The Royal Ranger: A New Beginning: 1 (Ranger’s Apprentice: The Royal Ranger)

“NO. WE DON’T HAVE A STORYTELLER IN THIS VILLAGE,” THE innkeeper said in response to Will’s casual question.

“Pity,” Will said, taking a sip of his coffee. “My daughter could use a bit of entertainment. It’s hard for her, traveling all the time, with nothing to do and no permanent friends.”

The innkeeper nodded sympathetically. “I can understand. Pity you didn’t get here sooner. We had a traveling spinner come through here some weeks back. The kids loved him.”

Will looked up, feigning no more than polite interest.

“Heard tell of a traveling spinner in Danvers Crossing recently,” he said.

He rubbed his jaw, pretending to think. “What did he call himself, now?”

“The Storyman, was it?” Jerome suggested. Will mentally slapped his forehead with his hand as he realized that Storyman was a name.

“That’s him,” he said. “The Storyman. Of course.”

“Colorful type, he was. Wore a bright blue cloak and scarlet shoes.” The innkeeper frowned, remembering the man. “Seemed a little odd. But I suppose that goes with the job.”

“Odd?” Will’s interest was aroused but he didn’t show it. “How do you mean?”

Jerome made a dismissive gesture. “Oh, not in a bad way. Just . . .

theatrical, I suppose. He wore bells on his wrists and ankles so you could hear him coming. And he acted out his stories with great enthusiasm, I’m told.”

“You didn’t see him at work?”

Jerome shook his head. “He entertained the children. I remember giving my nephew a coin for him. He’d sit down with them by the pond on the village green and tell them stories.” He grinned at the memory. “Ghost stories, I think. I recall the children were often a bit pale when he’d finished.”

“Well, children love a good scare now and again,” Will said. “When was he here, do you recall?”

Jerome threw back his head, looking at the ceiling while he considered the question. Finally, he replied.

“Must have been two, maybe three weeks ago. It was a few days before the Spoker boy disappeared.”

Will frowned, looking a little concerned. “A boy disappeared? Does a lot of that go on round here?”

Jerome shook his head, recognizing a parent’s natural tendency to worry.

“Lord, no! Never happened before, that I recall. If you ask me, young Maurice simply ran off. His da used to beat him too often for my liking.”

Will drained his coffee, setting the mug down on the bar. He nodded good night to the innkeeper.

“Well, I’m for my bed. Got a long day tomorrow. Going to visit some of the outlying farms and see if there’s any work going.”

“No luck in the village?” Jerome asked and Will shook his head, a dejected expression on his face. Jerome smiled sympathetically. “I’m not surprised. Times have been hard and people don’t have any extra money to spend.”

“Well, I certainly don’t and that’s for sure,” Will said. He hesitated, then said uncertainly, “Matter of fact, I was wondering if I could ask a favor.”

Jerome’s eyes narrowed. Favors usually involved money in his experience, and Will’s next words bore out his assumption.

“I could be gone for a night or two. Wonder could I move Maddie into one of your rooms while I’m gone. I’d feel safer about her that way. I wouldn’t like to leave her sleeping in the stable, what with children disappearing and such.”

“It was only one boy went missing,” Jerome said defensively. Then he saw the worried look on Will’s face and relented. It must be hard being a sole parent and traveling round the countryside, he thought. And he had several rooms unoccupied.

“All right then,” he said. “She can take the attic room. I’ll charge the same as I’m charging for two of you in the stable.”

Will heaved a sigh of relief. “Thanks for that. It’ll stop me worrying about her while I’m gone.”

Privately, he resolved to bring some game back for Jerome’s kitchen. The innkeeper was a likable fellow and his gesture was a generous one. He turned away for the door.

• • •

“How long will you be gone?” Maddie asked, when he told her of the new arrangement.

“A day or two. I thought I’d ride over to Boyletown and see if this Storyman character has visited there as well.”

He’d explained the confusion over the traveling spinner’s name. Maddie had a similar reaction to his. Once you knew it was a name, everything seemed clear.

“We know he was at Danvers Crossing, then he came here.” Will paused, frowning. “Wish we’d thought to find out when he was at Danvers Crossing.

Jerome said he was here shortly before the local lad went missing.”

“And Jerome told you Maurice Spoker’s parents mistreated him,” Maddie said thoughtfully. “Just like Carrie Clover’s father.”

Will’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. The coincidences are beginning to mount up, aren’t they?”

Maddie nodded agreement. “So what do you want me to do while you’re gone?”

“Keep talking to the local kids. See if you can find out more about this blue-cloaked, red-shoed storyteller. Jerome seemed to think they loved him.”

“Not the impression I got,” Maddie said.

