Free The Lost Stories by John Flanagan Page B

of the massive gateway. Her hooves rang loudly as they passed onto the flagstones of the castle courtyard. As Gilan dismounted, a stable hand materialized beside him.
    â€œCan I look after your horse, Ranger?” he asked.
    Gilan considered for a second or two. It was his normal practice to tend to Blaze himself.“ That would be kind of you,” he said.“We’ve come a long way, so please give her a good rubdown and a measure of grain.”
    The stable hand nodded and reached for Blaze’s bridle. As Gilan handed it over, he said to the bay, “Go along, Blaze.”
    Thus instructed, his horse turned and clip-clopped after the stable hand, toward the wooden building by the north wall that housed the stables. Gilan smiled quietly to himself. Had he not said those three simple words, she would have been as immoveable as the north wall itself.
    He entered the keep. The ground floor was largely open space. In the center was a large wooden staircase leading to the next level. In the event of an attack, the stairs could be burned or smashed down once the inhabitants had escaped to the higher floor, leaving attackers with no way to access them. From there, access to higher floors would be by the same right-hand spiraling staircases he had remarked on at Araluen. On the left-hand side, a large area was closed off by a timber wall. He guessed it was the guardroom, where sentries could relax or sleep while not on duty. On the right-hand side, another wall separated a slightly smaller area. This would be the seneschal’s, or castle manager’s, office. As a Ranger, Gilan could simply head for the higher levels, where he would find the Baron’s quarters. But it was good etiquette to approach the seneschal first and he saw no reason to ruffle any feathers just to prove his own importance.
    A slightly overweight man sat at a table outside the large brassbound door to the office. The sleeves of his jerkin were clad in black cloth to protect them from ink stains, and he was copying a list of figures from a parchment sheet into a large journal. He looked up at the sound of Gilan’s boots on the flagstones.
    â€œCan I help you?” he said politely.
    Gilan tossed his cloak back over his shoulders and proffered the silver oakleaf once more.
    â€œMy name is Gilan. I’m a King’s Ranger,” he said. “I’d like to see the seneschal, please.”
    â€œOf course. Please wait a moment.” The clerk set his quill pen down and rose, hurrying to the door that led to the inner office. He disappeared inside for less than a minute, then emerged once more, beckoning to Gilan.
    â€œPlease come in. Seneschal Philip is at your service. Can I get you some refreshments?”
    Gilan hesitated. It had been a long ride and the sea breeze over the last ten kilometers had been chilly.“Coffee, if you have it,” he said.
    The clerk bowed and gestured him through the doorway.
    â€œI’ll bring it right away,” he said as Gilan entered the office.
    The seneschal was an elderly man. His long hair was completely gray and his face was lined. Although, thought Gilan, that might be the result of the rigors of his office, rather than age. He was rising from behind his desk as the Ranger entered, his hand outstretched in greeting.
    â€œWelcome to Highcliff, Ranger Gilan,” he said. “It’s an honor to have such a distinguished guest.”
    The words could have been obsequious, but Philip seemed genuine enough. Yet there was something about him that bothered Gilan. He seemed ill at ease in Gilan’s presence. He ushered Gilan to a chair in front of his large desk.
    â€œPlease sit down, Ranger. I’m sorry to say you’ve caught us unprepared. Baron Douglas is out hunting. He won’t be back for several hours. But if I can help you in any way?”
    Gilan waved the apology aside.“I’m in no rush,” he told the man. “I’m happy to wait