“Relax? he repeated incredulously. You're going to fight an armored knight with nothing more than a bow and you tell me to relax?I'll have one or two arrows as well, you know, Halt told him mildly, and Horace shook his head in disbelief.”

“We're going to see Ragnak," Halt told him. "He's going to have to promise to free every slave who fights for Hallasholm."Will shook his head doubtfully. "He won't like that," he said. Halt turned and looked at him, a faint grin touching the corner of his mouth.He'll hate it," he agreed.”

“Sirrah, my companion chooses to engage you in knightly combat!" Halt said. The horseman stiffened, sitting upright in his saddle. Halt noticed that he nearly lost his balance at this unexpected piece of news.Nightly cermbat?" he replied, "Yewer cermpenion ers no knight!"Halt nodded hugely, making sure the man could see the gesture.Oh yes he is!" he called back. "He is Sir Horace of the Order of the Feuille du Chene." He paused and muttered to himself, "Or should that have been Crepe du Chene? Never mind."What did you tell him?" Horace asked, slinging his buckler around from where it hung at his back and setting it on his left arm.I said you were Sir Horace of the Order of the Oakleaf." Halt said to him, then added uncertainly, "At least, I think that's what I told him. I may have said you were of the Order of the Oak Pancake.”

“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.”

“As they climbed into their saddles, Myron bowed his head and muttered a soft prayer.“There,” Hadrian told Royce, “we’ve got Maribor on our side. Now you can relax.”“Actually,” Myron said sheepishly, “I was praying for the horses. But I will pray for you as well,” he added hastily.”

“I'll be getting you for this,' Halt had told him as he dabbed the diguisting mixture on the worst of the cuts. 'That soot is filthy. I'll probably come down with half a dozen infections.'Probably,' Horace had replied, distracted by his task. 'But we'll only need you for today.'Which was not a very comforting thought for Halt.”