Free The Lost Stories by John Flanagan

duties.”
    â€œWhich might make it an attractive base of operations for Foldar,” Crowley said thoughtfully.
    â€œThat had occurred to me as well. The caravan was attacked by fifteen to twenty men, all well armed and trained. Half the guards were killed. The others escaped into the trees. The drivers weren’t so lucky.”
    â€œNow that has Foldar’s stamp on it,” Crowley said.
    â€œThat’s what I thought. In addition to the organization of the raid, and the sheer brutality involved, there’s a good chance that an informer in Castle Highcliff gave out information about that pay train. It was supposed to be a secret.”
    â€œExactly the sort of thing Foldar would be involved in,” Crowley said. “So what’s your next move?”
    â€œI thought I’d travel to Highcliff and see if I can think of some sort of trap for Foldar—and his inside informant. I’ll need to nose around the place a little before I come up with any definite plan.”
    Crowley nodded. “It sounds like a good idea to me. Well done, Gilan.” Then he frowned. “I’m surprised that Halt didn’t reach the same conclusion. He’s usually pretty quick on the uptake.”
    â€œI thought the same thing. But remember, Halt was distracted, worrying about Will. And he tended to concentrate first on the cases closest to Araluen.”
    â€œWhich gave him plenty of opportunity to put his case to me and Duncan,” Crowley said. “If he was off in the west at Highcliff, he wouldn’t have been able to nag at me every second day to let him go.”
    â€œWhereas I have no reason not to head for Highcliff Fief and leave you to your paperwork,” Gilan said.
    Crowley’s mouth turned down at the corners in an expression of distaste. “Ah yes, the paperwork. You wouldn’t consider trading places? You stay and fill in the forms and requisitions. I’ll go chasing after Foldar.”
    Gilan raised one eyebrow at him. “You’re right. I wouldn’t consider it.”
    â€œI could order you to do it, I suppose,” Crowley said wistfully, and Gilan thought he was only half joking.
    â€œYou could. And I’d probably insult the King in public and have myself banished,” he replied.
    Crowley shook his head. “I sometimes wonder if it was a good idea having Halt train apprentices. He seems to teach them no respect for authority.”
    â€œOh, he teaches us to respect authority,” Gilan said innocently. “He just teaches us to ignore it when necessary. I’ll get going this afternoon,” he added, and Crowley nodded agreement.
    â€œThe sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be back,” he said. It was the Ranger way, after all. No sense letting the grass grow under your feet if there was work to be done.
    â€œThere’s that. And besides, I should get going before you decide to order me to stay.”

3
    CASTLE HIGHCLIFF WAS APPROPRIATELY NAMED, GILAN THOUGHT. He checked Blaze’s easy canter and slumped in the saddle, studying the castle.
    There was nothing remarkable about the building itself. It was a solid granite structure, with the usual four corner towers, joined by crenellated walls. A single, taller tower stood in the center of the enclosed space. That would be the keep, he thought, where the castle’s eating, sleeping and administration quarters were located. But it was the site on which the castle had been built that gave it its name. The coastline in this part of Araluen was formed by high, rocky cliffs of white chalk. The castle had been built on a high outcrop, a peninsula joined to the coast by a narrow, winding neck of land barely twenty meters wide. On either side of this path, steep cliffs dropped away to where the sea crashed constantly against the rocks, sending tall columns of spray skyward and creating a rhythmic booming sound. Tumbled piles of chalky rock at the base of the