bit of roaming in her time. Huh, talkin* of time, I think it's nearly run out
for young Gonff if he doesn't show himself soon."
Even at this early morning hour the warmth from the sun had lulled old Argulor
into a drowsy sleep. The eagle perched high in a spruce, partially leaning
against the trunk. In his sleep he groaned pleasurably, ruffling his plumage
slightly to let the glorious warmth seep through to his ancient flesh and cold
bones. If only there was a place that had no cold winter or damp windy autumn,
just eternal spring followed by summer. Life passed Argulor by as he slept the
day through on his perch. It passed by more importantly in the forms of an
otter and a squirrel leading a band of robed mice directly beneath the very
tree where he slumbered.
It would have been hard to tell who was more surprised, the escaping prisoners
or the wildcat and her minions.
Immediately they collided, Tsarmina gave a yowl of rage and more by luck than
judgment seized Gonff's leg. This was followed by a more anguished yowl as
Martin whipped the blade from GonfF's belt and stabbed Tsarmina sharply in the
paw, forcing her to release his friend.
"Follow me!" Martin grabbed Gonff and ran back up the stairs, giving Fortunata
a good slash across the rump with the blade as he went. The vixen collided
with Ashleg, and they fell in a jumble. Tsarmina tripped over them. She
struggled to extricate herself, screaming curses and raking the un-- lucky
pair with her claws.
"Blockheads, idiots, out of my way."
Martin and Gonff dashed headlong down the hall. Taking die door to the right,
they dived inside, slamming it shut behind them.
It was the late Lord Greeneyes' bedchamber. With the shouts of their pursuers
ringing closer the escapers scuttled for cover beneath the large canopied bed.
"We cant stay here long!" Martin panted as he felt about In the darkness and
found Gonff's paw.
U'
" 45
"Don't worry, matey. Get ready to make a bolt when I shout."
There was no further opportunity for conversation, as the door banged open.
Tsarmina pushed her creatures before her and closed the door. She was licking
her wounded paw. Fortu-nata, who had suffered a loss of dignity, tried not to
rub at her wounded rump. Ashleg stumped about, trying to sound helpful.
"At least we know we've got them cornered in here somewhere."
"Somewhere," echoed Fortunata. "But where?"
Tsarmina lowered her voice as she called the other two close. "We don't know
how much those mice overheard. They must not leave this room alive. Let us
search every corner thoroughly.''
Stretched out flat beneath the bed, Martin could see the paws of their
pursuers. He watched as they dispersed in separate directions, then turned
toward Gonff.
In the name of mice! That little thief was the absolute limit. Gonff had
actually closed his eyes and appeared to be napping. Martin prodded him
urgently. The three hunters were getting closer to the bed as other hiding
places were discounted.
"Ashleg, have you checked those wall hangings properly?"
"Yes, Milady. Maybe they're up on top of the bed canopy."
The pine marten was actually leaning against the side of the bed now. Gonff
patted Martin reassuringly as he wriggled silently past him. The warrior mouse
could only watch in dumb suspense as his daring little friend went to work.
Gonff carefully pulled the end of Ashleg's long cloak beneath the bed, slitted
it expertly with his blade and crawled a short way toward the bedhead, where a
tall, heavy folding screen stood to one side. Working quickly, he tied the
slit ends of the unsuspecting marten's cloak around one leg of the screen.
Gonff did three things almost in one movement. He pricked Ashleg's good paw
viciously with his blade, grabbed Martin and shot from beneath the bed,
roaring as they went.
"There they go! Stop 'em!"
Pandemonium ensued. Ashleg screamed and lurched for-
46
ward. The heavy screen went with him; it tottered and fell. Tsarmina managed
to leap out of the way, but the vixen was not so lucky, she was struck by the
screen. Half-stunned, she pushed it away. The cumbersome screen toppled
sideways into the fireplace, falling directly into the grate, which held the
embers of a previous night's fire. In a trice the room was a thick choking
mess of ashes, cinders, dust and smoldering embers.
Martin and Gonff pushed the door open. Two weasel guards who had heard the
noise in passing came thundering into the room as Martin and Gonff hurried
past them out into the hall. Behind them the shouts reached a crescendo as
unprotected paws came in contact with a floor strewn with red-hot embers.
This time Martin took the lead as they went straight down the hall and through
the door at the opposite end.
They found themselves in an upper messroom full of soldiers, stoats, ferrets,
and weasels, all eating breakfast at a long trestle table with a window at one
end. Taken completely by surprise, the soldiers sat gaping at the two
fugitives.
"Stop those mice! Kill them!" Tsarmina's enraged shouts reached them as she
ran toward the mess.
Gonff sized up the situation at a glance: the unexpected was called for.
Without a second thought he pulled Martin with him. They ran across the room,
bounded from a vacant seat up onto the tabletop and dashed madly along it,
scattering food, drink and vessels everywhere as they went. Together the thief
and the warrior leaped through the open window into empty space with a loud
defiant shout.
' * Yaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!''
Skipper and Amber both heard the cry.
So did Argulor.
It came from the north side of Kotir, not far from where the woodlander
squirrel scout stood perched in a tree. He bounded down and made his report to
Amber. "It's Gonff, but there's another mouse with him. They jumped from the
upper barracks window."
"We'd better get round there. Are they hurt?"
"No, but talk about lucky, they landed right in the foliage of a big old yew
growing on that side."
Amber leaped up. "Get Beech and the others. We'll have
47
to get them out of there double quick. Skipper, you bring the crew and give us
cover."
Argulor launched himself from his spruce, flapping ponderously. Once he was
airborne his natural grace and ability took over. Circling to gain height, he
squinted over to where the sounds had come from. The yew's upper foliage was
shaking. The eagle soared downward to see if it was anything edible.
Inside the messroom, Tsarmina laid about herself with a sturdy wooden ladle.
"Don't stand gawping, you dimwitted toads! Someone get out there and capture
them!"
There was an immediate stampede to grab weapons and buckle armor on. Nobody
seemed disposed to leap out of the window, though they all tried to look as if
they were helping in some way.
Tsarmina Hailed the ladle about in a fury. Suddenly a bright young stoat, more
reckless than his comrades, saw a chance to distinguish himself in the eyes of
his mistress. He bounded up onto the table.
"Leave it to me, Milady. I'll stop them." Striking a gallant pose, the stoat
ran to the window ledge and stood nerving himself for the leap.
Argulor soared low, close to the yew. His rheumy eyes could not distinguish
much between the crisscross branches. He was about to abandon hope of a quick
meal and turning away on his huge wing span, when suddenly a fat juicy stoat