We must wait," she said. "They are involved in important buisness."
Her tone was serious, almost reverntial. The two of them stopped, some five meters from the group of me. They were all leaning forward, staring intently at an upright rock placed in the middle of the circle. Will thought they must be praying, although no words were being said.
Then, as one, they all slumped back with a roar of disappointment.
"It flew away!" said one figure, and Will recognized the voice. It was the man who had rescued him. "Almost to the top and it flew away!"
e lookd questioningly to Cieliema and she rolled her eyes at him. "Grown men gambling on two flies crawling up a stone."
"Gambling?" he said. "I thought they were praying.
She raised an eyebrow. "To them, it's much the same thing.
Young men!” he snorted to Erak. “They think a pretty face can cure every ill.”
“Some of us can remember back that far. Halt,” Erak told him with a grin. “I suppose that’s all far behind an old hack like you. Svengal told me you were settling down. Some plump, motherly widow seizing her last chance with a broken-down old gray bear, is she?”
Erak, of course, had been told by Svengal that Halt had recently married a great beauty. But he enjoyed getting a reaction from the smaller man. Halt’s one-eyed stare locked onto the Oberjarl.
“When we get back, I’d advise you not to refer to Pauline as a ‘plump, motherly widow’ in her hearing. She’s very good with that dagger she carries and you need your ears to keep that ridiculous helmet of yours in place.
Best way then is to be waiting for them to bring Halt and the others out of that prison,” he said, almost to himself.
“There’s only one reason I can think of that they might do that,” Umar said. “That’s if they are going to execute them.”
Will lookd at him for several seconds before speaking. “Well, that’s a big comfort.
But if we’re going to kill them all, we might as well make an occasion of it.”
Toshak shrugged. “Do as you wish,” he said. “Occasion or not, as long as they’re all dead, I’m happy.
Never take your eyes off them,” Horace said to Gilan, in an admonishing tone. “Didn’t MacNeil ever tell you that?
John FlanaganWhat are you looking at, foreigner?” the guard demanded roughly. The smile was a little unsettling. A prisoner shouldn’t smile at his captors like that.
“I’m just making sure I can remember you,” Gilan told him. “Never know when that might be useful.
Horace, fit, and athletic and light on his feet, gave their guards the fewest opportunities to beat him, although on one occasion an angry Tualaghi, furious that Horace misunderstood an order to kneel, slashed his dagger across the young man’s face, opening a thin, shallow cut on his right cheek. The wound was superficial but as Evanlyn treated it that evening, Horace shamelessly pretended that it was more painful than it really was. He enjoyed the touch of her ministering hands. Halt and Gilan, bruised and weary, watched as she cleaned the wound and gently pated it dry. Horace did a wonderful job of pretending to bear great pain with stoic bravery. Halt shook his head in disgust.
“What faker,” he said to Gilan. The younger Ranger nodded.
“Yes. He’s really making a meal of it isn’t he?” He paused, then added more ruefully, “Wish I’d thought of it first.
You should have left him to wander,” Svengal said coldly. Erak looked at him, eyebrows raised.
“Would you?” he asked, and Svengal hesitated. At the end, Toshak had fought well and that counted for a lot of Skandians.
“No,” he admitted.
Gilan hesitated. "I wouldn't advise anyone to face a battleax with just two knives," he said carefully.
So what should I do?" Will joined in. Gilan glared from one boy to the other. He had the feeling he was being set up.
Shoot him," he said shortly. Will shook his head, grinning.
Can't," he said. "My bowstring's broken."
Then run and hide," said Gilan, between gritted teeth.
But there's a cliff," Horace pointed out. "A sheer drop behind him and an angry axman coming at him."
What do I do?" prompted Will.
Gilan took a deep breath and lookd them both in the eye, one after the other.
Jump off the cliff. It'll be less messy that way.
Strange, he thought, how seldom people tend to look up
John FlanaganTags: the-ruins-of-gorlan
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