The Battle for Skandia- Character Reaction

6

"I'll read it next, dear." The book was passed to Pauline.

HALT LEANED BACK AND SURVEYED HIS HANDIWORK WITH A satisfied sigh.

Crowley raised an eyebrow, all too aware of his friend's antics. "Your handiwork?" he asked suspiciously. "What did you do, Halt?"

Halt gave him an innocent look. "I've no idea."

"There," he said. "That should do the trick."

Horace looked at him doubtfully, his eyes moving from Halt's pleased expression to the official-looking document that he had just completed forging.

Everyone looked at Halt, who shrugged. Duncan sighed and shook his head, deciding not to comment on the fact.

After all, if it had only gone to those in the room, there was no need for reprimands.

"Whose seal is that at the bottom?" he asked finally, indicating the impression of a rampant bull that was set in a large splodge of wax in the bottom right-hand corner of the parchment. Halt touched the wax gently, checking to see if it had hardened completely.

"Well, I suppose if it's anyone's it's mine," he admitted. Will raised an eyebrow. "But I'm hoping that our Skandian friends will think it belongs to King Henri of Gallica."

"Is that what his royal seal looks like?" Horace asked, and Halt studied the symbol impressed in the wax a little more critically.

Crowley banged his forehead against the table.

"Pretty much," he replied. "I think the real one may be a trifle leaner in the body, but the forger I bought it from had a pretty indistinct impression to work from."

Gilan was staring hard at the ground, pursing his lips together to keep from bursting out into laughter. Will and Horace exchanged a look, and shrugged.

"But . . ." Horace began unhappily, then stopped.

Halt looked at him, one eyebrow raised quizzically. "But?" he repeated, making the word into a question.

Horace merely shook his head. He knew Halt would probably laugh at his objection if he voiced it. Halt smirked "Oh, never mind," he said at last. Then, realizing that the former Ranger was still waiting for him to speak, he changed the subject.

"I thought you said there was no ruling court in Gallica," he said. Halt shook his head.

"Not a strong one, apparently," Horace said.

"There's no effective ruling court," he told the young man. "King Henri is the hereditary king of the Gallicans, but he has no real power. He maintains a court in the southern part of the country and lets the local warlords do as they please."

"Yes. I noticed some of that," Horace said meaningfully, thinking about the encounter with the warlord Deparnieux that had delayed their progress through Gallica.

Halt snorted. "Wouldn't doubt it if there were more people like him. Or worse."

"So old King Henri is something of a paper tiger," Halt continued. "But he has been known to send envoys into other countries from time to time. Hence this." He gestured at the sheet of parchment that he was waving gently in the air so that the ink might dry and the wax seal might harden. The sight of the seal brought back all of Horace's misgivings. Halt smiled.

"It just doesn't seem right!" he blurted out, before he could stop himself. Halt smiled patiently at him, blowing gently on some damp patches of ink.