Song grasped her Leafwood stick, Dippler and Dann drew their blades.
"No use runnin' from them, they'll only follow us. Let's do a bit of punishin' of our own, mates. Remember what Soil said, they're only bullies and cowards. Split up and go three ways!"
Song crawled off into the trees, toward where the stoat's last call had come from. She heard the whirl of a sling close by and the whoosh of a rock hurtling off toward their former position. A voice then, whispering low; it sounded like one of the weasels.
" 'Tis 'ard to see in this dark. Mebbe they've got away?"
"Nah, they'll still be there," the stoat replied, low but confident, "terrified out their wits, you wait'n'see. You take the left, you take the right, an' circle in on 'em. I'll go straight in. We'll 'ave 'em on three sides wid the stream at their backs, and then fer a bit o' sport, eh, cullies?"
Song hoped that her friends had heard. She stood up silently behind the broad trunk of a sycamore and held her breath. Within a hairsbreadth she sensed one of the weasels stalking by. She stepped out behind the dark shape and hit out with the greenstone-topped stick, slamming it square between the weasel's scraggy ears. He fell without a sound. Song placed her paw on his chest; he was stunned, but still alive. She hauled him into a sitting position, binding his paws behind him to the trunk of an ash with his own thonged sling. Then she undid the vermin's broad belt and gagged him with that.
Dippler lived by the code of the Guosim shrews, who seldom took prisoners. The weasel who had gone to the right met his end at the point of the young shrew's rapier.
Dann backtracked slightly, then stepped out in front of the stoat and took him completely by surprise. But the stoat was quick. He leapt to one side and began whining and pleading with the hard-eyed warrior with the deadly sword.
"'Twas nought but a joke, mate. Can't yer take a joke? We was jus' 'avin a bit o' fun wid youse ..."
Dann saw the stoat's dagger coming and dodged sideways. Then he leapt forward, striking down with the blade of Martin. The stoat fell with a shriek as Song and Dippler came charging through the trees.
"Dann, are you hurt, did you get him?"
Dann stayed the writhing stoat on the ground with his footpaw. "I'm all right. Unfortunately my aim was bad in the darkness, or this scum would've been dead now."
The stoat groaned, then spat viciously at Dann. "You wounded me bad, y'stupid young fool. Couldn't yer see 'twas only a joke? We wasn't goin' to 'urt yer!"
Dann placed his sword edge on the side of the stoat's neck. "One more word out o' yore lyin' mouth an' yore head'll be talkin' to y'tail. How's that for a joke, eh?"
Song nodded back into the woodland. "Knocked my vermin cold and left him gagged an' bound to a tree. How did you fare, Dipp?"
Dippler wiped his rapier with a pawful of grass. "Ole Guosim proverb, a dead enemy ain't an enemy no more!" Sheathing his blade he went to the boat, calling aloud, "Burb, 'tis me, Dipp. Y'can bring 'er inshore now, mate."
Dann took Song to one side. "What do we do with the stoat?" he said quietly. "I couldn't bring myself to kill him, and we can't just leave him here."
The squirrelmaid watched the writhing, groaning beast as she sought for a solution. "Go and get some rivermud. Leave this to me."
Dann fetched a good glob of mud from the shallows. Song knelt by the stoat, who was wounded deep in his right side. She tore off a strip of his tunic, slapped the mud on his injury and placed the torn tunic in a pad on top of it. "There, you'll live. Tomorrow you can free your friendhe's tied to an ash back there. Listen carefully to what I'm going to tell you, stoat."
The stoat sneered and cleared his throat as if he were about to spit at Song. She gave him a quick hard cuff to the face. "Spit at me and I'll leave you to my Guosim friend. You heard his rule about enemies. From now on you'll have to learn to live with yourself. No more bullying, stealing or villainy for you, stoat. With that wound you'll probably limp or walk bent for the rest of your days. My advice to you is to build yourself a home, grow your own food, or harvest it from the woodlands, fish, do what you will, but learn to lead a quiet honest life."
When Song arose the stoat lay sneering at her. "Leave me alone, squirrel. I knows 'ow t'lead me own life, see!"
Dann tugged her away from the wounded vermin. "Leave him. Somebeasts never learn. He'll be an idiot all his life an' end up a dead fool!"
It was not wise to stay any longer where they had camped. The four friends paddled off downstream and chose a campsite on the opposite bank. Too weary to do anything further, they dragged the Swallow onshore, overturned the boat and slept under it for the short remaining time until dawn.
Morning brought with it another bright summer day. Eager to be off, the travelers breakfasted hastily. Soon they were paddling along in the center of the wide stream. Sitting behind Burble, the young squirrelmaid could not help but notice the dark bruise at the base of his neck. "Take a rest if you need it, Burb. We'll do the paddling."
"No need fer that, thank ye, missie. I'm all right. Us River'ead voles are tough as ould oak trees. Yiss yiss, that's a fact!"
Dann shipped his paddle. "No need for any of us to paddle, matey," he called back to Song. "See 'ow fast this current's runnin'. May's well sit back an' rest. We'll only need paddles to steer round rocks'n'things."
By midmorning the green tunnel of overhanging tree branches was showing signs of thinning out. When noon arrived they were sorry the shade had been lost, for there was little respite from the blazing sun as the Swallow shot along on the swift stream. Dry arid scrub and rockstrewn banks, with little shrubbery growing in the dusty brown earth, stretched before them on both sides.
Now they needed the paddles. The broad, deep stream grew treacherous, and sharp stone pinnacles began to appear, some with heavy drifts of timber, washed down by the water, piled up against them. On either side the stone sides of the banks rose higher, banded umber and fawn, worn smooth by the rushing torrents. The Swallow's prow bobbed up and down as she sped between the steep walls of the gorge. There was little the travelers could do to arrest their furious progress. Dann and Dippler sat for'ard, plying their paddles this way and that to get the Swallow around the pinnacles, while Song consulted the rhyme Friar Butty had given her, speaking it aloud to Burble.
"Then when the sky shows blue and light,
And clear down to the bed you gaze,
Be not deceived by rainbows bright,
Beware tall stones and misted haze."
Song turned her eyes upward. "We're no longer in the green tunnel, so there's the sky showing blue and light. Is the water muddy or clear, Burb?"
"Ah, 'tis fast-runnin' as y'know, but still the stream's deep an' clear, yiss yiss, very clear, I see the bottom deep down."
"Great seasons, lookit the size o' those rocks ahead!"
They looked in the direction Dippler was pointing.
Two enormous rock pinnacles, their tops thick with vegetation, reared out of the water farther downstream like primitive sentinels. What lay beyond them was lost in a haze of mist formed by water spray shooting high as the stream divided three ways around the rock bases. The awesome spectacle was enhanced by a breathtakingly beautiful rainbow bridging the gorge.
Suddenly, Song seized her paddle, shouting out above the roaring waters, "Bring her in to the side. Find somewhere we can stop. Quickly!"
Backs bent and paddles digging deep, they fought the headlong current. Tacking and veering, drenched to the skin, the four friends battled to bring the frail vessel toward the high rock wall that formed one bank.
Burble spotted a possible place. "There, see, yiss yiss, there, where the rift is!"
Backing water madly, they checked the Swallow as she ran close to the towering cliff. All Dann could see for a moment was a wraithlike armored mouse, hovering in the mist ahead, his hollow voice blending with the roar of waters.