`I'm the man who just saved you a fortune,' he said. `And the other night, I saved your boats from burning.

Be grateful you still have your money and your livelihood. You can keep the others. Do what you like with them. But I'm taking this one with me.'

The young man started to reply but a curt gesture from Wilfred stopped him. The head man stepped forward to face Halt.

`I assume you have some kind of authority to make these demands,' he said.

Halt nodded. 'I'm an Araluan Ranger,' he replied.

There was a murmur of recognition around the pavilion. The villagers might not be part of any fief, but they knew the reputation of the Ranger Corps. Taking advantage of the villagers' moment of uncertainty, Halt gripped Farrell by the elbow and started towards the entrance to the marquee. After a moment's hesitation, the group parted to allow them through.

As he emerged with his prisoner into the warm morning sunlight, past the unconscious form of the Outsider guard who had tried to stop him, Halt was frowning slightly. He was remembering Farrell's words when he had pushed his way into the marquee.

You? What are you doing here? The words, and Farrell's manner, implied that the Outsider priest had recognised Halt. And that was why the Ranger frowned now.

Because he knew they had never met before.

Chapter 12

The dining room at the inn was crammed full of customers, almost every table filled with noisy, happy diners from the village and the castle. Will and Alyss sat at the table of honour, right in the middle of the room, underneath a wheel-shaped chandelier that held two dozen candles.

Will had grimaced at the table when they were shown to it. Typically, he would have preferred to be tucked away in a corner, out of sight. He preferred to see and not be seen. Alyss grinned at him, noticing his moment of hesitation.

`Get used to it,' she said. 'You're a celebrity. Some people actually enjoy that, you know.'

He frowned. 'How could anyone enjoy having every eye in the room on them?' he asked. He was still casting around for a table in a less prominent position.

`Nevertheless, people do. I'm surprised there aren't crowds of sketch artists outside the entrance, waiting to draw our pictures as we leave.'

`Does that really happen?' he asked, incredulously. Alyss shrugged.

`So I'm told.' She shoved him gently towards the table. `Come on, Jenny will be disappointed if she can't show you off.'

And here was Jenny herself, threading her way through the crowded room, with a delighted smile lighting up her pretty face. A large wooden ladle, symbol of her office, dangled loosely from her right hand.

`Will!' she shrieked. 'You're here at last! Welcome to my humble dining hall!'

She threw her arms around him and he ducked instinctively, expecting the ladle in her right hand to whip round and crack the back of his head. But Jenny had it under control. She laughed at him.

`Oh, come on! I haven't hit anyone since second year! At least, not anyone I didn't mean to hit. Sit down! Sit down!'

Will hurried to hold Alyss's chair, while Jenny watched approvingly. He'd always had nice manners, she thought. Then he took his own chair and looked around the room, gesturing to the crowds of diners.

`Not so humble. There must be fifty or sixty people in here!'

Jenny appraised the room with a practised eye. 'They're not all diners, however. Some are just here for a drink.'

`The place is usually this full,' Alyss put in. But Jenny shook her head.

`There are extras here tonight. Word got out that the famous Will Treaty and his beautiful girlfriend would be dining here and the bookings just flowed in.'

Will reddened slightly but Alyss took the comment in her stride. She and Jenny had known each other since childhood, after all.

`How did that word get out, I wonder?' she said with a raised eyebrow. Jenny grinned at her and spread her hands innocently.

`I have no idea. But it's great for business.' She looked back at Will, her smile widening. 'It really is wonderful to see you again. It's been too long. And I believe you'll be staying with us from now on?'

Will's eyes widened in surprise. 'How did you know that?' He had assumed that the facts about Crowley's Special Task Group were secret.

Jenny shrugged carelessly. 'Oh, I heard about it a few weeks ago. Someone mentioned it. Not sure who.'

Will shook his head. He'd only been told within the past five days. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly people found out about so-called secrets. Jenny didn't notice his reaction.

`Will there be just the two of you?' she asked.

Alyss shook her head. 'Lady Pauline will be joining us.'

Jenny's smile widened even further. 'You people are going all out to give my little establishment a good name, aren't you?' she said.

Alyss shook her head. 'You don't need us to do it.' Jenny rubbed her hands briskly. It was time to get down to business.

`Now, did you want to order? Or shall I do it for you?'

Will sensed her eagerness to show off her skills. He set both hands palm down on the table in a gesture of readiness.

`I think we'd be mad to refuse your offer,' he said.

Jenny clicked her fingers at a passing table boy. 'Set another place here, Rafe,' she said. The boy, a heavy-boned youth of about sixteen, looked as if he'd be more at home behind a plough or a blacksmith's furnace but he nodded eagerly.

`Yes, Mistress Jenny,' he said. Clumsily, he began to lay cutlery and another platter in the place she'd indicated. The tip of his tongue protruded slightly at the corner of his mouth with the effort of trying to remember where everything went.

`I've got a rather nice first course,' Jenny said. 'I've deboned some quail and stuffed them with a mix of cranberries and apples, lightly spiced, then poached them in a red wine sauce.'

Without breaking her flow, or even looking at the table server beside her, she flicked her wrist, swinging the ladle in a diagonal arc so that it cracked noisily on Rafe's head.

Will winced but he had to admire her accuracy and skill.

`Knife on the right, fork on the left, all right? I've told you that, Rafe.'

Rafe looked at the offending implements in some confusion. His lips moved as he repeated the mantra, knife on the right, fork on the left. Jenny sighed patiently.

`Hold up your right hand,' she said. Rafe hesitated, his eyes fixed warily on the ladle, swinging in a gentle arc like a snake about to strike. 'The hand you write with,' she prompted.

`I don't write,' he said in a dejected tone. To her credit, Jenny was a little taken aback, fearing that she'd embarrassed the boy. She was, after all, only trying to teach himso that he might have a career other than plodding along in the wake of a plough horse.

`The hand you fight with,' Will put in. 'Your sword hand.'

Rafe's face cleared and a wide smile spread across it as he raised his muscular right arm. Jenny smiled at Will.

`Thanks, Will,' she said. 'Good thinking. All right, Rafe, that's your right hand, your sword hand. And a sword is like a big knife really, so that's the side the knife goes. All right?'

`Tha's fine,' Rafe replied happily. 'Why didn't you tell it to me like that before?'

Jenny sighed. 'I suppose I never thought of it because I'm not a famous Ranger,' she said. The irony was wasted on Rafe.

`Nay, mistress. But thee's a fine cook, I'll say that for thee.'

Confidently, he switched the knife and fork to their proper places. Then he checked to make sure he was right, wielding an a imaginary sword. Satisfied, he nodded and turned to Jenny.

`Will there be any more, mistress?'

`No. Thank you, Rafe. That'll be all for now.'