`And eventually,' Will said, 'they'll arrive at Dun Kilty and challenge the King's power.'

Halt nodded. 'Not directly, of course. They're too clever for that. Tennyson will pretend at first to be working on the King's behalf. But gradually, as people come to depend more on him, the King will become increasingly irrelevant and Tennyson will assume power.'

`Judging by the way people talk about the King, that shouldn't take long,' Horace said. 'Seems like he's well on the way to being irrelevant.' He hesitated, realising that he was talking about Halt's brother, and added awkwardly, `Sorry, Halt. I didn't mean…'

His voice trailed off but Halt made a small gesture dismissing the need for apology.

`It's all right, Horace. I don't have much regard for my brother. And it's obvious that his subjects share my feelings.'

Will stared thoughtfully into the fire, thinking over what Halt had described.

`Won't the fact that we beat off the attack at Craikennis stop him?' he asked.

Halt shook his head. `It'll be a setback. But in itself, it's not enough to cause him major trouble. It's only one instance in a chain of attacks and massacres. He can still use the hysteria and adulation of the Mountshannon villagers. Of course, it would have been better for him if Craikennis had been overrun, but it's not an insurmountable obstacle.'

`Unless we make it one,' Horace said thoughtfully. Halt smiled at him. The young warrior had a way of seeing through to the core of a situation, he thought.

`Exactly. Chances are he doesn't even know what's happened at Craikennis. If I were one of the men who ran away when Horace finished off Padraig, I wouldn't be in any hurry to go telling him. People like Tennyson have a nasty habit of punishing those who bring them bad news. So as he moves on, gathering more followers, he'll be expecting rumours of a massacre to follow him. If they don't, he won't be too concerned. But if we spread the word about the Sunrise Warrior's victory, it'll be a different matter. If we arrive at Dun Kilty with the story of how the Sunrise Warrior defeated two hundred bloodthirsty bandits, single-handed, he'll have to see it as a challenge to his position. He won't be able to ignore us.'

`And that's a good thing?' Will said, frowning. Halt looked at him for a few moments in silence.

`It's a very good thing,' he said. 'I'm rather looking forward to a confrontation with Tennyson.'

He leaned back in his chair and stretched. It had been a long day, he thought. And there were more long days to come.

`Let's get some sleep,' he said. 'Will, tomorrow I want you to go after Tennyson and keep an eye on him. He's seen Horace and me but he doesn't know you. You can do your minstrel act again.'

Will nodded agreement. It would be relatively simple to join a large unorganised group like the one that would be following Tennyson. As a minstrel, he'd be able to move easily among them.

`If he follows the usual Outsider pattern, he'll take a long swing through the countryside gathering followers and reach Dun Kilty in a week or so. But once you get an idea what he's up to, come and let us know.'

`Where will I find you?' Will asked, although he sensed that he already knew the answer. Halt's reply confirmed his suspicions.

`We'll be at Dun Kilty. It's time I had a family reunion with my brother.'

Chapter 30

Dun Kilty was an impressive castle, Horace thought. Built inside a walled town, and set on a craggy outcrop that gave it its name, it loomed high over the lesser buildings of the town that surrounded it, its massive grey walls standing ten metres high in places.

`This wasn't thrown up in a hurry,' he said to Halt as they made their way up a street crowded with merchants, food stalls, artisans at work and people pushing carts full of everything from building materials to vegetables, from sides of meat to piles of fresh manure. Horace noted with some misgivings that the last two tended to brush together, leaving some of the manure smeared over the carcasses. He decided he'd have fish for dinner that night.

`It's an ancient fortress,' Halt told him. 'It's several hundred years older than Castle Araluen. And it was here long before the town grew up around it.'

Horace pursed his lips, suitably impressed. Then Halt ruined the effect by adding, 'Draughty as all hell in winter, too.'

They'd parted company with Will two days before, electing to ride directly for Dun Kilty. As Halt had predicted, vague rumours of the result of the battle at Craikennis had already gone ahead of them. Once again, he marvelled at the way it happened without any apparent human agency.

Rumours were also spreading of the way Tennyson had repulsed the attack on Mountshannon and Halt sensed an air of uncertainty among the people they spoke to. People weren't quite sure which banner they should flock to. Rumours about the Outsiders, and their ability to protect villages and settlements from the lawlessness that was rife throughout the country, had been circulating for some time now. Word had even come from the other kingdoms. The Sunrise Warrior was a new phenomenon. But the legend was well known and people weren't sure which way to turn. There was a sense of 'let's wait and see', which was exactly the result Halt had hoped for.

The previous night, camped by the side of the highway, he had been busy. Horace watched him unwrapping his pens, inks, parchments and sealing wax tablets and sighed. Halt was about to indulge in what he called 'creative documentation'. Horace called it forgery. He remembered a time when Halt's skill as a forger had horrified his honest, straightforward soul. I'm more devious now, he thought. It doesn't bother me so much. Not for the first time, he decided that his declining moral standards were a result of his spending too much time in the company of Rangers.

Halt glanced up, seeing the expression on the younger man's face and guessing the reason for it.

`It's just a Laissez Passer from Duncan. A request that you be allowed entry to the royal throne room,' he said. `It'll give us access to Ferris.'

`Couldn't you just tell Ferris you're back?' Horace said. `Surely he'd agree to see you?'

Halt stuck his bottom lip out while he considered the statement. 'Maybe,' he said. 'Or maybe he'd find it simpler to have me killed. This is better. Besides, I want to pick the right moment to let him know that I am back.'

`I suppose so,' Horace agreed. He still wasn't completely happy about the idea of carrying forged credentials. He watched as Halt applied a perfect copy of the Araluan royal seal to a splodge of soft wax at the base of the document.

Halt glanced up. 'Duncan would have given us one himself if we'd had the time to ask. I don't know why you're so worried,' he said.

Horace pointed to the seal as Halt returned it to the small leather sack where he kept it.

`Maybe. But does he know you have that?'

Halt didn't answer immediately. 'Not really,' he said, `but what he doesn't know won't hurt him. Or me, more importantly.'

It was a capital crime in Araluen to even possess a replica of the King's seal, let alone use it. Duncan, of course, was only too aware that Halt had forged his seal and signature on numerous occasions. He thought it better overall to pretend that he knew nothing about it.

Halt shook the sheet of paper to dry the ink and allow the wax to harden. Then he laid it down carefully.

`Now for your shield,' he said.

The' linen shield cover had been badly torn duringHorace's encounter with Padraig. He needed something more permanent. During the afternoon, they had passed a village and Halt had procured paint and several brushes. Now he busied himself painting the sunrise insignia onto Horace's shield. Horace noted that the tip of Halt's tongue tended to protrude as he concentrated. It made the grizzled Ranger look surprisingly youthful.