"A lot better these days, thanks to Halt," he said and, as Will adroitly plied him with more questions, he described life in the Battleschool for them, joking about his mistakes and shortcomings, laughing as he described the many punishment details he attracted. Will noticed how Horace, once inclined to be boastful and a little arrogant, was far more self-effacing these days. He suspected that Horace was doing better as an apprentice warrior than he let on.

It was a pleasant evening, all the more so after the strain and terror of the hunt for the Kalkara. As the servers cleared their plates, Jenny smiled expectantly at the two boys. "Right! Now who's going to dance with me?" she said brightly and Will was just too slow in responding, Horace claiming her hand and leading her to the dance floor. As they joined the dancers, Will glanced uncertainly at Alyss. He was never quite sure what the tall girl was thinking. He thought that perhaps it might be good manners to ask her to dance as well. He cleared his throat nervously. "Um… would you like to dance too, Alyss?" he said awkwardly. She favored him with the barest trace of a smile. "Perhaps not, Will. I'm no great shakes as a dancer. I seem to be all legs." In fact, she was an excellent dancer but, a diplomat to the core, she sensed that Will had only asked her out of politeness. He nodded several times and they lapsed into silence-but a friendly sort of silence.

After some minutes, she turned toward him, placing her chin on her hand to consider him closely. "A big day for you tomorrow," she said, and he flushed. He had been summoned to appear before the Baron's entire court the following day. "I don't know what that's all about," he muttered. Alyss smiled at him. "He possibly wants to thank you in public," she said. "I'm told barons tend to do that to people who have saved their lives." He began to say something, but she laid one soft cool hand over his and he stopped. He looked into those calm, smiling gray eyes. Alyss had never struck him as pretty. But now he realized that her elegance and grace and those gray eyes, framed by her fine blond hair, created a natural beauty that far surpassed mere prettiness. Surprisingly, she leaned closer to him and whispered, "We're all proud of you, Will. And I think I'm proudest of all." And she kissed him. Her lips on his were incredibly, indescribably soft. Hours later, before he finally fell asleep, he could still feel them.

Chapter 32

WILLSTOOD, TRANSFIXED BY STAGE FRIGHT, JUST INSIDE THE massive doors to the Baron's audience hall.

The building itself was enormous. It was the main room of the castle, the room where the Baron conducted all his official business with the members of his court. The ceiling seemed to stretch upward forever. Shafts of light poured down into the room from windows set high in the massive walls. At the far end of the room, seeming to be kilometers away, the Baron sat, wearing his finest robes, on a raised, throne-like chair.

Between him and Will was the biggest crowd Will had ever seen. Halt propelled his apprentice gently forward with a shove in the back. "Get on with it," he muttered.

There were hundreds of people in the Great Hall and every eye was turned toward Will. All of the Baron's Craftmasters were there, in their official robes. All of his knights and all the ladies of the court-every one in their best and finest clothes. Farther down the hall were the men-at-arms from the Baron's army, the other apprentices and the trademasters from the village. He saw a flutter of color as Jenny, uninhibited as ever, waved a scarf at him. Alyss, standing be side her, was a little more discreet. She unobtrusively kissed her fingertips to him.

He stood awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He wished that Halt had let him wear his Ranger's cloak, so he could blend into the background and disappear.

Halt shoved him again. "Get a move on!" he hissed.

Will turned to him. "Aren't you coming with me?" he asked. Halt shook his head.

"Not invited. Now get going!"

He shoved him once more, then limped, favoring his injured leg, to a seat. Finally, realizing he had no other course to follow, Will began to walk down the long, long aisle. He heard the muttering voices as he went. Heard his name being whispered from one mouth to another.

And then the clapping started. It began with one knight's lady and rapidly spread throughout the entire hall as everyone joined in. It was deafening, a thundering, echoing roar of applause that continued until he reached the foot of the Baron's chair.

As Halt had instructed him, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head forward.

The Baron stood up and raised his hand for silence and the clapping died away to echoes. "Stand up, Will," he said softly, and reached out a hand to help the boy to his feet.

In a daze, Will obeyed. The Baron rested a hand on his shoulder and turned him to face the huge throng before them. His deep voice carried effortlessly to the farthest corner of the hall when he spoke. "This is Will. Apprentice to the Ranger Halt of this fiefdom. See him now and know him, all of you. He has proven his fidelity, courage and initiative to this fief and to the Kingdom of Araluen," There was a murmur of appreciation from the people watching. Then the clapping began again, this time accompanied by cheering. Will realized the cheers had begun in the section of the crowd where the Battleschool apprentice warriors stood. He could make out Horace's grinning face, leading the chorus.

The Baron held up a hand for silence, wincing as the movement brought pain to his cracked ribs and the carefully bandaged and sutured gashes in his back. The cheering and clapping slowly died away. "Will," he said, in a voice that echoed to the farthest corners of the massive room, "I owe you my life. There can be no thanks adequate for that. However, it is in my power to grant you a wish that you once made of me." Will looked up at him, frowning. "A wish, sir?" he said, more than a little puzzled by the Baron's words.

The Baron nodded. "I made a mistake, Will. You asked me if you could train as a warrior. It was your wish to become one of my knights and I refused you."

"Now, I can rectify that mistake. It would do me honor to have one so brave and resourceful as one of my knights. Say the word now and you have my permission to transfer to the Battleschool as one of Sir Rodney's apprentices."

Will's heart pounded in his ribs. He thought how, all his life, he had yearned to be a knight. He remembered his deep and bitter disappointment on the day of the Choosing, when Sir Rodney and the Baron had refused his request.

Sir Rodney stepped forward, and the Baron gestured for him to speak.

"My lord," said the Battlemaster, "it was I who refused this boy as an apprentice, as you know. Now, I want all here to know that I was wrong to do so. I, my knights and my apprentices all agree that there could be no more worthy member of the Battleschool than Will!"

There was a great roar of approval from the assembled knights and apprentice warriors. With a slithering clash of steel they unsheathed their swords and clashed them together above their heads, shouting Will's name. Again, Horace was one of the first to do so, and the last to stop.

Gradually, the tumult died down and the knights resheathed their swords. At a sign from Baron Arald, two pages stepped forward, bearing with them a sword and a beautifully enameled shield, which they laid at Will's feet. The shield was painted with a representation of a fierce boar's head. "This will be your coat of arms when you graduate, Will," said the Baron gently, "to remind the world of the first time we learned of your courage and loyalty to a comrade." The boy went down on one knee and touched the smooth, enameled surface of the shield. He drew the sword slowly and reverently from its scabbard. It was a beautiful weapon, a masterpiece of the swordsmith's art.