Sorcerer of the North Read Online Free PDF Page A

it's time someone spoke seriously to this person. Now," he said, closing the subject of Buttle, "there are other people I should be talking to first—Baron Ergell chief among them."
    He ushered Edwina out, glancing once at the dog to make sure she would be all right in his absence. After taking his bow and quiver from their pegs, he closed the door softly. Edwina watched him as he tightened the saddle girth before remounting Tug. More used to being around Rangers than most people, she liked what she saw in this one. Then, as he swung the gray and green cloak around his shoulders and pulled the cowl over his head, she saw him change from a cheerful, outgoing young man into a grim and anonymous figure. She noted the massive longbow held easily in his left hand as he swung into the saddle, saw the feathered ends of his arrows protruding from the quiver. A Ranger carries the lives of two dozen men with him, the old saying went. Edwina thought then that John Buttle might need to watch his step around this one.

4
    Baron Ergell's chamberlain ushered Will into the Baron's study with a gesture that was halfway between a bow and a flourish. "The new Ranger, my lord," he announced, as if he had personally produced him for the Baron's pleasure, "Will Treaty."
    Ergell rose from behind the massive desk that was the dominant piece of furniture in the room. He was an exceptionally tall and thin man and for a moment, seeing the long, pale hair and the black clothes, Will had the shocking sensation that he was looking at a reincarnation of the evil Lord Morgarath, who had threatened the peace of the kingdom during Will's youth. Then he realized that the hair was gray, not dead white as Morgarath's had been, and Ergell, although tall, stood nowhere near Morgarath's height. The moment passed and Will realized he was staring at the Baron, who stood waiting with his hand outstretched to greet him. Hastily, Will moved forward.
    "Good afternoon, my lord," he said. Ergell pumped his hand eagerly. He was aged around sixty but still moved easily. Will handed him the parchment containing his official orders of appointment. By rights, the guard at the drawbridge should have taken it and had it delivered to Ergell for inspection before allowing Will access to the keep. But the sergeant in charge had simply looked at the Ranger's cloak and longbow and waved him inside. Slack, Will thought. Decidedly slack.
    "Welcome to Seacliff, Ranger Treaty," the Baron said. "It's a privilege to have one so distinguished in our service."
    Will frowned slightly. Rangers didn't serve the Barons they were attached to and Ergell should know that. Perhaps, he thought, the Baron was trying to assume authority by the simple expedient of implying that it existed.
    "We all serve the King, sir," he replied evenly, and the slight shadow that flickered across Ergell's face told him his suspicion was correct. Ergell, seeing a Ranger so young, may well have been trying it on, as Halt would have put it.
    "Of course, of course," the Baron replied quickly, then indicated the heavyset man standing to one side of his desk.
    "Ranger Treaty, this is Seacliff's Battlemaster, Sir Norris of Rook."
    Will put Norris's age at about forty, which was pretty much the average for Battlemasters. Much younger and a man didn't have the necessary experience to lead a fief's troop of knights and men-at-arms into battle. Too many years older and he was beginning to lose the physical strength necessary for the task.
    "Sir Norris," he said briefly in greeting. The knight's handshake was firm, which hardly came as a surprise. Men who had spent the greater part of their lives wielding sword or battleax usually ended up with powerful muscles in the hand and arms. He sensed the Battlemaster studying him as they shook hands, saw the quick scrutiny that took in his youth and slight build.
    There was something else, Will fancied—a hint of satisfaction at what the knight saw. Perhaps, after years of dealing with