Halt's Peril Quotes

“Does it matter?" Halt asked.
Horace shrugged. "Not really, I suppose. I just wondered why you'd gone to the kitchen and why you took the trouble to remain unseen. Were you hiding from Master Chubb yourself? And Will just turned up by coincidence?"
"And why would I be hiding from Master Chubb in his own kitchen?" Halt challenged. Again. Horace shrugged innocently.
"Well,there was a tray of freshly made pies airing on the windowsill, wasn't there? And you're quite fond of pies, aren't you, Halt?"
Halt drew himself up very straight in the saddle. "Are you accusing me of sneaking into that kitchen to steal the pies for myself? Is that it?"
His voice and body language simply reeked of injured dignity.
"Of course not, Halt!" Horace hurried to assure him, and Halt's stiff-shouldered form relaxed a little.
"I just thought I'd give you the opportunity to confess," Horace added. This time, Malcolm couldn't conceal his sudden explosion of laughter. Halt gave them both a withering glance.
"You know, Horace," he said at length, "you used to be a most agreeable young man. Whatever happened to you?"
Horace turned a wide grin on him. "I've spent too much time around you, I suppose," he said.
And Halt had to admit that was probably true.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“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.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“A hundred people is rather a large handful for the four of us to take on," Malcolm pointed out. "Do you have any ideas about how we're going to handle that task?"
"Simple," Halt told him. "We'll surround them.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“Yes, I'm back," he said, "And look who I ran into."
Horace grinned at him. "i hope you ran into him hard."
"As hard as I could.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“Isn't that someone we know?" asked Horace. He pointed to where a cloaked figure sat by the side of the road a few hundred meters away, arms wrapped around his knees. Close by him, a small shaggy horse cropped the grass growing at the edge of the drainage ditch that ran beside the road.
"So it is," Halt replied. "And he seems to have brought Will with him.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“Maybe we should have gone with him," he said, a few minutes after his friend was lost to sight.
"Three of us would make four times the noise he will," Halt said.
Horace frowned, not quite understanding the equation. "Wouldn't three of us make three times the noise?"
Halt shook his head. "Will and Tug will make hardly any noise. Neither will Abelard and I. But as for you and that moving earthquake you call a horse..." He gestured at Kicker and left the rest unsaid.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“Would you have done that in his place? Would you have left him and gone on?"
"Of course I would!" Halt replied immediately. But something in his voice rang false and Horse looked at him, raising one eyebrow. He'd waited a long time for an opportunity to use that expression of disbelief on Halt.
After a pause, the Ranger's anger subsided.
"All right. Perhaps I wouldn't," he admitted. Then he glared at Horace. "And stop raising that eyebrow on me. You can't even do it properly. Your other eyebrow moves with it!”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“The tavern keeper, a wiry man with a sharp-nosed face, round, prominent ears and a receding hairline that combined to give him a rodentlike look, glanced at him, absentmindedly wiping a tankard with a grubby cloth. Will raised an eyebrow as he looked at it. He'd be willing to bet the cloth was transferring more dirt to the tankard then it was removing.
"Drink?" the tavern keeper asked. He set the tankard down on the bar, as if in preparation for filling it with whatever the stranger might order.
"Not out of that," Will said evenly, jerking a thumb at the tankard. Ratface shrugged, shoved it aside and produced another from a rack above the bar.
"Suit yourself. Ale or ouisgeah?"
Ousigeah, Will knew, was the strong malt spirit they distilled and drank in Hibernia. In a tavern like this, it might be more suitable for stripping runt than drinking.
"I'd like coffee," he said, noticing the battered pot by the fire at one end of the bar.
"I've got ale or ouisgeah. Take your pick." Ratface was becoming more peremptory. Will gestured toward the coffeepot. The tavern keeper shook his head.
"None made," he said. "I'm not making a new pot just for you."
"But he's drinking coffee," Will said, nodding to one side.
Inevitably the tavern keeper glanced that way, to see who he was talking about. The moment his eyes left Will, an iron grip seized the front of his shirt collar, twisting it into a knot that choked him and at the same time dragged him forward, off balance, over the bar,. The stranger's eyes were suddenly very close. He no longer looked boyish. The eyes were dark brown, almost black in this dim light, and the tavern keeper read danger there. A lot of danger. He heard a soft whisper of steel, and glancing down past the fist that held him so tightly, he glimpsed the heavy, gleaming blade of the saxe knife as the stranger laid it on the bar between them.
He looked around for possible help. But there was nobody else at the bar, and none of the customers at the tables had noticed what was going on.
"Aach...mach co'hee," he choked.
The tension on his collar eased and the stranger said softly, "What was that?"
"I'll...make...coffee," he repeated, gasping for breath.
The stranger smiled. It was a pleasant smile, but the tavern keep noticed that it never reached those dark eyes.
"That's wonderful. I'll wait here.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“Hunting party," Horace said
Both Halt and Will looked at him sarcastically.
"You think?" Will said. "Maybe they found the deer and brought him back to repair him.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“There's a tavern by the docks. He's there most evenings."
"Then I'll talk to him tonight," Halt said.
"You can try. But he's a hard case, Halt. I'm not sure you'll get anything out of him. He's not interested in money. I tried that."
"Well, perhaps he'll do it out of the goodness of his heart. I'm sure he'll open up to me," Halt said easily. But Horace noticed a gleam in his eye. He was right: the prospect of having something to do had reawakened Halt's spirits. He had a score to settle, and Horace found himself thinking that it didn't bode well for this Black O'Malley character.
Will eyes Halt doubtfully, however. "You think so."
Halt smiled at him. "People love talking to me," he said. "I'm an excellent conversationalist and I have a sparkling personality. Ask Horace. I've been bending his ear all the way from Dun Kilty, haven't I?"
Horace nodded confirmation. "Talking nonstop all the way, he's been," he said. "Be glad to see him turn all that chatter onto someone else.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“He shook his head. He didn't know. He couldn't tell when he had woken fully. He walked to the horses. They definitely seemed alarmed. But then, they would. After all, he had just leapt to his feet unexpectedly, waving his saxe knife around like a lunatic.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“Halt," said Horace, "I've been thinking..."
Halt and Will exchanged an amused glance. "Always a dangerous pastime," they chorused. For many years, it had been Halt's unfailing response when Will had made the same statement. Horace waited patiently while they had their moment of fun, then continued.
"Yes, yes. I know. But seriously, as we said last night, Macindaw isn't so far away from here..."
"And?" Halt asked, seeing how Horace had left the statement hanging.
"Well, there's a garrison there and it might not be a b ad idea for one of to go fetch some reinforcements. It wouldn't hurt to have a dozen knights and men-at-arms to back us up when we run into Tennyson."
But Halt was already shaking his head.
"Two problems, Horace. It'd take too long for one of us to get there, explain it all and mobilize a force. And even if we could do it quickly, I don't think we'd want a bunch of knights blundering around the countryside, crashing through the bracken, making noise and getting noticed." He realized that statement had been a little tactless. "No offense, Horace. Present company excepted, of course.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“Looks like he's lost a guinea and found a farthing," Horace said, then added, unnecessarily, "Will, I mean."
Halt turned in his saddle to regard the younger man and raised an eyebrow.
"I may be almost senile in your eyes, Horace, but there's no need to explain the blindly obvious to me. I'd hardly have thought you were referring to Tug.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“I'll build mine tomorrow," Horace said through a mouthful of food. "This is excellent, Will! When I have grandchildren, I'll name them all after you!”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“You're dropping the bow hand as you release," he called, although Halt certainly wasn't.
His mentor looked around, saw him, and replied pithily, "I believe your grandmother needs lessons in sucking eggs.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“Fanatics," Halt said. "Don't you just love 'em?”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“What is this?" he asked. "Are you all conspiring against me? Even my horse?"
It was the last three words that made Will smile. "We figured you mightn't listen to a healer, a Ranger, or a knight of the realm, "he said. "But if your horse agreed with them, you'd have no choice but to pay attention.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“This Lady Pauline,” he began, “she must be a fearful person. She sounds like a terrible sorceress.” His face was deadpan, but Will sensed the underlying amusement and replied in kind. “She’s very slim and beautiful. But she has amazing power. Some time ago, she persuaded Halt to have a haircut for their wedding.” Malcolm, who had noticed Halt’s decidedly slapdash hair styling, raised his eyebrows. “A sorceress indeed.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“I’m too set in my ways to start doing the right thing,” he complained. “You’re a bad influence, Horace.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“I'd say," the Ranger answered after a few seconds' deliberation, "that he'll be heading south now that he has the chance. Back into Araluen."
"How do you know that?" Horace asked. He was always impressed at the two Rangers' ability to read a situation and come up with the correct answer to a problem. Sometimes, he thought, they almost seemed to have divine guidance.
"I'm guessing," Halt told him.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“Farmers don't nap," he said. "Knights nap."

