10 THE SILVER SUN.

so that they could not move, and off rode he and the evil creature, cackling curses. And when the lordsmen took pursuit, the sorcerer, horse and idiot all three disappeared in a puff of fiery smoke over the waste!" Hal paused for breath. "I was hard put to keep my countenancel Small wonder they did not recognize me at the village!"

Alan was glad that Hal laughed. The talk of sorcery made him uncomfortable.

"I should have known," a voice said, "that the lord's pride would outweigh his anger."

Hal Jumped like a startled stag, crouching and reach- ing for his sword. Then Ket stepped from the bushes. A touch of red tinged Hal's cheekbones as he relaxed.

"I did not mean to startle ye, Hal," said Ket worriedly.

"I am not used to being taken by surprise," answered Hal, beginning to smile. 'There's your revenge, Ket, for this morning. Will you eat with us?"

"Ay, gladly," replied the outlaw. "But first I have some- thing for Alan."

He led from the thicket a horse loaded with all nec- essary harness and gear, including clothing. "He's for ye, and all he bears," Ket told Alan gruffly. "He came to our camp one day with a wounded man on his back. The fellow was tall, with a warrior's scars, but he died with- out telling us his name. The horse is of no use to us;

we're countryfolk, not riders. He has grown fat and lazy, but nevertheless I think he will serve ye."

"I thank you greatly," gulped Alan, and reached out to touch a soft nose. He had felt worse than naked with- out a horse; he had felt bereft. Ket could not know the extent of his gratitude.

"And here is the fellow's sword," said Ket.

Alan took the weapon reverently. It was a fine blade, strongly made and carefully balanced. Golden scrollwork covered the scabbard and hilt, the end of which was in the shape of a lion's head, with peridots for eyes.

"This man," said Alan slowly. "Was he dark of face, with straight dark hair, and a hooked nose with a scar across the bridge, thus?"

"Ye knew him?" marveled Ket.

"Ay," replied Alan. "His name was Leon Aleron, a brave warrior and a good man. I am proud to wear his sword."

Hal seemed startled. He glanced at Alan with keen

The Forest 11

interest and something like fear flickering in his gray eyes.

But Alan did not notice, for he was patting his horse.

The beast was anything but fat. He was long-limbed and rangy, strong but not particularly handsome, dusty brown in color, with a humorous expression on his long face. He was equipped with a functional saddle and sad- dlebags, in which Ket had packed basic equipment: cloth- ing, boots, a blanket, a few dishes, and a long hunting knife in a leather scabbard.

Alan tethered the horse to a stake while Hal cut the bread he had brought back from the village. Ket put eggs in the kettle to boil, then speared a slice of venison on the tip of his long hunting dagger and held it near the fire. Alan tried to do the same, but the heat in his face made him weak.

"Sit back," Hal told him. "I'll do yours. You are not yet well."

They ate bread and meat, then bread and cheese, then some spring onions. Alan could feel the strength welling back into him.

"Ye're new to the Forest, Alan?" Ket asked.

"Ay," Alan replied. "But I like it," he added.

"Ay? Ye'd make a proper outlaw, lad. There are some ruffians in the Forest, but most of our enemies fear it.

Kingsmen and lordsmen; ye wont find them skulking much beyond the fringes. There is a power in the deep woods that keeps them away. We call it the Lady."

"You worship a woman?" Alan exclaimed.

Ket turned to him with a smile tugging at his weather- beaten face. "Ay, lad, how not? The Lady is a good friend to us countryfolk, a far better friend than those Easterners and their cursed Fatherking and Sacred SonI To be sure, the Lady has her moods. . . . There are storms and hunger and freezing cold-"

"And wolves," suggested Hal, wryly.

"And wolves. But, angry or not, the Lady is always beautiful, and she feeds us well enough."

"Have an egg," Hal offered. "So you will not bow to the Sacred Kings, Ket?" Irony was heavy in his voice.

"Nay, not I!" But Ket hated to let go of his good humor, and his frown relaxed into a slow smile. "Now, if the Very King were to come, and take the Lady to bride-to him I might bow."

"The Very King?" Alan was puzzled again.

12 THE SILVER SUN.

"An heir of Veran, perhaps, or of one of the ancient royal houses of Isle. May he come soon!" Ket turned to Hal and asked what Alan had not dared. "Who is yer god, Hal?"

*The One."

"One? What one? There are many gods."

Hal shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Alaa turned the talk away from gods. At least, he thought gratefully, Hal had not mentioned the horned god of warlocks.

"How did you come to be outlawed, Ket?"

It was Ket's turn to look uncomfortable. "In truth, I'd rather not tell ye, Alan. . . . But I'll tell ye this, I would like to strike a strong blow against some proud lords some dayl" Ket had given up his good humor now in earnest;

his lean face looked dangerous- "Curse the Eastern in- vaders 1 There was peace and plenty in Isle before they came and drove the folk into servitude! Now, even our women suffer under their heavy hands. . . ." Ket calmed somewhat. "Though there is peace in the Broken Lands, of a sort," he conceded. "The lords are all wary of each other, and they all need their folk. Men are seldom killed out of hand, as they sometimes are in the south. But we countryfolk are often hungry and miserable. The win- ters are harsh this far north, and many of us sicken and die."

"Yet it is always winter in the south, near the King,"

Hal muttered.

By the time they were done eating, Alan's horse had pulled up his tether and was straying in the underbrush.

Laughing, Ket helped to catch him, then took his leave.

The horse swung bis bony head into Alan's stomach and stepped on his foot.

"Owl" Alan complained. "Hal, how is it that Amndel is so good and this beast is so very bad?'*

"Arun and I are friends," answered Hal, smiling. "You must talk with your horse. How can you be friends when you have not yet named him?"

Half in jest, Alan sat in front of the lanky animal and meditated aloud on the subject of a suitable name. In all due respect, he concluded, the name should not be an openly disparaging one, such as Knobby Knees- But in all honesty, a romantic name, such as Destrier, was not in order. Aside from ungainliness, Alan decided, the prime characteristic of the beast was a well-developed sense of humor. He chose the name of an ancestral hero of his line, a valorous man of extremely bony build.

"Alfie is your name," he told the horse, feeling rather silly when the creature only napped its ears at him. But

Hal nodded soberly, and Alan saw that to him it was no jest at all.

Chapter Two.