Will smiled briefly. He had grown to like Bartell, a well-read and amazingly knowledgeable man, in spite of the fact that their first few meetings had been occasions of distinct discomfort for Will. Bartell had been expert at devising tests for the apprentice that were calculated to make the young man's life miserable. Will had since come to value the tough questions and difficult problems that Bartell had posed for him. They had all helped prepare him for the difficult life of a Ranger.
That life itself was the other chief compensation for the solitary nature of the Ranger's day-to-day existence. There was a deep satisfaction and an irresistible allure to being part of an elite band that knew the inner workings and the political secrets of the whole kingdom. Ranger apprentices were recruited for their physical skills-coordination, nimbleness, speed of hand and eye-but even more so for their natural curiosity. A Ranger sought always to know more, to ask more and to find out more about what went on around him. As a youngster, before Halt had recruited him, that restless curiosity, and the precociousness that stemmed from it, had caused Will more than his share of troubles.
He was entering the small village now and more people were observing him. Most of them wouldn't make eye contact, and the few who did dropped their gaze when he nodded to them-pleasantly enough, he thought. They saluted, with a clumsy movement of hand to brow, and moved aside to let him pass-quite needlessly, in fact, as there was plenty of room in the broad village street. He made out the symbols for the usual trades that could be found in any village: blacksmith, carpenter, cobbler.
At the end of the single street was a larger building. It was the only two-story structure in the village and it had a wide verandah at the front and the symbol of a tankard hanging above the door. The inn, he realized. It looked clean and well kept, the shutters of the upstairs bedroom windows freshly painted and the mud walls whitewashed. As he watched, one of the upstairs windows opened and a girl's head appeared at the opening. She looked to be about nineteen or twenty, with dark, close-cropped hair and wide-set green eyes. She had a clear complexion and was remarkably pretty. What was more, alone among the people of the village, she continued to meet his gaze as he looked at her. In fact, she went so far as to smile at him and, when she did, the face transformed from pretty to breathtaking.
Will, unsettled by the reluctance of people to meet his gaze, was even more unsettled now by the girl's undisguised interest in him. So you're the new Ranger, he imagined her thinking. You look awfully young for the job, don't you?
As he rode under the window, he realized uncomfortably that as he had raised his head to watch her, his mouth had gaped a little. He snapped it shut and nodded at the girl, stern and unsmiling. Her grin grew wider and it was he who broke the eye contact first.
He had planned to stop for a quick meal at the inn but the disconcerting presence of the girl made him change his mind. He recalled the written directions he had been given. His own cabin would be some three hundred meters beyond the village, on the road to the castle and sheltered by a small grove of trees. He could see the grove now and he touched his heels to Tug's side, letting the little horse break into a trot as they left the village behind. He could sense twenty or thirty pairs of eyes boring curiously into his back as he rode. He wondered if the green eyes from the upper room of the inn were among them, then shrugged the thought aside.
The cabin was a typical Ranger's house, built of logs with large flat river stones for roofing. There was a small verandah at the front of the house and a stable and saddling yard behind it. It nestled under the trees, and he was surprised to see a curl of smoke from the chimney at one end of the building.
He swung down from Tug's saddle, a little stiff after a day's riding. There was no need to tether Tug but he looped the packhorse's reins around one of the verandah posts. He checked the dog, saw that she was asleep and decided she could stay where she was for a few minutes more.
If there had been any doubts that this was to be his house, they were dispelled by the carved outline of an oakleaf in the lintel over the door. He stood for a moment, scratching Tug's ears as the horse nuzzled gently against him.
"Well, boy," he said, "looks like we're home."
3
Will pushed open the door and went inside the cabin. It was virtually identical to the one that had been his home for much of the last few years. The room he entered took up about half the interior space and served as a combined sitting and dining area. There was a pine table with four plain chairs to his left, against a window, and two comfortable-looking wooden armchairs and a two-place settle at the opposite end, grouped around the cheerful fire crackling in the grate. He looked around the room, wondering who had laid the fire.
The kitchen was a small room adjoining the dining area. Copper pots and pans, obviously freshly cleaned and polished, hung on the wall beside the small wood-fueled cooking range. There were fresh wildflowers in a small vase under the window-the last of the season, he thought. The homey touch reminded him once more of Halt, and the thought brought a lump of loneliness to Will's throat. The grim-faced Ranger had always contrived to have flowers in his cabin whenever possible.
Will moved to inspect the two small bedrooms-simply furnished and opening off the living area. As he expected, there was nobody in those rooms either. He had exhausted all possibilities in the little cabin-unless the person who had laid the fire and arranged the flowers was hiding in the stables at the back, which he doubted.
The cabin had been cleaned recently, he realized. Bartell had been gone a month or more, yet when he ran his finger along the top of the fireplace mantel there was not a trace of dust. And the stone flagging in front of the grate had been recently swept as well. There was no sign of ash or debris from a fire.
"Obviously we have a friendly spirit living nearby," he said to himself. Then, remembering the animals waiting patiently outside, he moved to the door again. He glanced at the sun's position and estimated there was still over an hour of daylight left. Time to unpack before he made his presence known at the castle.
The dog was awake when he looked at her, her varicolored eyes showing keen interest in the world around her. That was a good thing, he realized. It was an indication of a strong will to live that would stand her in good stead in her current weakened condition. He gently lifted her from her nest on the packhorse and carried her inside the house. She lay relatively contentedly on the flagstones close to the fire, soaking up the warmth into her black coat. Returning to the packhorse, Will dug out an old horse blanket and took it back in to arrange a softer bed for the dog. When he laid it out for her, she rose painfully and limped the few steps to lie on it, settling herself with a grateful sigh. He fetched a bowl of water from the pump that had been built into the kitchen bench-no need to draw water from an outside well here, he realized-and left it beside her. The thick tail thumped softly on the floor once or twice in recognition of his care.
Satisfied, Will went back to the horses. He loosened the girth on Tug's saddle. There was no point unsaddling yet as he still needed to make his official call at the castle. Then he began to unload the small pile of personal belongings that he had brought with him.
That done, he unsaddled the packhorse and led it to the stable, where he rubbed it down and put it in one of the two stalls. He noticed that the manger in the stall was filled with fresh hay and the water bucket was filled too. He inspected the water. No sign of dust on the surface. No trace of green in the bucket. He hefted the bucket from the other stall and took it outside to Tug, letting his horse drink his fill. Tug shook his mane in gratitude.