The Talk

Jamie Sanders had been one of Redmont Battleschool's finest apprentices. True, he had played a few pranks on his mentor, Sir Rodney, and had once accidentally ordered his horse to charge all the way over some poor farmer's field, but he had been a wonderful and intelligent student, as well as a wonder with a mace. So it was no surprise that the majority of Wensley Village had turned out for his wedding.

It had been perfect. The bride had been pretty, the ale had been free-flowing (for those whose parents or mentors allowed it) and there had been plenty of food. But one Ranger's apprentice was very confused about something he had heard that night. And he had gone to find his best friend to talk it over with.

Horace had been excused from practice due to an injury to the foot, curtesy of one of his fellow apprentices having the balance of a wrecked ship. Will found him down by the quay to the Tarbus River, making a little fort out of twigs.

"Hey," said Horace, as Will sat down beside him.

"Hey to you too," said Will, using a stick to guide a renegade ant away from Horace's masterpiece. "Nice fort you got there, Lord Altman. What're you going to call it?"

"Stickleaf Tower," said Horace, somehow managing to keep a straight face as he said it. Then, in a fakely dramatic voice, "May it stand guard upon this hallowed ground until the end of the world shall come!"

"So, in other words, until those clouds up there get big and grey enough," said Will, gesturing towards the sky.

"That's about it," said Horace with a smirk. Then, "So, did the great Ranger come here just to discuss my wonderful architectural genius or does he have loftier aims?"

Will smiled. "Well, your fort is something but I'm afraid I would kind of struggle to see it from across the village so no, I haven't come for that. I want to talk to you about something I heard last night."

Horace snorted. "I don't know how you heard anything above the racket."

"Oh, it wasn't so loud when I heard it," said Will. "It was just when the party was petering out and Jamie whatever-his-name-is was going up to that house he'd built for him and Clara whatever-her-name-is when I saw one of his friends grab him by the elbow and say, 'Enjoy yourself!'"

Horace paused in his building masterpiece and looked hard at Will. "Why would he say that?"

"I don't know," said Will. "I thought you would. What is there to enjoy anyway? All he gets to do now is sleep!"

There was a pause as they both considered this, staring out across the river. "Unless he isn't going to sleep," Horace said finally.

"But what is there to do at that kind of night? And who with?" asked Will, bewildered.

"Maybe he and his wife play chess or something," said Horace. But he didn't sound too sure of that idea.

"Come on!" Will snorted. "He's a warrior's apprentice! And he doesn't strike me as the chess kind. If there's any kind of game he plays it's tossing cabers or wrestling and I don't think Clara does either of those – she's a baker's daughter!"

"Then maybe she'll teach him how to make bread," Horace suggested, arms flung wide. Then, when one hand took out his fort, "Oh, drat!"

"That's hardly fun!" said Will.

Horace didn't answer. He was too busy trying to repair the splintered remains of Stickleaf Tower.

"He could have meant it sarcastically, I suppose," Will murmured to himself. "But he didn't sound sarcastic … what do you think, Horace?"

"I think I need a new stick to hold up the gatehouse. See if you can find me one! About five centimetres tall. And fast, my finger can only hold this up for so long!"

"On it!" said Will, instantly forgetting about the mystery of Jamie Sanders' 'fun' and scrabbling over the ground in search of a stick.

Lurking the undergrowth, Halt didn't know whether to be pleased by this development or ready to bang his head of the nearest tree at his apprentice's childish behaviour. Either way he had a problem on his hands.

oo0oo

Pauline was working alone in her office when she heard a knock on her door. She had sent Alyss off to bed, blithely ignoring the girl's protests that it was only three o'clock in the afternoon and that she was 'not tired'. The fact was the girl was about to collapse. Complications with Gallica had meant round the clock work for both Pauline and her apprentice and Alyss, for all her good qualities, had yet to learn how to come through forty-eight hours of work unscathed.

"Come in," said Pauline, not looking up from her paperwork.

The door barely creaked as he came in. "You shouldn't just let anyone come into your office, Pauline," Halt reprimanded as he sat down.

"And why not?" she asked, leaning back in her chair with a small smile.

