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.
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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 ..."
BOOK TWO
Salamandastron
180
Skipper hobbled into the dining room at Brockhali. He sat down with a sigh of
relief, rubbing his tail and paws.
Fortunata and Mask were clearing away the lunchtime dishes. The sly vixen
nodded toward Skipper and winked at her companion. Mask looked slightly
bemused, but Fortunata winked again as she sauntered over to the otter.
"What seems to be the trouble, sir?" she asked solicitously. "Is it an old
injury?"
Skipper shook his head and continued rubbing. "No, it's these pains I get in
me paws and tail. The minute I come out of the water, or even after a
rainshower these days, it starts throbbing right into me old bones. Ooh, the
pains, matey. It's agony!"
Fortunata crouched in front of Skipper. "Here, allow me to take a look, sir.
I'm a healer of pains.''
First she stroked the fur on Skipper's paws, then she probed , and tested with
her claws. The otter put on a fine display of anguish.
"Ow, ooch," he exclaimed. "That's it, right there. You touched the very spot."
The vixen stroked her whiskers, looking very professional. *'Hmm, yes, I think
you've got a touch of the stiffeners," she told him.
Skipper expressed concern. "The stiffeners? Float me tail, is that bad?"
183
Fortunata shook her head gravely. "It will be, if you let it get any worse.
I've seen otters bent double with the stiffen-ers. Very, very, painful
indeed.'*
"Can you cure me, Besomtail?" he asked.
Fortunata leaned against the table. "Feverfew, wormwood, extract of nightshade
leaf to stop the pain, that's what you need. Plus, of course, a few other
items that I don't normally carry with me."
"But you can get them?" Skipper asked hopefully.
Fortunata smiled at Mask. "Well, I suppose so. Though I'll have to go out into
the woods to gather them. What d'you say, Patchcoat?"
Mask had caught on to the scheme. "Right, Besomtail," he said. "We'd better go
out into the woodlands and hunt for the stuff. After all they Ve done for us
here, it'd be a shame to watch this poor otter suffer when we can help him."
Fortunata kept her voice light and casual. "Of course we'd need a couple of
helpers, creatures that aren't needed for other duties. What about those two
little hedgehogs? I'll bet they'd love a romp in the woods."
Spike and Posy (disguised as Ferdy and Coggs) were eager to help. Goody
Stickle wiped their snouts with her apron corner.
"Now mind you, don't go a botherin* the healers," she warned them. "Behave
yourselves like two liddle gen-tle'ogs."
Fortunata patted them gingerly on their heads. "Oh, they'll be just fine with
old Patchcoat and me, marm."
The healer and her assistant strode off, in the wake of the two small
hedgehogs who scampered playfully ahead. Mask hitched the medicine bag around
his neck as he trudged along with the vixen.
"Here, Besomtail, what are you up to now?" he asked. "I thought we were
supposed to escape back to Kotir and tell this Queen of yours where the
woodlanders are hiding out."
Fortunata ducked an overhanging branch. "That's exactly what we're going to
do, Patchcoat, but there's no harm in bringing back a couple of escaped
prisoners while we're about it. You wait and see. It'll be an extra feather in
both our caps,
184
though I'd hate to be one of those young hedgehogs when Tsarmina has them back
under her claws."
Mask felt a cold hatred for the cruel vixen, but long practice had taught him
to keep a straight face.
Fortunata watched the two little ones tussling happily in the loam. "We'll get
the credit for them, eh, mate."
"You'll get what's coming to you today." Mask's voice had sunk to a grim
whisper.
Fortunata only half-heard her strange companion. "Eh, what's that?"
Mask looked around him. "I said, I'm not sure if this is the way."
"Oh no, don't tell me we're lost," Fortunata groaned.
Mask pointed to a fork in the trail. "No, wait a moment, it's one of these two
paths. Listen, I'll take this path to the right and keep an eye on these
hedgehogs. You take the one to the left. If it's the real trail, you'll come
across a fallen beech. Give me a call. If I find the beech on my trail, I'll
give you a yelp."
Fortunata parted from them, calling out to the hedgehogs, "Be good, little
ones. Stay with Uncle Patchcoat. I'll see you later."
When the vixen was gone, Mask sat on a chestnut stump. He gave Spike and Posy
a sugared hazelnut each.
"You're not really our Uncle Patchcoat, are you?" Posy giggled.
Mask patted her gently. "No, I'm not. And Besomtail isn't your aunt. But I
don't think we'll be seeing her again."
Spike stared gravely at the otter. "Can we call you Mr. Mask again?"
Mask gave them his canteen to drink from. He wiped nut fragments from their
faces with his false tail.
"Not until we're saie back at Brockhall tonight," he said firmly. "Pretend for