The King's Secret, page 24
part #2 of Path of the Ranger Series
“I need another team, to be the trackers.” Guntar said.
All the Captains volunteered. Isgord’s face was a poem of shame and humiliation. His team was going to be tracked and hunted.
“The big smart guy’s team,” Guntar asked. “Who are you?”
“The Snow Panthers,” said Ingrid.
“Right, the Panthers will be the trackers. They’ll take good old Rufus.” He gave the hound a pat, and it responded to the caress by licking his hand.
“What’s the aim?” Ingrid asked.
“Very simple. The Eagles team will go into the northern woods. You give them some time, then you go on their trail and try to find them.”
“And we’re taking the bloodhound?”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t understand. We could find them without the hound, we’ve got good trackers in our team.” She glanced aside at Lasgol. “With the hound’s help, even though we don’t know how to use him, it should be pretty easy.”
“It looks that way, you think? Well, it won’t be. The Eagles will have me.”
Ingrid’s expression turned to one of confusion. Isgord and the Eagles, on the other hand, began to look much more cheerful.
“We’re going to play cat and mouse. My favorite game. You’ll be the cat and we’ll be the mouse, only this mouse is a very smart one, and he’s going to hide his trail very well.”
“I see…”
“The cat learns to track. The mouse learns to hide its trail. Believe me, learning to hide your trail well will save your lives. The same goes for knowing how to track. You need to master both of those abilities. To find trails and to lose them.”
Ingrid nodded. “Understood.”
Guntar whistled in the direction of the School of Wildlife cabins, and two instructors came over.
“While we’re playing cat and mouse, these two are going to teach the others how it should be done. Pay close attention, learn to do it well. It’s very important for a Ranger. An expert Tracker can follow any trail, but not only that, he can make his own disappear to trick the bloodhounds, which is extremely difficult. That’s what we’re going to learn in these exercises. When we’ve finished, it’ll be the turn of the two other teams. You’ll take turns as cat and mouse, so pay attention both to tracking and to making your own trail vanish. If any team disappoints me, they’ll remember it for the rest of their life. Is all that clear?”
The chorus of ‘yeses’ was very convincing.
“Right then, let’s get started. The mouse starts moving.” He gave Rufus to the Panthers. Gerd went straight away to make a fuss of the hound and whisper nonsense to him. The dog seemed used to humans. Nilsa bent down beside him, and she too began to scratch his head and his drooping ears, telling him what a handsome boy he was.
Guntar took the Eagles away with him, and they vanished into the woods.
Ingrid indicated the hound. “We’re going to need help with him,” she said to the instructors.
“The first hunt doesn’t include help. You’ll just have to manage.”
“I love the way they always make things so easy for us,” murmured Viggo in Egil’s ear.
And he was not wrong there.
One of the instructors pointed in the direction of the woods. “It’s time to catch the mouse. Cats, get going, hunt them.”
They set off. It took them a while to make Rufus understand that he had to come with them. Luckily he seemed to obey Gerd to some extent, so the big boy took the dog with him. They went into the woods leaving behind the instructors and the other teams, and straight away they came to the first problem.
“I can’t find the trail,” announced Ingrid, who was in the lead.
“Let Lasgol try,” said Nilsa. “He’s the best at this.”
Lasgol took the lead and began to search for the other group’s trail.
“You’re not going to believe this, but I can’t find it.”
“I believe you, Lasgol,” Egil said. “This whole exercise is very well thought out and planned. Guntar’s an excellent instructor.”
“Well, I think he’s a moron,” said Viggo.
Egil nodded. “That’s the image he wants you to have of him, but he really is very clever and skillful. Believe me.”
Lasgol crouched down beside a group of ferns and looked around. “He’s wiped the trail,” he said. “I think they came this way, but I can’t say for sure, and what’s worse, I can’t find which direction the trail goes on. There aren’t any prints….”
