Free Kings of Clonmel by John Flanagan Page B

figure sitting opposite him, that alone would have been enough to set alarm bells ringing. Halt rarely smiled, and even more rarely was it a sign of good humor.
    “No,” he said calmly, “I think that’s my question. Who are you? What’s your name?”
    “Why should I tell you?” the Outsider demanded. His tone was still blustering and overbearing. Halt scratched his ear reflectively for a second or two, then replied.
    “Well, let’s just take stock of the situation, shall we? You’re the one who’s sitting there trussed up like a Yuletide goose. You can’t move. Your head probably aches. And for the time being you have two ears.”
    For the first time, a shadow of fear passed across the man’s face.
    “My ears?” he said. “What have they got to do with it?”
    “Just this,” Halt told him. “If you don’t stop talking as if you’re in charge of things, I’ll remove one of them for you.”
    There was a whisper of steel on leather as Halt drew his saxe knife. The razor-sharp blade gleamed dully in the starlight as he held it up for the Outsider to see.
    “Now,” he repeated, “what’s your name?”
    The thin smile had disappeared from Halt’s face now, and there was an edge in his voice that told his prisoner the time for discussion was past. His eyes dropped from Halt’s, the light of anger in them quickly fading.
    “It’s Colly,” he said. “Colly Deekers. I’m an honest mill worker from Horsdale.”
    Horsdale was a large town some fifteen kilometers away. Halt shook his head slowly. He slid the saxe back into its sheath, but somehow the disappearance of the weapon did nothing to raise Colly’s spirits.
    “Ah, Colly,” he said, “we’re going to get on a lot better if you stop trying to lie to me. You may be from Horsdale, but I doubt that you’re a mill worker. And I know you’re not honest. So let’s just leave those details out of our conversation, shall we?”
    Colly said nothing. He was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. This was, after all, the man that he’d been sent to find—and to kill if the opportunity arose. And he had no doubt that the stranger was well aware of the fact. His mouth was dry all of a sudden, and he swallowed several times.
    “My friends will pay you if you release me,” he said. Halt regarded him, head tilted quizzically to one side.
    “No they won’t,” he replied scornfully. “They’ll do their best to kill me. Don’t be so ridiculous—and don’t take me for a fool. It annoys me, and you’re in no position to do that. I might change my mind about my plans for you.”
    Colly’s mouth was drier than ever now.
    “Your plans for me?” he said. There was a slight croak in his voice. “What are they?”
    “In the morning,” Halt told him, “just after first light, I’m going to release you.”
    His tone was serious. There was no sign of sarcasm in his words, and Colly felt a surge of hope.
    “You’ll let me go?”
    Halt pursed his lips. “Yes. But there is one condition attached.”
    The surge of hope died as quickly as it had come. Colly looked at the Ranger suspiciously.
    “A condition?” he prompted, and Halt replied briskly.
    “Yes. After all, you can’t expect me to just turn you loose and say ‘no hard feelings,’ can you? You would have killed me if the opportunity had arisen. I’m willing to give you a chance to escape. Uphill.”
    “Uphill? There’s nothing up the hill,” Colly said, trying desperately to work out where this conversation was going.
    “As a matter of fact, there is. There’s a bluff about twelve meters high, with a river running below it. The water’s deep, so it’ll be quite safe for you to jump.” In his brief glimpse of the river, Halt had noticed that the fast-flowing water cut under the bluff in a sharp curve. That should mean that the bottom had been scoured out over the years. A thought struck him. “You can swim, I assume?”
    “Yes. I can swim,” Colly said. “But I’m not going