"Baron Arald?" the farmer asked nervously. Halt frowned again.

"See what you've done?" he said to Will. "You've got him answering questions with questions now!"

"Sorry," Will mumbled, grinning in spite of himself. Halt shook his head and continued speaking to Salt Peter.

"That's right, Baron Arald. You'll find his castle a couple of kilometers along this track."

Salt Peter peered under one hand, looking along the track as if he could see the castle already. "A castle, you say?" he said, in a wondering voice. "I've never seen a castle!"

Halt sighed impatiently. Keeping this old chatterbox's mind on the subject was beginning to make him short-tempered. "That's right, a castle. Now, go to the guard at the gate…"

"Is it a big castle?" asked the old fellow.

"It's a huge castle!" Halt roared at him. Salt Peter bounded back in fright. He had a hurt look on his face.

"No need to bellow, young man," he said huffily. "I were only asking, is all."

"Well then, stop interrupting me," said the Ranger, "Were wasting time here. Now, are you listening?"

Salt Peter nodded.

"Good," Halt continued. "Go to the guard on the gate and say you have a message from Halt for Baron Arald."

A look of recognition spread across the old mans face. "Halt?" he asked. "Not the Ranger Halt?"

"Yes," replied Halt wearily. "The Ranger Halt."

"The one who led the ambush on Morgarath's Wargals?" asked Salt Peter. "The same," said Halt, in a dangerously low voice. Salt Peter looked around him.

"Well," he said. "Where is he?"

"I'm Halt!" The Ranger thundered at him, placing his face a few centimeters from Salt Peter's as he did so. Again, the old farmer recoiled a few steps. Then he gathered his courage and shook his head in disbelief.

"No, no, no," he said definitely. "You can't be him. Why, the Ranger Halt is as tall as two men-and as broad. A giant of a man, he is! Brave, fierce in battle, he is. You couldn't be him."

Halt turned away, trying to regain his temper. Will couldn't help the smile breaking out on his face again.

"I… am…Halt," said the Ranger, spacing his words out so that Salt Peter couldn't make any mistake. "I was taller when I was young, and a lot broader. But now I'm this size. " He thrust his glittering eyes close to the farmer's and glared at him. "Do you understand?"

"Well, if you say so…" said Salt Peter. He still didn't believe the Ranger, but there was a very dangerous gleam in Halt's eyes that warned him it would not be wise to disagree any further.

"Good," said Halt icily. "Now, tell the Baron that Halt and Will…"

Salt Peter opened his mouth to ask another question. Halt clamped his hand over the old man's mouth immediately and pointed to where Will stood beside Tug.

"That's Will there." Salt Peter nodded, his eyes wide over the hand that was clamped firmly over his mouth, stopping any further questions or interruptions. The Ranger continued:

"Tell him Halt and Will are tracking a wild boar. When we find its lair, we'll return to the castle. In the meantime, the Baron should gather his men for a hunt tomorrow morning."

He slowly took his hand down from the farmer's mouth. "Have you got all that?" the Ranger asked. Salt Peter nodded carefully. "Then repeat it back to me," Halt prompted.

"Go to the castle, tell the gate guard I have a message from you… Halt… for the Baron. Tell the Baron that you… Halt… and him… Will… are tracking a wild boar to find its lair. Tell him to have his men ready for a hunt tomorrow."

"Good," said Halt. He gestured to Will and the two of them swung back into their saddles. Salt Peter stood uncertainly on the track, looking up at them.

"Off you go," said Halt, pointing in the direction of the castle. The old farmer went a few paces, then, when he judged he was at a safe distance, he turned around and called back at the grim-faced Ranger:

"I don't believes you, you know! Nobody grows shorter and thinner!"

Halt sighed and turned his horse away into the forest.

THEY RODE SLOWLY THROUGH THE FAILING LIGHT, LEANING sideways in their saddles to follow the trail left by the boar.

They had no trouble tracking him. The huge body had left a deep trench in the thick snow. Even without the snow, Will thought, it would have been easy. The boar was obviously in a very bad temper. It had slashed at the surrounding trees and shrubs with its tusks as it went, leaving a clear-cut path of destruction through the forest.

"Halt?" he said tentatively when they had gone a kilometer or so into the dense trees.

"Mmmm?" said Halt, a little absently.

"Why bother the Baron? Couldn't we simply kill the boar with our bows?"

Halt shook his head.

"He's a big one, Will. You can see the size of the trail he's left. We could take half a dozen arrows to kill him, and even then he'd take time to die. With a brute like this, it's better to make sure."

"How do we do that?"

Halt looked up for a second. "I suppose you've never seen a boar hunt?"

Will shook his head. Halt reined in for a few seconds to explain and Will brought Tug to a stop beside him.

"Well, first," said the Ranger, "we'll need dogs. That's another reason why we can't simply finish him off with our bows. When we find him, he'll have most likely gone to ground in a thicket or in dense bushes where we can't get at him. The dogs will drive him out and we'll have a ring of men around the lair with boar spears."

"And they throw them at him?" Will asked. Halt shook his head.

"Not if they have any brains," he said. "The boar spear is more than two meters long, with a double-sided blade and a crosspiece set behind the blade. The idea is to make the boar charge at the spearman. Then he sets the butt of the spear in the ground and lets the boar run onto it. The crosspiece stops the boar running right down the shaft and getting the spearman."

Will looked doubtful. "That sounds dangerous." The Ranger nodded. "It is. But men like the Baron and Sir Rodney and the other knights love it. They wouldn't miss the chance of a boar hunt for worlds."

"What about you?" asked Will. "Will you have a boar spear?"

Halt shook his head. "I'll be sitting right here on Abelard," he said. "And you'll be on Tug, in case the boar breaks through the ring of men around him. Or in case he's just wounded and gets away."

"What do we do if that happens?" Will asked.

"We run him down before he can go to ground again," said Halt grimly. "And then we kill him with our bows."

The following day was a Saturday and, after breakfast, the Battleschool students were free to spend the day as they pleased. In Horace's case, this usually meant trying to stay out of sight whenever Alda, Bryn and Jerome came looking for him. But lately they'd realized he was avoiding them and had taken to waiting for him outside the mess hall. As he came out onto the parade ground this morning, he saw them waiting, smiling at him. He hesitated. It was too late to turn back. With a sinking heart, he continued on toward them.

"Horace!" He was startled by a voice coming from right behind him. He turned and saw Sir Rodney watching him, a curious look in his eyes as he glanced at the three second-year cadets waiting in the yard. Horace wondered if the Battlemaster knew about the treatment he was getting. He assumed he did. Horace guessed it was part of the toughening process of Battleschool.

"Sir!" he replied, wondering what he'd done wrong. Rodney's features softened and he smiled at the young man. He seemed extraordinarily pleased about something.

"Relax, Horace. It's Saturday, after all. Ever been on a boar hunt?"

"Um… no, sir. " In spite of Sir Rodney's invitation to relax, he remained stiffly at attention."Time you did then. Draw a boar spear and hunting knife from the armory, have Ulf assign you a horse and report back here in twenty minutes."