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