"That's right, three lashes each for every pawmark. If I were you, I'd rip me shirt up and wrap it round me pawssave yerself a lot of whipping."
The three slaves hurried to comply with the suggestion, tearing up the pitiful remnants of tattered shirts and bandaging their paws with the strips.
A thin gray rat with a patch over one eye came running. "Lord, the Darkqueerirs sails have been sighted."
"Where away?"
"To the north. She should drop anchor here by dawn."
Gabool stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Good, are the troops standin' ready, mate?"
"Aye, Lord. Five score to board the Darkqueen and sail her off once Saltar and his crew step ashore, fifty archers halfway up the cliff and a hundred more fully armed with pikes and spears to form his reception committee, just as you ordered."
"You've done well, Graypatch. Have a cup o' wine and some of these sweetmeats with me. Dawn will soon be here."
Graypatch pulled out a mean-looking dagger and tested its edge. "Last dawn Saltar'll ever see, eh, Lord."
"Aye, he can go and visit his brother Bludrigg at Hellgates, and you, me old shipmate, you can wear a velvet patch when you're Captain of the Darkqueen. Hey, you! Polish harder, put your skinny back into it."
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"Yes, Master." The unfortunate slave polished harder.
Gabool laughed. "Maybe you're hungry. D'you like eating fish?"
"Yes, master. I like eating fish."
Gabool winked at Graypatch as he called back to the dormouse slave. "Well, if you don't rub harder, the fish'll like eating you. Hahaha!"
The thin bodies of the slaves shook and quivered with effort as they rubbed and polished at the great bell with all their might. Gabool's jokes were not to be taken lightly.
Gabool and Graypatch took their wine and sweetmeats over to the window, where they could watch the Darkqueen sail in upon the tide.
Graypatch watched the savage Searat Ruler and reflected as he sipped his wine that Gabool was becoming more difficult to tread around. They had been ship-rats together since their young days, Gabool commanding, Graypatch obeyingthat was the way it had always been. However, for some time now Graypatch had been looking more to his own ends. When a Searat King began murdering his Captains on the slightest pretext, times were becoming perilous; now the patch-eyed rat was sure of it. Gabool was drunk with his own power and had become dangerous; anybeast could be slain at his whim. But not Graypatch. Offers of Captaincy and velvet patches did not impress himsuch offers could easily turn into a blade between the ribs if Gabool saw fit. In his fertile brain Graypatch began forming his own plans as he laughed and joked with his unpredictable companion, while all the time the Darkqueen rode the waves to Terramort.
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7
Dawn broke mistily over the dunes, promising another hot summer day. The mousemaid Storm awoke to find herself surrounded by toads. During the night the well she had dug had filled up with water, and all around Storm the toads were closing in on her and the precious water. She closed her eyes again, feigning sleep. Her paw grasped Gullwhacker, the knotted rope, as she watched them through partially closed eyes. It was a dangerous situation; many of the toads were armed with tridents. She waited until a large male natterjack was practically standing over her before springing into action.
Whop!
Gullwhacker came down with such a resounding force upon the toad's head that he was laid out senseless. Storm whirled the rope, shouting aloud. "Back off, slimyskins, or I'll whack you into the middle of next season!"
A huge overweight speckled toad hopped heavily forward, flanked by two tough-looking young ones armed with the fearsome three-pointed tridents. The fat one blinked several times, his throat bulging and quivering.
"Grroikl! This is our land, this is our water. Grrokk!
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You are not allowed to stop here. Go now or die, Oyka-mon has spoken. Rrrebb!"
Storm was not about to go and she did not mince her words. "You can speak all you want, fatface. This is my land and my water, this little bit right here. I am called Storm Gullwhacker. I come from the sea and I'm going nowhere. But I'll fight to stay here!"
Oykamon puffed himself up to full swell. "Grriokk! You are very insolent for a mouse. Krrrr! We are too many for you. If you fight you will die here. Grakk!"
Storm sprang forward with a yell, swinging her rope. The toads backed off slightly. She laughed scornfully.
"Right then, I'll die here, but I'll take a few of you with me. Well, come on, froggies. Who's first? Or are you going to sit there clicking and grocking until I die of old age!"
At a signal from Oykamon the toads advanced. Storm dipped the knotted end of Gullwhacker into the well water to make it heavier. Two toads sprang at her. Recklessly she jumped upon one, knocking the wind completely out of him as she scored a bull's-eye on his companion's snout with her weapon. Two more rushed from behind her. Storm thwacked at them wildly. As she did, one young toad ran in on her blind side and stabbed her footpaw with his trident. Maddened with pain, she hurled herself upon him, throttling with one paw and belaboring with the rope in the other. Now toads began hopping in on top of her, their weight carrying her to the ground, although she fought ferociously every bit of the way. Suddenly a cry rang from the dunetops.
"Eeeeuuulaliaaa!"
There was a croak of alarm from the attackers, followed by the pounding of swift paws. In the next moment toads were flying through the air like birds as three hares attacked with lance butts. Teeth bared and eyes wide, the three tall creatures moved with the practiced ease of natural fighters, their long ears streaming
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out behind them as they skillfully kicked with big supple hindlegs, each a sandy-colored seasoned warrior, brooking no nonsense from their flabby adversaries. Thudding, thwacking and tossing with immense energy, they drove the toads from Storm. Belaboring and punishing without once using their lance points, the hares defeated the toad band swiftly. Storm sat up nursing her wounded paw as the oldest of the hare trio strode lankily to the well.
"Good egg! I say, young 'un, is this your water? May I?"
Storm nodded dumbly. The hare drank his fill, spitting out the grit.
He pulled a wry face, and made a leggy old-fashioned bow. "Pshaw! Tastes pretty yucky, don't it. Allow me to introduce us. I am Colonel Clary, family name's Meadowclary, of course, but you can call me Clary, everybeast does. This young wag over here is none other than the celebrated Brigadier Thyme, and the young gel is our ward the Honorable Rosemary, Hon Rosie to you. Capital! Now, pray tell me whom I have the honor of addressing, marm, though you're a bit young to be a marm, aren't you."
Storm stood up, favoring her uninjured footpaw. She threw the rope across her shoulders, squinting at the odd trio.
"My name's Storm Gullwhacker. This is my Gullwhackerd'you like it?"
"Hmph!" Brigadier Thyme snorted through his stiffly waxed whiskers. "Adequate for the purpose, I suppose, but there's nothing like a lance butt for dealing with toads, young mouseyou take it from me."
The toads had begun to regroup indignantly. Oykamon repuffed himself.
"Grrogg! I will collect many more toads, we will be as many as the sands of the shore, then you will all die. Krrrrik!"
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Hon Rosie had an earsplitting laugh; every creature present winced as she launched into it.