Mossflower

well, maybe we'll have more luck when it gets light. We may as well camp here.

At least we can search around for roots and berries."

Fortunata and Ashleg looked at each other.

"Roots and berries . . . Yuk!"

Chibb the robin circled the crenellations of Kotir in the dawn light. There

was not a lot to interest the little spy; the garrison was still asleep. He

noted each window and what was inside: snoring ferrets, slumbering weasels,

dozy stoats, even Tsarmina in her upper chamber, stretched out in splendor

upon a heap of furs. The wildcat Queen was dreaming troubled dreams of water,

muttering to herself, pushing the air as if it were water enveloping her.

Chibb flew down and lighted on the parade ground near the wall. Keeping a

watch for the eagle, he set about breakfast. From a small bag slung about his

neck he selected a candied chestnut; not one of the big smooth ones, but a

small wrinkled nut that had lots of sugar in the cracks. Chibb liked them

better that way.

Chibb noted that he was near something which looked like a drain outlet, a

hole cut into the wall at floor level. He bopped inside, peering about

curiously. It went slanting

95

downward as far as he could see. Nibbling the nut daintily, the tat robin

explored the tunnel. It was quite dry underclaw.

Chibb cocked his head to one side, listening to the sounds of ragged breathing

from farther down the tunnel. "Ahem, hem, must be somebody still asleep."

Working his way further down, he found his progress arrested by three vertical

iron bars set into the tunnel. This was no drain; it was the upper window of a

cell. Chibb edged up to the bars and peeped down. He was looking into the

burning eyes of an emaciated wildcat seated below upon the damp stones.

"Humph, harrumph, hem, 'scuse me."

Gingivere shaded his eyes, staring upward at his strange visitor. "Please

don't fly away. I won't harm you. My name is Gingivere."

The robin cocked his head airily on one side. "Ahem, humph. You'll excuse my

saying so, but you don't appear to be in any position to harm me. Er, ahem,

must go now. I'll •drop by and see you another time."

Chibb beat a hasty retreat back up the tunnel. The wildcat with the staring

eyes had quite unsettled him. At the edge of the tunnel the robin ate the last

of his nut, then flew off back to Brockhall to report his findings.

The day promised to be fine and sunny. Chibb flew high, knowing that the sun

in the east would shine in the eyes of predators looking west. He took not the

slightest interest in the woodland floor far below. Had he flown lower, he

would have noticed Ferdy and Coggs lying in a patch of open sward, fast

asleep, their paws about each other, blissfully unaware that a short distance

away Cludd was making an early start at the head of his patrol.

Bella was up and about early that morning, being a light sleeper. She received

Chibb's information about Gingivere being imprisoned. This was already known

to the Corim through Martin and Gonff, yet it gave Bella pause for thought;

Kotir was now definitely ruled totally by the cruel Tsarmina.

Martin joined her for an early morning stroll in the woodland before

breakfast. The badger had matters to discuss with the warrior mouse.

"War is coming to Mossflower, Martin. I can feel it. Now

96

mat we are all at Brockhall, the defenceless ones are safer, but I listen to

the voices at Corim meetings. The squirrels and otters are not satisfied with

merely resisting Kotir's rule— they want to challenge it."

Martin felt the broken sword hanging about his neck. "Maybe that is no bad

thing, Bella. Mossflower rightfully belongs to the woodlanders. I will do all

I can to help my friends live without fear."

"I know you will, little warrior, but we are not strong enough. We have few

who are trained in the art of war. If Boar the Fighter, my father, were still

ruling here, there would be no question he would fight and lead us to certain

victory."

. Martin noted the sad, faraway look in the badger's eyes. "He must have been

a mighty warrior. Does he still live?"

Bella shrugged. "Who knows? He followed his father, old Lord Brocktree, to go

off questing. This was before Verdauga and his army arrived in Mossfiower. My

mate Barkstripe was slain in the first battle against Kotir and my son

Sunflash lost to me forever. Barkstripe was more farmer than warrior. Had it

been Boar the Fighter that faced Kotir, we would have won, lam certain of it."

Martin turned his steps back to Brockhall.

Goody Stickle was standing in the doorway, rubbing her paws together

anxiously. As they approached, Bella spoke to Martin in a whisper. "Tell

nobody of our conversation. I must talk to you further about certain important

matters, maybe later."

Martin nodded. "I will look forward to it, Bella. You have aroused my

curiosity. Hey, Goody, why are you looking so worried?"

Goody fussed with her apron. "Mornin' Miz Bella. Mornin', Martin, 'Ave you

seen ought of those two liddle ?ogs of mine in the woods?"

"Ferdy and Coggs?" Bella shook her head. "No, Goody, I'm afraid we haven't.

Is anything wrong?"

The hedgehog gnawed her lip. "Well, they ain't slept in their beds last night.

Asides that, there's two oatfaris, a good wedge o' cheese and some of my best

black-currant cordial missin' from the larder." Martin could not help smiling

at the thought of the two

97

little would-be warriors. "All that for breakfast! They'll go bang one of

these days. I wouldn't worry too much, Mrs. Stickle. Knowing those two

rascals, they'll be back by lunch-time for more food."

Ben Stickle emerged into the sunlight. "Aye, Martin's right, m'dear. Don't you

go a-botherin' your old 'ead. Ferdy and Coggs is like new button

mushrooms—they always turn up at a good meal."

Ben sat against a tree, chuckling as he filled his pipe.

Gonff and Columbine came out to join them, the mouse-thief patting his

stomach.

"Better hurry up, mateys. There'll be no breakfast left soon. Hey, Goody, I

hear that Ferdy and Coggs are missing. We'll help you to look for them. Don't

worry, they're probably somewhere nearby playing soldiers."

Goody knotted her apron strings anxiously. "Thank you, Gonff. Oh, I do 'ope

they've come to no 'arm, Ben. Get up now and 'elp Gonff *n' Columbine. I won't

be 'appy until I see their mucky liddle snouts agin."

Ben stood up and stretched. "So be it, Goody. Come on, you two."

Bella assured her. "Now don't start getting upset, Goody. I'll send all the

woodlanders out looking. They'll find them. Martin and I will stop here at

Brockhall in case they come back while everyone's out searching."

Goody smiled gratefully, although she was close to tears. "Thank you kindly,

Miz Bella. I'll go and start cookin' the lunch."

Shortly thereafter, Bella addressed a large party of willing helpers.

"Listen now, friends. Ferdy and Coggs must be found before nightfall. Split up

into small groups, search everywhere, and pay particular attention to small

dens and possible hiding places—they may be lying asleep somewhere. Above all,

be careful. There may be Kotir vermin abroad in Mossflower. Don't shout too

loud or make unnecessary noise. Report back to me or to Martin. Off you go

now, and good luck."

The woodlanders dispersed, eager to begin. Each creature searched in the best

way it knew; squirrels swung off into treetops where they could scan the

ground below, otters made

98

their way to the water to scour the banks and creeks, mice and hedgehogs

ploughed into the undergrowth. Moles trundled through last autumn's deep loam.

The search was on.

A blackbird in a sycamore raised its amber beak in a hymn of joy to the sun.

Ashleg blundered into wakefulness. Shivering from the damp, he hopped into the

sunlight and leaned against a tree. Scratt joined him, but not before he had

aimed a sly kick at the sleeping Fortunate.

"Oi! Are you going to lie there all day, lazybones?"

The weasel drew his paw swiftly back from the vixen's snapping jaws. Far more

used to sleeping in the open than the Kotir soldiers, she had dug herself into

the soft loam of the forest floor.

"Mind who you call lazybones, fathead. I've been lying awake here for the past

two hours listening to you snore like an ailing toad."

Ashleg closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the sun seep through his damp

cloak. With a sigh of resignation he remembered the quandary they faced.

"Can't you two stop squabbling long enough to give a thought to the mess we're

in? We've beaten each other up, slept through the whole night without posting

a single sentry, and now we've got to go back to face Tsarmina sometime today.

Look, if we must argue, at least let's argue about something useful. What's to

be done about this whole fiasco?"

Fortunata shook loose loam from her cloak, showering them. "Well, there were

three patrols sent out to search this forest. Where have Cludd and his lot got

to?"

As if in answer to the vixen's question, Cludd came marching through the

undergrowth at the head of his column. Scratt was the first to notice him.

"Oi, Cludd, over here. Where in hell's teeth did you get to? We haven't seen

you since we left the fortress."

The weasel Captain stuck a paw in his belt and leaned upon his spear, smirking

knowingly.

"Oh, we've been doing our job, don't you worry, Scratt. Huh, what happened to

you lot? Did a pile of trees fall down on you?"

"It was nothing, really—a little mistake, could have hap-

99

pened to anybeast." Ashleg tried to sound casual. "Let me tell you, though, we

haven't seen hide nor hair of a living creature in this rotten maze of trees.

We're rightly in for it when the Queen sees us."

Cludd smiled confidently. "Speak for yourself, Ashleg. We won't be returning

empty-pawed. Oh no, not us."

"Why, what d'you mean?" Fortunata interrupted eagerly. "Who have you captured?

Where?"

Cludd sneered at the fox. "Oh hello, vixen. You look as if you've been

enjoying yourself. By the way, what happened to the old wooden leg, Ashy?"

The marten was using a forked branch as a crutch, and he stamped it down

bad-temperedly.

"Listen, weasel, will you stop waffling around and tell us what you've got,

instead of standing there looking pleased with yourself?"

Cludd beckoned with his spear. "Right. Show *em lads."

The ranks of the patrol parted, revealing two small hedgehogs. They were

gagged and trussed upside down, slung upon poles carried by four soldiers.

Ferdy and Coggs were well and truly captured!

100

Bella paused, gazing at the run of the grain on the tabletop. She was

remembering times long gone.

"Where did old Lord Brocktree and Boar the Fighter go questing?" Martin asked

softly. The badger gave her answer in a single word: "Salamandastron."

"Salamandastron?" Martin repeated the strange-sounding word.

, Bella nodded slowly. "Aye, the fire mountain, secret place of the

dragons."

Martin's eyes went wide with wonderment. "Bella, don't stop now. Carry on,

please."

The badger smiled wistfully. "Ah, little Martin the Warrior, I see that same

strange fire kindled in your eyes, just as it was with my father and his

father before him. Why must Salamandastron always weave its spell upon the

brave? I can see your desire to travel there; that is as I wanted it to be."

Martin furrowed his brows. "You want me to travel to Salamandastron? But why?"

Bella leaned close, emphasizing each word with a tap of •her paw on the table.

"Since Boar left Mossflower, we have 3 lived under virtual siege. First there

was the rebellion, when many brave woodlanders lost their lives; then there

was the Settlement with its slummy hovels and tolls, and soldiers ha-fjassing

the creatures that had to endure living there. I know it seems fairly safe out

here in Brockhall, but will it always

?

101

be so? Now that Tsarmina rules Kotir, we can never be sure what she will do

next. Ben Stickle hit the nail on the head when he said Kotir could not last

without creatures to supply it with rations. Will the cat start to search

Mossflower for us? She will have to do something before next winter; she has a

full army to feed. Martin, I feel that we are living on a knife's edge here.

Ben Stickle wants peace, Skipper wants war, the Abbess wants peace, Lady Amber

wants war. Boar the Fighter is the rightful ruler of Mossflower. I cannot

leave here; I have responsibilities to our friends the woodlanders and the

Corim. Who could I send? Martin, there is only you. You have traveled, you are

an experienced warrior, you are the one I will stake my trust on. Don't rush

to give me your answer now. I want you to think about it. This is a very

dangerous mission, and I will understand if you wish to stay here. My home is

your home!

"I believe that my father still lives. You must bring him back to Mossflower

to break Tsarmina's regime. Together under the leadership of Boar the Fighter

we will defeat Tsarmina."

The spell was broken by Lady Amber, who came striding in with a face that was

so grim it heralded bad news.

"Ferdy and Coggs are lost for sure. We've scoured high and low, all of us.

It's as if the forest has swallowed them up."

Bella scratched her stripes reflectively. "Have you seen Chibb?"

"Yes. He's been around Kotir. Nothing to report, really. I sent hun on a wide

patrol of the woods. Maybe he'll bring news before nightfall."

The searchers returned at noon. Goody had busied herself setting out a salad

luncheon on the sward outside Brockhall. Woodlanders ate in silence, avoiding

any mention of the lost young ones while Goody was about. Shortly they set off

again to resume searching. It was not a happy day in Mossflower. Martin was

torn with a desire to help the searchers and curious to find out more about

the mysterious place called Sal-amandastron. The former won; by early noon he

was out searching with the others, knowing that Bella would tell him more that

night.

102

Tsarmina stood at her high chamber window, watching the perimeter of the

woodland where the trees thinned out into shrubs and bushes. There they were,

at last!

The ragged columns tramped out of the woodlands with Cludd bawling orders at

them.

"Come on, you sloppy mob, smarten yourselves up into proper ranks. Right

markers, lead off. Tidy that pace up there. . I'll not have you lolloping into

the garrison like a load of hedgehogs on daisychain day. You there! Yes, you!

Liven your ideas up, me laddo, or I'll liven them up for you with my spear."

The Captain's voice drifted up to Tsarmina. She could see plainly that there

had been no losses among her troops. Neither had there been any mass of

captives taken. In a sudden outburst of vicious temper, she slashed a wall

curtain from top to bottom with her wicked claws, before storming out down the

stairs to the parade ground.

The three platoons staggered to an untidy halt in the courtyard. Wearily they

bumbled their way into formation, shouldering weapons and showing Thousand Eye

shields front and center. Tsarmina checked her rush in the doorway and strode

gracefully out with sinuously waving tail and baleful eye. A tremor rippled

the ranks as they stood stiffly to attention, all eyes front. They saluted

jointly.

"Hail, Tsarmina, Wildcat Queen of the Thousand Eyes, ; Ruler of al! Mossfl—"

"Save your breath, fools. You'll get your chance to speak when I say and not

before." Tsarmina prowled between the : ranks, missing nothing, not even the

two pitiful forms that • lay bound on the gravel.

Fortunata stood rooted to the spot, feeling the Queen's " feral breath raising

the hairs on the nape of her neck. v,1 "Well, fox, it seems that you all had a

cheery spring outing fv in the woods. I notice that half the patrols are

injured in one ;;•;; .way or another. Tell me, did those two small woodlanders

^J; put up such a ferocious battle?"

JL;. Tsarmina continued circling Fortunata, her voice at a level ;&£ of

dangerous calm. "No need to worry now, eh, fox? WeVe

103

caught their two champion warriors this time. What, if I make ask, was your

heroic part in all this?"

Fortunata's limbs trembled with the effort of standing motionless. "It was

Cludd who caught them, Milady. He found them asleep in a tent made from a

blanket. Ashleg and I helped to bring them in.' *

Tsarmina repeated the phrase slowly. ' 'You helped to bring them in. I see.

Good work!"

The pine marten was next to receive Tsannina's attention.

*'Ah, my fearless friend Ashleg, you must be in great pain. Did one of those

two bold rogues nibble through your wooden

leg?"

"No, Majesty. That happened when my patrol was attacked by Fortunata's command

in the night," Ashleg blurted out, surprised at the shrillness of his own

voice.

Tsarmina widened her eyes in mock horror. "How awful! We attacked ourselves in

the dark. No doubt it was all a little mistake."

"That's right Milady, just a bit of a mistake, it could have happened to

anyone, really." Fortunata's protest sounded hollow.

The wildcat turned her back on the whole scene. Paws akimbo, she stood staring

out toward Mossflower. When she eventually spoke her tones dripped sarcasm and

controlled rage.

"Get out of my sight, all of you idiotic scum. Down on your bellies and crawl

back into the barracks like the worms you are. That way I won't have to look

at your thick gormless faces slobbering excuses at me. Go on, clear off, the

lot of you! Fortunata, Ashleg, Cludd—bring the prisoners up to my chamber."

Less than a minute later, Argulor stirred on his spruce branch and blinked

owlishly, unaware that he had missed the chance of snatching a quick meal from

the parade ground. He dozed off again in the hot afternoon sun as Chibb shot

across the front of him, bound for BrockhaU and safety. The tiny red-breasted

spy had not missed a single word or movement of

what took place on the parade ground.

* * *

104

A group of sad-faced creatures sat in the main hall of Bella's home.

Gonff tossed the blanket and empty cordial jar on the table in front of the

Corim leaders. "Found 'em over to the west, about halfway between here and

Kotir. The place stank of weasel and ferret. Lots of tracks—a big party, I'd

say. Anyone got more news?"

Bella looked around the searchers who had returned, checking that the Stickles

were not present. She kept her voice low. ' 'Chibb saw them trussed up on the

parade ground at Kotir earlier today. There's no doubt about it: Ferdy and

Coggs have been taken prisoner. They were carried off to the wildcat's chamber

for probable questioning."

Skipper slammed a paw against the hearth. "Mates, it doesn't bear thin kin'

about, those two pore little fellers in the vermins' brig."

Columbine's voice had a sob in it. "What'll we tell Ben and Goody, poor

creatures."

Gonff was in no doubt at all. "Tell 'em we'll rescue little Ferdy and Coggs

back straightaway. That's what we'll do, mateys!"

There was a roar of approval.

Bella called for silence. "Please, Gonff, be sensible. I'm certain that the

Corim will agree to mount a rescue operation as soon as possible. But let us

not run off or do anything reckless in the meanwhile. It would only end up in

more prisoners being taken, or lives being lost."

"Bella is right." Abbess Germaine put in. "I suggest that you let me preside

over the rescue operation. We can use all of you, especially Chibb; he will be

of more value to us now man ever before. Meanwhile, let us keep our hopes high

and tempers in check. Bella is very busy working on something else for our

benefit with Martin, and they must be excluded from the rescue attempt."

Bella was astonished. She looked blankly at Germaine.

