Kings of Clonmel Read Free

choice. You learn to shoot a bow, throw a knife, move silently and put honey in your coffee.”
    “He’s a fine teacher,” Gilan said, sipping his coffee appreciatively. “So did Halt say what this new cult calls itself? They usually come up with some portentous-sounding name,” he added, in an aside to Will.
    “He didn’t say,” Crowley said. He seemed to be hesitating over whether to voice his next statement. Then he came to a decision. “He’s worried this might be a new outbreak of the Outsiders.”
    The name meant nothing to Will, but he saw Gilan’s head come up.
    “The Outsiders?” Gilan said. “I remember that name. It must have been in the second year of my apprenticeship. Didn’t you and Halt go off together to see them on their way?”
    Crowley nodded. “Along with Berrigan and several other Rangers.”
    “That must have been quite a cult,” Will said, surprise in his voice. There was an old Araluen saying—“One riot, one Ranger”—which meant that it rarely took more than a single Ranger to solve the biggest problems.
    “It was,” Crowley agreed. “ They were a very unpleasant bunch of people, and their poison had gone deep into the heart of the countryside. It took us some time to get the better of them. That’s why Halt is so intent on finding out more about this new group. If they’re a recurrence of the Outsiders, we’ll have to act quickly.”
    He tossed the dregs of his coffee into the fire and set his cup down.
    “But let’s not worry about what might be a problem until we know that it is. In the meantime, we have a Gathering to organize. Gil, I was wondering if you’d give our two final-year apprentices some extra tuition in unseen movement?”
    “Of course,” Gilan said. If Crowley was an expert at moving without being heard, Gilan was the Corps’ master at moving without being seen. To a large degree, his skill was dependent upon instinct, but there were always practical tips he could pass on to others.
    “And as for you, Will,” Crowley said, “we have three first-years this season. Would you be interested in assessing their progress?”
    He saw Will’s attention snap back to the present. He could tell that the young man was still nursing his disappointment over the fact that his former teacher would not be coming. Just as well to give him something to take his mind off it, the older Ranger thought.
    “Oh, sorry, Crowley! What was that you said?” Will asked, a little guiltily.
    “Would you care to help out assessing our three first-years?” Crowley repeated, and Will nodded hastily.
    “Yes, by all means! Sorry. I was just thinking about Halt. I’ve been looking forward to seeing him,” he explained.
    “We all have,” Crowley said. “His grumpy face brings a special light to our day. But there’ll be time enough for that later.” He hesitated briefly. “As a matter of fact . . . no, never mind. That’ll keep.”
    “What will keep?” Will’s curiosity was aroused now, and Crowley smiled to himself. Curiosity was the sign of a good Ranger. But so was discipline.
    “Never mind. It’s something I’ll tell you about when the time is right. For now, I’d appreciate it if you’d coach the boys in archery and oversee a tactical exercise with them.”
    “Consider it done.” Will thought for a few seconds, then added, “Do I need to set the tactical exercise?”
    Crowley shook his head. “No. We’ve done that. Just see them through solving it. It should amuse you,” he added cryptically. He rose and dusted off the seat of his trousers. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said. “See you at the feast tonight.”

3
    “ALL RIGHT,” WILL TOLD THE THREE BOYS, “LET’S SEE YOU SHOOT. Ten arrows each.”
    He indicated three large, standard bull’s-eye-design targets set up seventy-five meters downrange. The three stepped forward to the firing line. A little farther down the line, two senior Rangers were practicing, shooting at targets no bigger than a