"Maybe," said the sergeant major, "when you consider the situation between Sir Keren and Lord Orman, Sir Keren thinks it's wise to have a group of men loyal to him-not that he'd have any trouble from us, mind."

"Although," said Aldous, "we are sworn to obey the orders of the rightful lord of the castle. And with Lord Syron out of action, that's Orman, whether we like it or not."

"Sworn or not," chipped in a third soldier, "I doubt he'd find any of us willing to act against Keren."

The others all mumbled assent. But it was a low mumble and one or two glanced over their shoulders once more, aware of the dangerous nature of the sentiments they were expressing. A silence fell over the group and Will thought it best to move on. He didn't want anyone to register the fact that he'd been pumping them for information.

"Ah well," he said, "one thing's for sure. With Sir Keren's men in the tower, there are fewer to share the rest of this brandy. And there's precious little left."

"Hear, hear!" the soldiers agreed. And as the flagon was passed around, Will's mind was racing. The evening had given him much to think about and he began to wish he'd waited another day before sending a report to Halt and Crowley.

Far to the south, the two senior Rangers were studying the report that the weary pigeon had delivered barely half an hour before. There had been storms and strong winds on its path south but the sturdy little bird had flown on through the weather, arriving at Castle Araluen wet and nearly exhausted. A handler had gently detached the message from its leg and placed the faithful little bird in a warm hutch in one of Castle Araluens soaring towers. Now, feathers fluffed out and head tucked under its wing, it slept, its task completed.

Not so Halt and Crowley. The Ranger Commandant paced back and forth in his room as Halt read through Will's truncated sentences once more. Finally, the gray-bearded Ranger looked up at his chief with a frown.

"I wish you'd stop that pacing," he said mildly.

Crowley made a gesture of irritation.

"I'm worried, dammit," he said, and Halt raised one eyebrow.

"You don't say," he said with mild irony. "Well, now that we have established that fact and I have conceded that yes, you are worried, perhaps you might stop your interminable pacing."

"If I stop it, it can hardly be interminable, can it?" Crowley challenged him. Halt pointed to a chair on the other side of the table.

"Just humor me and sit down," he said. Crowley shrugged and did as he was asked. He sat for a full five seconds, then was up and pacing again. Halt muttered something under his breath. Crowley surmised, correctly, that it was uncomplimentary, and chose to ignore it.

"The problem is," he said, "Will's report raises more questions than it answers."

Halt nodded agreement. He was about to come to his former apprentice's defense but he realized that Crowley wasn't criticizing Will's report. He was merely stating a fact. There were a lot of unanswered questions in the brief message: strange sights and sounds in the wood, apparently caused by a person or persons unknown; friction at the castle between Orman and his cousin; Orman's apparent inability to command; and the fact that someone, presumably Orman, had arranged for Alyss to be followed when she went on her morning ride. In most castles, it would have been an interesting set of occurrences. In a vulnerable strategic site like Macindaw, close to a hostile border, it was downright dangerous. Still…

"It's early days yet," he said finally, and Crowley dropped into the chair again, sprawling sideways, one leg cocked over the arm. He sighed deeply, knowing Halt was right.

"I know," he said. "I just wonder if there might be more than Will and Alyss can handle up there." Halt considered the point.

"I trust Will," he said, and Crowley made a gesture of agreement. In spite of his youth, Will was highly regarded in the Rangers-more highly than he knew. "And Pauline says Alyss is one of her best agents." Lady Pauline was a senior member of the Diplomatic Service. She had originally recruited Alyss and undertaken her early training. Alyss was as much her protege as Will was Halt's.

"Yes. They're the right choices for the task, I know. And if we send in too many people we run the risk of exposing our hand and doing more harm than good. It's just I have a… funny feeling about this. Like someone is behind me and I can sense them but I can't see them. You understand?"

Halt nodded. "I've got the same feeling. But as you say, if we overdo things, we'll give the game away."

There was a long silence between them. They were both in agreement. But they also both had that same uneasy feeling.

"Of course, we could always send maybe one more person to help out if they need it," Halt suggested.

Crowley looked at him quickly, then said, "One more person wouldn't be overdoing it."

"Someone who could provide a bit of muscle-if they need it," Halt continued. "To cover their backs, as it were."

"I think I'd feel a bit better knowing they had even a little bit more backup," Crowley said.

"And of course," Halt added, "if we send the right person, he might provide more than just a little bit."

The eyes of both men met over the table. They were old comrades and friends. They had known each other for decades, served together in more campaigns than either could remember. Each knew exactly what the other was thinking and each was in complete agreement with the other.

"You're thinking Horace?" Crowley asked, and Halt nodded.

"I'm thinking Horace," he said.

Will had no idea that his superiors had decided to send help to him and Alyss. The pigeon that had carried his report was the only one that had learned the route between Norgate Fief and Castle Araluen. So it was the only one that could carry a reply back to him, and it would take three or four days before it would recover sufficient strength to undertake another journey. Then, of course, it would return to its last roosting place-with Alyss's man some distance from the castle. Until Will made contact with him, he would be unaware that help was on its way.

Had he known, he might have felt a little more secure. Horace was only one man but he had proved his worth many times over. As an apprentice, he had been an extraordinarily talented warrior-a natural, as his teachers put it. He had defeated the rebel warlord Morgarath in single combat and later had served with great distinction in the Skandian war against the Temujai riders. In addition, he had earned a fearsome reputation for his skill in single combat-the name of the Oakleaf Knight was still spoken with awe throughout Gallica. His exploits were such that King Duncan had no hesitation in formally knighting him before he had completed half the allotted time for his apprenticeship.

So the news that Horace was on his way might well have counteracted the unease Will felt on this bright winter morning. Still mulling over the conversation in the barracks room, he planned to see Alyss as soon as he could find a reasonable excuse, to talk it over with her. Already, he was half inclined to seek assistance from Sir Keren. After all, the young garrison commander was obviously not close to his cousin and he had an independent armed force at his command, which could prove valuable. But before Will could take such a radical step, he would have to discuss it with Alyss.

He was also keen to set a time when they might further investigate the mysterious Malkallam-for he must be the one behind the lights, the images and the attempts to discourage visitors to Grimsdell Wood. But before any of the above steps could be taken, he needed to contrive a way to have Alyss send for him. As a lowly jongleur, he could hardly barge in on a lady's quarters uninvited.