S'mimasen," Alyss said repeatedly as they brushed against passerby. "What does that mean?" Will asked as they reached a stretch of street bare of any other pedestrians. He was impressed by Alyss's grasp of the local language. "It means 'pardon me,'" Alyss replied, but then a shadow of doubt crossed her face. "At least, I hope it does. Maybe I'm saying 'you have the manners of a fat, rancid sow.

I said, names aren't important," he repeated. There was a silence between them for some seconds, then the Ranger said: "Do you know what is important?"Will shook his head."Supper is important!

What have you packed for? A twelve-month grand tour around the country?

Farmers don't nap," he said. "Knights nap.""That's where we get the expression 'a good knight's sleep,'" Will said, smiling at his own wit. Halt turned a baleful eye on him."Horace is right. You're not funny.

I'd say," the Ranger answered after a few seconds' deliberation, "that he'll be heading south now that he has the chance. Back into Araluen.""How do you know that?" Horace asked. He was always impressed at the two Rangers' ability to read a situation and come up with the correct answer to a problem. Sometimes, he thought, they almost seemed to have divine guidance."I'm guessing," Halt told him.

Halt regarded him. He loved Horace like a younger brother. Even like a second son, after will. He admired his skill with a sword and his courage in battle. But sometimes, just sometimes, he felt an overwhelming desire to ram the young warrior's head against a convenient tree.

What is this?" he asked. "Are you all conspiring against me? Even my horse?" It was the last three words that made Will smile. "We figured you mightn't listen to a healer, a Ranger, or a knight of the realm, "he said. "But if your horse agreed with them, you'd have no choice but to pay attention.