to hear the cries of their foes as Snake-fish did his grisly work.
The newt felt the stump of his new growing tail.
"What's happening down there? Has the Snakefish gone to sleep?" he snarled.
Deathcoil stretched leisurely on the ground. "Patience! Have you ever known
any -creature to escape what happens in the Screamhole? Snakefish is probably
feeling sluggish from lying in that muddy water for so long. He'll liven up
when the hunger drives him. You'll see. Sit down here and wait a bit."
The unsavory pair stretched out side by side.
They had been dozing for some considerable time when the earth beneath them
began trembling.
Deathcoil pulled to one side, rearing up. "Did you feel that? The ground's
shaking."
The newt scampered out of the trembling area. "Quick, let's get out of here."
His companion slithered behind. "No, wait, it's only in that one spot," he
called out. "The ground is quite still over here. Let's get behind that rock
and see what happens."
In a short while, two digging claws and a moist snout broke
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through the ground surface. Young Dinny emerged from the earth, shaking soil
from his coat. Going to the edge of the Screamhole well, he called down,
"Doant wurry, soon 'ave ee outen thurr, ho urr."
The spies behind the rock slithered away to inform Marsh-green and his toads
of what they had seen.
Tsarmina slept heavily after the night spent in Mossflower Woods. The
nightmare visited her dreams again; once more she was engulfed by cold, dark,
rushing water. It flooded her senses as she fought feebly against the muddy
engulfing tide that filled nostrils, ears and eyes. At the very moment when
she felt all was lost and drowning was inevitable, she came awake with a
start. Stumbling heavily, she slumped on the floor, pawing the solid stones to
reassure herself. Stone was real; it was good. These stones belonged to her,
Queen of the Thousand Eyes. She looked gratefully at the floor.
That was when she saw the pawprints in the dust.
Two mice and two moles!
Fortunately, Ashleg was halfway up the chamber stairs when he heard the Queen
screeching his name. As quickly as his wooden limb would allow, he hop-skipped
the remainder of the distance. Bursting into the chamber, Ashleg found himself
confronting a Tsarmina he had not encountered before. The wildcat sat on the
floor, hunched up in a cloak that had once belonged to her father. She was
rocking back and forth, gazing intently at the stone floor.
Ashleg closed the door and bowed apprehensively.
"Your Majesty?"
Tsarmina did not look up. "Mice and moles. Search this room for mice and
moles."
"Immediately, Milady."
Ashleg did not stop to question the order. Knowing how dangerous Tsarmina's
mood could become, he set about the task. Peering into the cupboards, looking
beneath the table, behind the wall hangings and drapes, the pine marten
searched the entire room thoroughly.
*'No mice or moles here, Milady," he reported.
Tsarmina sprang up, pointing imperiously at the door. *'Then go. Search the
whole of Kotir!"
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Ashleg saluted and hobbled swiftly to the door.
"No, wait!"
He halted, not sure of which way to turn next. Tsarmina was smiling at him.
Ashleg gulped visibly as she put a paw about his shoulders.
"Ashleg, where is Gingivere?"
"He escaped, Majesty. You followed him yourself," he replied, puzzled.
"Oh, come now, you don't fool me," Tsarmina chuckled, almost good-naturedly.
"First it was those two hedgehogs that escaped—but they didn't really, they
were here ail the time. Then there was the fox who was really an otter. Now my
very own room is covered in the tracks of woodlanders. Come on, out with it,
old friend, you can tell me."
Ashleg began to be very frightened. "Milady, I'm sorry, but I don't know what
you're talking about. I'm only Ashleg. I served your father faithfully and now
I obey and serve only you."
Tsarmina smiled knowingly. "Completely loyal to all my family, eh, Ashleg?"
"Oh yes, indeed, Milady."
The murderous claws shot out, burying themselves into the pine marten's
shoulder through the feathered cape he wore. Tsarmina's whiskers brushed
against his face as she snarled, "So, that's it. You're helping my brother
now. Gingivere never really escaped, did he? It was all a trick. He's still
here with those woodlanders. They're turning my army against me. Maybe he was
with me all the time I was in the forest looking for him. Ha, he's a sly one,
that brother of mine. I'll bet it was him who pushed me into the water when
the otters loosed the big pike . . . Ugh!"
Ashleg's face was a mask of frozen agony. The claws dug deeply in him, blood
was staining his cloak.
Suddenly Tsarmina released him and scrubbed furiously at herself with the
cloak she was wearing.
"Uuuuuhhhh, deep, cold, slimy, dark water," she muttered incoherently.
Ashleg backed quietly out of the chamber. The wildcat was oblivious to his
departure; she was battling the watery torrents in her imagination.
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As the pine marten hobbled swiftly down the stairs, his Queen's ravings echoed
about the spiral stairwell.
"Stay away! Stay away! You won't get me. I won't come near the water.''
Ashleg's mind was made up: he could not stop a moment longer. Tsarmina was a
mad Queen. Kotir was a place of danger to those who stayed there.
The late afternoon sun poured down over the ramparts of Kotir. Silence made it
frightening to the departing Ashleg; the large areas of dark shadow and sunlit
stillness unnerved him. He had cast aside the plumed scarlet cape, exchanging
it for a dull brown homespun cloak. Hurrying across the deserted parade
ground, Ashleg slipped through the gates and began walking south—away from
Tsarmina, Mossflower and dreams of ambitious conquest. Maybe there was
somewhere under a different sky where he could find a new way of life; maybe
somewhere there were friends waiting who knew how to live simply, without
delusions of grandeur.
Perched in his high spruce, Argulor opened one eye. Never too proud to
scavenge, the eagle had satisfied his hunger with the results of the
confrontation at the river. Argufor's eye closed again lazily. Feeling full
and tired, he slept on in the mistaken hope that everything comes to him who
waits.
Ashleg had flown the coop; that is, if a pine marten with a wooden leg does
ever fly.
Dinny counted himself lucky. He had found the woven rush net that had carried
them to Screamhole. Securing one end to a tree root, he pushed the remainder
over the edge of the pit.
"Yurr below, grab'n old of 'ee net, Marthen."
Unfortunately the net fell short of the travelers' grasp.
From above, the mole's voice was calling urgently, "Burr, 'asten now. Oi 'ears
they toadbags a-cummen."
Gonff jumped up and down with frustration. "Think of something quick, mateys!"
Snakefish poked his massive head up. "Sit on my head. I think I can reach it!"
"What? Not likely!" Log-a-Log backed into the cave.
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"Urry, they'm nearly yurr!" Dinny called.
Sitting at the edge of the cave, Martin placed his paws on the huge reptilian
head and braced himself against the skull ridge beneath the smooth skin.
"Push me up, SnakefishE"
The great eel thrust upward, slid back slightly, then with a colossal effort
reared out of the water and shot up like a bolt. Martin grasped the net,
keeping his purchase on the eel's head.