The old Abbess smiled back at her. "I too was out taking the air in the woods

early this morning."

Bella bowed to the Abbess. "Thank you for offering your help, old friend."

Bella and Martin retired to the study. Immediately Bella closed the door,

Martin turned to her.

105

"Bella, I have decided. I will find Boar the Fighter—I will undertake the

journey to Salamandastron."

Bella took hold of the warrior's paws. "Are you sure you want to do this

thing, Martin?"

Martin nodded firmly. "For you and all my friends in Mossflower, I will find

this strange place, even if it is at the world's end. And I will bring back

your father Boar the Fighter."

The door swung open. Gonff entered, rubbing a paw to his ear.

"Funny things, doors. Sometimes it's as if they're not there, and you can hear

everything. By the way, Miss Bella, I'm surprised at you. Fancy sending my

matey off on a quest without an able-bodied assistant."

Martin hesitated. He looked at Bella. "I'd feel a lot safer with a good thief

along."

The kindly badger smiled. "Of course. Careless of me. Welcome, GonfF. We may

need a brain as sharp as yours."

They sat on the edge of a scroll-littered desk, while Bella settled

comfortably into a dusty old armchair. She sighed and looked from one to the

other.

"Well, I wish I knew where to begin. Fighting badgers have been going off

questing for Salamandastron as far back as memory goes. My grandfather, old

Lord Brocktree, went off when I was very small, then later he was followed by

my father, Boar the Fighter."

"Is there any record of whether they ever found it, or are there any maps of

the way to Salamandastron?" Martin interrupted.

Bella stroked her stripes thoughtfully. "There must be a map somewhere. Both

Lord Brocktree and Boar seemed to know where they were going. One thing I do

know, it would be far too difficult to find the place of dragons without some

form of key or map. You would need directions."

Gonff smiled disarmingly. He picked up a bundle of scrolls from the desktop.

"Well, mateys, the solution is simple. Let's find the map!"

It had been a confused and frightening day for the two little hedgehogs. Since

they had been taken by Cludd's patrol, not a word had passed between them.

Both lay on the floor of

106

Tsarmina's room, trying to forget the pains that shot through their bound-up

paws and the filthy-tasting gags tied roughly across their mouths. Ferdy

snuffled through his nostrils for breath and exchanged glances with Coggs.

What must Goody and Ben be doing?

Would the Corim leaders organize a search and a rescue?

What lay ahead they could only guess, but it wasn't going to be very pleasant.

Tsarmina sat watching impassively as Ashleg cut the captives' bonds and

relieved them of their gags. Ferdy and Coggs lay quite still, fighting back

tears as the circulation was painfully restored to their swollen limbs.

Cludd stirred the inert forms with his spearpoint. "Huh, they're fit enough,

Milady. Wait'11 their tongues loosen up, and we'll see what they've got to say

for themselves."

Coggs rolled closer to Ferdy. "Don't tell the villains a thing, matey. Let's

be like Martin and Gonff: brave and silent. '' His voice was barely above a

whisper.

Fortunata kicked out cruelly at Coggs. She regretted it immediately as her paw

came into contact with his sharp little spines.

"Silence, prisoner. Don't you know you're in the presence of Her Majesty Queen

Tsarmina?''

Ferdy curled his lip rebelliously at the vixen. "She's not our Majesty—we're

woodlanders."

Tsarmina leaned forward to the two little creatures lying at the foot of her

chair. Bringing her face near them she slitted her eyes venomously. Baring her

great yellowed fangs and extending her fearsome claws she gave vent to a

sudden wild growl.

' ' Yeeeggaarroooorrr!''

Ferdy and Coggs clutched at each other, their eyes wide with terror.

Tsarmina laughed and leaned back in her chair. "Now, my two tiny woodland

heroes, let's begin, shall we?"

The wildcat's expression became almost benevolent as she took a tray of food

from a table and sat with it in her lap.

"You, Ferdy—or is it Coggs? Wouldn't you like some milk and biscuits? A rosy

autumn apple, perhaps? Or maybe you prefer dried fruit and nuts? Look, they

won't hurt you."

107

Tsarmina bit into an apple, washing it down with a draught of milk.

The two small hedgehogs gazed longingly as she ate. They had not tasted food

since dawn that morning.

Tsarmina selected a biscuit. Tossing the apple aside, she nibbled daintily,

flicking crumbs from her whiskers.

Ferdy licked his lips. Coggs nudged him warningly. "It's probably all

poisoned. Don't touch it."

Tsarmina placed the platter on the floor close to them. "Silly, if it were

poison I'd be ill by now. Try it yourself, it's all from my special store. All

I want is that you tell me about your woodland friends."

Coggs yawned and muttered wearily, "Don't tell her anything, matey. Not a

word."

Ferdy yawned.

Tsarmina sat watching the two young captives. Their eyelids were beginning to

droop, so she decided to try another angle. Stretching luxuriously, she yawned

and snuggled deep in the big cushioned chair.

"I'll bet you two are tired. Mmmm, wouldn't it be nice to lie down on a bed of

clean fresh straw and sleep for as long as you please? You can, too. It's

quite simple, really. Just tell me about your friends—who they are, where they

live, and so on. I won't harm them, you have my word. They'll thank you for it

later when they are truly free. What do you say?"

Ferdy blinked hard, fighting back sleep. "Our friends are already free from

you."

Tsarmina controlled her mounting temper by burying her claws in a russet

apple. "That's as may be. But consider your own position. You two aren't free,

and you're not likely to be, until you get some sense into your heads and

answer my questions. D'you hear me?"

The wildcat's threats fell upon deaf ears. Ferdy and Coggs lay with their

heads resting against each other, nodding slightly as they snored. They were

both fast asleep.

Cludd touched them gently with his spearbutt. "Huh, it beats me why you don't

string 'em both up and give 'em a taste of your claws, Milady. That'd soon

make them talk."

Tsarmina's voice was tinged with heavy sarcasm. "You would think that,

thickhead. How long d'you suppose they'd last with that treatment? These two

are valuable hostages.

108

Carry them down to the cells and lock them up for the night. We'll see if they

are hungry enough to talk business tomorrow."

Gingivere heard the sound of an upstairs door opening. Someone was coming.

It was Cludd, accompanied by Ashleg and Fortunata. A key turned in the lock of

the cell to the wildcat's immediate left. He heard Cludd's voice giving

orders.

"Right. One in here, and one in the cell on the other side of the prisoner

whose name must not be mentioned by Milady's order. They must be kept apart."

When the trio had departed, Gingivere reflected upon this new development.

Whoever the prisoners were, he knew that Chibb the robin would be interested

next time he visited Ko-tir.

109

Young Dinny the mole knocked upon Bella's study door with his heavy digging

claw.

"Hello, who is it?" Gonff's voice rang out from within.

"Hurr, it be Young Din. Miz Goody sent oi with these yurr viddles furr 'ee."

Martin opened the door and admitted the mole balancing a tray of food. Young

Dinny blinked. The inside of the study was a mass of dust, scrolls, open

drawers and general confusion. As Bella took the tray from the mole, Gonff

leaped upon him from the desktop. They rolled about together on the floor,

wrestling and hugging each other at the same time. Gonff laughed joyfully.

"Young Din, whereVe you been keeping yourself, me old dtggin' mate?"

Dinny gained the upper paw and sat on Gonff. "Wurr you'm been, zurr GonfFen?

You'm a-gettin' fatter, hurr."

Gonff introduced his mole friend to Martin while struggling to heave Dinny

off. "Matey, this is Young Dinny, the strongest mole in Mossflower."

The young mole allowed Gonff to get up. He smiled modestly as he shook paws

with Martin.

"Naw, oi baint the strongest. Moi owd granfer Dinny, 'ee be the moightiest

mole in these yurr parts, even tho' 'ee seen many summers. Oi be 'onored to

meet 'ee, Marthen."

Martin took an instant liking to the friendly mole. They

110

sat and shared the food while Bella explained the nature of the search.

Dinny gazed around at the masses of dusty scrolls littering the room. "Oi'd

best lend a paw or winter'11 be upon uz afore *ee foinds owt."

The search was proving long and fruitless. Cupboards were turned out, the desk

emptied, shelves were scoured without success. The bulk of the scrolls were

mainly old Brockhall records. Some were Bella's recipes, others dealt with

woodland lore—none of them filed in any system. Bella brushed dust from her

coat and sighed.

"I'm afraid it's all a bit higgledy-piggledy. I Ve been meaning to put them in

order for some seasons now, but I never had time to get around to it."

Martin banged his paw on the desktop in frustration. "If only we knew ex ...

oof!"

A secret drawer shot out from the desk, catching the warrior mouse heavily in

his stomach. He sat down, surprised and winded.

Bella took the single yellowed parchment from the drawer and read its contents

aloud.

To the mountain of fire where badgers go,

The path is fraught with danger.

The way is long and hard and slow,

Through foe and hostile stranger.

The warrior's heart must never fail,

Or falter on his quest.

Those who live to tell the tale,

First must turn the crest.

Gonff looked bemused. "Is that all?"

Martin took the parchment and scanned it carefully on both sides. "Yes, that

seems to be it."

Bella sat in her chair with an air of resignation. "Well, there doesn't appear

to be much to go on."

Dinny tapped the parchment with his digging claws. "Hurr, It be a start, tho'.

This yurr's a clue may'aps." ;- Martin brightened up. "Of course, it tells us

how to start. Look: "Those who live to tell the tale, first must turn the >'

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crest.' Bella, you would know, what does it mean by, "turn the crest'?"

The badger pondered awhile. "I think it refers to the Brockhall shield—that's

the badger family crest. It takes the form of a shield with the great oak of

Brockhall on one half and the stripes of a badger on the other. Beneath it is

a scroll bearing our family motto: To serve at home or afar."

"But where is this crest and how do we turn it?" GonfF asked, scratching his

whiskers.

Bella stood up. "I know of at least two places where it may be seen. The first

is on the door knocker of Brockhall, and the second over the hearth in the

main hall. Come on, let's try them both."

The four friends trooped out to the front door, where Bella seized the rusty

iron door knocker and twisted it sharply. The old metal snapped under the

considerable strength of the badger, who stood holding it in her paw with a

slightly guilty expression.

"Oops! I think I've broken it."

Young Dinny shrugged. "Never moind, Miz Bell, moi granfer'll fix it for 'ee.

Whurr's t'other un?"

The crest over the hearth was carved into the top lintel of the wide

fireplace. Martin turned to Bella.

"I think I'd better try this one. My paws aren't as heavy as yours. Could you

lift me up there, please?"

Bella obliged by picking the warrior mouse up as if he was a feather and

placing him on the broad lintel.

Martin leaned over, gripping the protruding crest that had been carved on the

fire-blackened oak-root beam. He tried turning it without success. Gonff

climbed nimbly up beside him.

"Here, matey, let me try. Maybe you haven't got the magic touch." From his

pouch the mousethief drew a piece of cheese and rubbed it around the edges of

the crest.

* 'Give it a moment for the grease to work its way into the cracks. It

shouldn't take long—this mantel's quite warm from the fire."

GonfTs talents had not been wasted. After a short interval he wiped his paws

upon his jerkin and gave the crest a skillful twist. It moved!

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"Here, matey, lend a paw. Jiggle it from side to side with me, like this. Pull

outward as you do."

Martin assisted Gonff. The entire crest started to move outward. Bella stood

ready to catch the hollow wooden cylinder—it dropped into her waiting paws.

Martin and Gonff eagerly clambered down from the lintel.

Dinny danced about excitedly. "Gurr, do 'urry, Miz Bell. Is it the map of

Sammerlandersturm?"

The badger looked gravely at the young mole. "Haste will only put us on the

wrong track, Dinny. Let us take each step carefully.' *

Bella upended the cylinder and peered into its open end. "Here, Gonff, there's

a scroll inside. Your paws are a lot more nimble than mine—see if you can get

it out without damaging it."

The clever mousethief had the parchment out and opened in a twinkling. They

studied the writing; it was a bold and heavy old-fashioned style. Bella

smiled.

"The paw of my grandsire old Lord Brocktree did this. You must understand that

only male badgers went to Sala-mandastron. Each one left clues for his son to

follow. This was written for my father Boar to solve. Unfortunately, Boar had

no son to leave a map for, so after he had solved Lord Brocktree's riddles he

carefully replaced everything in the hope that one day another young son of

our house would find mem."

Bella sniffed and looked away. "Alas, maybe my little one Sunflash might have

followed these clues, had he been here today."

Young Dinny rubbed the back of his velvety paw against Bella's coat. "Hurr,

doant fret 'eeself Miz Bell, us'ns foind it furr 'ee."

Martin had been toying with the wooden cylinder. He shook it and tapped the

sides. Some leaves fell out.

"Look, Bella. What do you suppose this means?"

The badger shrugged. "They're just old leaves. Let's see what the parchment

says,"

Boar is badger, named after wood,

Not after forest but trees.

Where did you play on a rainy day?

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Where did I eat bread and cheese?

Search inside, stay indoors,

Look up and find the secret is yours.

Your castle your fort,

Or so you thought.

The way is in four trees.

The way is in Boar in Brockhall

Under ale, under bread, under cheese.

Martin leaned back against the fireplace. "Phew! That's a right old riddle and

no mistake."

Back in Bella's study, they sat pondering the evidence. A long time passed and

still they could not even begin to unravel the complicated thread of the poem.

Gonff was becoming disgruntled. He lay on the floor, drumming his paws against

the armchair.

"Huh, woods and trees and bread and cheese, rainy days and castles and forts.

What a load of old twaddle!"

Dinny had commandeered the armchair again. He sat back with eyes closed

lightly as if taking a nap.

"Keep 'ee paws still, Gonffen, oi be a-thinken."

Bella pursed her lips and crinkled her brow. " 'Boar is badger named after

wood.' I never knew my father was named after a wood."

Gonff rolled over onto his back. "If he was named after the wood, he'd be

called Mossboar or Boarflower or Moss-boarflower ..."

Martin silenced the mousethief with a stern look. "Please, Gonff, we're

supposed to be solving the riddle, not fooling about. The second line tells

you that Boar is not named after the forest, but after the trees."

"Oi baint never 'card of no Boartrees, nor oi 'spect 'as moi granfer," Dinny

chuckled.

Bella agreed. "Neither have I, there's elm and birch and sycamore and all

kinds of trees, but no Boartree. I wonder if that's an old nickname for some

type of tree?"

Gonff sat up. "Say that again, Bella."

The badger looked at him, puzzled. "What, you mean about Boar being a nickname

for some kind of tree?"

"No, I think I see what Gonff means," Martin interrupted.

114

"You said there were all kinds of trees, like elm, birch, sycamore, and so on.

Dinny, where d'you think you're off to? I thought you were helping us to solve

this riddle."

The young mole trundled out of the study, calling over his shoulder. "Burr,

that be 'zackly wot oi'm a-doen, goen t'get they owd leafs wot you'm founden

afor."

"Of course! The leaves!" Gonff leapfrogged over Dinny's back before he was out

of the door. Dashing back into the main hall, he scrabbled about collecting

the leaves while Dinny followed up, berating him.

"Yurr, that be moi idea, zurr Gonffen, 'ee gurt mouse-bag."

They brought the leaves back to the study between them. All four looked at the

dried, withered specimens despondently.

"They're only dead leaves, many seasons old, but what are they supposed to

mean?"

Bella touched them lightly with her paw. "Well, let's see. There's four leaves

here—an ash, an oak, a rowan, and a beech. There's nothing written or sketched

on them. What do you make of it, Martin?''

The warrior mouse inspected the leaves. He arranged them in patterns, turned

them over and rearranged them, shaking his head.

"I don't know. Ash, beech, rowan, oak; rowan, oak, , beech, ash. Search me."

: Gonff smiled in a highly superior way. "Listen, matey, it's [ a good job I'm

a Prince of leaf-puzzle solvers. Try this: beech, '•: oak, ash, rowan!"

!. "Is this another one of your jokes, Gonff?" Bella asked, ;' eyeing him

sternly.

:s Gonff placed the leaves in order, still smiling. "If it is a r joke, then

it's a very clever one, you'll admit. Beech, oak, I ash and rowan in that

order, can't you see, it's the first letter ; of each one. B then o then a

then r, spells Boar." iji, Bella shook her paw warmly. "You're right. Boar is

badger, k;named after wood. And look at this line lower down: The ^:way is in

four trees.' "

!/ Dinny clapped his paws together with excitement. "O joy, Uiow we'm

agetten sumwheres. Roight, thinken carps on." H' "Yes. Look at this line:

'Search inside, stay indoors.* At

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least we know the map is somewhere in Brockhall; we don't have to go out

scouring the woods."

"But where indoors?"

"Where Boar played on rainy days."

"Boar the Fighter, playing?"

"Ho aye, 'ee mustVe played when he'm a liddle un."

"Good thinking, Din!"

"Now, 'where did I eat bread and cheese?' D'you think that'd be Boar having

his lunch?"

"Nay, that'd be thy granfer, Miz Bell."

"Of course. Boar was very close to old Lord Brocktree. It's quite probable

he'd be playing around near him while Brocktree was eating."

"Aye, but there's the difficult bit: 'Your castle your fort.' Where's there a

castle or a fort inside Brockhall?"

"No no, look at the next line; 'Or so you thought.' Didn't you ever play

make-believe with something when you were little?"

"Haha, I still do, matey."

"Hurr, we'm know that, zurr. Coom on, Miz Bell. Show us'ns whurr Bowar did

play when 'ee wurr a liddle un."

They wandered haphazardly from room to room. Every so often Bella would stop,

look about and shake her head, muttering, "I'm not too sure, my father never

talked too much about playing when he was little. Besides, I wasn't even born

then."

Martin paused between the passage and the main hall. "Then think for a minute.

