Sorcerer of the North (4 page)

Ergell rose from behind the massive desk that was the dominant piece of furniture in the room. He was an exceptionally tall and thin man and for a moment, seeing the long, pale hair and the black clothes, Will had the shocking sensation that he was looking at a reincarnation of the evil Lord Morgarath, who had threatened the peace of the kingdom during Will's youth. Then he realized that the hair was gray, not dead white as Morgarath's had been, and Ergell, although tall, stood nowhere near Morgarath's height. The moment passed and Will realized he was staring at the Baron, who stood waiting with his hand outstretched to greet him. Hastily, Will moved forward.

"Good afternoon, my lord," he said. Ergell pumped his hand eagerly. He was aged around sixty but still moved easily. Will handed him the parchment containing his official orders of appointment. By rights, the guard at the drawbridge should have taken it and had it delivered to Ergell for inspection before allowing Will access to the keep. But the sergeant in charge had simply looked at the Ranger's cloak and longbow and waved him inside. Slack, Will thought. Decidedly slack.

"Welcome to Seacliff, Ranger Treaty," the Baron said. "It's a privilege to have one so distinguished in our service."

Will frowned slightly. Rangers didn't serve the Barons they were attached to and Ergell should know that. Perhaps, he thought, the Baron was trying to assume authority by the simple expedient of implying that it existed.

"We all serve the King, sir," he replied evenly, and the slight shadow that flickered across Ergell's face told him his suspicion was correct. Ergell, seeing a Ranger so young, may well have been trying it on, as Halt would have put it.

"Of course, of course," the Baron replied quickly, then indicated the heavyset man standing to one side of his desk.

"Ranger Treaty, this is Seacliff's Battlemaster, Sir Norris of Rook."

Will put Norris's age at about forty, which was pretty much the average for Battlemasters. Much younger and a man didn't have the necessary experience to lead a fief's troop of knights and men-at-arms into battle. Too many years older and he was beginning to lose the physical strength necessary for the task.

"Sir Norris," he said briefly in greeting. The knight's handshake was firm, which hardly came as a surprise. Men who had spent the greater part of their lives wielding sword or battleax usually ended up with powerful muscles in the hand and arms. He sensed the Battlemaster studying him as they shook hands, saw the quick scrutiny that took in his youth and slight build.

There was something else, Will fancied—a hint of satisfaction at what the knight saw. Perhaps, after years of dealing with the knowledgeable and experienced Bartell, Norris could foresee a slightly easier time with this new, freshly commissioned Ranger. Will felt a slight pang of disappointment at the thought. Halt and Crowley, the Corps Commandant, had warned him that some fiefs saw their relationship with Rangers as antagonistic.

Too many of them see it as an "us and them" situation,
Crowley had said when he briefed Will for the posting.
After all, it is part of our task to keep tabs on them, to assess their battle readiness and their level of skill and training. Some Barons and Battlemasters don't like that. They like to believe they're running their own race and they don't care to have Rangers watching over their shoulders.

That had never been the way at Castle Redmont, Will knew. But then Halt and Arald had an excellent relationship and a deep level of mutual respect. He filed the thought away as he made polite small talk in reply to Norris's and Ergell's questions as to his trip.

Ergell, he realized, was inviting him to dine with them in the castle. Will smiled politely as he offered his apologies. "Perhaps later in the week, my lord. It's not fair for me to disrupt your household. After all, you had no way of knowing that I would arrive today and I'm sure you had already finalized plans for the evening."

"Of course, of course. Later in the week, when you're settled in," the Baron agreed. He was a likeable enough person, Will felt, in spite of his attempt to subtly undercut Will's authority. His smile was warm and welcoming. "Perhaps we can send something from our kitchens for you later on?"

"No need for that, my lord. The woman Edwina has already left me a very creditable beef stew. From the aroma of it, I'll be more than satisfied for the evening."

Ergell smiled in reply. "She's a fine cook, that's the truth," he said. "I've tried to tempt her to work for us here in the castle but to no avail, I'm afraid."

Norris took a seat on one of the long benches that flanked the desk. "You've moved into Bartell's cottage then?"

