. 'I might have been more accurate to say a joker.'
`Whatever you say.' A thought struck Will. `Oh, I meant to say: Tennyson has three new recruits. Foreigners, dressed in leather, with dull purple cloaks and large, feathered hats. They carry crossbows and a whole array of nasty-looking daggers – and they look as if they know how to use them.'
Halt's expression grew serious as he listened to the description. At the mention of the weapons, he nodded. `Genovesans,' he said softly.
Horace frowned at the word. 'Who-novesans?' he asked. He'd never heard the word before.
Halt shook his head. 'You warriors don't do much geography in Battleschool, do you?'
Horace shrugged. 'We're not big on that sort of thing. We wait for our leader to point to an enemy and say, "Go whack him." We leave geography and such to Rangers. We like you to feel superior.'
`Go whack him, indeed,' Halt said. 'It must be comforting to lead such an uncomplicated life. They're from the city of Genovesa, in Toscana. They're mercenaries and professional assassins – that's pretty much the main industry in the city. In addition to their weapons, they usually know a dozen ways to poison their victims. If Tennyson has hired three of them, he's upping the stakes. They don't come cheap and they're trouble.'
Will was nodding knowledgeably. 'Genovesans. I thought as much,' he said. Horace shot a pained look in his direction.
`You had no idea,' he said and Will couldn't manage to keep a straight face.
`Maybe not. But I knew they were trouble,' he said. His smile faded as Halt replied.
`Oh, they're trouble, all right. They're big trouble. Be very careful if you come up against them, both of you.'
Chapter 35
'I can't do it,' said Ferris.
Halt's eyes darkened in anger as he looked at his brother. Ferris quailed before the look, shrinking back onto his throne as if the oversized wooden seat gave him strength.
`I won't,' he repeated petulantly. 'I can't. And you can't force me to do it.'
`Don't be too sure of that,' Halt told him. He glanced at Horace and Sean, saw the contempt on one face and the bitter disappointment on the other. But he knew Ferris was right. He couldn't force him to stand up to Tennyson.
`Why should I, Halt? Why should I do what you say? What's in it for you, after all?' His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he said the words. In Ferris's world, people only did things out of self-interest. Now he wondered what Halt stood to gain if he, Ferris, denounced Tennyson as a charlatan. And as he had the thought, the obvious answer rose up before him. He slid off the throne and stepped forward to face Halt, emboldened now that he could see his brother's ulterior motive.
`Suddenly, I see. You want me to stand against Tennyson in the hope that he and his followers will kill me. That's it, isn't it? You'll let them do your dirty work for you, and then you'll magically reappear and take my place on the throne. And I wager you'll simply accept Tennyson's conditions when you do.'
Halt studied his brother's face for a few seconds, saw the devious mind working behind the ever-shifting eyes. He shook his head in utter contempt.
`I might think that way, Ferris. If I were you. But my real concern is for the people out there.' He gestured in the direction of the town below them. 'The ones who call you their King – who look to you for leadership and protection. And God help them for they'll get little of either from you.'
`Please, your majesty,' Sean said, stepping forward. `Please reconsider. Halt is right. The people do need you. They need someone to lead them. To take charge.'
Ferris laughed scornfully at his nephew. `Oh, it's "please, your majesty" now, is it, Sean? Yesterday, you were all too ready to call him your majesty, weren't you? Don't think I don't see through your treacherous ways. You're in it with them.'
Sean stepped back now, as if being too close to his uncle made him feel unclean. His voice was low and angry as he spoke.
`I have never been disloyal to you, your majesty. Never!'
The anger was so palpable that Ferris eyed his nephew nervously. Perhaps he had gone too far. He knew howmuch he relied on Sean. But he still refused to budge on the main question.