How the Hangman Lost His Heart by K. M. Grant

slap his thigh—
the barracks were also the place that Uncle Frank was most likely to be!
By Dan’s calculation, Slavering would have searched the laundry basket, found the wig bag, looked inside it, and was probably even now encouraging all those ignorant troopers to mock the poor colonel and stick silly hats on his head. When Hew disappeared through the gates, however, Dan was brought up short. How could he get inside? He slipped behind a cutler’s stall crushed hard up against the walls and scrutinized the place carefully.
    Between the rough stone pillars that marked the entrance, the double gates opened and shut constantly as men and horses flowed in and out. Dan did not have to wait long before a group of blacksmiths, brawny men like Dan himself, walked boldly up to the guardhouse and demanded entry. Dan clasped his hands together. He would not get a better chance than this. The cutler was deep in conversation with a customer, so Dan took the opportunity to steal several knives and three pairs ofscissors. These he wrapped in an expensive linen apron and bulked them out with the cutler’s walking stick and the iron bar he used to ward off thieving boys. If not inspected too closely, the bundle could have been full of blacksmiths’ tools. Dan’s conscience twinged, but he settled it by blaming his new dishonesty on Alice. With his bundle neatly secured, he quickly caught up with the blacksmiths and walked boldly through the gates with them.
    The horses that needed shoeing were standing sleepily in the yard and the troopers who held them had discarded their coats and opened their shirts to give their armpits an airing. Dan’s heart sank as he realized that the blacksmiths had to wait in line, in full view of everybody, to be allocated an animal. He had thought that once inside the barracks it would be easy to disappear. Worse, the line moved swiftly and in a moment he found himself holding a horse. He gazed at it, for he had little practical knowledge of blacksmithery. He bent down and picked up a foot. He could manage that. He felt the shoe. It was loose. He let the foot drop and began slowly to open his bundle.
    But before he had even undone the string, he was hit smartly from behind by a stocky oaf with a boxer’s face, a cauliflower ear, and two mighty fists. “I saw you slippin’ into our line,” the oaf said threateningly.“You must be a foreigner from over the river.” He punched Dan right on his wounded shoulder. “Well, I live round ’ere and I say this ’oss is mine. Go and find yourself another. This lot’s new shoes means new shoes for my brats. Now get lost.” Dan tried to look gruff and quarrelsome. He even pretended to square off. One of the troopers ran over and clicked his tongue. He didn’t want trouble. “Just get on with it,” he said, shrugging at Dan and nodding at the smaller man.
    Dan picked up his bundle and moved away. He strolled aimlessly for a bit, then, when the air was full of the clank and hiss of a dozen blacksmiths hard at work, he walked through an arch, down a cobbled passageway, past three sets of stalls, and into a flagged harness room. He moved swiftly. If anybody challenged him, he would say he was a chef looking for the kitchens.
    The harness store was filled with bridles and saddles, and underneath the pegs lurked a dozen or so pairs of enormous boots. Dan suddenly saw the first flaw in his plan. Alice was so slight. The uniform of even the smallest trooper would drown her. He frowned, then he heard noises behind him and made for the door. He was too late to get out and two troopers pushed passed him. They barely looked at him. Dan relaxed a little, even nodding to them ashe moved on. He must keep calm. At the far end of the next room was a small stone staircase that Dan climbed to find himself in a dormitory. Uniforms were all over the place here, some folded neatly, some heaped in piles. Even