Will nodded. "Yes, Battlemaster. It seems comfortable enough."

Ergell gave a short bark of laughter. "With Edwina's cooking laid on, I should think so," he agreed. But Norris was shaking his head.

"Far more efficient for you to move in here at the castle," he said. "The Baron can let you have your own suite of rooms—a lot more comfortable than a rickety cabin in the woods. And you'd be closer at hand if we needed you."

Will smiled, recognizing the ploy behind the innocent suggestion. By moving into the castle, he would be taking the first step toward a subtle shift in control. It mightn't happen immediately, but relinquishing his independence would be the thin end of the wedge. Also, the statement that he would be closer to hand
if they needed him
held an unspoken implication that he was at the castle's beck and call. He was aware that Ergell was watching him closely, waiting for his response.

"The cabin is fine, thank you, Battlemaster," he said. "And it is traditional for Rangers to have their quarters apart from the castle."

"Well, yes, traditional," said Norris dismissively. "Sometimes I think we give too much importance to things that are 'traditional.' "

Ergell laughed again, breaking the slightly awkward silence that followed Norris's words. "Come now, Norris, we all know how the Rangers value tradition. Just remember," he added to Will, "the offer stands. If that cabin grows too cold and drafty in the dead of winter, you'll always have a suite of rooms available here in the keep."

His quick glance told the Battlemaster that the subject was not to be pursued further. To his credit, Norris shrugged and complied. Will couldn't really blame them for trying to influence him. He could imagine how galling it might be to have someone quietly standing by, day in, day out, watching over your shoulder as you went about your work, submitting reports to the King on your abilities and activities. Particularly when that someone was as inexperienced as he was. At least, it seemed, he had managed to refuse their advances without causing offense.

"Well then, Ranger Treaty ..." Ergell began, and Will held up a hand.

"Please, my lord," he said, "I'd be happy if you would simply call me Will."

It was a gracious gesture, particularly as in saying it, Will made it clear that he would continue to use the Baron's title as his method of address. Ergell smiled, with more warmth than Will had seen so far. The gesture had not gone unnoticed.

"Will it is then. As I was about to say, perhaps we could plan for an official welcome dinner two nights from tonight? It will give my Kitchenmaster time to plan something appropriate."

"And we all know how difficult Kitchenmasters can make life if we don't give them that time," said Norris, smiling ruefully. Will grinned in return. It seemed Kitchenmasters were the same the world over, he thought. The atmosphere in the room lightened considerably.

"If there's nothing else then, my lord, I'll take my leave," Will said. Ergell nodded, and Norris rose from the bench again.

"Of course, Will," said the Baron. "If there's anything you need at the cabin, let Gordon know." Gordon was the chamberlain who had shown Will into the office.

Will hesitated, then said quietly, "You have my commission, sir" He indicated the parchment roll on the desktop. Ergell nodded several times.

"Yes, yes. Rest assured I'll look through it shortly." He smiled. "Although I'm sure you're not an impostor." Strictly speaking, Ergell should have broken the seal and read the commission when Will first handed it to him. Things seemed a little bit easygoing in Seacliff Fief, he thought. But perhaps he was just being a stickler for detail.

"Very well, my lord." He glanced at Norris. "Battlemaster," he said, and the knight shook hands with him once more.

"Good to have you with us, Ranger," he said.

"Will," Will reminded him, and the Battlemaster nodded.

"Good to have you with us, Will," he corrected himself. Will gave a slight stiff bow to the Baron, turned and left the room.

Back in the cabin, he found the dog lying where he had left her. She was awake now and her tail thumped the floor two or three times as he entered. There was another bowl on the table and he saw that it contained a meat broth. Underneath the bowl was a small piece of parchment bearing a crude drawing of a dog. Edwina, he thought. The broth was still warm so he placed the bowl on the floor for the dog. She stood carefully and limped a few paces to reach it. Her tongue began a steady lap-lap-lap as she ate. He fondled her ears, checking the wound in her side. The stitches were still holding.

"Lucky she left the drawing, girl," he said. "Or I might have eaten your dinner."

