John Flanagan - The siege of Macindaw

"You're lucky to have those two on your side," he said, and Orman knew that he was referring to Will and Horace."They're very accomplished young men."

Orman nodded. "They make an excellent team, all right." Then he eyed the small healer with a sidelong glance. "It occurs to me that I've been lucky with all my new allies."

Malcolm shrugged diffidently. But Orman felt it was time he pursued the matter.

"After all," he said, "you owe me nothing. You chose years ago to seclude yourself in the forest here and cut yourself off from contact with the outside world." He sighed heavily. "I can't say I altogether blame you for that."

"I've been reasonably content, I suppose," Malcolm replied.

"And now you're risking all that," Orman said.

Malcolm pulled a wry face. "Am I?" The thought seemed to be occurring to him for the first time. "I suppose I am, really," he agreed.

"All your protective devices and illusions have been exposed as tricks."

"Were you planning on telling the world?" Malcolm asked with a little smile.

Orman shook his head. "Of course not. But once a secret is broken, it has a way of getting out. All your people here will be at risk again."

Malcolm's smile faded at that. "I know," he said at last. "I considered that, but really, what could I do? Will and your man Xander arrived here with you at death's door. What choice did I have?"

"You could have turned us away," Orman said, but Malcolm was shaking his head before he had finished the sentence.

"I'm a healer," he said simply. "I swore to dedicate my life to the art. If I turned you away, I'd be an oath breaker. You see?" he added, with a trace of the sad smile creeping back onto his face."You put me in an impossible position."

Orman nodded. He did realize the fact, which was why he had raised the matter with Malcolm.

"I understand that. But I want you to know, things will be different in the future. You'll be under the protection of Castle Macindaw."

Malcolm thought about that for a few seconds. "I appreciate the offer," he said. "But you won't mind if I remain in the forest? I've grown rather accustomed to things here. And I couldn't leave my people."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Orman told him. "I just want you to know that you won't need to hide here anymore. I'll give you all the protection you need. And any other practical help you could ask for."

The two men shook hands solemnly. Malcolm opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated.

"What is it?" Orman prompted.

"Well," the healer said reluctantly, "I hate to ask, but these Skandians are eating me out of house and home – and our two young men are going through my supplies of coffee beans like a plague of locusts."

Orman grinned.Tll take care of it," he said.Tll have Xander buy some supplies from Tumbledown Creek village. He can dip into my purse to pay for it. Mind you," he added, and the grin widened considerably, "it'll probably break his heart to do it."

The worst part about being a prisoner, Alyss thought, was not knowing what was going on. She had watched MacHaddish and his party arrive after Keren had been summoned by Buttle's messenger. Her window commanded a view of the courtyard and the main gate by which they entered. But once they were ushered into the keep, she was left in a fever of curiosity. What were they discussing? What were their plans? How would Will counter them? Did he even know the Scotti were here?

As a Courier, she was accustomed to being privy to confidential information. Her enforced inactivity, and her ignorance of what was happening, gnawed away at her, sending her pacing helplessly about the small circular room.

Looking for something to distract her, she knelt to inspect the two center bars in the window. In recent days, she had begun to work on the bars with the remaining acid. Each time Keren came to see her, she waited half an hour after he had left, then poured the acid into the shallow well around the base of the two bars. She only used a little at a time, as the action of the acid on the iron created pungent fumes that took at least an hour to disperse. This was the reason why she could only work on the bars after Keren had visited her. She reasoned that there was little prospect of his returning on those occasions.

As the acid ate away at the iron and the mortar, she concealed the missing material with a mixture of soap, dirt and rust. She gouged the soft material away now with her spoon, piling it carefully to one side for reuse. The bars were three quarters eaten away. Another two or three applications should see the job complete and there was plenty of acid left to do the job.

She wasn't sure what she would do once the bars were eaten away. She was terrified of heights and the thought of descending the outer wall made her weak at the knees. But it didn't hurt to be prepared.

Perhaps she could risk another application now. Keren was tied up with the Scotti general, and the odds were he wouldn't come to see her again in the immediate future. But she resisted the temptation. For all she knew, Keren might want to parade her in front of MacHaddish. Reluctantly, she replaced the soap, dirt and rust paste, concealing the gap in the iron. Then, to put temptation behind her, she moved away from the window, stretching out on the bed, fingers laced behind her head.

She didn't sleep. Her thoughts whirled through her head, spurred by her own sense of inactivity and frustration.

The hours dragged by. She paced the room again. Lay on the bed again. Rearranged the furniture. One table. Two chairs. One bed. That didn't take long. She considered moving the wardrobe but decided it was too heavy. Besides, the noise might bring the sentries in to see what she was doing, and she had no wish to see them. She inspected the iron bars once more. At one stage, she examined the little bottle of acid, which she had returned to its hiding place on the top of the window lintel. She shook it to see how much remained. Then, taking control of herself, she put it away.

She was lying on the rearranged bed when she heard orders being shouted from the courtyard. She rose hurriedly and moved to the window. The Scotti party was leaving.

" That was quick," she muttered. MacHaddish had been here less than six hours. Either the talks with Keren had been successful or the reverse. From the way the two men shook hands, with Keren clapping his free left hand on the Scotti's shoulder, she assumed it was the former. She glanced at the sky. The light was fading fast, and she hoped Will could see what was going on. She'd have to send him a signal later tonight. She knew that even when he wasn't watching the castle, he left someone in the trees who would note down the light patterns she sent so Will could decipher them later.

The drawbridge rumbled and the portcullis creaked again as the way opened for the Scotti to leave. She watched them for a few minutes as they jogged through the knee-high gorse, angling back to the north and to the path that led to the Pictan border. Then the bulk of the northeast tower hid them from view.

Half an hour later, she heard the key in the lock and Keren entered. She expected him to be triumphant and boastful but instead he was strangely subdued. When she tried to pump him for information about MacHaddish, he waved her questions aside, preferring to reminisce about his childhood, talking about the years he spent growing up in the countryside around Castle Macindaw. She was puzzled by this unexpected attitude, and the renegade's strange air of sadness. Then, slowly, realization dawned on her.

Instead of feeling triumph that his plan was working, Keren was feeling regret – regret at the fact that he was now committed irrevocably to a path that would take him away from all that he knew and had held dear for years. A path from which there was no return.