The Ruins of Gorlan

The lack of sleep and the worry of never knowing when they might appear to torment him further was causing him to fall be hind in his classroom work. His roommates, sensing that if they showed any sympathy for him they might become targets along with him, had cast him adrift, so that he felt totally alone in his misery. The one thing he had always aspired to was rapidly becoming ashes in his mouth. He hated Battleschool, but he could see no way out of his predicament without embarrassing and humiliating himself even further.

Now, on the one day when he could escape from the restrictions and the tensions of Battleschool, he arrived to find his former wardmates already busy at their feast, and he was angry and hurt that they hadn't bothered to wait for him. He had no idea that Je

He was predisposed to think badly of the others. Alyss had always seemed to hold herself aloof from him, as if he weren't good enough for her, and Will had spent his time playing tricks on him, then ru

"Horace! You're here at last!" she said. She started toward him, but the cold look on his face stopped her. "At last?" he said. "I'm a few minutes late and suddenly I'm here 'at last?' And just too late because you've already pigged out on all the pies." Which was hardly fair to poor Je

"Horace!" Tears sprang to Je

George stepped forward now, peering curiously at Horace. The tall, thin boy cocked his head to one side, to study the apprentice warrior more closely-as if he were an exhibit or a piece of evidence in a law court. "There's no call to be so unpleasant," he said reasonably. But reason wasn't what Horace wanted to hear. He shoved the other boy aside angrily.

"Get away from me," he said. "And mind how you talk to a warrior."

"You're not a warrior yet," Will told him scornfully. "You're still only an apprentice like the rest of us."

Je

"Oho!" he said. "I see the apprentice spy is with us today!" He looked to see if the others were laughing at his wit. They weren't and it only served to make him more unpleasant. "I suppose Halt is teaching you to slink around, spying on everyone, is he?" Horace stepped forward, without waiting for an answer, and fingered Will's mottled cloak sarcastically. "What's this? Didn't you have enough dye to make it all one color?"

"It's a Ranger cloak," Will said quietly, holding down the anger that was building inside him.

Horace snorted scornfully, cramming half of one of the pies into his mouth and spraying crumbs as he did so. "Don't be so unpleasant," George said. Horace rounded on the apprentice scribe, his face red." Watch your tongue, boy!" he snapped. "You're talking to a warrior, you know!"

"An apprentice warrior," Will repeated firmly, laying stress on the word apprentice.

Horace went redder and looked angrily between the two of them. Will tensed himself, sensing that the bigger boy was about to launch an attack. But there was something in Will's eyes and his ready stance that made Horace think twice about it. He had never seen that look of defiance before. In the past, if he'd threatened Will, he had always seen fear. This newfound confidence unsettled him a little.

Instead, he turned back to George and gave him a heavy shove in the chest.

"How's that for unpleasant?" he said as the tall, thin boy staggered back. George's arms windmilled as he tried to save himself from falling. Accidentally, he struck Tug a glancing blow on the side. The little pony, grazing peacefully, reared suddenly against his bridle.

"Steady, Tug," Will said, and Tug quieted immediately. But now Horace had noticed him for the first time. He stepped forward and looked more closely at the shaggy pony. "What's this?" he asked in mock disbelief. "Has someone brought a big ugly dog to the party?" Will clenched his fists. "He's my horse," he said quietly. He could put up with Horace sneering at him, but he wasn't going to stand by and see his horse insulted.

Horace let out a braying laugh. "A horse?" he said. "That's not a horse! In the Battleschool we ride real horses! Not shaggy dogs! Looks like he needs a good bath to me too!" He wrinkled his nose and pretended to sniff closer to Tug.

The pony glanced sideways at Will. Who is this unpleasant clod? his eyes seemed to say. Then Will, carefully hiding the wicked grin that was trying to show on his face, said casually:

"He's a Ranger horse. Only a Ranger can ride him."

Horace laughed again. "My grandmother could ride that shaggy dog!"

"Maybe she could," said Will, "but I'll bet you can't." Before he'd even finished the challenge, Horace was untying the bridle. Tug looked at Will and the boy could have sworn the horse nodded slightly.

Horace swung himself easily up onto Tug's back. The pony stood, unmoving.

"Nothing to it!" Horace crowed. Then he dug his heels into Tug's sides. "Come on, doggy! Let's have a run."

Will saw the familiar, preparatory bunching of muscles in Tug's legs and body. Then the pony sprang into the air off all four feet, twisted violently, came down on his front legs and shot his hindquarters high into the air.

Horace flew like a bird for several seconds. Then he crashed flat on his back in the dust. George and Alyss looked on in delighted disbelief as the bully lay there for a second or two, stu

There was a chance then, just a chance, that the whole incident might end there. But Will couldn't resist the temptation to have one last word. "Maybe you'd better ask your grandmother if she'll teach you to ride," he said, straight-faced. George and Alyss managed to hide their smiles but, unfortunately, it was Je