John Flanagan: The Icebound Land

He hadn't heard Evanlyn approaching as he was doing the push-ups.

Now he was startled by the sound of her voice.

"Will, it's a waste of time."

Her voice didn't have the argumentative tone that had been so much in evidence in the last few days. She sounded almost conciliatory, he thought. With a slight groan of pain, he pushed himself up from the shingle, then rolled over and sat, dusting the wet sand from his hands.

He smiled at her and she smiled in return, then moved to sit beside him on the beach. "What's a waste of time?" he asked. She made a vague gesture that included the beach where he had just been doing push-ups and the cliff he had climbed and descended.

"All this running and exercising. And all this talk of escape."

He frowned slightly. He didn't want to start an argument with her, so he was careful not to react too vehemently to her words. He tried to keep a reasonable, neutral tone.

"It's never a waste of time to stay in shape," he said.

She nodded, conceding that point. "Perhaps not. But escaping? From here? What chance would we have?"

He knew he would have to be careful now. If it seemed he was lecturing her, she might well retreat into her shell again. But he knew how important it was to keep hope alive in a situation like this and he wanted to impress that fact on her.

"I'll admit it doesn't look too promising," he said. "But you never know what tomorrow may bring. The important thing is to stay positive. We mustn't give up. Halt taught me that. Never give up because, if an opportunity arises, you have to be ready to take it.

Don't give up, Evanlyn, please."

She was shaking her head again but not in argument.

"You're missing my point. I haven't given up. I'm just saying this is a waste of time because it's not necessary. We don't need to escape. There's another way out of this."

Will made a show of looking around, as if he might see this other way she was talking about.

"There is?" he said. "I don't see it, I'm afraid."

"We can be ransomed," she said, and he laughed out loud-not scornfully but in genuine amusement at her naivete.

"I very much doubt it. Who's going to ransom an apprentice Ranger and a lady's maid? I mean, I know Halt would if he could, but he doesn't have the sort of money it would take. Who's going to pay out good money for us?"

She hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision.

"The King," she said simply, and Will looked at her as if she'd lost her senses. In fact, for a moment he wondered if she had. She certainly didn't seem to have too firm a grip on reality.

"The King?" he repeated. "Why would the King take the slightest interest in us?"

"Because I'm his daughter."

The smile faded from Will's face. He stared at her, not sure that he had heard her correctly. Then he recalled Gilan's words back in Celtica, when the young Ranger had warned him that there was something not quite right about Evanlyn.

"You're his-" he began, then stopped. It was too much to comprehend.

"His daughter. I'm so sorry, Will. I should have told you sooner.

I was traveling incognito in Celtica when you found me," she explained. "It had become almost second nature not to tell people my real name. Then, after Gilan left us, I was going to tell you. But I realized if I did, you'd insist on getting me back to my father immediately."

Will shook his head, trying to catch up with what he was hearing.

He glanced around the tiny, cliff-bound harbor.

"Would that have been so bad?" he asked her, with a touch of bitterness. She smiled sadly at him.

"Think, Will. If you'd known who I was, we never would have followed the Wargals. We never would have found the bridge."

"We never would have been captured," Will put in, but she shook her head once more.

"Morgarath would have won," she said simply.

He looked into her eyes then and realized she was right. There was a long moment of silence between them.

"So your name is:" He hesitated and she finished the sentence for him.

"Cassandra. Princess Cassandra." Then she added, with a rueful smile, "And I'm sorry if I've been behaving like a bit of a princess over the past few days. I've been feeling bad because I hadn't told you. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"No, no, that's all right," he said vaguely. He was still overwhelmed by her news. Then a thought struck him. "When are you going to tell Erak?"

"I don't think I should," she replied. "This sort of thing is best handled at the highest levels. Erak and his men are little more than pirates, after all. I don't know how they'd react. I think it's best if I remain as Evanlyn until we reach Skandia. Then I'll find a way to approach their ruler-what's his name?"

"Ragnak," Will said, his mind racing. "Oberjarl Ragnak." Of course she was right, he thought. As Princess Cassandra of Araluen, she would be worth a small fortune to the Oberjarl. And since Skandians were essentially mercenaries, there was no doubt that she would be ransomed.

He, on the other hand, was a different matter. He realized she was talking again.

"Once I tell them who I am, I'll arrange for both of us to be ransomed. I'm sure my father will agree."

And that was the problem, Will knew. Perhaps if she could appeal to her father in person, he might be swayed. But the matter would be in the hands of the Skandians. They would tell King Duncan that they had his daughter, and set a price for her ransom. Nobles and princesses might be ransomed-in fact, they often were in times of war.

But people like warriors and Rangers were a different matter. The Skandians could well be reluctant to release a Ranger, even an apprentice Ranger, who might cause trouble for them in the future.

There was another side to it all too. The message would take months, perhaps the best part of a year, to reach Araluen. Duncan's reply would take an equally long time to make the return trip. Then negotiations would begin. In all that time, Evanlyn would be kept safe and comfortable. She was a valuable property, after all. But who could say what might have happened to Will? He could be dead by the time any ransom was paid. Evanlyn obviously hadn't thought that far ahead. She was continuing with her previous thought.

"So you see, Will, there's no point to all this running and climbing and trying to find a way to escape. You don't need to do it.

And besides, Erak is getting suspicious. He's no fool and I've seen him watching you. Just relax and leave it all to me. I'll get us home."

He opened his mouth, about to explain what he had been thinking.

Then he shut it again. Suddenly he knew that she wouldn't accept his point of view. She was strong-willed and determined-used to having her own way, he realized now. She was convinced that she could organize their return and nothing he said would change her mind. He smiled at her and nodded. But it was a thin parody of his normal smile.

In his heart, he knew he was going to have to find his own way home.

C ASTLE A RALUEN, THE SEAT OF K ING D UNCAN'S RULE, WAS A building of majestic beauty. The tall, spire-topped towers and soaring buttresses had an almost lifelike grace to them that belied the strength and solidity of the castle. It was beautiful, surely enough, built in huge blocks of honey-colored hardstone, but it was almost impregnable as well.

The many high towers gave the castle a sense of light and air and gracefulness. But they also provided the inhabitants with a score of positions from which to pour arrows, rocks and boiling oil on any attackers who might be unwise enough to assault the walls.

The throne room was the heart of the castle, situated inside a series of walls and portcullises and drawbridges, which, in the event of a prolonged siege, provided defenders with a succession of fallback positions. Like everything else about the castle, the throne room was vast in scale, with a vaulted ceiling that towered high above, and a paved floor finished in black and dull pink marble squares.