"I could have been anyone," said Halt seriously, his brow furrowed.

"I fail to see how you could be anyone but yourself, Halt," Pauline remarked. Also, no one I know knocks like that.

Halt rolled his eyes. "Very well. I'm here because we have a problem on our hands."

Pauline chuckled slightly, leaning even further back and folding her hands over her stomach. "There I was thinking that you came here for the pleasure of my company."

"You act like I don't come here for just that reason very often."

"True," she acknowledged. "So what's happened? Is King Henry of Gallica about to get assassinated in twenty-four hours unless we act?"

"You shouldn't joke about those sort of things, Pauline."

Pauline paused, as if to consider. "You're right. I shouldn't. But you should. Now, back to your problem."

"It's less dire than that," said Halt. "But I'd rather we took it somewhere else." Pauline arched an eyebrow. "Like your chambers." Then, seeing the eyebrow raise even higher and realising what he had said, "That … came out … wrong."

Pauline looked as though she was going to combust, she was laughing so hard. "This had better be good, Halt," she said, rising from her seat and going to the door.

oo0oo

Halt had been inside Lady Pauline's chambers before several times over the years. But his visits had been spaced out just to the extent that he could notice changes every time he came in. They were still small and cosy with a fireplace (empty since it was summer). It could hardly be called frumpy, but there was a feminine aspect to it that Halt rarely got to see with the life he lived.

"So," said Pauline, handing him a mug of coffee and seating herself opposite him, "what's going on inside that head of yours?"

Halt took a gulp of his coffee and rubbed his eyes, gearing himself up for the story. "I was down by the river today when I heard Will and Horace talking about what happened last night –"

"You eavesdropped on your apprentice?" Pauline asked, eyebrow once more raised.

"And he made it pitifully easy!" exclaimed Halt. "I stepped on a twig and he didn't even twitch! He's a disgrace!" Then he realised that Pauline was laughing into her coffee and he stopped. "What's so funny? This is serious!"

"You came here just to vent about your apprentice's incompetence to me, who knows nothing about silent movement or the hassles of mentoring a boy who can't do five things at once?" she asked, voice torn between sarcasm and amusement.

"No, that's not the problem," said Halt. "Well it is a problem but it's not the problem. The real problem is what they were talking about …"

Ten minutes later

By the time he had finished the story he was staring very firmly at the floor, hoping that his badly cut hair would hide the expression on his face. Then, when he heard no reaction from Pauline, he looked up. She was curled up on her seat with one hand firmly clasped over her mouth as her whole body shook with contained laughter. Then, when her dancing blue eyes met his, she couldn't contain it anymore and she burst into peals of laughter that bounced off the walls of her chambers and made him smile in spite of himself.

"Your amusement is a huge reassurance to me," he drawled as her bouts of laughter subsided into chuckles.

"But it's hilarious!" Pauline exclaimed between giggles. "The look on your face! Priceless!"

"That doesn't help with what I'm going to do about it," Halt pressed.

"Isn't it pretty obvious?" said Pauline. Then, seeing his blank glance, she rolled her eyes and said, "God help me, you really do need to grow up!" Standing, she walked over to the couch he sat on and sat beside him. "Halt," she said, as firmly as she could muster under the circumstances, "you need to tell him the story about the birds and the bees."

"What?" he asked. He had been too busy admiring her long, delicate fingers as they pushed a stray strand of hair back into its place.

"Focus!" exclaimed Pauline, snapping her fingers. This whole thing is really wearing him out. He can't even concentrate. "You've got to tell him how it happens, Halt," she said.

"No!" He said it so loudly and so vehemently that Pauline jumped. Except that Diplomats don't jump. Nothing surprises them. Of course. "Not me! Definitely not me!"

"But you're his mentor," Pauline tried. "He looks up to you."

"So I should be the one to embarrass him?" Halt asked.

"You're not worried about him being embarrassed," said Pauline, a knowing smile quirking up on side of her lips. "You're worried about you being embarrassed. Which you are already so I see no problem."

"No," said Halt flatly.

Pauline raised her eyes to the heavens, as though beseeching the oak roof beams for aid. "Halt," she said, laying a hand on his knee, "if you won't do it, who will?"