Did your father ever say where Lord Brocktree went to eat his bread and

cheese?"

"Hmm, not really. I expect he ate it at the table like any civilized creature

would do indoors."

"The table!"

They hurried into the main hall to where the huge dining table stood.

Gonff rapped it with his claws. "Well, a good stout table, looks like it's

made from elmwood. What do you do now?"

Bella had a faraway look in her eyes. "Wait, I remember now. Lord Brocktree

was a crusty old soul. I recall my father telling me that he refused to eat at

this big table, said he needed a spear to reach for things from the other end.

So one day he made a table of his own, just big enough for him to

116

sit at and handy, so that his bread and cheese and ale were all close to paw.

It's out in the kitchen. Grandfather loved the beat from the oven. Besides, he

used to dip his bread into any pans of sauce that were cooking. He liked it

out there."

Standing in the kitchen was the very table Bella had told diem about. Gonff

climbed on top of it and stood looking upward.

"Doesn't make sense, matey. All I can see is the ceiling. The riddle says:

'Look up and find the secret is yours.' "

Bella sat in the chair, spreading her paws across the table. "This is it. The

answer is in this table somewhere. Look, my grandfather made it from beech,

oak, ash and trimmed it with rowan wood. Do you know, I can picture my father

sitting at this table just as his father did before him, eating bread and

cheese and drinking October ale."

Martin had not spoken. He was staring at Bella as she sat at the table. It

came to him like a flash.

"While you played underneath it. It probably had a table cloth on it then."

Bella smiled at fond memories. "Yes, a big white one. I would pretend it was

my tent."

The warrior mouse scrambled underneath the table,

"Not Boar the Fighter, though. He'd probably pretend it was a fort or a

castle. Ha, here's an odd thing. Underneath here is covered with a few pieces

of chestnut bark. Pass me your knife, Gonff."

Martin worked away underneath the table, cutting the chestnut bark and tossing

it out. The other three inspected each piece of bark for clues without

success. Dinny sniffed |t and raked it with his claws.

"O foozlum! Thurr baint nuthen yurr."

"There's something here though. It's the map!" Martin's

TOice could not conceal his delight. He came tumbling out

with a pale bark scroll in his paws. "It was laid between the

bark and the table. Look, it's covered with strange writing."

,. Bella took the scroll. "Haha, this is ancient badger script.

'Right, back to my study. I'll have to translate it. Thank you,

'k my friends. This is the route to Salamandastron, Once weVe

* solved it, you are on your way!"

117

Gingiverc hacked away at the cell wall. As soon as the guards had gone, he set

about trying to communicate with the prisoners on either side of him. From the

damp mortar between the stones of his cell he had prised loose a spike that

had a ring attached to it for securing unruly prisoners. Armed with the spike,

the wildcat selected a damp patch on one adjoining cell wall, and worked

furiously at the mortar around a stone which was not quite so big as the

others forming the barrier. Soon he had it loose. Digging and jiggling, he

pulled and pushed alternately until the rock slid out, aided by a shove from

the prisoner on the other side. A small wet snout poked through.

"Hello, Ferdy. It's me, Coggs."

Gingivere smiled, glad to hear the sound of a friendly voice. He patted the

snout encouragingly.

"Sorry, old fellow, it's not Coggs. I'm Gingivere—a friend. Coggs is in the

cell on the other side of me. You stay quiet and I'll see if I can Bet through

to him."

"Thank you, Mr. Gingivere. Are you a wildcat?"

"Yes I am, but no need to worry. I won't harm you. Hush now, little one, let

me get on with my work.' *

Ferdy stayed silent, peering through the hole at Gingivere, who was hacking

stolidly at the opposite wall. It took a long time. Gingivere's paws were sore

from grappling with the stone, chipping the mortar, and pulling this way and

that until

118

the rock finally gave and shifted. With Gingivere pulling from one side and

Coggs pushing from the other, the wallstone plopped out onto the floor.

"Hello, Mr. Gingivere. I'm Coggs. Is Ferdy there?"

The wildcat shook the paw which protruded from the hole. "Yes, Coggs. If you

look you'll see him through the hole from his cell."

The two little hedgehogs looked through at each other.

"Hi, Coggs."

"Hi, Ferdy."

"The guards will be coming shortly with bread and water for me," Gingivere

interrupted. "I'll share it with you. Go back into your cells now and stay

quiet. When Chibb arrives tomorrow I'll let him know you two are here."

Gingivere replaced the stone without much difficulty. He saw awaiting the

guards with his daily ration of bread and water, realizing for the first time

in a long and unhappy period that he was able to smile again.

A questing-o the friends did go,

Companions brave and bold,

O'er forest, field and flowing stream,

Cross mountains high and old.

These brave young creatures journeying

Along the road together,

While birds did sing throughout the spring,

Into the summer weather.

"Gonff, will you stop prancing about and caterwauling while we're trying to

solve this chart? Dinny, chuck some-tiling at that fat little nuisance, will

you, please?"

Martin scratched his head as he and Bella turned back to die scroll. Young

Dinny obliged by hurling an armchair cushion that knocked the mousethief flat

upon his bottom.

"Thurr, thad'll keep *ee soilent apiece, zurr Gonffen. You'm a roight liddle

noisebag, stan' on moi tunnel, you'm arr."

Gonff lay on the floor, resting his head upon the cushion; he hummed snatches

of further new verses he was planning. Martin and Bella pored over the writing

on the scroll, gleaning the information and writing it upon a chart with a

quill

119

pen. The wording was in ancient badger script that only Bella could translate.

Young Dinny called out from Bella's armchair, where he was ensconced, "Wot we

gotten so furr, Marthen?"

Martin read aloud:

Given to Lady Sable Brock by Olav Skyfurrow the wild-goose, after she found

him injured in Mossflower and tended his hurts. The beacon that my skein find

its way to the sea by is called the strange mountain of fire lizard.

Here Martin had marked a star with the word thus: *Salamandastron.

We of the free sky do wing our way there. But if you be an earth walker, it

will be a long hard journey. Here is the way I will tell you to go. I begin as

I fly over Blackball:

Twixt earth and sky where birds can fly,

I look below to see

A place of wood with plumage green

That breezes move like sea.

Behind me as the dawn breaks clear,

Woodpigeons come awake,

See brown dust roll, twixt green and gold,

Unwinding like a snake.

So fly and sing, the wildgoose is King.

O'er golden acres far below,

Our wings beat strong and true,

Where deep and wet, see flowing yet,

Another snake of blue.

Across the earth is changing shape,

With form and color deep,

Afar the teeth of land rise up,

To bite the wool of sheep.

So fly and sing, the wildgoose is King.

Beyond this, much is lost in mist,

But here and there I see

The treachery of muddy gray,

Tis no place for the free.

O feathered brethren of the air,

120

>

Fly straight and do not fall,

Onward cross the wet gold flat,

Where seabirds wheel and call.

So fly and sing, the wildgoose is King.

The skies are growing darker, see

Our beacon shining bright.

Go high across the single fang

That burns into the night.

We leave you now as we wing on,

Our journey then must be

Where sky and water meet in line,

And suns drown in the sea.

So fly and sing, the wildgoose is King.

Gonff came across and stared at the scroll. "Well, old wotsisname Skyftirrow

was nearly as good a bard as me. Bet he wasn't half as clever a thief, though,

matey."

Martin shook his head. "It's certainly a strange route to . follow, given in

goose song, written in ancient badger, and translated into common woodland. Do

you think weVe missed anything, Bella?"

The badger looked indignant. ' 'Certainly not. It's all there, word for word.

I'll have you now that female badgers are great scholars, though I must say it

all looks very cryptic to me."

Young Dinny clambered out of the armchair and squinted : at Martin's neat

writing.

"Urr, triptick, wot be that? Stan' on moi tunnel, it be wurse'n maken 'oles in

waiter, ho urr."

Gonff stifled a giggle. "You certainly have a way with words, Din. Ah well,

let's get our thinking caps on and imagine we're all Sky furrows."

Martin clicked his paws together. "Right! That's exactly what we have to do.

Imagine the ground from up above as if f we were birds."

& Tsarmina stood watching the dawn break over Mossflower |£ from her chamber

window. Mist rose in wisps from the tree-£.tops as the sun climbed higher in a

pale blue cloudless sky.

gThe wildcat Queen was highly pleased with her latest plan;

f the woodlanders must have realized the two baby hedgehogs

121

were missing, and they would send out search parties. Tsar-mina detailed Cludd

and another weasel named Scratch, acting as his deputy, to patrol the woods,

along with a picked group of twenty or so. They would travel light, unhampered

by the usual Kotir armor. They could act as a guerilla force, lying in wait to

capture any woodlanders they came across and sabotaging resistance wherever

they encountered it.

She watched them slip out of the perimeter gate, armed with their own choice

of weapons and equipped with rations. The wildcat Queen curled her lip in

satisfaction. There was no need to try interrogating her two prisoners further

at the moment; let them stay in their cells until they were starving. It was

always easier to interview creatures who had not eaten for a few days. Two

small hedgehogs trying to pit their wits against the Queen of the Thousand

Eyes—what chance did they have?

Scratch was a fairly observant weasel. He jabbed skyward with his dagger.

"See that robin, Cludd?"

Cludd noted that Scratch had omitted to call him Captain. He looked up, but

Chibb had flown from view.

"What robin? Where?"

Scratch sheathed his dagger. "You've missed him now. I could have sworn it was

the same bird I've noticed hanging about outside the barracks a few times.

Always ends up somewhere near the ground, hidden."

Cludd was reluctant to believe that Scratch was more alert than he.

"Hmm, it might be summat or nothing. Woodlanders don't usually have much to do

with birds. Still, we'd best be on the safe side. Hoi, Thicktail, make your

way back to Kotir and tell Milady about that robin. Don't breathe a word to

anyone else, though. I don't want Ashleg or that fox stealing any of my

credit."

Thicktail saluted, and jogged off in the direction of Kotir.

Scratch looked at the thickly wooded area they were in. "Perhaps we'd better

lie low here awhile. That way we can have a rest while we keep our eyes and

ears open, eh, Cludd?"

122

Cludd knew the idea was a sensible one, but Scratch was beginning to annoy him

with his insubordinate manner.

"Aye, I was just thinking the same thing myself. Right, lads, pick good hiding

places and keep your eyes and ears open. But just let me catch anyone snoozing

and I'll have his tail for a bootlace. That goes double for you, Scratch."

As the special patrol dispersed among the trees, Scratch stuck out his tongue

at Cludd's back, muttering beneath his breath, "Cludd the clod thick as mud."

Thicktail did not like being out in Mossfiower alone, even in broad sunny

daylight. The stoat scurried through the trees looking furtively from left to

right; as he went he repeated Cludd's instructions aloud to himself, "Tell the

Queen that there's been a robin redbreast hanging about Kotir grounds. It

flies down low and vanishes near the floor. Cludd thinks that it might be

something to do with those woodlanders. Now, I'm to say nothing to Fortunata

or Ashleg. Huh, if they ask me I'll just tell them that I had to come back

because I sprained my paw. I'd better practice limping on it just in case."

Argulor was making a wide sweep from Kotir over the forest; this way he could

fool anyone at Kotir into thinking he had flown away. He was about to circle

back when he heard the voice below him and saw a stoat limping about in the

undergrowth.

"I must tell the Queen that a robin has seen Cludd hanging about. No, that's

not right. I must tell the robin that Cludd has been hanging the Queen ..."

Argulor did not require perfect sight to tell him where his next noisy meal

was. He dropped like a stone to the forest below.

A stone with talons and a curving beak.

Bella's study was still awash in a litter of old documents.

•They slid from the desk, which still had its secret drawer

-hanging askew. Several food trays stood balanced here and Jthere amid the

dust. The scroll and four leaves that had led , the friends to the route lay

on the arm of the big armchair, i where Dinny sat snuggled in its deep

cushioned seat. Bella leaned against the desk. She did not mind the young mole

123

borrowing her favourite chair, though he did seem to be growing rather fond of

it. Martin paced up and down. At each turn he had to step over Gonff. The

little mousethief lay stretched out on a worn carpet that covered the study

floor. Martin was having trouble imagining himself as a bird. The mere mention

of heights made the ground-loving Young Dinny feel sick and dizzy. Gonff,

however, was displaying a fine aptitude for a mousebird.

"Ha, 'I look below to see a place of wood with plumage green that breezes move

like sea.' It's as plain as the whiskers on your face, mateys. He means good

old Mossflower Woods, right where we are."

Bella closed her eyes, picturing herself in flight. "Hmm, I suppose that our

woods would look like water moving in the wind from above. Carry on, Gonff.

What's next?"

"Er, 'Behind me as the dawn breaks clear, woodpigeons come awake.' "

"Burr, doant you uns see, dawnbreak, sunroise. Goose-burd be a-tellen us'ns to

traverse westerly," Young Dinny called out from the armchair.

Martin shook Dinny's paw. "Good mole! Of course, if the sun rises in the east

and dawnbreak is behind him, then he must be traveling due west. Well solved,

Young Dinny."

The mole gave a huge grin, settling deeper into the armchair. "Ho urr, this

yurr young mole ain't on'y a digger. Oi seed they woodenpidger waken at

dawnen, gurr, tumble no-isebags they be, all that cooen. Goo on, wot's next

bit o' poartee?'"

Gonff continued, "The poetry says, 'See brown dust roll twist green and gold,

unwinding like a snake.' "

Bella nodded knowingly. "Aha, friend Olav gave me an easy one there. I know

the very place. Between the woods and the fiatlands south of Kotir, the road

has a twist in it. I've walked down it many times and thought it was just like

a snake trying to slough its skin."

Gonff shuddered at the mention of snake. "So, mateys, we walk through the

woods, heading west, and cross the path below Kotir. Then there's only one way

we can go. Straight out across the flatlands and the open plains, like the

poem says, 'O'er the golden acres' to where the 'snake of blue' lies—brr,

snakes."

124

"That's no snake, Gonff," Martin interrupted. "It's the same as Bella's

winding road, but this one is blue—it's a river. What puzzles me is the teeth

of land eating the wool of sheep line."

Bella stretched and yawned. "Whoo! I think we must be going stale sitting

around this dusty old room. Sheep and land, wool and teeth ... Ah well, maybe

we can't see the wood for the trees, but whatever it is, you'll know it when

you see it. What do you want to do? Sit here half a season solving riddles, or

follow the clues you already have and work the rest out as you go along? The

supplies are packed and ready, you have your weapons, wits and youth to help

you along—what more do you want?"

Gonff supplied the answer. "A good matey to walk by your side through thick

and thin."

"You'ns baint leaven this yurr mole behoind."

Martin and Gonff laughed heartily, Bella bowed apologetically to the mole.

"Forgive me, Dinny. I did not know you wished to go questing."

The young mole heaved himself up onto his hind paws. "Burr, you try V stop oi,

Miz Bell. Tho' oi do 'ate to take leave of yon armchurr."

125

2O

The Corim plan was beautifully simple.

A party of woodlanders would set out with haversacks of provisions from a

point near to Kotir, and Chibb was to be given the rations one sack at a time.

That way he could make short journeys to the cell window, passing the food in

to Gingivere. Abbess Germaine had reasoned it all out: the woodlanders were

helping by carrying the food, Chibb would not be overtaxed by making many long

flights and Gingivere would secretly share the rations with Ferdy and Coggs.

Later, there would be time to mount a rescue operation, but it needed a great

deal of careful planning between the Corim leaders.

In the hour before dawn the two parties sat eating an early breakfast provided

by Ben and Goody Stickle: hot scones, fresh from the oven, with butter and

damson preserve and mugs of cold creamy milk.

"Mmmff, lookit those otters and squirrels packin* it away. You'd think they

was a-goin' away nigh on three seasons," Ben Stickle mumbled through a

mouthful of hot scone.

Goody topped up his beaker with milk. "Listen to the leaf a-callin* the grass

green. You're worse'n any of 'em, Ben Stickle. Just you mind those two liddle

'ogs of mine don't go 'ungry. See they gets their rations."

Skipper tucked a spare scone in his sling pouch. "Don't

126

fret your head, marm. They'll both take on a cargo of vittles afore evenin'

bell."

Lady Amber raised her tail and waved it. "Righto. Form up, woodlanders

carrying provisions in the center, squirrels and otters forming guard on

flanks and scouting ahead. Martin, your party can walk with us part of the

way."

The sun was not yet up as they left Brockhall through the still slumbering

forest. Both parties stole silently into the trees, waving goodbye to Bella,

Abbess Germaine and Goody Stickle, who stood on the sward outside Brockhall.

The old Abbess tucked her paws into the long sleeves of her habit. "Let us

hope that both parties are successful."

Goody Stickle blinked back a tear. "Let's 'ope my Ferdy and Coggs gets their

proper nourishment."

Bella watched the last of the party vanishing into the thicknesses of

Mossflower.

"Aye, and let us hope that Martin can bring back my father, Boar the Fighter,

to save us all and free us from the vermin of Kotir."

It was close to midday. Scratch and Ciudd lay beneath an old hornbeam. All

around the troops lay hidden, most of them sleeping soundly. Cludd had spotted

one or two soldiers and was about to recall them to duty with his spearbutt,

when Scratch suddenly put a claw to his lips for silence and pointed to a

break in the trees.

The woodlanders marched by the sleeping soldiers, unaware that they were being

watched. Skipper strode boldly in the lead, twirling his sling. Some of the

otters had relieved the carriers of their loads. They strolled along,

conversing with the Loarahedge mice. In the middle terraces of sycamore, plane

and elm, Lady Amber swung from bough to limb with her archers.

Scratch and Cludd watched the passage of the curious band in silence. Cludd

hoped that none of the soldiers would waken noisily; he could practically

taste reward and promotion. Rubbing his paws together in excitement, he nudged

his companion.

