“Do you think you could persuade that horse of yours to stay with the other horses for a minute or two?” he said with a mock severity. “Otherwise he’ll wind up believing he’s one of us.”He’s been driving Halt crazy since we found your tracks,” Horace put in. “He must have picked up your scent and known it was you we were following, although Halt didn’t realize it.”At that, Halt raised an eyebrow. “Halt didn’t realize it?” he repeated. “And I suppose you did?”Horace shrugged. “I’m just a warrior,” he replied. “I’m not supposed to be the thinker. I leave that to you Rangers.”

“Halt waited a minute or two but there was no sound except for the jingling of harness and the creaking of leather from their saddles. Finally, the former Ranger could bear it no longer.What?”The question seemed to explode out of him, with a greater degree of violence than he had intended. Taken by surprise, Horace’s bay shied in fright and danced several paces away.Horace turned an aggrieved look on his mentor as he calmed the horse and brought it back under control.What?” he asked Halt, and the smaller man made a gesture of exasperation.That’s what I want to know,” he said irritably. “What?”Horace peered at him. The look was too obviously the sort of look that you give someone who seems to have taken leave of his senses. It did little to improve Halt’s rapidly growing temper.What?” said Horace, now totally puzzled.Don’t keep parroting at me!” Halt fumed. “Stop repeating what I say! I asked you ‘what,’ so don’t ask me ‘what’ back, understand?”Horace considered the question for a second or two, then, in his deliberate way, he replied: “No.”Halt took a deep breath, his eyebrows contracted into a deep V, and beneath them his eyes with anger but before he could speak, Horace forestalled him.What ‘what’ are you asking me?” he said. Then, thinking how to make the question clearer, he added, “Or to put it another way, why are you asking ‘what’?”Controlling himself with enormous restraint, and making no secret of the fact, Halt said, very precisely: “You were about to ask me a question.”Horace frowned. “I was?”Halt nodded. “You were. I saw you take a breath to ask it.”I see,” Horace said. “And what was it about?”For just a second or two, Halt was speechless. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then finally found the strength to speak.That is what I was asking you,” he said. “When I said ‘what,’ I was asking you what you were about to ask me.”I wasn’t about to ask you ‘what,’” Horace replied, and Halt glared at him suspiciously. It occurred to him that Horace could be indulging himself in a gigantic leg pull, that he was secretly laughing at Halt. This, Halt could have told him, was not a good career move. Rangers were not people who took kindly to being laughed at. He studied the boy’s open face and guileless blue eyes and decided that his suspicion was ill-founded.Then what, if I may use that word once more, were you about to ask me?”Horace drew a breath once more, then hesitated. “I forget,” he said. “What were we talking about?”

“Does it matter?" Halt asked. Horace shrugged. "Not really, I suppose. I just wondered why you'd gone to the kitchen and why you took the trouble to remain unseen. Were you hiding from Master Chubb yourself? And Will just turned up by coincidence?" "And why would I be hiding from Master Chubb in his own kitchen?" Halt challenged. Again. Horace shrugged innocently. "Well,there was a tray of freshly made pies airing on the windowsill, wasn't there? And you're quite fond of pies, aren't you, Halt?" Halt drew himself up very straight in the saddle. "Are you accusing me of sneaking into that kitchen to steal the pies for myself? Is that it?" His voice and body language simply reeked of injured dignity. "Of course not, Halt!" Horace hurried to assure him, and Halt's stiff-shouldered form relaxed a little. "I just thought I'd give you the opportunity to confess," Horace added. This time, Malcolm couldn't conceal his sudden explosion of laughter. Halt gave them both a withering glance. "You know, Horace," he said at length, "you used to be a most agreeable young man. Whatever happened to you?" Horace turned a wide grin on him. "I've spent too much time around you, I suppose," he said. And Halt had to admit that was probably true.”

“Halt?" he said diffidently. He heard a deep sigh from the short, slightly built man riding beside him. Mentally he kicked himself.I thought you must be coming down with some illness for a moment there," Halt said straight faced. "It must be two or three minutes since you've asked a question." Commited now, Horace continued.One of those girls," he began, and immediately felt the Ranger's eyes on him. "She was wearing a very short skirt."There was the slightest pause.Yes?" Halt prompted, not sure where this conversation was leading. Horace shrugged uncomfortably. The memory of the girl, and her shapely legs, was causing his cheeks to burn with embarrassment again.Well," he said uncertainly, "I just wondered if that was normal over, that's all." Halt considered the serious young face beside him. He cleared his throat several times.I believe that sometimes Gallican girls take jobs as couriers. he said.Couriers. They carry messages from one person to another. Or from one buisness to another, in towns and cities." Halt checked to see if Horace seemed to believe him so far. There seemed no reason to think otherwise, so he added: "Urgent messages."Urgent messages," Horace replied, still not seeing the connection. But he seemed inclined to believe what Halt was saying, so the older man continued.And I suppose for a really urgent message, one would have to run."Now he saw a glimmer of understanding in the boy's eyes. Horace nodded several times as he made the connection.So, the short skirts...they'd be to help them run more easily?" he suggested. Halt nodded in his turn.It would be more sensible for of dress than long skirts, if you wanted to do a lot of runnig." He shot a quick look at Horace to see if his gentle teasing was not being turned back on himself-to see if, in fact, the boy realized Halt was talking nosense and was simply leading him on. Horace's face, however, was open and believing.I suppose so," Horace replied finally, then added in a softer voice, "They certainly look a lot better that way too.”

“Would you have done that in his place? Would you have left him and gone on?""Of course I would!" Halt replied immediately. But something in his voice rang false and Horse looked at him, raising one eyebrow. He'd waited a long time for an opportunity to use that expression of disbelief on Halt.After a pause, the Ranger's anger subsided."All right. Perhaps I wouldn't," he admitted. Then he glared at Horace. "And stop raising that eyebrow on me. You can't even do it properly. Your other eyebrow moves with it!”

“Halt shook his head. "You warriors don't do much geography in Battleschool, do you?"Horace shrugged. "We're not big on that sort of thing. We wait for our leader to point to an enemy and say, 'Go whack him.' We leave geography and such to Rangers. We like you to feel superior.""Go whack him, indeed," Halt said. "It must be comforting to lead such an uncomplicated life.”