The dog continued to lap at the savory broth. The smell was delicious, he realized, and his empty stomach groaned. Edwina had also left a small loaf of bread with his stew. He carved himself a slice and chewed it eagerly as he waited for the stew to heat on his stove.

The following days seemed to go by in a blur as Will became familiar with his new surroundings. The welcome dinner that Ergell held for him in the castle dining room was a pleasant enough occasion. As it was an official function, Craftmasters such as the Armorer, Horsemaster and Scribemaster were all in attendance, as well as the knights attached to the castle and their ladies. The faces and names were a blur, but Will knew that over the coming weeks he would begin to remember them, and assign individual traits and characters to each person. For their part, they all seemed curious to meet the new Ranger, and Will was sufficiently pragmatic to realize that a certain reputation preceded him.

As the former apprentice of Halt, one of the greatest and most famous members of the Ranger Corps, Will would always have enjoyed a degree of celebrity. But he was also the one who had discovered and thwarted the secret plans of Morgarath, the evil Lord of Rain and Night, when he had attacked the kingdom little more than five years ago. Then he had served as protector to the Princess Cassandra during her captivity by the Skandian sea wolves. That particular interlude had been rounded off by a major battle with the Temujai, the fierce cavalry from the Eastern Steppes, and finally, the signing of a non-aggression treaty with the Skandians—a treaty which still held to this day.

In fact, it was his part in securing the Hallasholm Treaty that had given Will the name by which he was known these days—Will Treaty. Raised as an orphan at Castle Redmont, he had known no family name in his childhood.

So perhaps it was natural for people to be surprised at his apparent youth and even, in some cases, to assume that they had mistaken him for some other Ranger—someone who must be older and far bigger in stature. In the years he had spent with Halt, Will had often witnessed the disbelief evident on people's faces when they first met the small, gray-bearded man whose untidy hair looked as if it had been cut with his own saxe knife. People expected their heroes to live up to a romantic ideal. The fact that most Rangers were on the small side, albeit wiry, agile and fast moving, seemed to go against general belief.

So Will faced an air of puzzlement and even mild disappointment as he met his new neighbors—particularly among the ladies of the court. Seacliff was a backwater, as he had surmised, and the arrival of a celebrity—one who had been thanked personally by King Duncan for protecting his daughter—was cause for great anticipation. If the reality was not quite up to people's expectations, that was simply too bad, he thought.

For his part, the more he saw of Seacliff, the more his own sense of disappointment grew. It was a pleasant enough fief, set in a beautiful part of the kingdom. But the years of peace and safety had brought with them a sense of carelessness and neglect in the castle's garrison. And the blame for that neglect could only be sheeted home to the Baron and his Battlemaster. It created an awkward situation for Will, as he felt a genuine liking and respect for both men. But it was undeniable that the readiness and training among the knights and men-at-arms maintained by Ergell was way below the acceptable level.

For days he had considered how he might bring the matter to the Baron's attention without causing offense. He had hinted as broadly as he could that things seemed a little too ... comfortable. But Ergell and Norris had laughed off the comments, seeming to take them as compliments on the relaxed and enjoyable way of life in Seacliff.

Every baron in the kingdom was required to maintain a force of mounted knights and men-at-arms to ensure the King's peace in the fief. And, in the event of war, each castle would send its men to join the King's army, under the leadership of King Duncan and his inner council. A large fief such as Redmont would maintain a force totaling several hundred mounted warriors and infantry. Seacliff, as one of the smaller fiefs, was required to field half a dozen knights, ten Battleschool warrior apprentices, and an infantry force of twenty-five men-at-arms. An irregular force of fifteen archers was also available if needed, its members drawn from among the villagers and farmers living nearby.

In several weeks at Seacliff, Will was yet to see any formal drilling of the knights and the men-at-arms. There were some weapons drills, held on what seemed to be a haphazard basis, but no real program of training and practice—the sort of constant work that warriors needed to maintain their edge. In addition, the Battleschool apprentices, under the overall guidance of Sir Norris and his two senior knights, were sloppy in their drill and even to Will's young eyes their skill levels seemed to be behind their contemporaries in other Battleschools.