Free Kings of Clonmel by John Flanagan

Fief—”
    “Which he is familiar with anyway,” Will added.
    “Exactly. He served his apprenticeship there, after all. Then Alun can resume temporary duty as Ranger of Whitby. And, of course, young Clarke will take your place at Seacliff. Didn’t I say I’m a genius?” He spread his hands, as if looking for praise.
    Will nodded acknowledgment. “I have to agree.”
    Crowley instantly became serious. “Of course, we’re lucky that at the moment we’re blessed with a wealth of talented people. It all dovetails quite nicely. Mind you, you’re yet to tell me if you accept.”
    “Of course I accept,” Will told him. “I couldn’t think of a better plan.”
    They shook hands on it, smiling. Then Crowley said cheerfully, “Now all we have to do is tell Halt when he comes back from his little holiday by the seaside.”

10
    HALT HAD BEEN WAITING IN THE DARKNESS FOR OVER AN HOUR when he heard the sound of someone moving through the low shrubs close to him.
    Anyone else might have turned his head to look, trying to see where the newcomer might be. Halt knew that any movement could lead to his discovery, so he stayed still as the rock he looked like. Instead, his ears, attuned to judge movement and direction by years of training and practice, told him that there was one man, moving up the hill and slightly to the right of where Halt lay prone, merging into the long grass.
    The stalker was good. He made only slight noises as he progressed up the hill. But slight noises were enough to alert a Ranger, and Halt lay, unmoving, as he judged that the other man had moved level with him, then past him.
    Now the man stopped moving and Halt realized that he was taking stock of the situation. There were four rocky outcrops within the next thirty meters. Any one of them could conceal Halt and Abelard.
    After a few minutes, the man was on the move again, angling away to the farthest outcrop on the right. That made sense, Halt thought. If he was going to check them all out, his best course would be to work from one end of the line to the other.
    As the noise of his movement faded, Halt raised his head slightly, moving only a millimeter at a time.
    He let out the low, gurgling chuckle that he had rehearsed with Abelard. Instantly, the noise of the Outsider’s movement stopped as he tried to ascertain whether the sound was natural or not. After thirty seconds—a sufficiently long gap so that it didn’t sound like a response to the bird call—the low, snuffling snort of a horse came clearly from the rocks above Halt’s position. Then, for good measure, Abelard shook his mane.
    Good boy, thought Halt. Chin on hand, he watched a dark shape sliding across the hillside, angling toward the clump of rocks where Abelard was concealed. He was aiming to skirt the rocks, Halt saw, and approach from uphill. It was time to spoil his plans a little. Stealthily, the Ranger began crawling after the other man.
    He moved with remarkable speed, making no sound and seeming to glide snakelike over the ground on his belly. He could see the other man still—a dark crouching shape in the night—and hear the slight sounds that he made. Halt, even moving on his belly, was gaining ground on him, approaching him from directly behind and downhill.
    Once, his quarry stopped moving and glanced quickly around him. He was obviously no novice at this game. But Rangers weren’t novices either. As the crouching man stopped, Halt froze instantly. His face was up but he knew it was shadowed by his cowl. He also knew that if he dropped his head to hide his face, the movement would catch the other man’s eye.
    Trust the cloak. He’d dinned that lesson into Will’s brain hundreds of times. Now he took note of it himself. The man’s gaze passed over him, seeing nothing to alarm him. Then he faced back up the hill and began moving again. After a few seconds to make sure it wasn’t a feint, that the man hadn’t seen anything he felt was suspicious, Halt