Her hand was very warm and soft. Blinking slightly, he cocked his head on one side and stared at her for a second before saying, "You, maybe?"

"Me?" gasped Pauline, eyes widening.

"Yes, you," said Halt.

"But … he barely knows me, Halt. How would you feel if a complete stranger came up to you and –"

"But you're good at breaking things to people gently. Like the fact that your childhood is over," said Halt.

"Halt," said Pauline firmly. "I will make one thing clear. There is not a chance, in this world or another, that I will tell your apprentice the facts of life. That is your job."

"Well then it's a job I'm best fired from," said Halt.

"Just tell it to him like your mother told you," said Pauline, trying to smile reassuringly.

"My father told me," said Halt darkly. "And I'm scarred for life because of it."

Pauline pinched her nose and leaned back in the couch. "There are three ways this can be done, Halt," she said finally. "I can tell you what to say so that the poor lad will feel better about it though I personally do not want to have that kind of conversation with you, here in my rooms. Or you can just bite the bullet and tell him. Or he can just live his life in ignorance until he founds out how it's done when some," – she waved her arm in the air – "person chooses to tell him in a much courser way than you and your father combined. The choice is yours."

There was silence for a while and then Halt said, "You're sure you won't do it for me?"

"Certain, dear," said Pauline sleepily, sitting up from her sprawling position and yawning. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to have a long nap. A long one."

As she made her way out of the room, yawning again, Halt called, "Is there some spindle I should know about?"

Pauline turned in the doorway and smiled at him. "Not that I know of," she said, "but if I sleep over the hundred years mark you can give me a kiss to wake me up."

Might take you up on that.

"I'll tell him this afternoon," said Halt with difficulty.

"Alright," said Pauline, smiling. "I'll bring chocolate and coffee down to your cabin when the coast's clear then. Always supposing you're alive by then."

"You need to stop spending time with Crowley. Between the two of you my self-esteem is going to fall deeper than a Celtican mine shaft," he grumbled.

"Unless you're going to spend the afternoon in my chambers while the maids gossip outside, go," she said, disappearing into her sleeping quarters with a swish of silk.

oo0oo

Will was rather surprised when Halt called him into the cabin for a cup of coffee at four o'clock. That was usually reserved for later in the day when they weren't practicing some Ranger skill or another.

As Halt sat down opposite him, Will could not help but notice how tense he was, sitting on the edge of his seat. "Is everything alright?" Will asked.

"Not really," he heard Halt mutter into his boots. Then he raised his head and, running a hand through is grey streaked black hair said, "This isn't easy for me to say boy and I dare say it isn't easy for you to hear –"

"You're not going to give me to the farmers are you?" Will asked, eyes going wide at the prospect. "What did I do wrong?"

"It's not that," said Halt, rubbing a hand down his face. "Just – just listen to me and keep your awkward questions for when I'm done explaining, alright?"

Twenty minutes later

Will looked as though he'd seen a ghost. He was perched on his chair in exactly the same position as he had been when the conversation (if it was indeed worthy of the term) had begun. Halt was sitting in the chair opposite him pinching the bridge of his nose and wishing that he was somewhere else.

"But …" Will finally found his voice. "Why would anyone … want to do that?"

Halt was silent for a moment before saying, "You'll understand it better when you're older."

"I won't want to do that when I'm older, I promise you that!" said Will, an expression of disgust written all over his face.

"You might be surprised," Halt muttered. Then, to Will, "It always helps when you have feelings for the person."

"So … like you and Lady Pauline?" Will asked.

"What?" asked Halt, brow furrowing.

Will, completely oblivious to the dangerous look on his mentor's face and blissfully ignorant to the sensitiveness of what he was saying, barrelled on. "So, if you had to do it with anyone Lady Pauline would be the best choice?

Halt glowered at him with a level of threat in his eyes that made an angry bear look tame. "That," he said slowly, "is a question that I will not be answering. Ever."

Not wanting to be around his mentor when he was in an aggressive mood, Will said, "Alright, in that case I'll go outside and … um … try to forget what I've just heard." And with that he wisely retreated from the cottage.

Just a thought. :)