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.

Halt shook his head. Frankly, he'd seen sacks of potatoes that could sit a horse better than Erak

I'm not really interested in being king. I prefer to work for a living

I'm the new Oberjarl." I knew it," said Halt instantly, and the other three looked at him, totally scandalized. You did?" Erak asked, his voice hollow, his eyes still showing the shock of his sudden elevation to the highest office in Skandia. Of course," said the Ranger, shrugging. "You're big, mean, and ugly and those seem to be the qualities Skandian's value most.

But...what if I mistime it?" Gilan smiled widely. "Well, in that case, I'll probably lop your head off your shoulders." Horace and Gilan

You're an Apprentice! You're not ready to think!" Gilan and Halt. The Ruins of Gorlan.

You're a dead man, Arratay," Jerrel said through clenched teeth. Halt smiled. "That's been said before. Yet here I am.