practice?”
“Not when there’s no one else to keep an eye on things,” Gilan pointed out reasonably. “Once you start practicing like that, your attention is completely distracted. These two made enough noise to alert a deaf old granny. Tug even gave you a warning call twice and you missed it.”
Will was totally crestfallen. “I did?” he said, and Gilan nodded. For a moment, his gaze held Will’s, until he was sure the lesson had been driven home and the point taken. Then he nodded slightly, signifying that the matter was closed. Will nodded in return. It wouldn’t happen again.
“Now,” said Gilan, “let’s find out what these two beauties know about the price of coal.”
He turned back to Carney, who was now going quite cross-eyed as he tried to watch the gleaming saxe knife pressed against his throat.
“How long have you been in Celtica?” Gilan asked him. Carney looked up at him, then back to the heavy knife.
“Tuh-tuh-tuh-ten or eleven days, my lord,” he stammered eventually.
Gilan made a pained face. “Don’t call me ‘my lord,’” he said, adding as an aside to the two boys, “These people always try to flatter you when they realize they’re in trouble. Now…” He returned his gaze to Carney. “What brought you here?”
Carney hesitated, his eyes sliding away from Gilan’s direct gaze so that the Ranger knew he was going to lie even before the bandit spoke.
“Just…wanted to see the sights, my…sir,” he amended, remembering at the last moment Gilan’s instruction not to call him “my lord.” Gilan sighed and shook his head with exasperation.
“Look, I’d just as soon lop your head off here and now. I really doubt that you have anything useful to tell me. But I’ll give you one last chance. Now let’s have THE TRUTH!”
He shouted the last two words angrily, his face suddenly only a few inches away from Carney’s. The sudden transition from the languid, joking manner he had been using came as a shock to the bandit. Just for a few seconds, Gilan let his good-natured shield slip and Carney saw through to the white-hot anger that was just below the surface. In that instant, he was afraid. Like most people, he was nervous of Rangers. Rangers were not people to make angry. And this one seemed to be very, very angry.
“We heard there were good pickings down here!” he answered immediately.
“Good pickings?” Gilan asked, and Carney nodded dutifully, the floodgates of conversation now well and truly open.
“All the towns and cities deserted. Nobody there to guard them, and all their valuables left lying around for us’n to take as we chose. We didn’t harm nobody though,” he concluded, a little defensively.
“Oh, no. You didn’t harm them. You just crept in while they were gone and stole everything of value that they owned,” Gilan told him. “I should think they’d be almost grateful for your contribution!”
“It was Bart’s idea, not mine,” Carney tried, and Gilan shook his head sadly.
“Gilan?” Will said tentatively, and the Ranger turned to look at him. “How would they have heard that the towns were deserted? We didn’t hear a thing.”
“Thieves’ grapevine,” Gilan told the two boys. “It’s like the way vultures gather whenever an animal is in trouble. The intelligence network between thieves and robbers and brigands is incredibly fast. Once a place is in trouble, word spreads like wildfire and they come down on it in their scores. I should imagine there are plenty more of them through these hills.”
He turned back to Carney as he said it, prodding the saxe knife a little deeper into the flesh of his neck, just holding it back so that it didn’t draw blood.
“Aren’t there?” he asked. Carney went to nod, realized what might happen if his neck moved, gulped instead and whispered:
“Yes, sir.”
“And I should imagine you’ve got a cave somewhere, or a deserted mine tunnel, where you’ve stowed the loot you’ve
“Not when there’s no one else to keep an eye on things,” Gilan pointed out reasonably. “Once you start practicing like that, your attention is completely distracted. These two made enough noise to alert a deaf old granny. Tug even gave you a warning call twice and you missed it.”
Will was totally crestfallen. “I did?” he said, and Gilan nodded. For a moment, his gaze held Will’s, until he was sure the lesson had been driven home and the point taken. Then he nodded slightly, signifying that the matter was closed. Will nodded in return. It wouldn’t happen again.
“Now,” said Gilan, “let’s find out what these two beauties know about the price of coal.”
He turned back to Carney, who was now going quite cross-eyed as he tried to watch the gleaming saxe knife pressed against his throat.
“How long have you been in Celtica?” Gilan asked him. Carney looked up at him, then back to the heavy knife.
“Tuh-tuh-tuh-ten or eleven days, my lord,” he stammered eventually.
Gilan made a pained face. “Don’t call me ‘my lord,’” he said, adding as an aside to the two boys, “These people always try to flatter you when they realize they’re in trouble. Now…” He returned his gaze to Carney. “What brought you here?”
Carney hesitated, his eyes sliding away from Gilan’s direct gaze so that the Ranger knew he was going to lie even before the bandit spoke.
“Just…wanted to see the sights, my…sir,” he amended, remembering at the last moment Gilan’s instruction not to call him “my lord.” Gilan sighed and shook his head with exasperation.
“Look, I’d just as soon lop your head off here and now. I really doubt that you have anything useful to tell me. But I’ll give you one last chance. Now let’s have THE TRUTH!”
He shouted the last two words angrily, his face suddenly only a few inches away from Carney’s. The sudden transition from the languid, joking manner he had been using came as a shock to the bandit. Just for a few seconds, Gilan let his good-natured shield slip and Carney saw through to the white-hot anger that was just below the surface. In that instant, he was afraid. Like most people, he was nervous of Rangers. Rangers were not people to make angry. And this one seemed to be very, very angry.
“We heard there were good pickings down here!” he answered immediately.
“Good pickings?” Gilan asked, and Carney nodded dutifully, the floodgates of conversation now well and truly open.
“All the towns and cities deserted. Nobody there to guard them, and all their valuables left lying around for us’n to take as we chose. We didn’t harm nobody though,” he concluded, a little defensively.
“Oh, no. You didn’t harm them. You just crept in while they were gone and stole everything of value that they owned,” Gilan told him. “I should think they’d be almost grateful for your contribution!”
“It was Bart’s idea, not mine,” Carney tried, and Gilan shook his head sadly.
“Gilan?” Will said tentatively, and the Ranger turned to look at him. “How would they have heard that the towns were deserted? We didn’t hear a thing.”
“Thieves’ grapevine,” Gilan told the two boys. “It’s like the way vultures gather whenever an animal is in trouble. The intelligence network between thieves and robbers and brigands is incredibly fast. Once a place is in trouble, word spreads like wildfire and they come down on it in their scores. I should imagine there are plenty more of them through these hills.”
He turned back to Carney as he said it, prodding the saxe knife a little deeper into the flesh of his neck, just holding it back so that it didn’t draw blood.
“Aren’t there?” he asked. Carney went to nod, realized what might happen if his neck moved, gulped instead and whispered:
“Yes, sir.”
“And I should imagine you’ve got a cave somewhere, or a deserted mine tunnel, where you’ve stowed the loot you’ve
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