"By the claw, that lot can only be headed to one place— Rotir. Wait'11 the

Queen hears about this, eh, Scratch."

127

As he rose, Scratch shoved him roughly back down. "Ssshh! Look over there."

Coming through the trees in a slightly different direction, Martin, Dinny and

Gonff marched along a path that would take them due west, skirting Kotir on

its south side. Columbine had walked with Gonff, but now their paths were to

part and she hurried away to join the others. As Cludd watched he made a

mental note to pay Scratch back for banging his nose down into the dirt.

Unaware of his Captain's displeasure, Scratch listened to the strains of Gonff

singing his farewell to Columbine as she waved to him with a kerchief.

Goodbye, Columbine.

Now your path and mine

Must part in the woods of Mossflow'r.

Keep a lookout each day,

For I '11 be back this way,

In the noontide or cool evening hour.

Scratch cackled. Fluttering his eyelids, he picked a daisy and sniffed it

gustily. "Aaahh, isn't that romantic, now? The young mouse singing farewell to

his sweetnear . . . ouch!"

Cludd rapped him smartly between the ears with the flat of his spearblade.

"Shut your trap, nitwit. D'you want the whole forest to hear you? Those three

aren't going to Kotir. Oh no, they're bound for somewhere else. Now listen,

greasy ears, here's what I want you to do. Take two others and follow them.

Don't let them out of your sight. Find out where they're going and why, then

report back to me."

Scratch rubbed the top of his head indignantly. "Oh yes. Go off and follow

those three. Who knows where they're going, or how long it'll take? Huh, you

must think all the acorns have dropped off my tree, Cludd. I know where you'll

be, mate—grabbing all the glory for yourself. 'Yes three, Milady, no Milady,

three bags full Milady. I saw them first. Milady, so IVe sent daft old Scratch

off chasing the odd three.' Hoho, I'm on to your little game, weasel."

Cludd seized Scratch roughly by the ear and began twisting savagely. "So! Open

rebellion, eh, Scratch. Now listen to me, you scruffy half-baked excuse for a

soldier, if I have to report your disobedience to Her Majesty, she'll have you

128

staked out on the parade ground for eagle meat, d'you hear me? Now get going,

wormbrain. Here, you two, Blacktooth ferret and Splitnose stoat, grab weapons

and supplies. Go with Scratch. Jump to it, that's a direct order from me." The

sulky-looking trio skulked off, muttering. "Old bossy boots Cludd, eh."

"Huh, how he ever got to be Captain, I'll never know." "Take that spear away

and he'd fall over flat on his nose." "Aye, Tsarmina's pet, the baby-hedgehog

catcher." Cludd waited until they were gone, then shouldered his spear.

"Right, me laddos. Up on your paws. We'll take the shortcut north back to the

garrison, then Milady can arrange a warm welcome for her woodland visitors."

Cludd put the remainder of his force into a swift jog trot. Soon the spot

where the three paths had crossed was deserted as the last soldier vanished

into the bright leafy shades of Mossflower.

Toward evening, Tsarmina grew restless. She had the two prisoners brought up

from the cells. The wildcat Queen was reluctant to admit to herself that she

could not get the better of two little hedgehogs. Hunger, she decided, was a

great tongue-loosener.

Ferdy and Coggs stood before her, their eyes riveted to the 1)ig tray of

crystallized fruit and nuts.

Tsarmina popped one neatly into her mouth, delicately licking the sticky sugar

coating from her claws one by one.

"Mmm, delicious! I'll wager that either one of you two young 'uns could eat

this entire tray in one go. Come on,

•BOW. Don't be shy. First to talk a bit of sense gets them all." Coggs licked

his lips. Ferdy grasped his paw and spoke

oat for them both.

"Huh, I'd swap all that lot for just one slice of our mum's

apple pie."

Tsarmina smiled winningly. "Of course you would. I sup-

|X)se your mum makes the best apple pie in all Mossflower?"

j; Coggs wiped his damp whiskers with the back of a paw.

^**Oh, I'll say she does. Hot out of the oven, with fresh cream

boured on until it floats."

I Tsarmina nodded agreeably. "Lovely. That's just the way

| like it. By the way, what do they call your mother?"

•

no

Ferdy was caught completely off guard. "Goody."

"Goody what?" The wildcat Queen kept up a friendly purr.

Coggs kicked Ferdy and interrupted, "Goody, goody. We love our mum's apple

pie, and that's all weVe got to say!"

Tsarmina scowled irritably and pushed the tray of sweetmeats away. "Guards!

Take these two little fools and lock them up again. They'll learn what hunger

is a week from now."

As they were marched off, Coggs shouted bravely, "Aye, and you'll see how

woodland warriors can still behave two weeks from now, cat."

Far below at the prison window bars, Chibb earnestly discussed the new plan

with Gingivere.

Gonff was first to complain as evening fell over the woodlands. "Phew, it's a

while since I trudged this far, mateys. What d'you say, this looks a likely

place for the night, then we can get a fresh start in the morning?"

Young Dinny inspected the site. It was a dead chestnut stump, with a small

hole between the two main roots.

"Hurr, oi knows this yurr gaff. Slep' yurr many a noight. 'Ee'll do."

Martin crouched as he made his way into the confined space. "Just about enough

room for the three of us. We'd better call it a day. Break out some supper,

Gonff."

While Gonff set the food out, Dinny scooped loam around the entrance, leaving

a small space for observation. The mole had no sooner finished his task when

he held up a paw.

"Usher now. Cum by 'ere an' lookit."

Silently they gathered round and watched as Scratch blundered noisily through

the undergrowth, followed by Splitnose and Blacktooth.

"Haha, look out. The bogey Cludd's behind you."

"Fat chance! He'll probably be stuffing his face back at Kotir."

"Aye, and getting ready to sleep in a dry bed, too,"

"No sign of the mice and the mole yet, Scratch?"

"It's getting so dark I can't see my own paws, let alone a mice and a mole.

Come on, let's get clear of this forest while

130

we can. If we reach the road, there's a dry ditch where we can camp the

night."

"Hey, Blacktooth, stop scoffing those rations. There'll be none left for us."

"Aah, there's plenty. Anyhow, I'm starving."

"You're starving! I haven't had a bite since breakfast myself. Here, give me

that food."

"No, I won't. Leggo, you big grabber!"

"Here, I'll take charge of that, you two. Garr, you greedy nits, it's spilled

all over the place now. You've dropped it."

"It wasn't me, it was him. He shoved me, clumsy paws."

"Clumsy paws yourself, greedy guts. Take that!"

"Owoo! I'll report you to Cludd when we get back."

"Oh, go and report your mother."

In the hole beneath the chestnut tree the three friends held their sides in

silent mirth, tears running down their whiskers as they watched the antics of

the searchers, who fumbled and •bungled their way off into the darkness, still

arguing and fighting.

"Gurr, moi goodness, us'ns been 'unted by those 'oller'eads. Burr, yon

vermints cudden 'unt their way outer a shallow 'ole."

Gonff handed cheese to Martin. "No wonder. Did you bear who their boss is,

matey? Old Cludd the clod. He couldn't order his own two ears to stand up

straight."

Martin put his supper to one side. "Maybe not, but he was

smart enough to spy on us without our knowing it. I think

we should treat them as enemies. That way we won't be

,j caught off guard. Anyhow, let's get some supper and sleep.

:\ WeVe got a long day ahead tomorrow."

5 From the window of her high chamber, Tsarmina's eyes ^pierced the night with

the keenness of a predator. She saw '•iCludd and his special patrol hurrying

to Kotir from the north ^'fringes, then sweeping her gaze in an arc she noted

a move-

at the south edge of the forest. Woodlanders! Tsarmina rushed to the table and

rang her little bell vig-

. A ferret named Raker came scurrying in. _ "Quickly, alert the entire

garrison. Have them form up

131

inside the barracks awaiting my orders. Tell them to be silent. Send Cludd to

me. He'll be arriving shortly."

Raker wondered how Tsarmina knew of Cludd's imminent arrival, but he did not

dare ask her how. He held up his Thousand Eye shield in a smart salute.

"Right away, Milady."

Tsarmina peered intently at the band of otters, mice, and hedgehogs. She noted

the ripple in the treetops—squirrels too. This time she had the element of

surprise on her side. She did not intend wasting it. Now they would leam the

meaning of the word fear.

Halfway down the stairs she bumped into Cludd, who was dashing up to her

chamber to make his report.

"Milady, I have gathered some expert knowledge on the movements of the

woodla—"

"Yes, I already know. Form your patrol up and get down to the main barracks

quickly."

"But, Majesty, there was a robin flying through the woods and I told Thic—"

Tsarmina whirled upon the slow-witted weasel. "Robin? What rubbish are you

spouting now? What d'you think I care about a robin? Get out of my sight, you

useless lump."

Cludd stood, bewildered, on the stairway as she brushed past. There was no

point in trying to talk to Tsarmina when she was in one of her moods.

The highest tree near the south side of Kotir was a stately elm. Chibb was

perched in its branches when he sighted the woodlanders.

"Ahem, harrumph! Over here, please, and keep quiet. We don't want any eagles

waking up."

Skipper threw a smart nautical salute with his tail. "Ahoy there, mate. Is

everything shipshape?"

Chibb paced to and fro upon the branch. "Ahem, well I must say it appears to

be, harrumph. Though I have my doubts."

Lady Amber dropped in beside him, and the nervous robin leaped with fright.

"Madam! Ahem, kindly have the goodness to announce your presence in a less

startling manner."

132

Ben Stickle and the rest were unloading packs of rations at die foot of the

elm. Columbine looked upward at the robin.

"D'you know, Ben, for some reason I feel as uneasy as Chibb."

Ben loaded the packs on the squirrels, who scampered up the trunk as if it

were level ground.

"Aye, m'dear, I know 'xactly how you feel. I don't like this place one little

bit meself."

As if to punctuate the hedgehog's remark, an arrow whistled out of the

darkness to stand quivering in the elm bark.

"Ambush! Everyone take cover!" Lady Amber called aloud from her vantage point.

Immediately, the mice and hedgehogs were screened by a wall of otters. Skipper

bounded to the fore, ducking a spear as he swung a sling loaded with several

stones.

"Over yonder, crew. By those thickets. Give 'em a rattlin' good broadside,

mates."

Ranks of brawny otters made the air rain heavy with hard river stones.

The dinting and thudding of rock upon armor and pelt was mingled with screams

and cries from the ambushers.

When the fusillade slackened, Tsarmina sprang forward, urging her attackers

onward. "Charge. Rush them now. Up. Charge!"

The soldiers pounded toward the woodlanders, yelling and shouting threats as

they waved pikes, spears and javelins.

•Lady Amber watched coolly. She notched an arrow to her

•iwwstring as, all around her in the high branches, squirrels L followed her

example. She laid her tail fiat along the bough Cof the elm.

"Steady in the trees there. Let them get well into the open, Jfaen watch for

my signal."

Though one or two otters were down with spear wounds, "Skipper had heard Amber

and he backed up her strategy. ;**Otter crew load up. Don't sling until the

arrows are loosed."

>w the Kotir army had covered over half the distance, For-lata slacked off,

dropping back with Ashleg and Cludd.

133

Tsarmina alone led the field. Confident that the charge would carry the full

distance, she turned to yell further encouraging words to her troops.

Lady Amber decided they had come far enough. Her tail stood up like a banner

as she called, "Archers, fire!"

The waspish hiss of arrows halted the advance in its tracks, the back and

middle ranks colliding with the fallen in front.

"Slings away hard, crew!" Skipper's wild call boomed out across the melee.

A second volley of stones flew thick and fast into the confused soldiers.

Now Tsarmina was forced back into her own ranks. Furiously she began snarling

out orders.

"One rank crouching, one rank standing. Give me a wall of shields to the front

and carry on advancing. Poke spears out between the gaps in the shields.

Quick, fools. Foitunata, group archers at the rear. Tell them to fire over our

heads into the woodlanders. Hurry!"

Realization that they were in danger of being under serious attack galvanized

the Kotir troops into action.

Ben Stickle and Columbine were crawling about, whispering to the

noncombatants,

"Friends, help the wounded. Go with them quickly and quietly around the back

of this tree. Foremole has arrived with help."

They slid away, with Skipper's crew masking their retreat.

The soldiers were firing arrows now. They rattled off tree trunks and stuck

into the earth, some finding their mark among the woodlanders. The

shield-fronted advance moved slowly but steadily forward.

Skipper and Amber had coordinated their firepower. After the otters loosed

stone and javelin, the squirrels shot their arrows, each giving the other a

chance to reload, while keeping up continuous fire.

"Slings away!"

"Archers, fire!"

Brush and Birch were two big competent squirrels. Following Lady Amber's

directions, they swung off toward Kotir's

134

furthest side, carrying as many ration packs between them as possible. Chibb

flew with them. All three were silent, and unseen by those in the fray below.

Cludd's bellow urged the soldiers forward. "Come on, you lot. Stir your

stumps, you laggards. Keep pushing on. We'll have 'em soon. You can have an

otter apiece shortly."

A stoat winced as a rock bounced off his spearshaft, sending shocks of pain

through his claws. "Huh, I'll have a mouse or a wounded hedgehog, mate. Let

Cludd and the Queen tackle those big otters."

His companion, a weasel, nodded agreement. "Aye, let them have the glory.

We'll be satisfied with the pickings."

Seconds later he was silenced by an arrow.

Lady Amber was beginning to get worried. She called down to Skipper, "We're

almost out of arrows up here, Skip. There's too many of 'em. We can't stop

their advance; it looks as if we've had it."

Skipper's tongue was lolling as he tore off two large rocks from his sling.

"There's nothing for it, marm. We'll just have to see how many of 'em we can

take with us."

135

21

Early morning was enveloped in white mist. It clung to tree and bush like a

gossamer shawl, sparkling with dewdrops in the promise of a hot sunny day

ahead.

Eager to be on their way, the three friends broke fast as they traveled.

Martin unpacked scones for them, Gonff doled out a russet apple apiece, and

Dinny vanished into the mist, reappearing with a canteen of fresh spring

water.

Limbs loosened as the night stiffness receded. They stepped out at a brisk

pace to Gonff's latest marching cttant.

Sala-manda-stron, look out here we come, A thief, a warrior and a mole. Though

the quest may take its toll, We'll march until we reach our goal,

Sala-manda-stron.

The flood of morning sun penetrated the mists, melting them into a yellowy

haze. Martin and Gonff struggled to keep straight faces, listening to Dinny

chanting the marching verse in mole tongue.

"Salad-anna-sconn, lookit yurr'ee come."

Still in fine fettle, they reached the outskirts of Mossflower Woods. Pushing

on through the fringes, they found themselves facing a brown dirt road, which

curved and bent like a snake. Beyond it lay the far dim expanses of the

flatlands

136

shimmering in the heat. Between the path and the flatlands was a deep ditch,

though because of the dry weather it contained only the merest trickle of

water.

The companions kept silent, remembering that Scratch and his aides might well

be somewhere nearby.

Gonff went back to the woods and returned with a long stout branch. Taking his

knife, the mousetnief trimmed off the twigs.

Martin watched with interest. "What are you up to, matey?" he asked, keeping

his voice low.

Young Dinny knew. "Ee'm maken a powl t'jump ditcher. Squirrelbeast do et iffen

they baint no tree to swing offen."

Martin took the pole and felt its balance. "Oh, I see. A vaulting pole. Good

idea, Gonff.''

Making sure his grip was firm on the pole near its top, Gonff leveled it in

front of him.

"Me first, Dinny next, then you, matey. Watch me and see how it's done. I'm a

prince of vaulters, y'know."

Gonff broke into a fast trot. With the pole held straight out, he sped across

the road, then dipping the pole into the ditch he levered upward and out.

Martin saw the pole bend, carrying Gonff high into the air. The momentum swung

him easily across the ditch. He landed lightly on his paws and pushed the pole

back to the mole.

Dinny held it gingerly, whispering to Martin, "Murrsey, oi 'ates a leaven owd

earth, 'tis on'y burds be so fool'ardy. Art well, yurr oi goo."

Dinny performed a waddling little shuffle, jabbed the pole into the ditch and

rose slowly into the air. The impetus was not sufficient to carry him across;

he wavered in the air and began dropping back. Martin made a mad dash.

Catching the pole low down, he thrust against it and whipped back with all his

force. Dinny was catapulted away from the pole across the ditch. He hit the

far bank near the top and was grabbed by Gonff, who helped him to scrabble

out. Dinny lay kissing the grass, thankful to be back on firm ground.

Martin's strength and fearlessness helped him to make the crossing with ease.

He quite enjoyed the sensation of flying through the air. When Dinny was fully

recovered, they commenced their journey into the flatlands.

137

They were not long gone when Blacktooth yawned and stretched himself in the

ditch. The trackers had camped a short distance south of the vaulting area.

Splitnose rolled over in his sleep and slid from the narrow strip of dry

bottom into the slimy shallow water.

"Yaauugghhh! You lousy vermin! Who did that? Come on, own up!"

"Heeheehee! You did it yourself, puddenhead. It's a wonder you never carried

on snoring."

"What, me, snoring? Have you ever heard yourself? Sounds like a goose

gargling."

"Rubbish. I never slept a wink. Oh, I dropped off for a moment or two a while

back. Funny, though. I dreamed I saw a mouse, just up that way apiece. Guess

what? He flew across the ditch,"

"Heeheehee oh ahaharr! He wasn't followed by Cludd pretending to be a swallow,

was he?"

"Ha, you can laugh, fatty. But it was almost as if I was awake. The mouse

flew, I tell you."

"Fatty yourself. That's what you get for hogging all those rations last night.

It was a nightmare brought on by pure greed."

"It was not. It was more like a daymare brought on by the hunger. I'm

starving."

