in her footsteps.
There were scattered clouds scudding across the sky, sending a series of darker shadows rippling over the beach. Will matched his movement to the rhythm of the wind and clouds and moved, surefooted, along the track Evanlyn had just followed. She caught her breath in surprise as he seemed to disappear after the first few meters, melding into the pattern of moving light and shade and becoming part of the overall picture. She saw him again, briefly, at the benches and then at the rocks. Then he seemed to rise out of the ground a few meters from her. She shook her head in amazement. No wonder people thought Rangers were magicians, she reflected. Unaware of her reaction, Will grinned quickly at her and moved close so they could talk.
“All right?” he asked in a lowered tone, and when she nodded, “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
This time, there was no hesitation. “I’m sure,” she said firmly. He gripped her shoulder again in a gesture of encouragement.
“Good for you.” Will glanced around. They were far enough from the huts now that there was little chance of their voices being overheard and the wind, although not as boisterous as it had been, provided plenty of cover as well.
He felt Evanlyn could use some encouragement, so he pointed to the skiff.
“Remember, this thing is small. It’s not like the wolfships. It’ll ride over the big waves, not crash through them. So we’re safe as houses.”
He wasn’t sure about the last two statements, but they seemed logical to him. He’d watched the gulls and penguins around the island riding the massive waves and it seemed that the smaller you were, the safer you were.
He was carrying a large wineskin, stolen from the provisions cabinet. He’d emptied the wine out and refilled the skin with water. It didn’t taste too good, but it would keep them alive. Besides, he thought philosophically, the worse it tasted, the longer it would last them. He placed it carefully in the bottom of the skiff and took a few minutes to check that oars, rudder and the small mast and sail were all safely stowed. The incoming tide was lapping about a third of the way up the skiff now and he knew that was as high as it was going to come. In a few minutes, it would start to go out. And he and Evanlyn would go with it. Vaguely, he knew that the coast of Teutlandt was somewhere to the south of them. Or perhaps they might sight a ship now that the Summer Gales seemed to be moderating. He didn’t dwell on the future too much. He simply knew that he could not remain a prisoner. If it came to it, he would rather die trying to be free.
“Can’t sit here all night,” he said. “Take the other side and let’s get this boat in the water. Lift first, then push.”
Taking hold of the gunwales on either side, they heaved and strained together. At first, it stuck fast in the shingle. But once they lifted and broke the hold, it began to slide more easily. Then it was afloat, and the two of them clambered aboard. Will gave one last shove with his foot and the skiff drifted out from the beach. Will felt a moment of triumph, then he realized he didn’t have time to congratulate himself. Evanlyn, white-faced and tense, was clinging to the gunwales on either side of her as the boat rocked in the small waves.
“So far so good,” she said. But her voice betrayed the nervousness she was feeling.
Clumsily, he settled the oars in the oarlocks. He’d watched Svengal do it a dozen times. But now he found that watching and doing were two different matters, and for the first time, he had a twinge of doubt. Maybe he’d taken on more than he could handle. He tried a clumsy stroke with the oars, stabbing at the water and heaving. He missed on the left-hand side, crabbing the boat around and nearly falling onto the floorboards.
“Slowly,” Evanlyn advised him, and he tried again, with greater care. This time, he felt a welcome surge of movement through the boat. He
There were scattered clouds scudding across the sky, sending a series of darker shadows rippling over the beach. Will matched his movement to the rhythm of the wind and clouds and moved, surefooted, along the track Evanlyn had just followed. She caught her breath in surprise as he seemed to disappear after the first few meters, melding into the pattern of moving light and shade and becoming part of the overall picture. She saw him again, briefly, at the benches and then at the rocks. Then he seemed to rise out of the ground a few meters from her. She shook her head in amazement. No wonder people thought Rangers were magicians, she reflected. Unaware of her reaction, Will grinned quickly at her and moved close so they could talk.
“All right?” he asked in a lowered tone, and when she nodded, “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
This time, there was no hesitation. “I’m sure,” she said firmly. He gripped her shoulder again in a gesture of encouragement.
“Good for you.” Will glanced around. They were far enough from the huts now that there was little chance of their voices being overheard and the wind, although not as boisterous as it had been, provided plenty of cover as well.
He felt Evanlyn could use some encouragement, so he pointed to the skiff.
“Remember, this thing is small. It’s not like the wolfships. It’ll ride over the big waves, not crash through them. So we’re safe as houses.”
He wasn’t sure about the last two statements, but they seemed logical to him. He’d watched the gulls and penguins around the island riding the massive waves and it seemed that the smaller you were, the safer you were.
He was carrying a large wineskin, stolen from the provisions cabinet. He’d emptied the wine out and refilled the skin with water. It didn’t taste too good, but it would keep them alive. Besides, he thought philosophically, the worse it tasted, the longer it would last them. He placed it carefully in the bottom of the skiff and took a few minutes to check that oars, rudder and the small mast and sail were all safely stowed. The incoming tide was lapping about a third of the way up the skiff now and he knew that was as high as it was going to come. In a few minutes, it would start to go out. And he and Evanlyn would go with it. Vaguely, he knew that the coast of Teutlandt was somewhere to the south of them. Or perhaps they might sight a ship now that the Summer Gales seemed to be moderating. He didn’t dwell on the future too much. He simply knew that he could not remain a prisoner. If it came to it, he would rather die trying to be free.
“Can’t sit here all night,” he said. “Take the other side and let’s get this boat in the water. Lift first, then push.”
Taking hold of the gunwales on either side, they heaved and strained together. At first, it stuck fast in the shingle. But once they lifted and broke the hold, it began to slide more easily. Then it was afloat, and the two of them clambered aboard. Will gave one last shove with his foot and the skiff drifted out from the beach. Will felt a moment of triumph, then he realized he didn’t have time to congratulate himself. Evanlyn, white-faced and tense, was clinging to the gunwales on either side of her as the boat rocked in the small waves.
“So far so good,” she said. But her voice betrayed the nervousness she was feeling.
Clumsily, he settled the oars in the oarlocks. He’d watched Svengal do it a dozen times. But now he found that watching and doing were two different matters, and for the first time, he had a twinge of doubt. Maybe he’d taken on more than he could handle. He tried a clumsy stroke with the oars, stabbing at the water and heaving. He missed on the left-hand side, crabbing the boat around and nearly falling onto the floorboards.
“Slowly,” Evanlyn advised him, and he tried again, with greater care. This time, he felt a welcome surge of movement through the boat. He
Similar Books
