He selected a small rucksack from his kit, emptied out the spare clothes it contained and crammed it with basic travelling rations: a loaf of the flat bread Halt had called damper, now a little stale but still edible, along with dried fruit and several strips of smoked beef. The last-mentioned was hard to chew but he knew from past experience that it had the nourishment he'd need to restore his strength. Plus it allowed him to eat in the saddle without the need for a stop.

'I'll take all three of our canteens,' he said to Horace as he was cramming the rations into the rucksack. 'You've got the pond close by and I don't want to have to search for water while I'm travelling.' Satisfied that he had enough food, he tied the small sack to Tug's saddle bow, where he could reach it easily as he rode.

Horace nodded agreement and collected the three canteens. He shook them experimentally.

'They could all use some topping up,' he said. 'And you may as well start out with fresh water.' After a few hours, as they both knew only too well, the water would take on the leathery taste of the canteens.

Will smiled his gratitude. 'Thanks,' he said. 'I'll grab a bite to eat while you're doing it. Might as well set off with a good meal under my belt.'

Horace eyed the rucksack with a grimace. He'd seen what his friend had packed in there.

'Be a while before you get another,' he said and headed off for the pond, the three canteens swinging from their straps in his hands, occasionally rattling together.

They had roasted two ducks the night before and one of the carcasses was relatively untouched. Will tore a leg and a piece of breast meat from it and ate the meat hurriedly, walking restlessly back and forth as he did so. He had more of the flat bread with the meat. The mass of dry bread and rich meat tended to stick in his throat and mouth and he looked around for something to wash it all down.

The coffee pot was almost full, staying warm in the embers at the side of the fire. He filled a mug and drank the hot brew gratefully, feeling its energy coursing through him. He tried to breathe deeply and relax. There was a tight knot in his stomach and all he wanted to do was leap into the saddle and ride as fast as he could. He begrudged the time spent eating and preparing. But he knew that later in the day, he'd be grateful for the energy that the food would provide, and a few minutes spent preparing now would save him hours later on. So he fought down the impatience that was seething inside him and forced himself to think and plan calmly. Had he forgotten anything?

He ran through a mental checklist and nodded to himself. He had everything he needed. The horses were fed and watered and ready to travel. What little equipment he was taking was securely fastened to their saddles.

Horace returned with the three canteens. He fastened one each to Kicker's and Abelard's saddles, tying them down securely with restraining thongs so they wouldn't bounce and jolt with the horses' movement. As he turned away from Abelard, the third canteen knocked against the stirrup iron with a hollow sound.

Will frowned, puzzled. 'That sounds empty.'

Horace smiled and walked to the camp fire.

'It is at the moment. The other two are for the horses. This one is for you.' He picked up the coffee pot and carefully poured the fragrant liquid into the narrow neck of the canteen. His eyes were intent on the task as he continued, 'You might as well have some coffee. I assume you won't be stopping to make camp anywhere?'

Will shook his head. 'I'll stop for a few minutes' sleep when I need it. But I won't be camping, just rolling up in my cloak.'

'Thought so.' Horace finished filling the canteen and pushed the stopper home. 'So you might as well have some coffee. It'll stay warm for a while and even cold coffee is better than leathery water.' He smiled as he said it and Will grinned back.

'Good thinking, Horace.'

Horace looked pleased. He wished he could do more for his friend but this small, thoughtful gesture of support spoke volumes about their friendship.

'Plus it'll give you the sort of pick-up you might need along the way.'

Their smiles faded as they thought about the journey that faced Will. The land itself was wild and who knew what dangers he might encounter. In isolated parts of the Kingdom like this, locals tended to resent strangers and it was possible there could be bandits operating between here and Macindaw. Once he got close to the castle, of course, there was a distinct chance that he might run into Scotti raiding parties, like the one they had foiled several days back. And Will would be concentrating on speed, not stealth.

'I wish I was coming with you,' Horace said quietly. The concern was obvious in his eyes. Will slapped his shoulder and grinned.

'You'd only slow me down, blundering along behind me.' Unintentionally, he used the words Halt had used several days previously. They both realised it and their smiles faded once more as they turned to look at the still figure lying under the lean-to. There was a silence between them.

'I'm glad you'll be here to watch over him,' Will finally said. 'It makes it easier for me to go.'

Horace nodded several times, not trusting himself to speak. Abruptly, Will turned and walked to where Halt lay, going down on one knee and taking the Ranger's right hand in both of his.

'I'll be back, Halt. I promise you. I'll be back within three days. You just make sure you're here waiting for me, do you hear?'

Halt stirred and muttered, then settled again. It was possible that the sound of Will's voice had penetrated through the fog of poison that held him captive. Will hoped so. He shook his head sadly. It pierced his heart to see Halt, normally so strong, so capable, so indefatigable, reduced to this muttering, tossing shadow of himself. He touched the Ranger's brow. His temperature seemed to have come down. He was warm but not burning with fever as he had been. Will stood and, after one last sad look, turned to Horace.

'Keep an eye on that fever. If he gets hot again, use the cool wet cloths on his forehead. And clean the wound out every four hours or so. Use the salve every second time.'

He doubted that treating the wound would serve any purpose now. The sickness had gone deeper into Halt's system. But at least Horace would feel he was doing something positive, and Will knew how important that was.

He gripped Horace's right hand, then the two of them moved closer and embraced.

'I'll take care of him, Will. I'll guard him with my life,' Horace said.

Will nodded, his face buried against his larger friend's shoulder.

'I know you will. And keep watch at night. You never know, that Genovesan killer might decide to come back.'

He stepped back from the embrace. Horace smiled but it was a smile without any humour in it.

'You know, I almost hope he does,' he said.

They walked together to where the horses waited. Abelard shifted nervously, rolling his eyes and rumbling deep in his chest. Will stepped up to him, placed his hands on either side of his muzzle as he'd seen Halt do, and blew gently into his nostrils to get the horse's attention.

'I know you're worried,' he said softly. 'But you have to come with me. Understand? You're coming with me and we'll get help for him.'

The little horse shook his head and mane in that sudden, vibrating manner so common to Ranger horses. He stopped the nervous pacing and whinnying and stood ready.

Horace shook his head in amazement. 'You know, I'd swear he understood what you said,' he remarked.

Will patted Abelard's soft nose and smiled at him fondly.

'He did,' he replied. Then he swung into Tug's saddle and took Kicker's lead rein as Horace passed it up to him. Abelard, of course, would follow without needing to be led.