Scratch ignored their arguing. Pulling himself from the ditch, he took a chunk

of bread from his pack and began munching it.

Splitnose and Blacktooth stopped fighting to complain.

"Oi, that's not fair. You're supposed to be the leader. It's up to you to see

we're properly fed."

"That's right. I've only got a stingy little bit of crust and it's sopping wet

from that stinking ditch water."

Contemptuously Scratch threw a crust on the bank edge. "There you are. First

out gets it."

The ferret and the stoat fought tooth and claw. They kicked each other down in

an effort to be first out of the ditch. Black-tooth won. He grabbed the crust

as Splitnose wailed pite-ously, "Give me some, Blackie. Go on. I'd give you

half if I had bread."

"No you wouldn't, stoatface."

"Yes I would."

138

"Wouldn't."

"Would."

Blacktooth relented with bad grace. "Oh, here, scringe-tail. Don't pig it all

down in one gobful."

"Aaahh, that's not fair. You've got the biggest half."

Scratch had wandered further up the bank. He chewed on a young dandelion,

pulled a face, spat it out and shouted, "Hoi, you two, stop bellyaching and

look at this."

They ambled up, chewing the last of the crust. "What is it?"

Scratch shook his head in despair. "What do you think it is, loafbrains? Look,

it's the track of those two mice and the mole. See, here and here, the

pawprints are as clear as day. They're traveling west."

Splitnose found the pole and held it up triumphantly. "Aha, another clue. They

must have used this to climb out of the ditch on."

"Oh chuck it away, bouldernose," Scratch sneered. "Huh, you'll be telling me

next that they used it to fly through the air on. Come on, you two. At least

we're on their trail."

From the topmost branches of a beech on the south side of Kotir, Chibb checked

the straps on his pack before flying off to the cells. Brush and Birch watched

him flying into the thin dawn light, then Brush readied the next pack.

"Shouldn't take too long, then we can nip back and see how the battle's

going."

Birch looked to his quiver. "I'm nearly out of arrows. Bet the others are,

too. Tell you what—you stay here and see to the robin while I swing back to

base. I'll gather all the arrows I can lay my paws on from the stores and take

them to our archers."

"Good idea. See you later, mate."

Around the back of the elm, it was only a short distance from the heavy loam

of the woodlands. Foremole led the little party, Columbine and Ben bringing up

the rear with Soilflyer, a champion young digging mole. "Hurr on'y a

liddleways, now gaffers," he chuckled secretively. 'Uz diggers do 'ave a foin

tunnel awaiten fer *ee to excape thru." Gratefully they were helped into the

broad tunnel dug by the

139

moles. As they progressed along it, Columbine could hear Soi!-flyer filling in

behind them. Up ahead, Foremole said comfortingly to some mice, "Never 'ee

fear, liddle guddbeasts. We'm a goen' to Moledeep. None may foind 'ee thurr."

Tsarmina's determination was unabated. She pushed her forces ruthlessly

forward.

"Come on. Can't you see they aren't sending over as many arrows or stones?

Keep going. We've got them."

Fortunata's ear throbbed unmercifully. The vixen was lucky that the arrow had

not struck a bit lower, or it would have been her skull. Clamping a pawful of

her own herbs to the wound, she looked up dismally as a large squirrel swung

in laden with quivers of arrows. The fox dropped back a few paces, muttering

beneath her breath, "If you think you've got 'em, Milady, then go and get them

yourself."

Two of Skipper's crew were driving long sharp stakes into the ground at the

base of the elm trunk. Earth had been piled around the stakes and leafy

branches scattered on top. From a distance it looked for all the world like a

crew of otters lying in wait, armed with spears.

The newly arrived arrows drove the Kotir soldiers back a short distance,

despite Tsarmina's threats and blandishments. Lady Amber checked to see that

the moles had got away with their charges.

"Is it ready, Skip?"

Skipper held up a paw. "As ready as it'll ever be, marrn." "Good. We'll fire a

last couple of heavy salvos while you slip off with the crew. See you back at

Brockhall." "Aye. Good huntin', marm. Come on, crew." Once again Amber's tail

stood up straight. "Archers, fire!"

Tsarmina and Cludd heard the command.

"Down flat, keep your heads down, shields up," Cludd bellowed to the soldiers.

When the invaders lifted their heads, the otters were gone. There followed an

eerie silence, broken only by the rustle of the treetops. Tsarmina knew this

was the squirrels retreating. She straightened up and ventured a pace forward.

Cludd joined her.

140

"Ha, bunch of cowards, eh, Milady. Looks like they've run away."

Tsarmina peered toward the mound at the base of the elm. "Maybe, maybe not. I

think they might have set up some sort of trap, or is that a crew of otters

armed with spears? Take ten soldiers and investigate it, Cludd. Go on, we're

here to back you up."

Reluctantly Cludd selected ten creatures and set off gingerly for the enemy

lines. He ducked once or twice when someone stepped on a twig. Finally he

arrived at the mound. Knowing the danger had passed, Cludd kicked at a leafy

bough, and prodded the mound with his spear.

"All clear, Milady. It was only a stupid trick to make us think they were

still here."

"What about the squirrels, Cludd?" Fortunata sounded cautious.

The weasel Captain peered upward into the elm branches then hurled his spear

straight up. Several soldiers dodged out of the way as it landed back, point

up in the mound. A small amount of twigs and leaves fell with it.

"Not a hide nor hair of the lily-livered bunch!" Cludd puffed his chest out as

he retrieved his spear.

Relieved and exultant, the soldiers of Kotir rose up, cheering and stamping

about in a victory dance.

"We won, we won!" "Won what?" Tsarmina's voice rose angrily above the

celebration. "Fools, can't you see it's an empty triumph: no plunder, no

slaves, no submission. They've vanished completely, and what have we gained? A

few yards of woodland that belongs to me anyway.''

The sudden volley of arrows slashed down, taking them unawares. Soldiers threw

up shields, diving headlong for the undergrowth. Even the wildcat Queen had to

beat an undignified retreat behind the elm tree she had conquered.

Once again the chattering derisory laughter of squirrels, as they swung off

into the fastnesses of Mossflower, was all that remained of the woodlanders. •

Gingivere had enlarged the two holes so that Ferdy and Coggs were able to

squeeze through into his cell.

Gleefully they upturned the contents of the first pack.

"Good old mum's apple pie!"

141

"Ooh, elderberry cordial!"

"Look, cheese and hazelnuts!"

"Candied chestnuts, too. Hahaha, bet old Chibb didn't know about *em."

"Come on, Mr. Gingivere. Here's some seedcake and milk. Let's have a secret

supper together, then you can tell us the news from Chibb."

Amidst the laughter, Gingivere brushed away a tear from his eye. He was

delighted with the company of his two little hedgehog friends, after the long

lonely confinement following his father's death.

It was noontide when Martin and Dinny sat down to rest. Gonff stood surveying

the vastness that surrounded them; undulating plain, flatland and moorland

stretched away into the distance, the for horizon danced and shimmered in the

unseasonal heat. Gonff thought he could detect a smudge on the horizon, but he

could not be sure until they had traveled further. The mousethief turned,

looking back to where they had come from.

"Well, mateys, it's certainly a big wide world outside the woodlands and good

old Mossflower. I can still glimpse it back there."

Dinny lay back chewing a btade of grass. "Hurr hurr, an' can 'ee still see yon

liddle mousemaid a-waven to 'ee?"

Gonff shielded his eyes with his paw and played along. "Why yes, and there's

someone else too. It looks like your grandad waving his stick. He wants that

deeper 'n' ever pie that you stole from him."

"That wasn't Dinny," Martin yawned. "You probably stole it. See anything

else?"

GonfFs whiskers twitched. "Aye, those three vermin that are tracking us. Looks

like they've picked up our trail, matey."

Martin and Dinny leaped up, staring in the direction Gonff was pointing.

"There, see—a weasel, a ferret and a stoat. Now they've started to run. Why

are they in a hurry all of a sudden?"

"Prob'ly cos they'm soighted us'ns, now we studd up," Dinny suggested.

"Aye, matey, you're right. Well, what do we do now, warrior? Stand and fight?

You just say the word."

142

Martin gnawed his lip, stopping his paw from straying to die otter sling bound

about his middle.

"No, that's not what we're questing for. We'd be losing valuable time. It's

our duty to find Salamandastron and Boar the Fighter, so that he can return

with us to save Mossflower. The first thing a warrior must learn is orders and

duty."

Gonff strapped his pack back on. Dinny had not removed his. He was away and

running, small velvety paws pounding the grassland.

"Coom on, 'ee two,"he called. "Us'ns can lose they vur-min afore eventoid."

The three friends ran in silence, measuring their stride and conserving

energy. All that could be heard above the drumming of their paws was a

descending lark and the chirrup of grasshoppers in the dry grassland warmth.

The high sun above watched the scene like a great golden eye. The hunted

jogged steadily on, with the hunters rushing behind to close the gap.

There was no infirmary for the wounded at Kotir. Soldiers lay about in the

barracks, licking their hurts and tending to themselves as best as they could.

Cludd was quite pleased with himself. They had driven off the woodlanders and

the army had not retreated, so what was all the fuss about?

He put the question to Ashleg.

"Try telling her that, weasel. Here she comes." The pine flaarten's cloak

swirled about as he pointed to the stairs.

Tsarmina bounded into the barracks, crooking a claw at them. "You two, up to

my room. Right away!"

There was little" to be gained by arguing, so with sinking hearts they trooped

up the stairway.

Fortunata was already there, her ear painfully swollen from the arrow wound.

Ashleg could not resist a sly snigger. ' "Heehee, looks like you need a

healer, fox."

Tsarmina swept in, just in time to hear the jibe.

"One more remark like that, woodenpin, and you'll need il new head. Now, what

happened to my ambush in the ".- woods?" They stood dumbly, waiting for the

storm to break. 5 It was not long in coming.

The wildcat Queen cleared the table in one reckless sweep. }- Bell, dishes,

ornaments, linen and food crashed to the floor.

"Nothing! That's what we gained from it all."

$'

143

She raged around the chamber, kicking over furniture, tearing at wall hangings

and bending fire irons out of shape as her voice rose to a maddened howl.

"1 saw them. Me! I set up the ambush, warned you, marshaled the army, led the

charge and thought that you buffoons had the brains and courage to assist me.

What did I receive? Not one original idea or scrap of encouragement."

Her whole body quivered with dangerous temper, then suddenly she slumped into

a chair as if temporarily exhausted by her outburst. The quaking trio stood

staring at the floor for inspiration as she scowled at them.

"Aahh, what business is it of yours, anyway? You're not supposed to think,

only to carry out orders. It's my job to do all the brain work around here. I

suppose nothing will bother you three until the food supplies run out. Oh,

they won't last forever, you know. I've seen for myself; the stores are

getting lower, since we were unable to levy tribute from the few that lived

around our walls. That's the trouble with being a conqueror and having an army

to feed: soldiers are no good at providing anything unless they can snatch it

away from the helpless." She stretched and kicked moodily at a fallen goblet.

"Well, any ideas?"

"There's always the two prisoners I caught, Milady." Cludd sounded

half-apologetic.

Tsarmina sat bolt upright. "Of course, well done, weasel. Maybe you aren't as

stupid as I thought. Prisoners, hmmm, yes. What do you think the woodlanders

would pay as ransom for those young hedgehogs?"

Fortunata narrowed her eyes calculating^. "Well, I've had more dealings with

woodlanders than most. They're a soft, sentimental lot when it comes to young

ones. I think that they'd give quite a bit to get them back safe."

"Safe, that's the key," Tsarmina purred happily. "Imagine if the woodlanders

saw their babies exposed to real suffering or danger—we could practically name

our own terms."

The trio relaxed visibly, now that their Queen was in a saner mood.

There was one other listener to the conversation who had no cause to rejoice:

Chibb the robin, perched on the outside window ledge.

144

> Split nose was the first to slacken pace. He gradually slowed to

•;. an easy lope. Blacktooth joined him, leaving Scratch to make

the running. The weasel stopped and turned. He curled his lip

/ hi disgust at the pair, who were now sitting on the grass panting.

Scratch ran back energetically, drawing his dagger.

"Get up, you idle worms. Come on. Up on your paws, both of you."

Splitnose teased a passing ant with his claws. "Ah what's the point? They're

well away. We'll never catch 'em now." Scratch kicked out at Blacktooth. "I

suppose you think the same, lazybones."

Blacktooth kicked back insolently. "Oh, give it a rest. You can't make us

run."

"Right, so it's mutiny, eh!" Scratch looked from one to the other

disdainfully. "Then here's something for you two buckoes to think about. One,

if you don't get running, I'll stab the pair of you. Two, unless you decide to

run, I won't share my rations with you. And three, think about when I : make

my report. The Queen will be pleased to hear how you two lay down on the

job.'' Wordlessly they rose and started running again.

Gonff trotted alongside his friends, his quick eye noting the landscape.

"It gets a bit hilly further on, mateys. We could drop down 7 and hide in a

dozen places. What d'you say? Shall we give ; 'em the slip?"

Martin glanced backward. "I'd rather not risk it. They've got us in plain

view. No, best keep on until evening, then we can pick a good hiding place

when it's dark and camp there the night. Are you all right, Dinny?"

The mole wrinkled his snout. "Doant loik a-runnen. Lucky oi'm stronger'n most.

You'm keep a-goen, Marthen. Doant , wurry over oi."

The noon sun gained intensity. Birds soaring on the upper thermals passed over

the six tiny figures below, hunters and hunted.

tTo spur themselves on, Splitnose and Blacktooth played a f game, shouting out

their favorite dishes to each other. Scratch •-ran a length behind them,

keeping his dagger drawn as an

f.

145

insurance against further rebellion. Despite himself, the weasel had to keep

licking his lips, not being able to shut his ears against the ferret and the

stoat.

' 'Some of those candy chestnuts and a flagon of cold cider. Could you manage

that, Blackie?"

"Oho, could I! How about a baby trout grilled in butter with some of that

woodland October ale?"

"Very nice. But have you tried blackberry muffins soaked in warm honey with a

few beakers of iced strawberry cordial to wash 'em down?' *

"Gaw! Stoppit, Splittie. You're reminding me of that time when old Lord

Greeneyes had a plunder feast at Kotir. Those were the days! I had iced

strawberry cordial in a big drinking bowl, with mint leaves floating on it and

crushed raspberries too. I remember I sucked it all through a cornstraw. Whew,

I must have supped enough of it to have a good bath in."

"Yurghh!" Scratch called out in disgust. "I was enjoying that until I had a

vision of you, all covered in mud and muck, sitting in a bath of iced

strawberry cordial with two mint leaves stuck up your snout and a pile of

crushed raspberries shoved into your ears. Doesn't bear thinking about.

Anyhow, why don't you two shut your traps and keep your eyes on those three

ahead?"

Dinny was first to gain the low hills. He ran up one side and rolled down the

other. Martin and Gonff joined in until all three were dizzy. They ran onward

as the shadows began to lengthen. Gonff gradually dropped back. He was

breathing heavily. When they turned to look he waved his paws.

"Keep going, mateys. Phew, this is much harder work than thieving."

Without hurting Gooff's feelings, they slacked their pace to match his. Martin

noticed that the blob on the horizon they had seen earlier that day was not

merely a low cloud bank.

"Look, Gonff. It's a range of mountains. Big ones, too. What d'you think,

Din?"

The young mole squinted hard to bring the view into perspective. "Ho boi urr,

that they be, Oi reckons that be whurr the teeth o'land reaches up to ate

woolen sheeps, wi' they gurt 'eads in clouds."

"Clever, Dinny mate," Gonff nodded admiringly. "Ex-146

«ctly as the poem says: 'Afar the teeth of land rise up to bite the wool of

sheep.' They look quite close, but don't let that fool you. We've got a fair

bit of traveling to do before we reach them."

Dinny risked a backward glance through a fold in the hills. , ,**Hurr, they

vurminbags be none closer either. 'Spect us'ns be moightier runners."

Scratch had taken the lead again. He knew the others were hungry and sure to

follow. Trying to keep their quarry in sight was difficult, as they were often

hidden by the hills. Descending the first low hill, he stopped to extract a

burr from his pad. The other two ran slap bang into him from behind.

"Clodhoppers!" he shouted. "How is it that you have all this open country to

run in, yet you both manage to crash into me? What d'you think this is, a game

of leapfrog?"

More bickering and backbiting ensued. Scratch ended the dispute by banging

their heads together. "Look, it's nearly dark now and I've gone and lost 'em,

thanks to you two Oafs!" He gritted his teeth in frustration.

Martin and Gonff prepared the evening meal while Dinny enlarged a small hole

on the far side of the final hill. In a short while they were happily

installed in a superb little cave, pinny had even dug a ledge halfway round

for them to rest on. The three friends lay on the ledge, eating their supper

! and watching the crimson underbellies of purple cloud rolls

; as night took over from the long, hot day.

$cratch and his minions sat out in the open on top of the highest hill, hoping

that they might catch sight of the others at next daybreak. • Night on the

open lands was both cold and windy.

Chibb paced the mantelpiece at Brockhall, relating all he had

beard at Kotir.

The Corim were worried by this new theat to Ferdy and ; Coggs. "Hmm, this is

an unwelcome development." Lady %Amber waved her bushy tail anxiously. ':.:

The robin ruffled his crimson breast feathers importantly. I**Ahem, harrumph.

On the surface it would appear to be so.

147

However, our wildcat ally in the prison said to tell you that he may be able

to forestall Tsarmina's plans awhile."

Bella looked up to the mantelpiece. "How will he manage that, Chibb?"

The robin folded his wings behind as he explained. "Well, ahem, 'scuse me.

Gingivere has taken a stone from the walls on each cell, as you know. He

proposes to hide both Ferdy and Coggs in his own cell, after sealing the

wallholes up. That way, if the enemy do not think of searching his cell too

closely, they will naturally suppose that the two prisoners have escaped."