“Well, see what you can dig up. But be careful. Don’t push it if they’re reluctant.” A separate thought struck him and he added, “Oh, by the way, while you’re staying in the room, you might make yourself useful. Make your bed and offer to help out in the kitchen.”

“I’m not a good cook,” Maddie pointed out.

“I was thinking that your efforts might lie more in the area of dishwashing,” Will told her.

Maddie recoiled in mock horror. “I don’t know if I’m trained for that.”

He raised one eyebrow at her. She’d seen him do that before and found herself wishing that she could do it. She resolved to practice the expression.

“I’m sure you’ll pick it up,” he said. “It’s not alchemy.”

• • •

As it turned out, Maddie didn’t need to ask any further questions about the mysterious blue-cloaked Storyman. She met the other children as arranged the following afternoon and they sat on the grass as she showed them how to fashion their slings. She had brought a small knife with her and she lent it to them so they could cut the leather thongs to length, then fashion the pouches.

There was only one other person on the common—a farmworker, judging by his patched work smock and a shapeless old hat. He was leaning on a fence, idly watching them. He had a small bundle wrapped in a spotted cloth at his feet.

As the group sat in a semicircle, heads bent to the tasks of cutting, shaping and tying, David caught her eye, rose to his feet and jerked his head in an unmistakable gesture for her to follow him. She rose and they moved away from the others. She looked at him expectantly.

“Did you want to say something?” she asked.

He glanced around. She could see he was nervous. No, she corrected herself. He was more than nervous. He was scared.

“The Storyman,” he said finally. “Don’t go asking about him anymore.

And above all, don’t mention him to your da.” He paused, then added anxiously, “You haven’t said anything to him, have you?”

She shook her head. “No. But why not?”

“He told us things. And he said we should never repeat them to any grown-ups, or something bad would happen to us.”

Maddie’s eyes widened. “What things did he tell you?” she asked, her voice wavering. David’s nervousness was getting to her.

He shuffled his feet. “At first it was just normal stories. Some funny ones and some scary ones. They were all good fun and we all enjoyed them.

Mostly they were stories we’d heard before, like the Ogre of Alden Pass and the Great Green Troll of Tralee.”

Maddie nodded. These were well-known folk tales. They varied in detail with each different storyteller, of course, but they were always essentially the same, and were calculated to give children a good healthy scare—without causing too much concern.

“But then he told us about the Stealer in the Night,” he said, his voice

becoming very quiet.

“The Stealer in the Night?” Maddie repeated. Even the name sent a shiver of fear down her spine. It seemed so sinister, so evil.

David nodded, licking his dry lips in a nervous gesture.

“The Stealer is a mysterious spirit, dressed all in black, and wearing a black mask and cloak. He materializes in a village and takes children.”

“Takes them where?” she asked. Her heart was beating a little faster as his tale unfolded. She leaned closer to him, dropping her own voice. “What does he do with them?”

David shrugged. “Nobody knows. He takes them away and nobody ever sees them again.” He glanced round once more and Maddie did likewise. The other children were all intent on making their slings.

“The thing is, the Storyman said if we were ever to see him, we were to say nothing. Just pretend we’d seen nothing. And he said we must never, never tell a grown-up about the Stealer in the Night.”

“What would happen if you did?” Maddie asked, her voice now barely above a whisper.

“If we did, he said the Stealer would know. And he’d come after anyone who told. He’d come in the night and carry them off as well and they’d never see their family again.”

There was a long silence between them. Both of them were wide-eyed.

David’s fear was contagious, and Maddie found herself wishing she was back in Redmont, in the cozy little cabin in the trees. She heard a slight noise and looked round nervously. The farmworker she noticed earlier had left his position by the fence and moved closer to them. He was sitting on the grass, cutting thick slices from a piece of cheese he had taken from the bundle. He caught her eye, nodded and smiled pleasantly as he ate some of the cheese.

She wondered if he’d heard what they had been discussing. She decided he was probably too far away, but she lowered her voice anyway when she spoke again.

“Do you think that’s what happened to Maurice Spoker?” she said.

David recoiled half a pace. Unaware of the nearby farmworker, he raised his voice in surprise. “How did you know about Maurice?”

Maddie realized she’d made a mistake mentioning Maurice Spoker. She made a warning gesture for David to lower his voice again, glancing meaningfully at the nearby farmworker, and continued. “My da heard about him in the tavern. He told me about it. Said this boy called Maurice Spoker

went missing and to take care I didn’t get about on my own after dark. Do you think he was taken by the Stealer in the Night?”

David hesitated. Her explanation seemed to have satisfied him. Then he nodded slowly.

“What else could it have been?” he said.