It was not polite for a Temujai general to allow his emotions to show.

Halt regarded him. He loved Horace like a younger brother. Even like a second son, after Will. He admired his skill with a sword and his courage in battle. But sometimes, just sometimes, he felt an overwhelming desire to ram the young warrior's head against a convenient tree. "You have no sense of drama or symbolism, do you?" he asked. "Huh?" replied Horace, not quite understanding. Halt looked around for a convenient tree. Luckily for Horace, there were none in sight.

Remember no one expects you to be Halt. He's a legend, after all. Haven't you heard? He's eight feet tall and kills bears with his bare hands.

Sit down, Will. There’s a good fellow,” he said. “Yes, sir,” replied Will, and Halt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He’s never called me sir,” he said. “Probably trying to get on my good side,” Crowley replied. Halt nodded savagely. “Probably.

Let's face it, she can't have simply disappeared...can she?" Horace shrugged. "That's what I keep telling myself," he said morosley. "But somehow it looks as if she has.

Do you have a death wish?" he asked. Will grinned at him. I'm just relying on your judgment," he replied. "I can't keep track of everything in my head.

Well, we can ride together for a while longer. The highway south is farther along this way. I'll be glad of some cheerful company." "First time anyone's said that about me," Halt replied.