duties in full pack on half-rations mean. Do I make myself clear?"
The weasel banged his spearbutt resoundingly against the floor. "Very clear,
sah!"
"Right. Lead me to the wildcat's cell, then get back about your duties," Mask
ordered sternly.
"Follow me, sah!"
Gingivere heard the rapid paws marching down the passage. With practiced ease
he slung Ferdy and Coggs up into their haversacks and sat on the floor,
looking forlorn.
The wildcat gaped vacantly through the bars at the evil-looking fox on the
other side of the door grille.
When the sentry departed, Mask held up a paw to forestall questions. "I am the
Mask. The Corim sent me to free you. Are the hedgehogs with you?"
"Yes."
"Good. Then be ready tonight."
"You mean we're getting out tonight?" Gingivere asked incredulously.
"Aye, if I can swing it. Tell Chibb there must be a good force of woodlanders
waiting in the thickets on the east side. I Ve got to go now. Be ready
tonight." Mask strode off down the passage, every inch the Captain of Kotir.
Ferdy and Coggs made the haversacks dance and wriggle.
"Hooray, we're going home tonight!"
"Who was that, Mr. Gingivere? Was it a fox?"
"You tell me, little Coggs. How the Corim could employ any creature so
evil-looking, is beyond me."
"Look at me, Mr. Gingivere. Do I look evil?" Ferdy called, sticking his snout
out of the haversack. "I can, you know. All I do is shut one eye and pull my
snout to the left, like this."
"By the fur, you're frightening the life out of me, Ferdy. Best leave your
snout alone or it'll stick like that."
"Can we come down to play, Mr. Gingivere, please," Coggs pleaded.
"Not right now. Try and get some sleep up there. I'll call you when Mr. Mask
gets back tonight. We'll need to be
194
bright and alert if we're to make it back to your friends and family in
Mossflower."
Martin was astonished by the size of Lord Cayvear's domain. Bat Mountpit was
vast and impressive, with chasms, tunnels, streams, caves, waterfalls, and
underground lakes. Lord Cay-vear pointed out his tribe. Those not searching
for Gonff were farming great areas of edible roots, mushrooms and subterranean
plants, while others fished the lakes.
But there was still no trace of Gonff the mousethief. Having climbed upward in
the search, they spanned the high cave galleries, leading off a central
pathway that rose steeply. At the top Lord Cayvear stopped. He turned, barring
the path with outstretched wings.
"We go no further, no further," he stated.
Martin pointed upward. "But, Lord Cayvear, I'm certain I can see the glimmer
of daylight up ahead.''
The great bat was unmoved. "So you can, Martin. So you can. The outside world
may be reached from up there, but none may venture further. There is a large
bird of prey roosting higher up, far bigger than any bat. It is a killer. Many
of my bats who went up that way were never seen again, never seen again."
• Martin gave one last dejected look at the slim shaft of light and
turned back.
The little bats were curious and delighted with Dinny. They were under the
impression that the mole was a fat bat without wings. Dinny liked the idea.
"Ho urr, batmousen. Oi do fly under 'ee soil. That's as *ow oi wore moi wings
out wi' all that diggen."
The little bats laughed. "Mr. Dinny, you are funny, ftmny!"
Martin called Dinny and Log-a-Log together to discuss . their position.
"As I see it, there's one way into Bat Mountpit, and that's the way we came
in. As for the way out, it's a high passage with an opening, but it's barred
by some large bird of prey. Even Lord Cayvear fears to go up there."
"Burr, do 'ee say wot sort of burdbag it be?" Dinny asked.
-. Martin shrugged. "That I don't know, Din. I only hope
I
195
poor Gonff wasn't taken by it. Listen, we must find a way past that bird to
continue the quest. Gonff would have wished it."
Log-a-Log was not optimistic. "If the big bird could kill Lord Cayvear, what
chance would we have?"
Martin unwound his sling. "Still, we've got to give it a try."
"You'm caint do it wi* slings, Marthen. But if yon burdbag is 'igh up, then oi
knows an ole mole trick to cave 'im out," Dinny promised.
Lord Cayvear materialized out of the gloom. "How would you do it? What is your
plan, your plan?"
"Urr, oi get'n b'neath *im an* dig away 'ee nest, then push so it fall
out'ards down 'ee mounting," the mole explained.
Lord Cayvear flapped his wings and flew upward, hanging upside down by his
claws.
"Can you do it, do it?" His voice was an excited hiss.
Martin patted Dinny on the back. "Lord Cayvear, if this mole says he can do
it, then rest assured, he can. Come on, we can given him some assistance."
Darkness had scarcely fallen over the woodlands. Treetops were touched by the
fires of the setting sun, and evening birdsong was thinning out to the last
few warblers. The thickets at the east side of Kotir were packed with
squirrels and otters, each one personally paw-picked by Skipper and Lady
Amber. The two leaders listened to reports coming in.
"Squirrels ready, marm; archers in the low branches. Beech and Pear along with
Barklad and Springpaw, waiting to whirl the young uns off through the treetops
to Brockhall."
"Full crew standing by, Skip. Bula and Root to one side in case we need
decoys. All otters fully loaded—slings and javelins. We'll give 'em plenty to
think about if it comes to a fight."
They lay in wait, watching the night grow older.
Bella and the Stickles, plus the Loam hedge mice, had stayed behind at
Brockhall, the Co rim decision being that this was a mission for the swiftest
and most warlike.
Inside Kotir, Mask made his way down to the cell areas. Inwardly, the otter
shuddered after his interview with the
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v wildcat Queen. Tsarmina's grisly plan for victory over the woodlanders did
not bear thinking about: enslavement, death and imprisonment. Nor did the
expression of fiendish delight upon her face every time she talked of
separating woodland families, locking infants in cells as hostages, wreaking a
murderous revenge on otters and squirrels, putting the old and infirm out to
the fields as enforced labor.
Mask went about his perilous game with a new determination.
Torches glittered in the brackets on the walls of the dismal cell passages.
The stoat on sentry duty had been warned of the bad-tempered Captain
Patchcoat. He had prepared himself well, even sweeping his part of the passage
with a broom.
At the sound of the Captain's approach, the stoat came smartly to attention,
awaiting orders. Mask came briskly along the passage.
"Hmmm, that's a bit more like it. Straighten that spear up " a touch," he
said, inspecting the sentry. "Good, anything to report?''
"All in order, Cap'n."
"Right. Get your keys out. The Queen wants a word with the traitor Gingivere."
"But Cap'n," the sentry gulped nervously, "Her Majesty gave strict orders that
he was never to be mentioned again, only fed and kept under lock and key.
That's what she said."
"Well, she's the Queen, mate," Mask chuckled, patting
the stoat's paw. "If she decides to change her mind, who are
you and I to say different? We're only common soldiers. But
I like your style; you've a lot more sense than the buffoon
who was on duty here earlier. You take your orders from me,
i soldier, and I'll see to it that you wear a Captain's cloak