"Dad!" she cried once, her voice muffled by his shirt and by the sobs that welled up in her throat.

"Cassie!" he murmured-his pet name for her from when she was a toddler-and the cheering intensified. Duncan was a popular king and the people knew how much pain the loss of his daughter had caused him. Even the Skandians were grinning at the scene.

In the midst of all that joy and celebration, only Halt stood apart. His face was a mask of pain and misery and he remained unobtrusively by the steering oar at the stern of the ship as the others surged forward to the waist.

Duncan and Evanlyn-or Cassandra, as her father knew her-stood in each other's embrace, oblivious to those around them. Will, scanning the crowd, saw a heavily built form in the ranks behind the King: a middle-aged man who was waving enthusiastically at him, shouting his name.

"Will! Welcome home, boy! Welcome home!"

For a moment, Will was puzzled, then he recognized Baron Arald-a man who for years had been a stern-faced figure of authority. Now here he was, waving and yelling like a schoolboy on holiday. Will dropped lightly to the planks of the landing stage and made his way through the crowds of well-wishers to the Baron. He began to make a formal bow when the Baron grabbed his hand and started pumping it enthusiastically.

"Never mind that! Welcome home, lad! And well done! Well done! My god, I thought we'd never see you again! Wasn't that right, Rodney?"

He spoke this last to the mail-clad knight beside him and Will recognized Sir Rodney, head of the Battleschool at Castle Redmont. He realized that the knight was anxiously scanning the faces on the deck of the wolfship.

"Yes, yes, my lord," he agreed distractedly. Then he seized Will's other arm and said urgently, "Will, I thought Horace was with you. Don't tell me something's happened to him?"

Puzzled, Will looked to where Horace was shaking hands with the Skandian crew, farewelling friends among them before he came ashore.

"That's him there." He pointed Horace out for Sir Rodney, and had the satisfaction of seeing the knight's jaw drop in surprise.

"My god! He's turned into a giant!" he gasped. Then Horace recognized his mentor and marched briskly through the crowd, coming to attention and saluting, his fist to his right breast.

"Apprentice Horace reporting, Battlemaster. Permission to return to duty, sir?" he said crisply.

Coming to attention himself, Rodney returned the salute.

"Permission granted, apprentice."

Then, formalities over, he seized the muscular apprentice in a bear hug and danced him around a few undignified steps, all the while crying:

"Damn me, boy, but you've done us all proud! And when the devil did you get so tall?"

Once again, the crowd cheered with delight. Then, all at once, a silence fell over them and Will turned to see the reason. Erak Starfollower, Oberjarl of the Skandians, was stepping ashore.

Instinctively, those nearest him drew back a little. Old habits died hard. Will, not wishing to see his friend insulted, started forward impulsively, but there was one other in the crowd who was quicker off the mark. Duncan, King of Araluen, stepped forward to greet his Skandian counterpart, his hand extended in friendship.

"Welcome to Araluen, Oberjarl," he said. "And thank you for bringing my daughter safely home." And with that, the two leaders shook hands.

Then the cheering started again, this time for Erak and his crew so that the Skandians looked about them with delight. And that, thought Will, was going to make it a little harder for them to raid here again in the years to come. Duncan let the cheering go on for a little while, then held up his hand for silence. He scanned the faces on the dock. Then, not seeing the one he looked for, he let his gaze switch to the wolfship.

"Halt," he said softly, finally seeing him, wrapped as ever in his Ranger's cloak and standing alone by the great steering oar. The King held out a hand and gestured to the dock.

"Come ashore, Halt. You're home."

But Halt stood awkwardly, unable to mask the sadness that he felt. His voice broke as he began to speak, and he gathered himself and started again.

"Your:your majesty, the year of banishment still has three weeks to run," he said at last.

A low buzz of comment ran through the crowd. Will, unable to restrain himself, reacted in total surprise.

"Banishment? You were banished?" he said incredulously. "Why?" he said. The word hung in the air. Duncan shook his head, dismissing the matter.

"A few incautious words, that was all. He was drunk and we've all forgotten what he said and I forgive him, so for god's sake, man, come ashore."

But Halt remained where he was. "Your majesty, nothing would make me happier. But you must uphold the law," he said in a low voice. Then another speaker chimed in: Lord Anthony, the King's chamberlain.

"Halt is right, your majesty," he said. Anthony was a well-meaning man, but he tended to be a little pedantic when it came to interpreting the law. "After all, he did say you were the issue of an encounter between your father and a traveling hatcha-hatcha dancer."

There was a gasp of horror from the crowd.

Duncan, smiling thinly, said through gritted teeth: "Thank you for reminding us all, Anthony."

But then a peal of helpless laughter rang out and Princess Cassandra doubled over, hooting in a most unroyal fashion. Every eye turned to her, and slowly, she recovered enough to speak.

"I'm so sorry, everyone. But if you ever knew my grandmother, you'd understand why my grandfather might have been tempted! Grandma had a face like a robber's dog-and a temperament to match it!"

"Cassie!" her father said in his most disapproving tone, but she was holding her sides and laughing again and he couldn't keep a smile from forming at his lips. Then he felt Lord Anthony's disapproving stare on him and he recovered, nudging Cassandra until her laughter subsided into a series of choked snuffles and snorts. The laughter had been infectious, however, and it took a while for the assembled crowd to come to order. Throughout all this, Halt remained standing stiffly on the deck of the wolfship.

Duncan turned to his chamberlain and said, in his most reasoning tone: "Surely, Anthony, it's within my powers to pardon Halt for the last three weeks of his sentence?"

But Anthony frowned and shook his head. "It would be most irregular, your majesty," he said heavily. "Such a thing would set unfortunate precedents in law."

"King Duncan!" boomed Erak, and instantly he had the attention of everyone there. He realized he'd spoken a little more forcibly than he'd intended-he was still getting the hang of these formal occasions. Now he continued at a more moderate level.

"Perhaps I could request that you grant this pardon-as a gesture of goodwill to seal the treaty between our two countries?"

"Good thinking!" muttered Duncan. He turned quickly to Lord Anthony. "Well?" he said. The chamberlain pursed his lips thoughtfully. It was never his wish to deny the King what he wanted. He merely tried to do his duty and uphold the law. Now he saw a loophole and seized upon it gratefully.

"Such a request wouldn't set any precedents, your majesty," he said. "And this is a very special occasion, after all."

"So be it!" said Duncan quickly, and turned to face the figure on the wolfship. "All right, Halt, you're pardoned-so for god's sake, come ashore and let's have a drink to celebrate!"

Halt, tears in his eyes, set foot on Araluen soil once more, after eleven months and five days of banishment. As he came ashore to the renewed cheers of the crowd, those around him saw another man dressed in a gray-green cloak, who slipped forward and pressed something into his hand.

"You might be needing this again," said Crowley, Commandant of the Ranger Corps.