In the tree line less than half a furlong away, Sir Borin's sergeant watched as his master gave instructions to the outlaws. He was adequately armed and sat astride a courser. In the event he was needed, the knight would signal with a prearranged gesture.

"Ostler! Ostler!" the archer yelled.

The wizened old man slowly stirred, scratched his face, and turned to the voice.

"See to our horses, an' hurry, dam ye," yelled the archer.

The ostler spat, rose from ...