"So what is this excellent idea of yours?" he said, piling it on a little more. Lady Pauline hesitated just long enough to let him know she could see right through him, then continued.

"Well, sir, since Halt is missing his apprentice, I thought we might look at replacing young Will for a week or two."

"Replace him?" Arald said, puzzled. "We can hardly give Halt a new apprentice for two weeks, my lady."

"No, my lord," she agreed. "But I thought I might lend him one of mine."

It was Rodney who was first to see where she was heading.

"Young Alyss," he said, "the tall blond one?"

Lady Pauline inclined her head in his direction and smiled. Sir Rodney found himself wondering about the rumored relationship between Pauline and Halt. She was tall, elegant and graceful. And even now that her blond hair was streaked with gray, she was still an exceptional beauty.

"Exactly," she said. "I mentioned I'm planning to send Alyss on her first independent mission. I thought we might ask Halt to escort her. I'm sure his presence would be good for her confidence."

Baron Arald was tugging thoughtfully at his short beard.

"She's a rather solemn lass, isn't she?" he asked, but Lady Pauline shook her head.

"On the contrary, my lord, she has a delightfully dry sense of wit. And a beautiful smile. We've been encouraging her to make greater use of it."

"And you think a week or so in her company might snap Halt out of this black mood he's in?"

"Well, if he's looking after her, it'll take his mind off his own troubles," Lady Pauline replied. "In addition, Alyss is young and free-spirited-and quite beautiful. I think her company might be enough to cheer up any man. Even grim old Halt," she added, smiling.

The Baron smiled too. "She sounds just like her teacher," he said.

And this time, it was no idle flattery.

T HERE WERE NO ANSWERS TO BE FOUND IN P ORDELLATH. The three companions went through the village and found the same signs of sudden departure that they had seen at the border post. There was evidence of some hasty packing, but in the majority of houses, most of the occupants' possessions were still in place. Everything spoke of a population that had departed in a hurry, taking what they could carry on their backs and little more. Tools, utensils, clothes, furniture and other personal goods had been left behind. But they could find no clue as to where the people of Pordellath had gone. Or why they had departed.

As full night closed in, Gilan finally called an end to their search. They returned to the Riadhah's house, where they unsaddled the horses and rubbed them down in the shelter of a small porch at the front of the building.

They spent an uneasy night in the house. At least Will did, and he assumed Horace was as uncomfortable as he was. Gilan, for his part, seemed relatively unperturbed, rolling himself into his cloak and falling instantly asleep when Will relieved him after the first watch. But Gilan's manner was more subdued than normal and Will guessed that the Ranger was more concerned by this baffling turn of events than he was letting on.

As he stood his watch, Will was amazed at how much noise a house could make. Doors creaked, floors groaned, the ceiling seemed to sigh with every breath of wind outside. And the village itself seemed full of loose items that would bang and clatter as well, bringing Will to a nervous, wide-eyed attention as he sat by the unglazed window in the front room of the house, the wooden shutters hooked back to keep them secure.

The moon seemed keen to join in on the subterfuge as well, soaring high above the village and casting deep pools of shadow between the houses of the village. Shadows that seemed to move slightly when you caught sight of them out of the corner of your eye, then stopped as soon as you stared directly at them.

More movement came as clouds flew across the face of the moon, alternately causing the main square to be illuminated, then plunged into sudden darkness.

Just after midnight, as Gilan had predicted, a steady rain set in and the other noises were joined by the gurgle of running water and the plash-plash-plash of drops falling off eaves and into puddles below.

Will woke Horace to take over the watch at around two in the morning. He piled up a stack of cushions and bedcovers on the floor of the main room, wrapped his cloak around him and lay down.

Then he lay awake for another hour and a half, listening to the creaks, the groans, the gurgles and the splashes, wondering whether Horace had dropped off to sleep and whether, even now, some unseen horror was creeping up on the house, bloodthirsty and unstoppable.

He was still worrying about it when he finally fell asleep, without noticing that he had done so.

They were on the road early the following morning. The rain had stopped just before dawn and Gilan was keen to press on to Gwyntaleth, the first large town on their route, and find some answers to the puzzles that they had found so far in Celtica. They had a quick, cold breakfast of hard bread and dried fruit, washed down with icy water from the village well, then saddled up and rode out.

They wound down the stony path from the village, taking their time on the uneven surface. But when they hit the main road once more, they urged their horses into a canter. They held the canter for twenty minutes, then rested the horses by riding at a walk for the next twenty. They maintained that alternating pattern through the morning, and the miles went by steadily.

They ate a quick meal in the middle of the day, then rode on. This was the principal mining area of Celtica and they passed at least a dozen coal or iron mines: large black holes cut into the sides of hills and mountains, surrounded by timber shoring and stone buildings. Nowhere, however, did they see any sign of life. It was as if the inhabitants of Celtica had simply vanished from the face of the earth.

"They may have deserted their border post, and even their villages," Gilan muttered once, almost to himself. "But I've never yet met a Celt who would desert a mine while there was an ounce of metal still to be torn from it."

Eventually, in midafternoon, they came over a crest and there, in a valley dropping away from them, were the neat rows of stone roofs that formed Gwyntaleth township. A small spire in the center of the town marked a temple-the Celts had their own unique religion, which had to do with the gods of fire and iron. A larger tower formed the main defensive position for the town.

They were too far away to make out whether there might be any movement of people in the streets. But, as before, there was no sign of smoke from the chimneys and, even more significantly, according to Gilan, no noise.

"Noise?" Horace asked. "What kind of noise?"

"Banging, hammering, clanking," Gilan answered him briefly. "Remember, the Celts don't just mine iron ore. They work the iron as well. With the breeze blowing from the southwest as it is, we should be able to hear the forges at work, even from this distance."

"Well, let's go see then," Will said, and began to urge Tug forward. Gilan, however, put up a hand to restrain him.

"I think perhaps I might go on ahead alone," he said slowly, his eyes never leaving the town in the valley below them. Will looked at him, puzzled.

"Alone?" he asked, and Gilan nodded.

"You noted yesterday that we were making ourselves pretty obvious when we rode into Pordellath, and you were right. Perhaps it's time we became a little more circumspect. Something is going on and I'd like to know what it is."

Will had to agree that it made good sense for Gilan to go on alone. After all, he was possibly the best unseen mover in the Ranger Corps, and Rangers were the best unseen movers in the kingdom.