“How has he managed to wipe out the tracks of six people?” Ingrid wondered, folding her arms across her chest.
“He’s very crafty,” Egil said with the trace of a smile.
Viggo covered his eyes with his hand. “Or else we’re blind as moles.”
“We’re not that blind,” Nilsa protested.
“What do we do now?” Ingrid asked.
“Let’s try with our four-legged friend,” suggested Egil.
They turned to Gerd, who was playing with the dog a few paces away and not paying attention to what was happening. “Who’s the best-looking in this group, eh? You, you’re the best-looking,” he was saying as he scratched the dog’s ears.
Viggo put his hand to his forehead and said something rude.
“Stop playing with him and bring him over,” Ingrid snapped.
Gerd looked at them and nodded. “All right. Come on Rufus, let’s go.” He led him to where Lasgol was crouching.
He pointed to the ferns. “Search, Rufus, search.”
Rufus turned and looked towards the Camp. His gaze was distant.
“We’re doomed,” Viggo said with a grimace of despair.
“Come on, Rufus,” Gerd insisted.” Here, look!”
“This is getting better and better,” Viggo grumbled.
Gerd went up to Rufus and got down on all fours beside him. “Come on boy, come with me,” he said, head to head, as he began to move on all fours toward the ferns. Rufus failed to follow him.
“You’re getting there,” Viggo said. “And don’t worry, it doesn’t look ridiculous. Not in the least.”
“Let him be,” Nilsa said reproachfully. “At least he’s trying.”
“But we’re not getting anywhere,” Ingrid said in frustration.
“Come here, mutt!” Viggo called.
Rufus ignored him completely.
“Come on, doggy, this way,” Nilsa said.
She had no luck either.
“I’ll bring him,” Gerd said. He began to pull on the leather collar, but the dog refused to move from where he was.
“He weighs a ton,” Gerd said. “I could drag him, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. They’re very stubborn. If he doesn’t want to…”
“You’re right,” Egil said. He was watching the dog. “We mustn’t force him. Actually I think we need to do the exact opposite. Let him be. He’s an animal which by instinct and training – and we must assume he’s been very well trained by the Rangers – knows exactly what he ought to do. Therefore I’d say that if he doesn’t, it’s because we’re doing something wrong.”
“So what should we do?” Ingrid asked. “Ignore him?”
“We should, but not Gerd. The dog always needs to know his place and who’s boss. And in this case it’s his human, Gerd.”
And this was what they did. They moved away and left Rufus to himself. After a while Gerd went across to the ferns. In a firm voice he gave the order: “Rufus, here,” and pointed to his own side.
For a moment nothing happened. Rufus did not budge. He went on ignoring them.
“Rufus, here,” Gerd repeated. He pointed again, more emphatically.
The hound did not react, nor did he even look at him. Gerd held firm and did not move. Suddenly Rufus yawned and started to move very slowly, reluctantly. He circled in front of Gerd, who kept pointing firmly. Rufus started to sniff a few paces away from him, and after doing this in several spots nearby he went back to Gerd and sniffed where he was pointing.
Then he stiffened, looking ahead.
“He’s found the trail,” Gerd said.
“Let’s wait,” Egil suggested.
Suddenly Rufus began to move forward, sniffing to left and right. They all followed. They did not interrupt him and left him to his own devices. He marked the way, and they followed without disturbing him. They crossed the woods, and Rufus guided them to the east. He went into a beech wood, and they followed him.
Ingrid, who was in the lead, turned to the others. “Guntar made a sharp turn here, thinking he’d shake us off, but with the hound we won’t lose him.”
Lasgol crouched down again to inspect the ground. And sure enough, he found the trail. They had not bothered to hide it here. This was logical enough, because they could not hide it constantly; it would take them too long and they would be caught.
“They’re ours now,” Gerd said cheerfully. “Nothing escapes a Norghanian hound once he finds the trail.”
“Let’s be alert,” Nilsa said. “We’ve got to catch them.”
Viggo smiled. “I want to see the face of that arrogant swine Isgord when we catch him.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Egil said.
They all looked at him.
“Why?” Ingrid asked.
“Because the test is about following and hiding the trail. Being cat and mouse. The fact that the cat is doing it well doesn’t mean that the mouse isn’t doing as well, or even better.”
“I don’t understand a word of that,” Nilsa said.
Lasgol saw the point. “It means we shouldn’t count our chickens before they’re hatched. Guntar might surprise us.”
“Exactly,” said Egil.
“Know-all, wet blanket,” Viggo complained.
“Well then, let’s catch the mouse,” Ingrid said.
They followed Rufus through the woods. The dog seemed to know at every moment where he had to go. His sense of smell was unbelievable, other-worldly. Every once in a while Lasgol found some tracks, so they knew that Rufus was not mistaken.
Lasgol looked around. “This trail is recent, very recent.”
“We’ve almost got them,” Ingrid said.
“Onward to victory!” Nilsa said encouragingly.
They moved on quickly and came to a gully. When they crossed it, they found a strongly-flowing river. Rufus went up to the bank and stopped. They waited to see what he did next. The dog sniffed to the east, following the shore, then retraced his steps and did the same to the west. He stopped halfway and stood still, staring at the river.
Lasgol went across and looked for prints. He did not find any, but the mud on the bank had been recently churned up.
“I think they crossed here. Guntar has wiped the tracks.”
“In that case this is where our luck runs out,” said Egil.
“Why?” Viggo asked.
Gerd sighed. “They went into the river. Rufus has lost the trail. He can’t follow it in the water.”
“Oh no, really?” Nilsa said in annoyance.
“I’m afraid so,” said Egil.
“Well then,” said Ingrid, “let’s cross and look for the trail.”
“It’ll be useless,” Egil pointed out.
Lasgol nodded sadly. “We’ve got no idea where they might have left the river. And most likely they’ve already left it and aren’t on the other side but back here, on their way back to the Camp.”
“I’m not giving up,” Ingrid said stubbornly. “We’ll cross and search for the trail.”
“I’m not giving up either,” Nilsa agreed.
“As you wish…” Lasgol said, although he knew it would be useless.
They crossed the river. It took them a while to convince Rufus to do the same, but in the end he did, in his own time and when he chose to. They searched for the trail until nightfall. They had no luck. Rufus failed to catch the scent again, and they could not find a single footprint. In the end they had to give up. Guntar had beaten them. This was rather remarkable, taking into account that they had a bloodhound with them. Lasgol realized the importance of Guntar’s lesson. An expert Ranger could outsmart even a Norghanian bloodhound. Impressive.
As they were going back to the Camp Viggo came up beside Egil.
“You’re a know-all and a wet blanket and a jinx. We already had them.”
“Because I was right?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
Egil laughed out loud, and Lasgol smiled.
“Maybe next time I’ll be wrong.”
“Sure, and some day cows will fly.”
At the Camp, Guntar and the Eagles welcomed them with mocking applause. Isgord was smiling from ear to ear, as were Martha and the twins. The other teams said nothing, but looked at them pityingly. And there was nothing worse than the shame of being pitied.
“Lesson learned, kitties?” Guntar asked.
“Learned,” Ingrid said through gritted teeth.
They suffered the humiliation of defeat, but they had learned their lesson.
Chapter 23
School of Expertise had become Lasgol’s most hated subject, although he had to admit that they were learning some amazing things… and he liked this. The price they had to pay was high, though. As far as this specialty was concerned, his heart was divided.
According to Haakon, without true effort, without blood, the rewards of life could not be obtained. Lasgol knew he was not wrong about this and that what they had already learnt might well save their lives in the future, but it was too harsh a training, both for body and mind. It was curious that Haakon rarely used other instructors; he himself was always the one who taught them. As if it were his duty to teach them. Or perhaps because he did not want to miss the slightest detail.