"That's where we get the expression 'a good knight's sleep,'" Will said, smiling at his own wit. Halt turned a baleful eye on him.

"Horace is right. You're not funny.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“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.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“Horace sniffed the pleasant smell of wood smoke from the chimney. “Hope they’re cooking something,” he said. “I’m starved.” “Who said that?” Will asked, feigning surprise and looking around in all directions. Then he pretended to relax. “Oh, it’s only you, Horace. I didn’t see you there in that cloak.” Horace favored him with a long-suffering look. “Will, if it wasn’t funny the first half-dozen times you said it, why do you think it would be funny now?” And”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“And why would I be hiding from Master Chubb in his own kitchen?" Halt challenged. Again, Horace shrugged innocently.
"Well, there was a tray of freshly made pies airing on the windowsill, wasn't there? And you're quite fond of pies, aren't you, Halt?"
Halt drew himself up very straight in the saddle. "Are you accusing me of sneaking into that kitchen to steal the pies for myself? Is that it?"
His voice and body language simply reeked of injured dignity.
"Of course not, Halt!" Horace hurried to assure him, and Halt's stiff-shouldered form relaxed a little.
"I just thought I'd give you the opportunity to confess," Horace added.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“What did he do? Your friend, I mean?” he asked. “He puked into his helmet,” Will said. “Extensively,” Horace added. The”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“He was conscious of a dull thud as Horace forgot to duck under the doorway.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“this?” he asked. “Are you all conspiring against me? Even my horse?” It was the last three words that made Will smile. “We figured you mightn’t listen to a healer, a Ranger or a knight of the realm,” he said. “But if your horse agreed with them, you’d have no choice but to pay attention.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“voice: Is that a bony backside I see sticking up out of the grass by that black rock? I think it is. Perhaps I should put an arrow in it if its owner doesn’t GET IT DOWN!”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“Halt looked around for a convenient tree. Luckily for Horace, there were none in sight.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“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.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril