The Burning Bridge

2

H ALT TURNED SLOWLY TO FACE HIS IMPULSIVE YOUNG APPRENTICE, and raised his eyebrows at the outburst. Will, subsiding, muttered, "Sorry, Halt," and the older Ranger nodded.

"I should think so. It's more than obvious that Gilan is asking if I'll release you to accompany him to Celtica."

Gilan nodded confirmation of the fact and Will frowned, puzzled by the sudden turn of events. "Me?" he said incredulously. "Why me? What can I do in Celtica?"

The moment the words had left his mouth, he regretted them. He should have learned by now never to give Halt that sort of opening. Halt pursed his lips as he considered the question.

"Ask interminable questions, interrupt your betters and forget to do your chores, I suppose. The real question is, Can you be spared from duty here? And the answer to that is 'Definitely.'"

"Then why:" Will gave up. They would either explain or they wouldn't. And no amount of asking would make Halt deliver that explanation a second sooner than he chose to. In fact, he was beginning to think that the more questions he asked, the more Halt actually enjoyed keeping him dangling. It was Gilan who took pity on him, perhaps remembering how closemouthed Halt could be when he chose.

"I need you to make up the numbers, Will," he said. "Tradition-ally, the Celts insist that an official embassy be made up of three people. And to be honest, Halt's right. You're one who can be spared from the main effort here in Araluen." He grinned a little ruefully. "If it makes you feel any better, I've been given the mission because I'm the most junior Ranger in the Corps."

"But why three people?" Will asked, seeing that Gilan at least seemed disposed to answer questions. "Can't one deliver the message?"

Gilan sighed. "As we were saying, it's a superstition among the Celts. It goes back to the old days of the Celtic Council, when the Celts, the Scotti and the Hibernians were one alliance. They were ruled then by a triumvirate."

"The point is," Halt interrupted, "of course Gilan can take the message to them. But if he's a sole messenger, they'll keep him waiting and fob him off for days, or even weeks, while they dither over form and protocol. And we don't have that sort of time to waste. There's an old Celtic saying that covers it: One man may be deceit. Two can be conspiracy. Three is the number I trust. "

"So you're sending me because you can do without me?" Will said, somewhat insulted by the thought.

Halt decided that it was time to massage Will's young ego a little-but only a little. "Well, we can, as a matter of fact. But you can't send just anyone on these embassies. The three members have to have some sort of official status or position in the world. They can't be simple men-at-arms, for example."

"And you, Will," Gilan added, "are a member of the Ranger Corps. That will carry a certain amount of weight with the Celts."

"I'm only an apprentice," Will said, and was surprised when both men shook their heads in disagreement.

"You wear the oak leaf," Halt told him firmly. "Bronze or silver, it doesn't matter. You're one of us."

Will brightened visibly at his teacher's statement. "Well," he said, "when you put it like that, I'd be delighted to join you, Gilan."

Halt regarded him dryly. It was obviously time for the ego-stroking to end, he thought. Deliberately, he turned to Gilan.

"So," he said, "can you think of anyone else who's totally unnecessary to be the third member?"

Gilan shrugged, smiling as he saw Will subside. "That's the other reason Crowley sent me here," he said. "Since Redmont is one of the larger fiefs, he thought you might be able to spare someone else from here. Any suggestions?"

Halt rubbed his chin thoughtfully, an idea forming. "I think we might have just the person you need," he said. He turned to Will. "Perhaps you'd better get some sleep. I'll give Gilan a hand with the horses and then we'll go up to the castle."

Will nodded. Now that Halt mentioned sleep, he felt an irresistible urge to yawn. He rose and headed for his small room.

"See you in the morning, Gilan."

"Bright and early." Gilan smiled, and Will rolled his eyes in mock horror.

"I knew you'd say that," he replied.

Halt and Gilan bedded the two horses down and strolled through the fields toward Castle Redmont in companionable silence. Gilan, attuned to his old teacher's ways, sensed that Halt had something he wanted to discuss, and before too long, the older Ranger broke the silence.

"This embassy to Celtica could be just what Will needs," he said. "I'm a little worried about him."

Gilan frowned. He liked the irrepressible young apprentice. "What's the problem?" he asked.

"He had a bad time of it when we ran into those Wargals last week," Halt said. "He thinks he's lost his nerve."

"And has he?"

Halt shook his head decisively. "Of course not. He's got more courage than most grown men. But when the Wargals charged us, he rushed his shot and missed."

Gilan shrugged. "No shame in that, is there? After all, he's not yet sixteen. He didn't run, I take it?"

"No. Not at all. He stood his ground. Even got another shot away. Then Tug took a hand and backed the Wargal off so I could finish it. He's a good horse, that one."

"He has a good master," Gilan said, and Halt nodded.

"That's true. Still, I think a few weeks away from all of these war preparations will be good for the boy. It might get his mind off his troubles if he spends some time with you and Horace."

"Horace?" Gilan asked.

"He's the third member I'm suggesting. One of the Battleschool apprentices and a friend of Will's." Halt thought for a few moments, then nodded to himself. "Yes. A few weeks with people closer to his own age will do him good. After all, folk do say I can be a little grim from time to time."

"You, Halt? Grim? Who could say such a thing?" Gilan said. Halt glanced at him suspiciously. Gilan was, all too obviously, just managing to keep a straight face.

"You know, Gilan," he said, "sarcasm isn't the lowest form of wit. It's not even wit at all."

Even though it was after midnight, the lights were still burning in Baron Arald's office when Halt and Gilan reached the castle. The Baron and Sir Rodney, Redmont's Battlemaster, had a lot of planning to do, preparing for the march to the Plains of Uthal, where they would join the rest of the kingdom's army. When Halt explained Gilan's need, Sir Rodney was quick to see where the Ranger's thinking was headed.

"Horace?" he said to Halt.

The small, bearded Ranger nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Yes, it's not a bad idea at all," the Battlemaster continued, pacing the room as he thought it over. "He has the sort of status you need for the task-he's a Battleschool member, even if he is only a trainee. We can spare him from the force leaving here at the end of the week and:"

At this he paused and looked meaningfully at Gilan. "You might even find he's a useful person to have along."

The younger Ranger looked at him curiously and Sir Rodney elaborated: "He's one of my best trainees-a real natural with a sword. He's already better than most members of the Battleschool. But he does tend to be a bit formal and inflexible in his approach to life. Perhaps an assignment with two undisciplined Rangers might teach him to loosen up a little."

He smiled briefly to show that he meant no offense by the joke, then glanced at the sword Gilan wore at his hip. It was an unusual weapon for a Ranger. "You're the one who studied with MacNeil, is that right?"

Gilan nodded. "The Swordmaster. Yes, that was me."

"Hmmm," muttered Sir Rodney, regarding the tall young Ranger with new interest. "Well, you might see your way clear to giving Horace a few pointers while you're on the road. I'd take it as a favor and you'll find he's a quick learner."

"I'd be glad to," Gilan replied. He thought that he'd like to see this apprentice warrior. He knew from his time at Redmont as Halt's apprentice that Sir Rodney wasn't given to overstating praise for any of the students in the Battleschool.

"Well, that's settled then," Baron Arald said, anxious to get back to planning the thousand and one details of the march to Uthal. "What time will you be leaving, Gilan?"

"As soon after sunup as I can, sir," Gilan replied.

"I'll have Horace report to you before first light," Rodney told him and Gilan nodded, sensing that the meeting was over. The Baron's next words confirmed it for him.

"Now, if you two will excuse us, we'll get back to the relatively simple business of planning a war," he said.