You remember last chapter when I said I didn't own Ranger's Apprentice? Guess what? Still don't.
King Duncan of Araluen had a problem. He also had an entire office full of pressing paperwork, a full agenda for the next four months and a bloodthirsty maniac in a black cloak running riot in Highcliff fief. So he should by all natural laws be in the same stressed and anxious temper as in the past few weeks. But he wasn't- and hadn't been for a couple days. First he had been shocked. Then he had been sad. Then, briefly, angry. Then shocked had reappeared with a vengeance. And now he was perplexed. Having to banish a close friend and then discovering said friend shared a surname with the royal family of one of the Hibernian kingdoms will do that.
Currently he was pacing his office, his books clicking on the polished hardwood. 'O'Carrick…O'Carrick…' he muttered. Surely there had to be a mistake. But royal names were guarded jealously by the tinpot royals of Hibernia as another feature to distinguish them from the masses. And if the name bore no significance, why had Halt hidden it all these years. For that matter, why had he hidden where in Clonmel he came from? It was a glaring reminder of how little Duncan actually knew of the man. Suppose… suppose he was a member of the O'Carricks of Dun Kilty. Say, a minor one, cousin of the King's uncle twice removed or something like that. It was possible, thought Duncan. It might even be plausible, given the evidence. Someone far enough away from the throne to be allowed to spend their time in the woods with an exiled former Ranger, learning to sneak up on people. Then something must have happened. Something serious enough to have the young lordling riding into Araluen, looking for a job. Why had he burnt all the bridges to his past in Hibernia? What had he done? What crime, what political coup, had dropped his place in society so dramatically?
No matter what, Duncan couldn't imagine the Ranger, grim and pragmatic as he may be, committing a crime serious enough to warrant exile. Actually, he amended, he could imagine that of Halt, with astonishing ease and vividity. The still unresolved issue of the fraudulent copy of his own seal that Halt had used on more than one occasion and that Duncan was still pretending not to know about floated to mind. What he couldn't imagine was the Ranger being caught at it. Maybe something else had happened- something against Halt, big enough to force him to flee the country. And then an alarming though crossed his mind; what of the political side of the issue? To take someone who was beginning to look seriously like a political refugee and give them an official post in the service of the King, even unwittingly, would be a serious impediment to future relations with Clonmel, should they ever discover it. He sat down at his desk and held his head in his hands, his mind whirling with thoughts and suspicions and half-formed ideas. 'Why, Halt?' he complained. 'Why do you have to be some blasted mysterious?' and he wondered who he could ask about the political records of the O'Carricks.