They embraced each other warmly. Then Halt held the other man at arm's length, studying him carefully. "You get lankier every year," he said finally. "When are you going to put some meat on those bones?" Gilan smiled. It was obviously an old joke between them. "You appear to have enough for both of us," he said. He poked Halt in the ribs, none too gently. "Is that the beginnings of a potbelly I see there?" He grinned at Will. "I'll wager he's sitting around the cabin letting you do all the housework these days?" Before Halt or Will could reply, he turned away and let out a whistle. A few seconds later, his horse trotted around the bend in the road. As the tall young Ranger moved toward his horse and mounted, Will noticed a sword hanging in a scabbard from the saddle. He turned to Halt, puzzled.

"I thought we weren't allowed to have swords," he said quietly. Halt frowned for a moment, not understanding, then followed Will's gaze and realized what had prompted the question. "It's not that we're not allowed," he explained, as they both mounted. "It's a matter of priorities. It takes years to become a good swordsman and we don't have the time. We have other skills to develop."

He saw the next question forming on Will's lips and went on. "Gilan's father is a knight, so Gilan had already been training with the sword for some years before he joined the Rangers. He was considered a special case and he was allowed to continue that training when he was apprenticed to me."

"But I thought…" Will began and then hesitated. Gilan was trotting his horse toward them and he wasn't sure if it would be polite to ask his next question in front of him.

"Never say that in front of Halt," Gilan said, overhearing Will's last words. "He'll simply reply, "You're an apprentice. You're not ready to think; or, if you thought about it, you wouldn't ask."

Will had to smile. Halt had used those exact words to him on more than one occasion, and Gilan's impersonation of the older Ranger was uncanny. Now, however, both men were looking expectantly at him, waiting to hear the question he had been about to ask, so he plunged ahead. "If Gilan's father was a knight, wasn't he automatically eligible for Battleschool? Or did they think he was too small as well?" Halt and Gilan exchanged a look. Halt raised one eyebrow, then gestured for Gilan to reply. "I could have gone to Battleschool," he said. " But I chose to join the Rangers."

"Some of us do, you know," Halt put in mildly. Will thought this over. He had always assumed that the Rangers did not come from the ranks of the Kingdom's nobles. Apparently he was wrong.

"But I thought…" he began and instantly realized his mistake. Halt and Gilan looked at him, then looked at each other, and said in chorus: "You're an apprentice. You're not ready to think. " Then they wheeled their horses and trotted off. Will hurriedly retrieved Tug and cantered after them. As he caught up, the two Rangers edged their horses to either side, allowing him space to ride between them. Gilan grinned once at him. Halt was as grim as ever. But as they continued in a companionable silence, Will became aware of the comforting realization that he was now a part of an exclusive, tightly knit group.

It was a warm sense of belonging, as if, somehow, he had arrived home for the first time in his life.

Chapter 24

"SOMETHING'S HAPPENED," HALT SAID QUIETLY, SIGNALING for his two companions to rein in their horses.

The three riders had cantered the last half a kilometer to the Gathering Ground. Now, as they crested a slight rise, the open space among the trees lay just below them, a hundred meters away. Small, one-man tents stretched in ordered ranks, and the smoke of cooking fires scented the air. An archery range had been set up to one side of the open space, and several dozen horses, all small and shaggy Ranger horses, were grazing close to the trees.

Even from where they sat on their horses, they could make out an air of urgency and activity throughout the camp. In the center of the tent lines was a larger pavilion, easily four meters by four meters and with enough headroom for a tall man to stand. The sides were currently rolled up and Will could see a group of green and gray clad men standing around a table, apparently deep in conversation. As they watched, one of the group detached himself, running to a horse waiting just outside the entrance. He mounted and spun the horse on its back legs, setting out through the camp at a gallop, heading for the narrow track through the trees at the far side.

He had barely disappeared into the deep shadows under the trees when another rider appeared from the opposite direction, galloping through the lines and reining in outside the large tent. His horse had barely stopped before he swung down and headed in to join the group inside.

"What is it?" Will asked. Frowning, he realized that several of the small tents were being struck and rolled up by their owners. "Not sure," Halt replied. He gestured to the tent lines. "See if you can find us a decent campsite. I'll see what's going on." He urged Abelard forward, then turned and called back: "Don't pitch the tents yet. From the looks of things, we may not be needing them." Then Abelard's hooves were drumming on the turf as he galloped toward the center of the camp.

Will and Gilan found a campsite under a large tree, reasonably close to the central gathering area. Then, uncertain as to what they should do next, they sat on a log, waiting for Halt's return. As a senior Ranger in the Corps, Halt had access to the larger pavilion, which Gilan explained was the command tent. The Corps Commandant, a Ranger named Crowley, would meet with his staff there each day to organize activities and to collate and evaluate the reports and information that individual Rangers brought to the Gathering.

Most of the tents near the two younger Rangers were unoccupied, but there was a thin gangly Ranger outside one, pacing impatiently back and forth, looking every bit as confused as Gilan and Will. Seeing them on the log, he moved over to join them.

"Any news?" he said immediately, and his face fell when Gilan answered. "We were just about to ask you the same question. " He held out his hand in greeting. "It's Merton, isn't it?" he said and they shook hands. "That's right. And you're Gilan if I remember correctly."

Gilan introduced Will, and the newcomer, who appeared to be in his early thirties, looked at him speculatively. "So you're Halt's new apprentice," he said.

"We wondered what you'd be like. I was going to be one of your assessors, you know."

"Going to be?" Gilan asked quickly, and Merron looked at him. "Yes. I doubt we'll continue with the Gathering now." He hesitated, then added, "You mean you haven't heard?" The two newcomers shook their heads. "Morgarath is up to something again," he said quietly, and Will felt a shiver of fear up his spine at the mention of that evil name. "What's happened?" Gilan asked, his eyes narrowing. Merron shook his head, stirring the dirt in front of him with the toe of his boot in a frustrated gesture. "There's no clear news so far. Only garbled reports. But it looks as if a force of Wargals broke out of Three Step Pass some days ago. They overran the sentries there and headed north."

"Was Morgarath with them?" Gilan asked. Will remained wide-eyed and silent. He couldn't bring himself to ask any questions, couldn't bring himself to actually mention Morgarath's name.

Merron shrugged in reply. "We don't know. Don't think so at this stage, but Crowley has been sending scouts out for the past two days. Could be it's just a raid. But if it's more than that, it could mean the start of another war. If so, it's a bad time to lose Lord Lorriac."

Gilan looked up, concern in his voice. "Lorriac is dead?" he asked, and Merron nodded.