`We'll take it,' he told the landlady who had showed them the room. She nodded. She had expected no less.

`How many nights?' she asked. Halt considered the question.

`Tonight and tomorrow night,' he told her. 'We may stay longer but that'll do for the moment.' He reached into the wallet hanging at his belt and paid her in advance for the,two nights. The landlady curtseyed with surprising grace for one with such a large girth and squirrelled the money away into a pocket in her apron.

`Thank you, your honour,' she said and Halt nodded. She stood expectantly. 'Will there be anything else?' `No. We'll be fine,' Halt said. But Horace interrupted him.

`Are you still serving food in the tap room?' he asked and her face was wreathed in a huge smile.

`God's love but of course we are, young man! And you with the look on you that you could eat a horse!'

Halt never ceased to be fascinated by the way women, young or old, big or small, could never resist the temptation to feed Horace.

`I'd prefer a steak,' the young warrior said, grinning.

The landlady chuckled, her multiple chins wobbling with the effort. 'And you'll have it, young sir! I'll tell Eva to put one on for you.'

`I could be a bit peckish myself,' Halt said peevishly. He wasn't. He merely said it to see what would happen. As he guessed, his comment was completely ignored. The landlady continued to beam at Horace.

`Just come on down whenever you're ready, young sir,' she told Horace effusively.

Halt shrugged and gave up. He slumped back on the bed, hands behind his head, and heaved a sigh of satisfaction. The landlady regarded him icily.

`Boots off the bed cover!' she said archly and Halt complied quickly.

She sniffed and was turning away as he mumbled, 'Bet you wouldn't have said that to Horace.'

She swung back instantly, suspicion written large on her face. 'What was that?'

In his life, Halt had faced Wargals, the terrible Kalkara, blood-mad Skandians and charging Temujai hordes without a quaver. But a bad-tempered landlady was a different matter altogether.

`Nothing,' he told her meekly.

When Horace returned an hour later, his belt satisfyingly tight around his middle, Halt was stretched out on one of the beds. Horace locked and bolted the door, then smiled as he saw that the Ranger's boots were standing together beside the bed and the cover had been turned back.

Halt was snoring softly, a fact that interested Horace. He had never known Halt to snore when they were camped out in hostile territory. The Ranger always slept as light as a cat, woken by the slightest sound. Perhaps when they were in such situations, Halt never reached the realm of deep sleep that led to the gentle whiffling sound that he heard now.

Horace yawned. The sight of the Ranger stretched out and relaxed made him realise how tired he was himself. It had been a hectic few days and the only good night's sleep they had enjoyed had been at Mountshannon, in the deserted inn. Since then, there had been a lot of hard riding. He sat on the other bed, removed his boots and lay back. The pillow was soft and the mattress, after weeks of sleeping on cold, unyielding earth, was heavenly. He was still marvelling at how comfortable he felt when he fell asleep.

Someone coughed.

Instantly, Horace shot upright in the bed, confused and disoriented, wondering where he was for a few seconds before he remembered. The light outside the window was dying as dusk crept over Dun Kilty. He glanced at Halt. The Ranger was still prone on the bed, hands behind his head. In the dimming light, Horace could see that Halt's eyes were closed, but the Ranger spoke now without opening them.

`That's a nasty cough you've got there,' he said.

`I thought I'd stumbled on Sleeping Beauty and her ugly sister,' said another voice, 'waiting for the kiss of true love to wake them from their slumbers. Forgive me if I didn't oblige.'

Horace spun round at the voice. A cloaked, cowled figure was sitting in the darkest corner of the room – Will, he realised.

Halt's voice was scornful when he replied. 'Sleeping? I've been wide awake since you stumbled up the stairs and crashed through the door like a one-legged kick-dancer. Who could sleep through that racket?'

I could, obviously, Horace thought. Then he remembered that he had locked the door behind him and wondered how Will had managed to bypass that littleproblem. He shrugged. Will was -a Ranger. They could do such things. His friend laughed as he replied to Halt's statement.

`That's a strange noise you make when you're wide awake,' he said, the smile evident in his voice. 'What is it they call it? Oh yes, snoring. Quite a talent. Most people can only do it when they're asleep.'

Halt sat up now, swung his legs off the bed, stretched his arms above his head and shook himself.

`Well, of course I continued with the pretence of snoring,' he said. ' I wanted to see how long you'd continue to sit there.'

`And how long did 1?'Will challenged.

Halt shook his head sadly and turned to Horace. `Horace, when you get older, try to avoid being saddled with an apprentice. Not only are they a damned nuisance but apparently they constantly feel the need to get the better of their masters. They're bad enough when they're learning. But when they graduate, they become unbearable.'

`I'll bear it in mind,' Horace said gravely. But he noticed that Halt had contrived to avoid answering Will's question. The younger Ranger had noticed it too but he decided to let his mentor off the hook.

Halt busied himself lighting the small lantern on the table between the two beds. As the flame flared up and the lens of the lamp spread its soft light into the corners of the room, he turned to Will curiously.

`I didn't expect you so soon,' he said. 'Did something go wrong?'

Will shrugged. 'Not really. Tennyson decided that minstrels weren't welcome in his camp and wanted to confiscate my mandola, so -'

`Your what?' Halt asked, frowning.

Will sighed in frustration. 'My lute.'

Halt nodded, understanding now. 'Oh. Right. Carry on.'

Will raised his eyebrows at Horace and the warrior smiled in sympathy.

`So,' Will continued, 'I decided to get out. They're breaking camp anyway and they're heading directly here.'

Halt rubbed his beard reflectively. 'I didn't expect that,' he said. 'I thought he'd spend a few more days gathering supporters.'

`He doesn't need them. He must have four hundred with him now. Plus I think the news of Craikennis has spooked him. A messenger arrived the other day and his news had Tennyson very upset indeed. I think he had the messenger killed, as a matter of fact.'

`Makes sense,' Horace put in. 'He wouldn't want news of the Sunrise Warrior's victory getting out.'

`No. He wouldn't,' said Halt. 'And you say he has four hundred people with him now?'

`At least,' Will said. 'Of course, the bulk of them are country folk, not trained fighters. But he's got an inner circle of supporters, including those two giant bruisers, Killeen and Gerard.'

`Still, a force of four hundred isn't to be sneezed at. I doubt if Ferris could raise more than a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty troops. That's if they chose to obey him.'

`How did it go with Ferris?' Will asked. 'Was he pleased to see you after all this time?'

`Hardly,' Halt said dryly. 'He'd already been in contact with Tennyson. He was thinking of selling out.'

`Was?' Will prompted.

`I think Halt persuaded him otherwise,' Horace said, with a grim smile. 'We're going back for his decision tomorrow.'

Will shook his head doubtfully. 'You're cutting it fine then. The Outsiders could be here by tomorrow.'

`That could make things awkward,' Halt said. 'But there's nothing we can do about it. If I try to rush him and see him tonight, he'll dig his heels in. Particularly if he thinks we're panicking.' He considered the matter in silence for a few seconds, then continued. 'No. We'll stick to the original schedule. Will, for the moment, we'll keep you out of sight. You stay here.'