There was wholesale approval for the clever plan.

Skipper had an additional idea. "Hark, now. What if we was to pretend that

Ferdy and Coggs were saie with us? That'd take suspicion off Gingivere."

"How will we manage that, Skip?" Bella was curious to know.

"Easy, marm. We'll find two other little hedgehogs and disguise 'em, then let

'em be seen by someone from Kotir."

"Good thinking, Skipper," Bella said with approval. "But now we'll ready have

to think of how we can rescue Ferdy and Coggs. Gingivere's plan is brave and

daring; however, it puts all three at great risk."

Lady Amber shook her head. "Where do we get two little ones that look like

Ferdy and Coggs?" "You may lend my liddle Spike an' Posy," Goody said from the

doorway. "Long as they don't come to no 'arm. Though I must say, they don't

look a smidgeon like my Ferdy an' Coggs. I can tell my liddle ones apart like

apples from nuts."

Abbess Germaine tapped a paw to her nose. "Two blanket cloaks, two saucepan

helmets, a piece of stick each, like swords of make-believe warriors. I think

that would fool anyone from a distance, Goody. But what about a rescue

attempt? Have we any kind of firm plan?"

"You leave that to old Skip, marm." Skipper laughed drily. "Bula, you take

charge of the crew while I'm away. I think I'll pay the Mask a visit."

"What's the Mask?" Several woodlanders voiced the question.

"You'll soon see!" Bula winked.

148

22

Consternation reigned at Kotir.

A luckless stoat had been "volunteered" from the cell guards by Fortunata and

Cludd, and he was pushed unwillingly into Tsarmina's chamber.

"Er, your Maj of the green Queenest, er upper of all ruler and lower Moss. Er,

er . . . The prisoners have gone!"

"Gone! What do you mean, gone?" The wildcat Queen left her seat in a single

bound and picked the stoat up by his throat.

"Yuuurrkkgghhaaaarrr . . . 'Scaped." Tsarmina threw the gurgling heap to the

floor. Her voice .L-echoed in the stairway as she dashed down to the cells.

;,* "Escaped? Impossible! Guards, get down to the cells quickly."

The cells were searched. The corridors were scoured. The outer walls were

surrounded. The parade ground was gone over inch by inch. The barracks were

turned inside out. Not a room, passage, cupboard, chamber, kitchen,

guard-fcouse, or scullery remained unprobed.

Gingivere, however, was officially nonexistent. His cell was .',j6ot searched.

Nobody thought of looking in a prison cell that ~%«s already bolted and

barred. J Except maybe Tsarmina.

149

Columbine sat up, rubbing steep from her eyes.

Was it night or day? she wondered. How long had she slept in this warm dry

cavern? Everything seemed so quiet and peaceful after the noise and panic of

the battle she had witnessed. There was an old patchwork quilt covering her.

She pushed it to one side as a little molemaid entered.

"Mawnen to 'ee. Wellcum t'Moledeep. Brekkist be ready."

She followed the mole into a larger cave, where Ben Stickle and the

woodlanders who had been injured sat with the Loamhedge mice and the mole

community.

Foremole waved her to a place between himself and a grizzled old mole whose

fur was completely gray.

"Set ee by yurr, maid. This be Owd Dinny, t'other young rip's granfer."

Old Dinny nodded and continued spooning honeyed oatmeal.

Obviously the moles liked a good solid start to the day. There was a variety

of cooked roots and tubers, most of which Columbine had never seen before. Ail

of them tasted delicious, whether salted, sugared or dipped in honey and milk.

(Some of the moles did all four.) The bread was wafer thin and tasted of

almonds, small cakes patterned with buttercups were served warm. There were

fluffy napkins and bowls of steaming rosewater to cleanse sticky paws. As

Columbine nibbled at a rye biscuit and sipped fragrant mint tea, she could not

help asking Foremole where all the huge deeper V ever pies and solid

trencherfbod the moles seemed to favor were.

Foremole chuckled. He gestured at the table with a massive digging claw. "Ho

urr, Combuliney. This yurr be on'y a loight brekkist for 'ee an' yurr friends.

We'm fancied it up a bit for 'ee. Moles be only eaten solid vittles at even

toid when they's 'ungered greatly."

Columbine nodded and smiled politely, trying to hide her amazement. "Oh, I

see, just a loight brekkist, er, light breakfast."

As Columbine ate, she remembered Gonff. If only he were here amid this

friendly company with her! She mentally wagered with herself that he would

know the name and taste of

150

jgvery dish (and probably be jokingly chided for having stolen gaany of them

in bygone days). She pictured her mousethief jesting with everybody, imitating

molespeech and singing ballads as he composed them.

The young mousemaid heaved a sigh into her mint tea. It dissolved in a small

cloud of fragrant steam. Where, oh

• "Where, was Gonff on this beautiful morning? "*. It was nearly midmoming

when the "light breakfast" leached its conclusion. Then, guarded and guided by

the mole

•community, Columbine and her friends made their way back

•to Brockhall by a secret woodland route.

Martin, Gonff and Dinny were wide awake by daybreak. They crouched in the

small cave, eating breakfast as they watched a gray drizzly dawn. Packing the

food away, the travelers

.stamped life back into their numbed paws. Surprisingly, Gonff was first to

step outside.

\ "Come on, mateys. It'll brighten up by mid-morning. You

yijvait and see—I'm a Prince of Predictors."

•;;< Striding out, they left the low hills behind, to face yet more .

flatlands. Wakened grouse whirred into the damp morning

•air at their approach.

•

Sala-manda-stron,

^

Look where we've come from,

;."

Three of Mossfiower's best,"

Marching out upon our quest: ^

Sala-manda-stron.

J Scratch sighted the three dim forms through the layers of {frizzling rain.

|^ "There they go. Come on, you two. I've got a feeling that today's die day

we catch 'em. Come on, move yourselves, sooner it's done, the quicker we'll

get back to Kotir. good solid food again, a long rest, and maybe a bit of lor

and glory."

'Huh, I'm soaked right through!" Splitnose complained, too," grumbled

Blacktooth. "I never slept a wink Igain. Sitting out on top of a hill, miles

from anywhere in |pe pouring rain, stiff all over, cold, hungry, shiver—"

^'•"Shuttup!" Scratch interrupted bitterly. "Put a button on

t

151

your driveling lip. Look at me, I'm weary, saturated and starved, but do you

hear me whimpering on about it all the time? Up on your paws, and try to look

like you're the Queen's soldiers from Kotir."

They trekked westward, pursuing the travelers.

Splitnose was muttering as he kicked a pebble along in front of himself.

"Honor and glory, huh. Cludd'll get all that, and he can keep it, too. Now if

it was honor cake and a mug of hot glory, that'd be a different thing."

"Honor cake and hot glory drink? Don't talk such rubbish, soggyhead,"

Blacktooth laughed.

"Soggyhead yourself, drippynose."

"Crinkleclaws!"

"Greasyfur!"

"Beetlebottom!"

"Stow the gab and get marching, both of you!" Scratch told them.

True to Gonff's prediction, the rain ceased. Above the plains the sun came out

to watch fluffy clouds sailing about on the breeze across a lake of bright

blue sky.

Dinny sniffed the air, wiggling his claws. "Buharr, they's watter nearby,

likely a pond or tarn. May'ap us'Il catcher a liddlefish. Be gudd eaten,

hurr."

Martin looked sideways at Gonff. "How does he know there's water near? I can't

smell a thing."

The mousethief shrugged. "Neither can he, matey. Moles probably feel it

through the earth with their digging claws."

Dinny nodded wisely. "O air, us'ns do smell lots o' things wi' us claws."

Gonff winked at the warrior mouse. "That's the nice thing about moles, they

always have a sensible explanation which we can all understand."

The three friends laughed aloud. Dinny proved as good at predicting as Gonff.

Midday found the travelers at the edge of a large pond. Bulrushes and reeds

surrounded the margin, small water lilies budded on the surface. The glint of

silver scales beneath the water promised good fishing. At first Martin was

loath to stop but, realizing the valuable addition a fish would make to their

supplies, he called a halt. While his

152

friends went about fishing, the warrior posted himself on guard to watch for

their pursuers.

Dinny sat on the edge of the bank, immersing his paws in the shallows with

exclamations of delight.

"Oo arr, oo bliss V joys. Hurr, this be the loif, Gonffen!"

The mousethief had cast a line baited with a tiny red mud-worm. In seconds it

was snatched by a voracious stickleback. "Ha, look, matey," he called. "IVe

got a bite! Come to Gonff, old greedyguts."

Martin crept up behind them. He placed a paw gently on each of his friends'

shoulders as he whispered to them, "Ssshhh. Listen to me. We are in great

danger. Don't make a sound, if you value our lives!"

153

Skipper sat inside the curve of a big hollow log. He faced a slim gray otter,

trying hard not to look where the strange creature's tail had once been.

"So then, Mask, how are you keeping, my brother?" he asked.

The Mask nibbled at some otter delicacies that his brother had thoughtfully

brought along.

"Oh, I get by, Skip. Sometimes I'm a squirrel, sometimes a fox. Ha, I was even

a half-grown badger for a while."

Skipper shook his head in amazement, gazing around the hollow log where the

master of disguises lived alone. Many curious objects were carefully stowed

there: make-believe tails, false ears, a selection of various whiskers.

The Mask watched Skipper with his odd pale eyes. Seizing a few things, he

turned his back and made some swift secret adjustments. When he turned around,

Skipper's mouth fell open in disbelief.

"Look, Skip. I'm a squirrel again!"

The otter chieftain marveled; this creature in front of him was surely an aged

squirrel—thin, graying—but undeniably a squirrel, from its bushy tail and

erect ears, right to the two large front upper teeth.

"Strike me tops'Is, Mask. How d'you do it?"

"Oh, it's no great thing," the Mask chuckled quietly. "Actually, I'd look more

like a treeflyer if I took a little more

154

J time and care with this disguise. This is only a quick change "; to amuse

you."

; Skipper whacked his tail against the side of the log. "Well, ' you could

fool me anytime, shipmate,"

Mask tossed aside the false tail and ears. Spitting out the two false front

teeth, he readjusted his body. He was an otter again.

"Maybe I fooled you, maybe I didn't. But you're not fooling me, Skipper of

Camp Willow. What do you want me to do?"

Skipper sat back, folding his paws across his chest. "I have a proposition to

make to you, brother Mask. Sit still and hear me out."

Tsarmina glared through the cell aperture at Gingivere. The imprisoned wildcat

sat in the darkest part of the cell. His fur was tousled, damp from the walls

dewed his paws, his head dropped despairingly. Now and then his eyes would

flicker rapidly. The wildcat Queen brought her face close to the bars. "If you

know what's good for you, you'll tell me all about how those two hedgehogs

made their escape. Speak up. You must have heard or seen something—they were

in the cells either side of you."

Gingivere leaped up, his voice a cracked singsong shout. "Hahaha! You let them

escape so you can have their bread

> and water. I knew you wouldn't give me any. You're keeping it all for

yourself. Oh, I saw you, sneaking along the passage. You let them go so that

you could have all that bread and water for yourself. Heeheehee."

.',- Tsarmina turned to Cludd. "Listen to that. He's completely crazy."

She swept off down the passage. Cludd stayed a moment, looking through the

bars. He had never seen a completely

.crazy wildcat before, although he had seen his mistress dan-

-?gerously close to that condition once or twice.

\ "No bread, no water, she's keeping it for herself." Gin-

^givere continued his insane lament.

j; Cludd banged the door with his spear. "Quiet in there!"

JV "Atishoo!"

3 The sneeze came as Cludd was turning away. He whirled ck. "Who did that?"

155

Gingivere grabbed a pawful of straw and sneezed into it. "Atishoo, choo! Oh,

I'm sick and dying, sir. The cold and damp down here. Please get me extra

rations of bread and water or I'll die."

Cludd rapped the door with his spear again. "Enough of that! You get the

rations Lady Tsarmina allows. So stop moaning, or I'll give you something to

moan about."

As the weasel Captain lumbered off down the passage, another sneeze rang out.

"Atishoo!"

On the wall above the cell door, two food haversacks hung from a spike driven

into the rock. Ferdy and Coggs sat, one in each sack, their heads poking out

like two fledgling house-martins in their respective nests.

Coggs reached across, trying to stifle Ferdy's snout with his paw, but another

sneeze rang out.

"Atishoo!"

Ferdy blinked and rubbed his snout. "Sorry, sir. This bag has flour in it from

the scones, and it's tickling my sn . . . sn . . . Ashoo!"

Reaching up, Gingivere lifted his little cellmates down from their hiding

place. While there were no guards about, they could play and exercise.

Chibb flew to the window, dropping the latest supplies in. He caught the empty

sacks that Gingivere tossed up to him. In the shaft of light the wildcat was

looking strangely sane and healthy.

"What news, Chibb?"

"Ahemhem. The Corim have decided that you must soon be rescued, all three of

you. How they propose to do it, I don't know yet."

Gingivere nodded. "I hope they realize that the longer they wait, the more

dangerous it becomes for Ferdy and Coggs."

Chibb slung the empty sacks around his neck. "Ahem, I'm sure they do. At

present the message is, keep on the alert and keep up your courage. You are

not forgotten."

Chibb flew off swiftly. Gaining the woodlands, he paused to perch on a spruce

branch as he adjusted the bags about his neck for easier flight. Argulor

belched dozily and glanced at the robin perched

156

j|' beside him. Chibb gave a jump of surprise, but did not forget I his

manners.

*; "Ahem, beg pardon." The fat robin darted from the branch ":'. like a

flame-tipped arrow.

Argulor shifted his claws. Wearily he dropped his eyelids back into the

slumbering position.

Were the small birds getting faster, or was he getting slower? The eagle

dismissed the problem, reasoning that there were still plenty of soldiers in

Kotir who were a lot slower than a single robin redbreast. A lot tastier, too.

Dinny and Gonff sat quite still at the edge of the pond as Martin whispered to

them, "Now, very slowly, look to your left. Do you see the female swan over

there? She's sitting on her nest with her back to us. Right. Don't look, just

take my word for it, in the open water to the other side there's a big male

swan—it's her mate. He's not seen us yet, but he's headed this way and bound

to sight us if we stop here, so let's move away as silently as possible."

With great care Gonff let the fish slip back into the water. He cut his

fishing line. The three friends moved speedily, ducking behind the rushes with

not a second to spare.

The huge white swan glided by them serenely. He was like a ship in full sail,

an awesome spectacle, the snowy white body and half-folded wings complementing

perfectly the muscular serpentine neck column surmounted by a solid orange

bill and fierce black eyes.

Martin shuddered. He thought of how close they had been to death. The male

swan was warlike and fearless, absolute monarch of his pond. Any creature who

dared trespass upon these waters while his mate sat upon the three new-hatched

cygnets in their nest was fated never to see the sunset. The white colossus

swept by, continuing his patrol of the pond.

When he was past, the three friends slipped away. Gonff whispered a silent

goodbye to the silver fish in the shallows. "We were both lucky that time,

matey. Swim free."

A respectable distance from the water, Dinny untangled a streamer of duckweed

from his paw.

, "Boi okey, this'n's owd granfer near losed a dear liddle /: 157

mole back thurr. Oi never see'd a skwon afore, gurt feathery burdbag they be,

stan* on moi tunnel."

They lunched on apples and bread, supplemented with some cow parsley that

Dinny had discovered.

Blacktooth and Splitnose sighted the pond. They had been running ahead of

Scratch after a particularly nasty bout of name-calling. The stoat and ferret

had called Scratch a frog-walloper; this seemed to touch some hidden nerve in

the weasel, and he took strong objection to the insult. The pair ran off,

cackling gleefully as the weasel threw pebbles and earth clods after them.

"Come back here and say that, you cowardly custards. I'll give you frog

wallopers when I get you!"

Running wide, they approached the pond at a different angle from that of the

travelers. Blacktooth and Splitnose whooped with delight.

"Look, a river, a river! Truce, Scratch!"

Scratch joined them, the quarrel temporarily forgotten at the sight of the

watery expanse.

"That's not a river, it's a pond," he pointed out. "This is more like it, a

good fresh drink, a nice bath for our paws. Look, a swan sitting on a nest.

Swan eggs—what a tasty idea!"

Splitnose was not so sure. "Er, don't you think that bird looks a bit big,

Scratch?"

"So what?" the weasel snorted. "There's three of us and we've got spears. I

bet swan eggs are lovely."

"Have you ever eaten one?" Splitnose asked.

"No, I've never even seen one, but I bet they're very big and good to eat."

"Well, all right, we'll back you up. How do you get the eggs?"

"Easy, just stand in the shallows and chuck our spears at the swan until it's

forced to fly away, then we rob the eggs."

Buoyed by Scratch's confidence, they waded into the shallows. The female swan

watched them fearlessly. She issued a warning hiss.

The would-be plunderers were enjoying themselves immensely.

158

"Ooh aahh. Hey, Blackie, doesn't this mud feel great when you squelch it with

your paws?" Splitnose called.

"Aye, 'specially after all that running, mate. Just watch this." Blacktooth

flung his spear. It fell far short of the tar-

Splitnose laughed scornfully, then threw his. It went a little further, but

still far short of the swan.

Scratch sneered contemptuously at their efforts. "Huh, you two couldn't throw

a frozen worm and hit the earth. Go and get some stones to fling at her. I can

probably wade out that fer and stab the bird."

The ferret and the stoat waded back to the bank, and ran off to search for

missiles.

Scratch ventured recklessly on until the water was around . his middle. There

was a crackle of parting rushes behind him. Scratch turned in the water. The

giant male swan blotted out everything in his vision; he did not even get a

chance to cry out or lift his spear.

Scratch was dead before he knew it!