This afternoon he had prepared the ribbon test for them. He had placed three ribbons at the tops of three very tall firs. They would have to climb the three trees, get the ribbons and give them back to him before he had time to count to sixty.
“He’s crazy,” Gerd whispered. He was staring up at the trees with terrified eyes.
“You can do it,” Nilsa said. “Just don’t look down.”
“And you, don’t you lose your grip, slip or whatever it is you always do so that you end up on the ground,” Viggo said to her.
The redhead poked out her tongue at him. “Dimwit!”
“It’s going to be tough,” Egil said. He let his breath out in a loud snort.
Lasgol and Ingrid managed it in time. The effort of climbing the three trees and coming down without falling and breaking any bones was terrible. For Lasgol, who had spent his whole life climbing trees, it was almost natural. He did not have such a hard time. Ingrid, for her part, was sheer physical force and determination, nothing was too much for her, and she did it almost in the same time as Lasgol.
Viggo handed over the ribbons as Haakon reached sixty. It took Nilsa a little longer, what with the extra difficulty of nearly falling and breaking her skull twice. Luckily she managed to get a proper grip and avoided ending up in the hands of the healer.
Gerd and Egil had a very hard time finishing. The three trees were unreachable giants as far as they were concerned, and after getting to the top of the first one, it was almost impossible for them to climb the other two. But they took strength from their self-respect and refused to give up. They struggled, and after much effort and pain they succeeded. Not within the time, but they did it. The first was Gerd, who collapsed in exhaustion after having to lug the weight of his own huge body, which ballasted him like an anchor. Egil barely weighed anything at all, but on the other hand he did not have Gerd’s strength. In fact he had very little, and his hands and feet were not used to an activity as rough as this. Climbing cost him an enormous effort.
When they had finished the exercise, Haakon addressed them all.
“That was a pathetic spectacle. A Ranger needs to be able to climb to the top of any tree with the agility of a monkey, and almost as fast. Train until you’re capable of getting to the top of these three trees in a couple of breaths.”
And with these words he left them, walking as he always did: with absolute stealth and an uncommon grace.
The days went by, and Lasgol was training very hard. As he did so, he could not stop thinking. He clung to the idea of finding out what was behind the mystery of Camu. He went on investigating on his own. One thing Murch had said kept going around in his head: ‘Your father barely kept anything in the deposit. A change of clothes and a couple of rare books from the library, which I returned.’ At first he had not thought it important; his father loved books and read whenever he could. But after turning it over and over in his mind, something sparked his attention: rare books. What did Murch mean by rare books? There was only one way of finding out.
He went to the Library and sought out the Librarian Ranger, Bolmason. Judging by his appearance, anyone would have said that he must be over a hundred. The eyes behind his glasses were tired but lively.
“Good evening, sir,” said Lasgol.
The Librarian was seated behind his large work-desk at the far end of the first floor of the library. He barely raised his gaze from the scrolls he was studying “It’s certainly a good one,” he replied.
“I was wondering… if it’s not too much trouble…”
“Come on, then, ask your question. I haven’t got all evening, and in case you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t got too much time left and I don’t like to waste it.”
Lasgol thought this was a joke, but the librarian’s face was as serious as a funeral.
“I’m the son of…”
The librarian grimaced with boredom. “I know who you are, everybody knows who you are.”
Lasgol nodded and swallowed.
“Among my father’s belongings there were some books. I’d like to know which ones they were.”
The librarian looked at him from behind his glasses.
“That was a long time ago.”
“Yes, but all borrowed books are recorded, it’s the rule, and a Ranger doesn’t break the rules.” He pointed to a large brown tome on one side of the desk.
“I see you’re a smart boy,” the Librarian said. His mouth twisted in a sarcastic grimace. “If the books were in your father’s deposit, that means he broke the rules of the Library when he failed to return them. That’s very bad.”
