The Icebound Land- Character Reaction

32

"Here, Stig." Lydia tossed the book across the row, and the Skandian caught it easily.

HALT AND HORACE WEREN'T SURPRISED WHEN, THE EVENING following the one-sided combat, the sergeant of the guards told them that the lord Deparnieux expected their company in the dining hall that night. It was a command, not an invitation, and Halt felt no need to pretend that it was anything else. He made no acknowledgment of the sergeant's message, but merely turned away to gaze out the tower window. The sergeant seemed unconcerned by this. He turned and resumed his post at the top of the spiraling staircase that led to the dining hall. He had passed on the message. The foreigners had heard it.

"Would have been a bit of a problem if we didn't," Halt said lightly.

That evening, they bathed, dressed and walked together down the spiral staircase to the lower floors of the castle, their boot heels ringing on the flagstones as they went. They had spent the latter part of the afternoon discussing their plan of action for the night and Horace was eager to put it into effect. As they reached the three-meter-high double doors to the dining hall, Halt put a hand on his arm and stopped him. He could see the impatience on the young man's face. They had been cooped up here for weeks now, listening to Deparnieux's sneering, veiled insults and watching his savagely cruel treatment of his staff. The incidents with the cook and the young knight were only two of many. Halt knew that Horace, with the impatience of all young men, was keen to see Deparnieux given his comeuppance. He also knew that the plan they had agreed on would depend on patience and proper timing.

"All young men?" Horace asked, raising an eyebrow. Halt matched the look.

"Yes. All."

"And that includes you too, Halt, when you were younger," Crowley put in, grinning. Halt rolled his eyes.

Halt had realized that Deparnieux's need to appear invincible to his men was a weakness they could exploit. Deparnieux himself had created a situation where he was forced to accept any challenge that might be issued, so long as it was made before witnesses. Halt smirked. There could be no carping or quibbling on the warlord's part. If he appeared to show fear, or reluctance to accept a challenge, it would be the beginning of a long, downward spiral. Now, as they stopped, Halt met Horace's eager, anticipatory gaze with his own—steady, patient and calculating.

"Remember," he said, "nothing until I give you the signal."

Horace nodded. His cheeks were slightly flushed with excitement. "I understand," he said, holding in his eagerness with some difficulty. He felt the Ranger's hand on his arm, realized those steady eyes were still on his. He took three deep breaths to steady his pulse, then nodded again, this time more deliberately.

"I don't know what you mean by impatient, Halt," Crowley mused, straight-faced. "He's totally calm and collected."

"I do understand, Halt," he said again. He met the Ranger's gaze this time, holding it with his own. "I won't spoil things," he assured his friend. "We've waited too long for this moment and I'm aware of it. Don't worry."

Halt studied him for another long moment. Then, satisfied with the unspoken message he saw in the boy's eyes, he nodded and released his arm. He shoved the double doors back so that they crashed against the wall on either side. Together, Horace and Halt marched into the dining hall to where Deparnieux waited for them.

"Both of your names start with H's," Gilan said aloud.

"So glad you were able to see that," Halt replied.

The meal they were served was another disappointing example of the much-vaunted Gallic cuisine. To Halt's taste, the dishes placed before them depended far too much on a rich and slightly sickly combination of too much cream and an excess of garlic. He ate sparingly, noticing, however, that Horace, with a young man's appetite, wolfed down every morsel that was placed before him.