Splitnose and Blacktooth returned to the water's edge, their paws full of

rocks and earth clods.

"How'11 this little lot do, Scratch?"

"Scratch, where are you?"

"Scratchy-watchy, you old frogwalloper, come out. We know you're hiding, we

can see the rushes moving."

The male swan came thundering out of the rushes in half-flight, churning up a

bow wave as it hissed like a nest of serpents.

' * Yooooaaaaggggghhhh!''

Only the speed of raw terror and the fact that they were .racing away from the

pond and its nest saved the lives of the panic-stricken pair.

"Owoowoowoo helpelpelp!"

The male swan webbed its way up onto the bank, beating its wings wide to the

blue sky, hissing out its victory cry—a savage challenge to the distant

runners.

The female settled securely on her babes in the nest. She j-preened her neck

feathers, smiling with just a touch of smug-Bess. Swans never laugh aloud.

K

* * *

159

Though they were a fair distance from the pond, Martin and his friends heard

the anguished shouts on the breeze.

"Sounds like our followers from Kotir have ruffled someone's feathers, eh,

Din," Martin remarked. The mole looked grave. "Skwons etted 'em, oi uxpect."

Gonff placed a paw on his heart and sang slowly,

A weasel, ferret and a stoat, Found a pond but had no boat. Now they can't see

the waters from The inside of a swan.

Tsarmina stood at her high window, watching the squirrels. They had descended

from the trees at the woodland edge. With them were two small hedgehogs clad

in cooking-pot helmets and blanket cloaks.

Fortunata rapped lightly at the chamber door and entered.

"Milady, oh, you've already seen them."

Tsarmina did not even turn to look at Fortunata. She continued peering

intently at the two little figures in the middle of the squirrel group.

"Are they taunting us, do you think?" she asked.

Fortunata joined her at the window. "No, woodlanders don't go in for that sort

of display, Milady."

To her surprise, Fortunata found Tsarmina patting her approvingly. "Good

thinking, fox. Shall I send out a party to try and capture them?"

Fortunata shook her head. "I'd advise against it, Milady. They'd only sweep

off into the trees, making our soldiers look foolish. Squirrels always do."

Tsarmina smiled. She sat up on the window ledge, winking at the vixen.

"Clever, very clever, Fortunata. You aren't as dull or slow-witted as Cludd

and Ashleg. Listen how, I have better eyesight than you or any creature in

Mossflower. I Ve been watching those two little hedgehogs, and there's

something not quite right about them."

"Not quite right, Milady?" Fortunata was baffled, but she tried her best to

look intelligent.

Tsarmina tapped a paw to her nose. "Exactly. They're playing little games with

me, those woodlanders. But I have a game or two of my own to play. Tell me,

you know these

160

woods and their creatures better than anyone in Kotir, don't you?"

Fortunata was pleased that Tsarmina was confiding in her, but she began to

feel uneasy. There was often an unpleasant sting in the tail of her Queen's

schemes.

"I was bom and brought up in Mossflower country, Milady. What is it that you

require from me?"

"Fortunata, we are surrounded by blunderers." Tsar-mina's tone was that of an

old and trusting friend. "You are the only one I can really rely on. I never

forget those who serve me well. I haven't forgotten that you helped me to be

Queen with your knowledge of herbs. This is a big area to rule, and it becomes

lonely. I could do with someone as wise and clever as yourself to share that

rule. But first I am going to ask you to do me a favor. Think carefully before

you answer, because on that answer rests our friendship. Will you do me this

favor?"

The greedy fox fell headlong into the trap. "I am yours to command, Queen

Tsarmina."

The wildcat ruler smiled like a cat with a bird. "Well said, friend. Now, what

I want you to do is this . . ."

161

The Corim were startled.

Skipper strolled into Brockhall followed by a ferret. Before Lady Amber could

fit arrow to bow, or Bella pick up a poker to strike the foe, Skipper

addressed them heartily.

"Mates, don't get your ropes in a tangle. This 'ere ferret is an otter. Meet

my brother, the Mask."

The Mask bowed low. Stripping the bindings from his ears, he removed the bark

slivers that sharpened his muzzle, pulled out the wicked eyeteeth and undid

his imitation tail.

Bella pounded the sides of her chair with a heavy paw. "Wonderful, he is

indeed an otter. Welcome to Brockhall, Mr. Mask."

Abbess Germaine seated the otter, placing food and drink before him. "So you

are the Mask. I have lived long and seen strange things, but never one as

strange as you, though I hope you will forgive me for saying so, sir."

Mask shook the Abbess warmly by the paw. "It is a strange world marm, you will

forgive me saying, but never have I seen such friendly and gentle mice as you

and your oddly dressed followers."

Skipper patted Mask on the back. "Friends, you wouldn't believe your eyes if

you saw old Mask in some of the getups I've seen him in."

"Oh, tell us, Skip." Columbine leaned forward eagerly.

Skipper took a draught of cider from Mask's cup. "I

162

couldn't begin to tell you all this one's disguises, but just as an instance,

he gave me the slip coming through the forest. i looked high and low for him.

Ha, there was the old deceiver stood right next to me, up against a tree, got

up as a piece of bark, would you believe!"

Spike and Posy clung to Columbine's habit, staring wide-eyed at the strange

otter.

"Did you really, Mr. Mask, sir?" Spike asked.

Mask chuckled as he fed them a slice of apple each. "Oh,

- aye. That's an easy one. All you need is an old piece of bark as big as

yourself and the right tree. You just stand there and think the same thoughts

as the tree, and presto!"

"What others can you do, sir?" Posy wanted to know.

"Oh, a fox, a squirrel, a hedgehog like you, even—you name it. Haha, otters

are pretty hard to do, though. Funny tails, you see."

"Could you be a bird?" Spike inquired.

"Well, er, let's say I'm practicing that one, shall we?"

"A stoat or a rat, then?" Posy persisted.

"No trouble. They're the easiest to do. It's all a question of studying shape,

really."

Abbess Germaine was impressed. "You say you could look like a stoat, weasel or

even a fox?"

The Mask winked. "Indeed I can, marm. That's why I'm here."

Early evening shadows were beginning to lengthen across the plain. Dinny

looked to the mountains on the horizon, and judged the distance shrewdly.

"We'm be vurry close to yon mountings on t'morrer, Mar-;~then."

The warrior mouse glanced toward the massed rock. "So we will, Din. As to how

we'll cross them, I'm at a loss. Look at the size of them. They almost

disappear into the

. sky."

; "Don't you worry, mateys," Gonffsaid confidently. "We

•^ haven't come this far to be beaten by an old stone hill. Be-jOrides, we

don't have to worry about those vermin following ^;BS. The swans probably

dealt with them." ¥f^> Dinny's snout rose into the air. "Oi'm a-smellen' more

^Walter thru 'ee paws agin."

163

"What, more water, Din?" Martin asked. "Burr aye. Runnen waiter thiz toim."

"Best keep our eyes skinned for swans, eh, mateys," Gonff warned.

"Hoo arr, doant wanna see skwons no more."

Gonff was first to find the broad stream. It was not quite wide enough to be

classed as a river. The mousethief strode down the bank and recited aloud to

the flowing waters,

O'er golden acres far below, Our wings beat strong and true, Where deep and

wet, see flowing yet, Another snake of blue.

Martin looked to the opposite bank. "It seems peaceful enough, but it's far

too wide to cross here. We'll camp here tonight and scout the bank for an

easier crossing in the morning."

The mild spring evening was very pleasant by the water. Dinny scooped out a

circle while Martin set flint to the steel of his broken sword and started a

small fire. Gonff repaired his fishing line. Within a short time he landed a

plump young bream.

The three travelers sat around the fire, watching the fish grilling in a

cradle of green reeds over the flames. Firelight flickered and danced in

Dinny's buttonlike eyes.

"Warmff, hurr hurr. Oi do likes warmff."

Gonff tested the fish with his knifepoint. "It'll be ready soon, mateys. A

little loaf apiece toasted up, some cress from the water's edge, a beaker of

fresh streamwater, and we're snug for the night."

The stream gurgled and eddied ceaselessly toward the distant mountains as they

enjoyed a spell of rest on its soft mossy bank.

Splitnose and Blacktooth had wandered aimlessly. Without Scratch to direct

them they were lost. Night found the pair out upon the open plain, hungry,

tired and thirsty. Splitnose lay down, snuggling sleepily against the grass.

Blacktooth was restless.

164

"Huh, I'm not sleeping out in the open again. There must be a hole or a cave

hereabouts. Might be a bite of grub, too.''

"Oh lie down and get some rest," Splitnose murmured sleepily. "You're as bad

as Cludd or Scratch. Get some sleep, ^.and we'll see what it's like around

here in the morning. I'm not moving. Might even sleep late, too."

Blacktooth moved off. "Right. You stay here. I'll be back if I can't find

something better. I could swear there's water running nearby. I'll go and take

a look."

"Mind the swans don't eat you," Splitnose called out, his eyes already closed.

Blacktooth was back sooner than expected. He danced about, giggling quietly to

himself.

"Splittie. Hey, come on, snoreface. Wake up! Heeheehee, guess what I've

found?"

The stoat grumbled as his companion shook him awake. "Two frogs and a

dandelion. Now beat it, will you? I need sleep."

The ferret could not contain his excitement. "I found a big stream, a camp, a

fire and food—and those two mice and the mole!"

Splitnose came awake. "Where?"

"Not far. Over that way a bit. Listen, if we're quick and quiet we can take

them prisoner.''

The stoat leaped up. "Great. You say they've got food and afire?"

"Yes, half a roast fish, packs too, full of goodies," Black-tooth told him.

"You know those woodlanders—they love '- their rations."

"We could march 'em back to Kotir."

"Heehee. Aye, could you imagine old Cludd's face when we walk in with three

prisoners? The Queen'd prob'ly make us Generals. Oho, I'd give that Cludd a

few dirty jobs to do.

- I'd make him jump!"

"Right, Blackie mate, lead me to "em." ." They sneaked silently across to

the river bank armed with

- their spears.

$

i The three friends lay asleep around the fire, unaware of the

|> eyes that watched them from the top of the bank.

165

Fortunate struck deeper into Mossflower, aware that Tsar-mina was watching her

from the high chamber window.

The vixen had cast off her borrowed finery from Kotir, reverting to the frayed

old healer's cloak and bag of herbal remedies. She leaned heavily upon an ash

staff. Fortunata was more suited to this type of work; she preferred

subterfuge to warfare. Besides, the rewards promised were greater.

Tsarmina moved from the window to ring her table bell. Cludd entered, saluting

with shield and spear.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Get somebody to clean this room up, it's filthy. Drill the troops and keep

them on the alert. They're not here to eat me out of house and home. Oh, get a

foraging party together. We must keep something in the larders if we want to

outlast the woodlanders."

Cludd saluted again. "It shall be done, Milady."

The wildcat Queen settled back in her chair. Now was the time to play the

waiting game.

Columbine lay behind a screen of bushes, nibbling a green hazelnut. The

mousemaid often volunteered to go on watch outside Brockhall, imagining

herself to be the first to sight the travelers' return. That GonfF! He would

probably come back singing at the top of his voice,

I'm back, Columbine. Yes, now is the hour My good friends and I Will be saving

Mossflower,

or some such cheery air. Columbine lay watching sunmotes dancing through

dappled patterns of green leaves, dreaming of her thief.

Then she sighted the fox.

It was a vixen, dressed like a journeying healer. The fox cast about, sniffing

here, inspecting a scuffed leaf there, obviously searching for somebody or

something.

Columbine slid silently away from her hiding place. Once

166

she was out of the fox's vision she took to her paws, dashing headlong back to

Brockhall.

Shooing some little ones inside, she shut the door and bolted it. It was

lunchtime, Loamhedge mice were serving up hazelnut cloister pudding with

willowherb sauce. Columbine made straight for Bella.

"Fox, fox, coming this way!" she panted. Skipper put a restraining paw on her.

"Whoa there. What fox coming from where?"

"Out in the woods, coming from the northwest, sniffing and probing. It's a

vixen. She'll find her way here soon unless we stop her.''

Lady Amber mopped up sauce with a crust. "A vixen eh, did you recognize her,

Columbine?"

"Oh yes, it's the one they call Fortunata, though she's dis-guised herself up

a bit. I recognized her at the ambush."

"An old raggedy cloak and hood," Bella interrupted, "together with a bag of

herbs and a staff?" Columbine nodded.

"The old pilgrim healer disguise. Wearing a bit thin, eh, Mask,'' the badger

chuckled drily.

The otter looked up from his pudding. "What are you going to do about her?''

Lady Amber reached for her quiver. "A swift arrow in the right place should

save any argument.'' - Skipper pawed his sling. "Either that or a sharp rock

on her stem."

Mask stood up, patting a full stomach. "Miz badger, why don't you let me deal

with this? It may help with our escape plans for the prisoners."

Bella pushed food toward Columbine. "Here, little one, ; have some lunch. Go

on, Mask, tell us the plan." >••' The otter had his back to them, he was

selecting disguises. i_"I say, let her come, see what she wants, but don't let

her |know who I am. Pretend that I'm a newcomer." *;;.' When he turned to

face the Corim, Mask was indeed a ^newcomer. He was transformed into the most

evil slim gray s:ipid fox they had ever seen.

The Mask slid into Bella's study to complete his disguise. |**Find the right

tail, rub a little brown dust into my coat and

167

see to the finer bits. Ha, she won't be able to tell me from her own grandpa

when I 'm finished.''

"Right. We've got you. Don't try anything funny or we'll skewer this mole!"

Martin opened his eyes. The ferret and the stoat were standing over Dinny,

their spearpoints at his throat. The warrior mouse was about to jump

instinctively for them, but Gonff discouraged him.

"Do as he says, matey. TheyVe taken us by surprise."

All three lay quite still. Blacknose smirked with satisfaction.

"I'll keep the mole pinned down, Splittie. Look through that pack over there,

and see if you can find some cord."

Splitnose scuttled off and rummaged in the pack.

"Even better, mate. Look, a rope," he called.

*'Give it here and keep your spear on the mole, stick him if he moves."

Blacktooth wound the rope round the travellers. Binding them together, he

tugged the end to make sure it was tightly secured.

Picking up his spear, he strutted around them. "Ha, you're our prisoners now.

You'll pay for breaking the laws of Kotir and leading us on a wild-goose

chase. Be still!"

Splitnose was emptying the supply packs out. "Heehee. Look, apples, bread,

cheese, mmfff. Pie!"

Blacktooth threw extra fuel on the fire and crammed food wolfishly into his

mouth, while menacing them with his spear.

"Hey, this is more like it, Splittie," he enthused. "Come and get warm by the

fire.''

Gonff winked at Martin and whispered, "Leave it to me, matey. I'll settle

these two idiots."

Blacktooth yanked sharply on the rope's end. "No talking there. One more peep

out of you and you'll be sorry, d'you hear me?"

Gonff shrugged as best as he could. "Don't worry, Captain. You've got us, all

right. But please don't eat all our supplies, we'll have nothing left to keep

alive on."

Splitnose threw an apple core at Gonff and bit into a cheese. "Ah, stop

moaning, mouse. Look at us, weVe lived on one skinny crust and grass for the

last few days. Mmmm, this is

168

good cheese. Hey, a fruitcake! By the claw, that'll do for me."

"Come on greedyguts, half for me." Blacktooth prodded Splitnose with his

spear.

"Get your own, fatbelly," Splitnose retorted.

"Why, you gluttonous worm!"

"Ouch! You keep that spearpoint away from me, rotten-gums." -

"That's the stuff, matey," Gonff called out encouragingly. "You show him that

stoats are the bosses."

Blacktooth was about to stab Gonff with his spear when Splitnose jabbed him in

the bottom with his spearpoint.

Martin took Blacktooth's side. "Don't let him do that to you, ierret. Get

him."

Dinny supported Splitnose. " 'Ee be nowt but a gurt bully. Jump on furret's

tunnel, skoat."

Blacktooth cracked Splitnose across the head with his spearshaft. Splitnose

retaliated by stabbing Blacktooth in the paw.

The three friends egged them on with loud shouts.

"YouVe got him now. Stab!"

"That's it. Keep him pinned down!"

"Get his throat with your teeth!"

"Shove him in the fire, quick!"

Filled with blind rage, the stoat and ferret battled all over the camp site,

rolling through the fire, splashing in the shallows, stumbling against the

captives, oblivious of all except the desire to win.

"Grr, take that, stoatswine!"

"Aarghh, you won't push me around any more, ferret-face. Get this!"

Blacktooth fell, pierced by his opponent's spear. Splitnose backed off,

dropping his spear, and stumbling further into the shallows. Blacktooth pulled

himself upright and staggered toward his foe, spear held outright. Splitnose

blundered into deeper water, unarmed, holding his paws out pleadingly.

"Blackie, no. I didn't mean it!"

The ferret tottered unsteadily into the water, lifted the spear to throw and

fell dead into the shallows.

Splitnose kept backing off as if in a daze. "I didn't mean to, Blackie.

Honest. You can have half the c—"

169

Suddenly he was gone! All that remained was Blacktooth the ferret, face down

in the shallows of the swirling stream.

The three friends had fallen over. They lay, bound, gazing at the water where

Splitnose had been a moment before.

"Pitholes, matey, full of bottom mud," Gonff explained. "We'll have to

remember that when we cross."

Dinny wriggled. "Us'H 'ave to set about thinken *ow to free usselfs."

Martin wrenched round to face Gonff. "Any ideas?"

The mousethief smiled in the darkness. "Stay still. I can reach my dagger.

Didn't I ever tell you, matey, I'm a prince of escapers."

Martin felt the blade sawing at their bonds. "Aye, I seem to remember you

saying something of the sort in the cells at Kotir, matey."

The ropes fell away under Gonff's keen blade. He stood upright.

