The rat tried to limp away, but Arula reeled him in on the bowstring until their faces were almost touching. She put her head on one side and grinned insanely at him.
"Oh, oi likes bein' mad, oi do! Sanken, can 'ee get oi sum
big wurms, smelly mud an' dedd wuddbeetles. Oi got a noice idea, hurr."
The rat went limp. He fell to the ground blubbering, "No, please, don't be mad with me! The fox's name is Dethbrush an' he's got five others with himtracker rats like myself. We're not killers, I swear it. Dethbrush serves in the horde of Lord Ferahgo the Assassin. We were going to the South Stream-to journey by water to the west shore and join up with Ferahgo. We were sent to bring back Dingeye an' Thura, but they're both dead. Dethbrush is takin' the sword as a gift to Ferahgo. That's all I know, I promise you. Don't hurt me, please!"
Arula looked crestfallen. "Doant say you'll take us'ns an' show us 'ee way, pleeze. Oi wants to 'ave moi fun!"
Tears streamed from the rat's eyes as he beseeched Sam-Iriro, "I'll show you every footpaw of the way. I'll show youonly please keep the mad mole away from me, sir."
"Oh well, all right." Samkim shrugged. "Tie him up to a ttee for the night, Arula, he can show us the way as soon as -it's light."
Samkim and Spriggat slept sitting against the log, but Arula as enjoying her new role as the terror of the woodlands. She snuggled up to the quivering rat, who was bound paw and - ';daw to an elm.
$*?: "Goo' noit, ratface. Doant wake oi up, it makes oi mad." j|v "No sleep for you yet, friend," Spriggat called across to JJArula. "First watch is yours. Remember what I said, always ..' BOB! a watch through the night. Samkim can take second and r Til take the dawn watchan ol' grubber like meself needs .fais sleep. Hope stayin' awake doesn't make ye too mad."
"Hurr, 'spect moi matey 'ere will tell 'ee if n oi gets mad." ; The rat slumped in his bonds and gave a despairing sob.
'' «.«
T That night Samkim dreamt of Martin the Warrior. The spirit
;% of Red wall held both his empty paws forth pleadingly. "Give $fte back my sword, Samkim. Do not let others use it for evil."
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Though his pale eyes showed no emotion, Farran the Poisoner knew he was in a dangerous position. Urthstripe and his fighters had returned from the fray; outside, the mountain was strewn with lifeless carcasses and groaning wounded. Ferahgo had called off his horde of Corpsemakers. Their losses were considerable, though not enough to make any great dent in numbers. Farran crouched in a dark corner of the passage between storeroom and dining hall, silently cursing the ill fortune that had caused his escape route to be cut off. From his hiding place the Poisoner could hear the badger Lord and his hares as they entered the dining hall. They talked of the battle they had won on the slopes of Salamandastron.
"Sapwood, I never gave permission for you to fight outside. You could have been killed by those rolling fire boulders."
"Not me, sir. Hi was well out the way by the time they started. Paw-ter-paw combat is me best style, beggin' y' pardon, but this shootin' arrows hout of winder slits an' rollin' boulders, that haint fer the like o' me. Face t' face with the enemy his wot I fancy. That's the way I fights best, sir."
"I know you do, Sergeant. From all I hear you gave a good
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account of yourself out therebut ask me before you do anything like that in future."
"Good fight though, wasn't it, sir?" The squeaky voice of a hare, no more than a leveret, reached the ears of Farran.
"Indeed it was, young Shorebuck. How do you feel after your first battle?"
"Tip-top, m'lud! I say, is that breakfast laid out for us? Fm jolly well starvin'."
Urthstripe chuckled good-humoredty. "I never knew a young hare that wasn't always hungry. Go to it, Shorebuck. Seeing as it was your first fight, you shall be the first to take breakfast."
Farran's pale eyes lit up momentarily. He listened to the young hare intently.
"Good show! Thank you, sir. Mmm, oatcakes, an' they're still a bit warm. Pass me the honey, Sergeant."
"Git it y'self, you young rip. I ain't waitin' on you tail 'n' paw."
Urthstripe's voice cut in again. "Oxeye, did we suffer any losses or injuries?"
"None reported, sah! A jolly old bloodless victory, wot? Though Windpaw never showed up at roll call after the skirmish. Still, I suppose she's got her head down in some quiet corner. That hare c'd sleep on a bally clothesline." " The next sound to reach Farran was that of a pottery bowl smashing on the floor and a chair falling over. .* "Shorebuck, what's the matter, old lad?" Bart Thistle-down's voice came through loud and urgent. "I say, looks Uke he's chokin' on a bit of scone. Lend a paw, you chaps!" , For the first time Farran showed some sign of emotion. His Jpaw struck the rock wall of his hiding place in disappointment. He had made the mixture too strong, his poison was .Working far too speedily. Other voices crowded in on the Ibx's ears. .'. "Give him somethin' t' drink, clear his throat!"
"No, hold him upside down, shake him and pound his
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"I can't, sir. The pore young un's all doubled up like ..."
"Out of my way, Sergeant! Here, give him to me. Shore-buck! Shorebuck! Come on, young feller. Stand up straight!"
"Stand aside, chaps. Let Seawood through. He's a healer!"
There was a momentary silence, then Urthstripe's anxious tones rang through the dining hall.
"What's the matter with him, Seawood?"
A pause followed, then Seawood's voice came through. He was sobbing softly. "He's dead! Young Shorebuck is dead, sir!"
"Dead? Surely not. Can't you do somethingherbs, a potion?"
"It's too late. Can't you see, sir! Look at the way his poor face is all twisted, and his body doubled up tight an' stiff. It's poison. I'd recognize it anywhere. Shorebuck's been poisoned!"
"It must have been somelhin' he's eaten, sir. The pore lid-die feller was right as rain a moment ago."
"Spot on, Sarge. He dashed t' that breakfast board like a bally young trooper after his first fight..."
Urthstripe's voice boomed through the dining hall. "Get away from that table! Don't touch the food!"
Ferahgo tossed his knife high in the air and caught it by the handle. He was in good spirits.
"Haha, what's thirty or forty creatures slain? There's always more where they came from. That's what soldiers are for, to kill or be killed. What's the matter with your face, backstabber?''
Klitch sat to one side with the four Captains, a scowl hovering around his blue eyes. "The whole thing was a waste of good fighting creatures."
Ferahgo flicked the knife. It stuck in the ground near his son's paw. "Oh dear dear. Friends of yours, were they? Are you sad because they were killed in the battle?"
Klitch ignored the dagger a fraction away from his footpaw. "Don't worry, old one, I'm not going soft. I couldn't give a
split acorn whether your whole horde lives or dies. I just think that getting Farran inside the mountain could have been done easier, with a whole lot less killed."
Doghead, a stoat Captain, was about to agree with Klitch when he saw the wicked smile forming in the blue eyes of ^the Assassin. Doghead looked at the ground and kept his comments to himself.