John Flanagan - The siege of Macindaw

"It's a beautiful day, Sir Keren. Even a captive can't help having her spirits lifted by such a sight."

And, indeed, she was right. The sky was a brilliant blue, shot with a piercing light and with not a cloud in sight. The frigid air had a clarity to it that brought the most distant objects into sharp focus. The wild beauty of the woods and the snow-covered fields that surrounded the castle seemed close enough to touch.

Keren smiled at her and moved to the window to study the view for himself. He put one foot up on the low windowsill. For a moment she had the awful fear that he might lean his weight on the bars that she was gradually weakening with the acid Will had left behind. But at the last minute, his hand went to the stonework surrounding the window.

"It is beautiful indeed," he said, his expression softening for a few seconds. "I think this is the loveliest time of all in this country."

There was that trace of sadness in his voice again, a tone she had become accustomed to in their recent meetings. She knew he was torn by his treachery. It couldn't be easy on one hand to love the country as much as he seemed to, and on the other, to be prepared to hand it over to its traditional enemies.

Of course, she knew, it made no difference to the land. It would be beautiful and wild and rugged, no matter who controlled it. Still, the emotional impact must be enormous, and Keren must know that somehow, things would never be the same again. But he had made his choice, and there was no point appealing to him now to turn back from the path he was following. She watched impassively as he straightened, taking his foot down from the sill, and turned to her. He made a visible effort to push the melancholy away, grinning at her again.

"You're an amazing girl, Alyss," he said. "You can remain positive and cheerful even when everything has gone against you."

She shrugged. "There's no point in worrying over things that can't be changed, Sir Keren."

He made a disclaiming gesture with his hand."Please, let's not be formal. Call me Keren. We may be on opposite sides, but there's no reason why we can't be friends."

No reason, she thought, other than the fact that I'm a King's officer and you're a traitor to your country. But she didn't voice the thought. There was no sense in alienating Keren by slapping aside his overtures of friendship. Angering him would gain her nothing. Befriending him, on the other hand, might gain her a lot – particularly in terms of information. She smiled back at him.

"On such a beautiful day, how could I disagree?" she said, and his own smile widened in return. She thought she saw a sense of relief in him as well, as if he had been hoping that his offer of friendship would not be rejected out of hand.

"You know, I've been thinking," he said finally."Have you considered what might happen to you when the Scotti arrive?"

Alyss shrugged. "I imagine I'll remain here in the tower," she said. "I assume that you weren't planning on handing me over to them?"

For a moment, she felt a cold chill of fear. Perhaps that was what Keren was planning. She hadn't really thought about what might happen to her. After all, she was assuming that Will – and now Horace with him – would effect a rescue and get her out of this place. Keren looked slightly wounded at the suggestion, and her fear was quickly allayed.

"Of course not!" he said with some vehemence. "There's no way I'd hand a lady of your quality over to those barbarians."

"Your allies," she reminded him dryly.

He shrugged the comment aside."Perhaps. But only from necessity. Not choice."

"Do you think they speak of you in such glowing terms?" Alyss asked him.

He met her gaze frankly. "I'd be surprised if they didn't," he said. "There's no love lost between us. This is a practical arrangement only. I don't pretend it's any more than that. They need me, and they're willing to pay me well for my services. I'll get a share of all the booty they take out of Araluen."

"It must be daunting," she said, with a certain amount of genuine sympathy, "to view a future where you have no close friends, only companions created by necessity."

But her sympathy fell on deaf ears. Keren eyed her coldly, and she realized that he hadn't enjoyed having her spell out the future he faced.

"I won't be here forever," he said. "Once I've put enough money together, I'll be heading for Gallica, or Teutlandt, where I can buy a fief of my own. As a baron, I'll need no friends."

It was common practice, she knew, for the kings of Teutlandt and Gallica to sell baronies to the highest bidders. In Araluen, of course, advancement was dependent on performance and loyalty. But the underlying sadness in Keren's words led her, against her better judgment, to try one final appeal to him.

"Oh, Keren," she said, and once again her concern for him was genuine, "can't you see what your life will become? You're talking about loneliness and banishment – even if it is self-imposed."

He drew himself up a little straighter. "I know what I'm doing," he said stiffly.

"Do you? Do you really? Because it's not too late. The Scotti aren't here yet. You could send for help and hold the castle against them. Macindaw is a tough nut to crack, and they won't dare go farther into Araluen with this castle at their back."

"Are you forgetting the little matter of Syron's death?" he asked. She could say nothing to that, and he continued. "After all, I may not have intended it, but his death was a direct result of my plotting to betray my country. I doubt the King would look too kindly upon that."

"Perhaps he might be – " she began, but he stopped her with a raised hand.

"And then there's the small matter of my men. I've promised to pay them, and the money for that is coming from the Scotti. If I renege on the deal with them, how will I pay my men? And if I don't, how kindly do you think they'll take being cheated?"

Alyss knew he was right. She had known so before she spoke. His next words brought her back to reality. "But we began by discussing your future, not mine," he reminded her."It may take me two or three years working with the Scotti to raise the money I need. But when I go, what do you think will become of you?"

She had no answer for him. She knew that if Will and Horace didn't manage to get her out of here, she would be facing years of imprisonment.

There would be no hope of ransom. Couriers, by dint of their occupation, were obliged to go into dangerous and uncertain situations. They lived by their wits, and they survived because of the respect given to their position – and the power of the Kingdom they served. But if Duncan were ever to pay ransom to have a Courier released, it would be a signal to every tin-pot rebel and minor princeling that there was a profit to be made by imprisoning Couriers and demanding money from Araluen.

All those in the Diplomatic Service went into the profession knowing full well that if they were captured, they could expect no help from the Kingdom.

Revenge, yes. If a Courier were harmed, King Duncan and his advisers could bring a terrible vengeance on the culprits. They had done so in the past on several occasions. That way, others would be discouraged from trying the same ploy.

Of course, if she were dead, she would gain little comfort from the fact that she had been avenged.

She realized that the silence following Keren's question had stretched too long.

"I imagine I'll cope, somehow," she said.

Keren shook his head. "Alyss, you might fool me with that attitude. But I doubt you're fooling yourself. You're too intelligent for that. As my prisoner, you enjoy certain privileges, but the Scotti won't see any reason to continue them. You'll become a slave. A drudge. Your only value to them will lie in the hard labor you can perform.