"I was right that time too, if you remember," Gonff pointed out.

Dinny straightened up. "Hurr, tho' you'm 'ate to boast about et."

They took stock of the damage. Martin threw a trampled cheese to one side.

"Huh, they've ruined our supplies," he said with disgust. "Most of the food

rolled into the water with them. Look, even the fish fell in the fire." He

held up a smoking relic.

Gonff pushed Blacktooth's carcass into the fast-flowing water. "It couldVe

been worse, matey. At least we're alive."

Dinny blew on the embers, adding dry reeds and wood. "Ho aye, Marthen. Us'll

make out awright, 'ee'll see."

170

Fortunata followed a trail that led to a dead end. Some creature had

skillfully covered most traces, but the vixen knew that there had been

woodlanders here. The camouflagers had not been entirely successful in

covering everything; there was still scent and the odd broken twig. She

scratched about in the undergrowth, trying to reveal further clues.

"Lost something?"

The vixen was startled by the voice. She whirled around, attempting to

discover its owner. All she saw was the silent woodland. Quite suddenly there

was another fox standing alongside her.

"I said, have you lost something?" he repeated.

Fortunata weighed up the newcomer carefully. He was an old fox, patched gray

and dusty brown, slim built and slightly stooped. But it was the eyes that

caused her to shudder-weird, flat, shifting eyes. This was the most

evil-looking of her species that the vixen had ever encountered.

"No, it's not something IVe lost," she said, trying to sound unconcerned.

"Actually, I was merely passing through here."

"Aye, me too. Maybe we can help each other," the old fox suggested.

"Yes, maybe we can. My name is Besomtail, the wandering healer, what are you

called?" Fortunata asked.

"I'm Patchcoat. I come from far away to the east," he replied.

171

Fortunata nodded. He certainly looked like a patched coat. "Well, I come from

the ... er, southwest. Maybe that's why we've never met. I'm really hungry,

though, Patchcoat. I expect you've seen tracks around here. Maybe there's a

camp of woodlanders nearby. They usually give me food in return for my healing

skills."

Patchcoat rubbed his lean stomach. "Aye, I'm hungry too. There's not much

future in eating grass and drinking dew. Listen, Besomtail, maybe I can travel

along as your assistant. I passed a place earlier today that might be just

what we're looking for."

Fortunata's ears stood up. "You did? Where?"

The strange fox waved a paw. "Oh, round and about, you know. I didn't stop

because those woodlanders always drive me off, for some reason. Huh, you'd

think I was out to steal their young. It looked like a well-stocked hideaway.

I expect I could find it again."

"I can't blame them driving you off, friend Patchcoat," Fortunata sniggered.

"You certainly don't look anything like a baby fieldmouse on posy day.''

Patchcoat threw back his head and laughed wickedly. "Ha-haha, look at

yourself, you raggedy-bottomed tramp. Any honest woodlander would run a mile

from you. Let's join forces. Come on, how about it? You won't find the place

without me."

Fortunata rubbed her whiskers as if she was giving the matter some earnest

thought. Finally she thrust out a paw. "All right, Patchcoat," she agreed.

"We'd better stick together, I suppose. Shake paws, fox."

"Aye. Shake paws, fox."

Left paw met left paw as they intoned the ritual of villains,

Shake paws, count your claws. You steal mine, I'll borrow yours. Watch my

whiskers, check both ears. Robber foxes have no fears.

Ben Stickle was observing the scene from the cover of a humped loam bank. He

scurried off to report to the Corim that the Mask, alias Patchcoat, had made

contact with Fortunata, alias Besomtail.

172

The Mask would lead Fortunata a merry dance through £ Mossftower before

evening fell over the woodlands.

V

It was mid-afternoon when Chibb left the cell window at Kotir. Gingivere sat

in the straw with his two little friends, patiently explaining the message

sent by the Corim.

"Now, if a ferret looks like a ferret, or a stoat like a stoat, or a weasel

looks like a weasel, don't trust them. But if a fox that looks like a fox says

that his name is Mask and he's been sent by the Corim, we must do exactly as

he says, quickly and without question."

Ferdy scratched his spiky head. "Supposing it's a stoat that looks like a

weasel with a ferret's nose and a fox's tail, Mr. Gingivere?"

Gingivere pushed him playfully backward into the straw. "Then don't trust him,

even if it's a Ferdy that looks like a Coggs with a Gingivere's fur, you

little rascal. Hush now, there's somebody coming. I 'd better get you back

into your bags. *'

Two weasel guards passed along the corridor, chatting animatedly.

"So what did the foraging party bring back?" "Not a single acorn. The Queen's

not too happy, either." "Well, that's only to be expected." "Aye, but it made

things worse when Cludd reported that one of our soldiers had been taken by

that big old eagle." I, "Who was it?*' • "A stoat, they say." !:

"Ah well, as long as it wasn't a weasel." '• "Aye. Can't stand stoats

myself. Nasty sly creatures."

"Right. Not like us, mate. Anyhow, I'll bet if the eagle at-\ tacked one of

our lads he 'd weasel his way out of it somehow. *' t "Hahaha. That's a good

one. Weasel his way out of it!"

':'

X The waters of the fast-flowing stream glittered in the after-fi noon sun.

All day the three travelers had wandered along the I bank, looking for a

shallow fording place. Martin gazed up at the mountains. They were much closer

now. He could see the green of vegetation at the base changing to basalt and

slate-colored rock which soared upward to snow-covered peaks that seemed to

support the sky like mythical columns. Gonff was singing as he trailed his

fishing line along.

173

O the day is fair and blue, The mountains He ahead. Companions good and true,

Our enemies are dead. I 'm longing for the day, O for that happy time, When

I'll return to say, Sweet Columbine, you're mine.

As they trekked, Young Dinny dug up edible plants and roots to add to their

supplies.

Martin sighted a bend ahead with steep sloping banks. "Come on, mates. The

stream looks narrower there. Perhaps there's a way to cross."

He was right; just around the bend was a sight that gladdened their hearts.

A rope stretched across the water, attached at either end by a deep stake

driven into the earth. On the opposite bank a white willow trunk lay in the

shallows. GonfF twanged the tautened fibers of the rope.

"It's a ferry, mateys," he told them. "See on the other bank? Pity it isn't on

mis side of the water. Never mind, even if it means getting wet we'll cross on

this rope."

Two pairs of unwinking eyes watched them from behind the log on the opposite

shore.

Martin waded into the river, holding the rope as a guideline.

"Come on, it's not too bad," he called. "Stay on this side of the rope, then

the current won't sweep you downstream."

Dinny and GonfF followed his example. The going was not too difficult. Paw by

paw, they began pulling themselves through the stream. Halfway across, it

deepened. They were floating now, but still going forward, aided by the rope.

A shout rang out from the far bank, "Stop right there, strangers!"

A snake and a lizard emerged from behind the willow trunk.

"Looks like trouble, eh, Din," GonfF whispered.

Martin ignored the warning, continuing to pull himself forward.

Dinny called out a friendly hail. "Goo' day to 'ee. Us'n's on'y a crossen, no

need t'be afeared."

The snake reared up, flickering a slim tongue. "Hssss. No-174

body crosses without paying us. I'm Deathcoil and this is Whip-scale. We are

the ford guardians. Pay us, or pay with your lives."

Gonflf caught up with Martin. "I don't like the look of those two. Has that

snake got adder markings?"

Martin's warrior nature rose. Tightening his grip on the rope with one paw, he

unslung the broken sword from around his neck.

"Looks a bit skinny and undersized to be a true adder, Gonff," he reassured

his friend. "I'm pretty certain that the other one is only some kind of newt.

Leave it to me. We'll soon find out."

It was now apparent to the ford guardians that the travelers were coming

across.

"WhatVe you got for us?" the lizard asked, his voice harsh and aggressive.

"Come on, move yourselves. Up on the bank here, and empty those packs out.

Quick, now!"

Martin's fece was grim. "Listen, you two. You dont frighten us. We're

travelers and we aren't carrying anything of value, but we'll fight if we nave

to, so you'd better stand clear."

The snake lowered his head onto the rope, glaring wickedly at them. "Hsss,

fools, one bite from my fangs means death. If you have no valuables, then go

back and get some-tiling to pay our toll with."

Martin yanked down on the taut rope, letting it go with a twang. The line

sprang upward, vibrating. The snake was hammered on the lower jaw several

times before he was tossed flat on the bank. "How's that for starters, worm,"

GonfF laughed. "Stand up straight, and I'll give you a taste of my dagger when

I get ashore. Come on, Din."

The mole waved a hefty digging paw. "Oi'll make knots . in *ee, then oi'll

teach yon glizzard sum manners." ' The three friends bounded up on the bank,

dripping but de-'termined. Martin advanced, wielding his broken sword; Gonff

;drew his dagger as he and Dinny spread in a pincer movement; ; (he mole

whirled a pack loaded with plants and roots.

As they closed for combat, the snake flicked his coils at Martin. "Hsss,

you'll leave your bones on this bank, mouse!"

175

Fortunate was becoming irate with her traveling partner. "By the fang,

Patchcoat, I'm certain we've passed this same yew thicket three times today.

What are you playing at, in the name of foxes?"

Patchcoat whirled upon the vixen, pulling out a long rusty knife. "Are you

calling me a liar, Besomtail? Think I don't know where I'm going?"

The vixen backed off, licking dry, nervous lips. "Of course not, friend. I'm

sorry, this forest looks all the same to me. I'm a healer, not a pathfinder,

you know."

Patchcoat grunted, as he sheathed his knife. "Huh, I'm no trailmaster myself.

I'm a mercenary by trade. I'd swap a good barracks for this lot any day. Never

mind, not far to go now.''

Fortunata pushed aside an overhanging branch. "A mercenary, eh? Soldier for

hire. Well, you do right by me and I might be able to find you a good

barracks. I could have you made into a Captain."

"A Captain, you say. Where at?"

The vixen winked. "Tell you some other time. Are we nearly there?"

"See that big oak?" Patchcoat asked, pointing. "It's got a hidden door between

the main roots. Follow me."

At the sound of knocking, Bella opened the door of Brock-hall the merest

crack. Skipper and Amber craned their necks

176

to see the visitors as the badger called out gruffly, "Who are you? What do

you want?"

Fortunata made a fawning bow. "My name is Besomtail. This is my assistant,

Patchcoat. Are there any among you who require the services of a healer?"

Lady Amber showed her teeth. "We don't need your mumbo-jumbo, fox. Now clear

off, quick!"

"Oh, please have pity on us," Mask whined pitifully. "WeVe fallen upon hard

times. Foxes are always driven off, even when they have traveled far, seeking

honest work. We do not mean harm to any creature. We are starving."

Skipper winked at the badger. "Oh, let em in, Miz Bella. Surely we can manage

a bite and a sup for these two cruising fleabags?"

Bella opened the door wide. "Come in, foxes. But mind you behave, otherwise

you may find yourselves hanging by the tails from a high branch."

Once inside, Fortunata's eyes roved ceaselessly, noting every detail of her

surroundings. Abbess Germaine entered the room, accompanied by two small

hedgehogs dressed in blanket cloaks and cooking-pot helmets.

"Ferdy, Coggs, take these two travelers to the kitchen," she ordered them.

"Ask Goody to feed them, please."

Goody Stickle fed the unsavory duo some leftover spring vegetable soup with

bread and cheese. They ate ravenously.

"Dearie me, it looks like you two ain't eaten since last harvest," Goody

remarked. "I'll cut more bread V cheese, then you can earn your keep by

scouring some pots and pans before you eat us out of house and home

altogether. That'll save my old paws a job."

Reluctantly the foxes finished their meal. Afterwards they faced the

formidable stack of dirty kitchenware heaped in bowls of water.

The vixen curled her lip in disgust. "You wash and I'll ;wipe."

Mask shook his head. "Oh no. A healer needs clean paws. : You wash, and I'll

do the wiping."

As they worked, Mask whispered to Fortunata, "What jd'you make of this place,

Besomtail?"

"Well, they've certainly got a comfy den here," she re-

177

plied. "Well-stocked, too. But hark, Patchcoat, they're soft and innocent as

new bread. Look how easily we got in here."

Mask tapped his nose knowingly. "A right bunch of woodland bumpkins, eh? One

good squad of soldiers could tie their whiskers in knots."

Fortunata passed a large pan to be wiped. "How would you like to be in charge

of that squad, Patchcoat?"

"Would this have anything to do with that Captain's job you mentioned

earlier?" Mask whispered out the side of his mouth.

Fortunata wiped her paws on a towel. "Aye, it would. I've been watching you,

Patchcoat. You're a fox after my own heart. Now listen carefully and stick by

me. We can both come out of this as two rich and powerful foxes if we play

both ends against the middle."

A fraction before both sides joined in combat there was a deep gruff shout

from the reeds. "Wnoooaaahhh, gerroutofit!"

A small, ferocious shrew, armed with a heavy hornbeam club, hurled himself

roaring onto Deathcoil and Whipscale. He belabored them mercilessly with swift

hard blows.

"WhatVe I told you two filthy reptiles?" he shouted. "Gerroff my bank. Here,

take this with you, and this, and this too!"

The snake and the lizard were thrashed into the stream.

"Ouch, ow, no, please, owoo, ooff!" they cried.

The bad-tempered shrew slammed his club down hard on Whipscale's tail. It flew

off into the air, and he batted it into midstream with an expert flick.

In the water, a pattern of dirt floated away from Deathcoil, showing that

under the dark bruises he was only a common grass snake.

The shrew turned to Martin and his friends, gesturing toward the unlucky pair

in the stream. "See, a grass snake and a newt. Pair of nuisances, I've warned

'em before about threatening honest travelers. Go on, clear off you snotty

vermin. Just let me catch you around here again, and I'll make you eat each

other's tails!"

The snake and the newt were carried off by the current, hissing dire threats

now they were out of reach of the shrew and his club. "You wait, you'll pay

for this, you haven't seen the last of us."

178

A well-aimed stone from Gonff's sling bounced off the snake's head; another

from Martin stung the newt's severed tail stump.

The shrew nodded approvingly. "Slingmice, eh? Good shots. This club's my

weapon. They won't be back for another dose of this."

Martin smiled. He liked the shrew's truculent manner. "Thank you, sir," he

said warmly. "I am Martin the Warrior. This is Gonff the thief, and this Young

Dinny, our mole friend. We are travelers, as you see, bound on a quest to

Salamandastron."

The shrew shouldered his club. "Sala what? Oh, you mean that big place t'other

side of the mountains. Well, I'm called Log-a-Log Big Club. I own the ferry

round here. You should have given me a shout, like this."

Log-a-Log cupped his paws around his mouth, bellowing out in a deep voice

which echoed off the mountains. '' Logalogalogalogalog!''

Gonff put his sling away. "We would have if we'd known, matey. Do you live

around here?"

Log-a-Log parted the reeds, revealing a cave hewn into the bank. "Aye. I live

alone. I expect you're hungry; travelers always are. Come inside. I'll tell

you all about it."

Inside the cave was a nest of untidy odds and ends. Fishing nets draped the

walls, a fire smoldered in one corner, many tools lay all about a large,

skillfully made boat that dominated , the living area. An old black water

beetle sat by the fire.

The travelers found seats amid the jumble, and Log-a-Log served them steaming

bowls of freshwater shrimp soup with .arrowhead bread and spring radishes. He

sat stroking the bee-|'tie's back.

•j-- "I call this fellow Grubwhacker. He lives nearby, comes in .;-.' and out

of here for his food, just like a pet. That there is my | boat. It's about

finished. I was going to try it soon in the stream.'' / Martin felt the sturdy

polished hull. "It's beautifully |£rafted, Log-a-Log. You know about boats,

then?" I?': The shrew picked up a spokeshave. He took a sliver off the |'«ern.

"Ships, friend, ships. Though I'm a ferry-puller, like SAll. my family, we

used to live with our tribe on the banks of ||the River Moss, far to the north

of here. One day, several isons ago, we were invaded by sea rats who sailed

inland.

179

They took many of us captive and put us to the oars of their galley. Some died

there, but I escaped. One night I slipped my chains and went overboard, just

south of Salamandastron. I swam ashore. Do you see those mountains? Well, I

couldn't cross them, so I walked around them. Ha, that took a season or two, I

can tell you. Eventually- I found my way to this place—the Great South Stream,

I call it. One day I'll go back to my village, where the shores and flatlands

meet the woods on the River Moss. Until then, well, here I am."

Martin put down his bowl. "Then you've seen Salamandastron?"

"Oh aye, passed it a few times when I was in the galleys," Log-a-Log agreed.

"Big mountain, fiery at night. Sea rats don't like it, though."

Martin nodded. "Yes, I've heard about the sea rats. My father went oif to

fight them up north. He was never heard of again. Tell me, Log-a-Log, do you

know the way to Salamandastron?"

The shrew pointed with a ladle. "Over those mountains and due west."

Dinny was stroking Grubwhacker. "Hurt, can 'ee go thurr by stream, Gloglog?"

The shrew paced the cave with his lips pursed. Silently they watched him.

Finally he stopped alongside Dinny and the beetle. Taking a loaf and a piece

of cooked fish, he placed them upon Grubwhacker's back, where they could be

carried without falling off. Log-a-Log patted his pet affectionately.

"Go on Grubwhacker," he told him. "Back to your missus and the little uns."

The beetle trundled oif obediently.

The shrew turned to Martin and his friends. "Right. Load the boat up with

supplies. I'll get the mast and sail ready to rig up."

Gonff stood up. "Why, matey, what are we supposed to be doing?"

Log-a-Log grunted as he heaved a heavy mast timber from the back of the cave.

"We're going to see if that old stream will take us under the mountain. That's

the shortest route to Salamandastron. I wouldn't chance it on my own, but now

that I *ve got a crew ..."