39
SAGITAR DID AS she was bidden. Late night lay still and heavy from the day’s tropical heat when she arrived at the Emperor’s throne room. Six Trident-rats accompanied her, each one armed with a bow and quiver of shafts. Ublaz awaited them, clad regally in an umber robe bordered with silver filigree work and wearing a turban of dark green with silver fringes.
At the centre of the room a small wood log stood on its end. Ublaz directed the archers, one to each corner of the vast room, one by the window and one by the door. Moving himself and Sagitar out of the line of fire, he instructed the archers.
‘I have raised my paw, thus. When I drop it you will shoot at the log. I want to see six arrows sticking from the log. Arm your bows and await my signal.’
There was a swift rattle of wood as the rats set shafts to their bowstrings. Ublaz saw they were ready; he dropped his paw.
Ssssssthunk!
Six arrows thudded into the log before it fell, propped up by two of the shafts. The Emperor’s mad eyes creased into a smile. ‘Excellent! Sagitar will show you your positions. Be watchful and stay well hidden. Tomorrow you will see me meeting with the fox Rasconza. As I move towards him I will hold up my paw in greeting. When I let it drop I will also fall flat to the ground. That is your signal to shoot the arrows. I need not tell you that all six shafts must find their mark, or none of you will be alive to see the sunset. Finish the task properly and you will all be well rewarded. Go now!’
Bowing low, the archers followed Sagitar out.
Down in the small cellar chamber Ublaz donned his crown with its six vacant pearl spaces still empty. He held the torch level, watching as the coral snake slithered sinuously out of its water trough, glimmering gold in the torchlight. Gliding effortlessly across the floor, it reared dangerously in front of him, mouth open and fangs bared, beady eyes focused on him as he started to sway and chant in dirgelike tones.
‘Golden guardian of my wealth,
Hear me now, be still,
Deathly fang and coiling stealth,
Bend unto my will.’
The snake hissed, its dark flickering tongue vibrating as it drew back to strike. The eyes of Ublaz grew wider as he kept up his steady chant, swaying, swaying. Then the snake began to move in unison with Ublaz, weaving smoothly to and fro as he swayed.
Gradually the pine marten exercised his power over the serpent; it sank down into bunched coils, both eyes filming over, the venomous mouth relaxed and closed. Ublaz stroked the snake’s head once, then turned and departed the room. The two guards on the door could hear his voice echoing back down the stairway as he made his way back to the throne room.
‘None can stand against Ublaz, my eyes conquer all, my will is stronger than that of any living thing. I rule, others obey!’
Midday sun burned like a great blazing eye upon the shallow valley in the centre of Sampetra. On the ridge of a rolling hill searats and corsairs crowded, watching the lone figure of Rasconza standing bold and unarmed, awaiting the arrival of his adversary.
Atop the opposite hill a regiment of Trident-rats were marshalled. Ublaz left his position at their centre and made his way down towards the fox. Wisely, Rasconza kept his eyes averted slightly to one side as the pine marten approached. Less than a dozen paces from Rasconza, Ublaz threw up his paw and called out in a voice laden with false cheer, ‘Ah, Rasconza, there you are, friend. Greetings!’
Now Ublaz was less than four paces away; he fell to the ground.
Silence. Looking up, he saw Rasconza, eyes still averted, chuckling.
‘You got to watch yore step round ’ere, matey,’ said the fox, “tis dangerous ground. Only last night six rats tripped an’ fell on their arrows, but they could be pardoned fer bein’ clumsy, ’cos it was still dark.’
Ublaz leapt up and was dashing back towards his regiment as Rasconza waved to the sea vermin and roared, ‘Charge!’
They poured down from the hill, cheering and shouting as they brandished a fearsome assortment of weaponry.
Surrounded by his Trident-rats, Ublaz fled back to the palace in shameless disorder. Robbed of his surprise plan, the pine marten was seething with rage. He broke clear and dashed ahead of his regiment’s panicked retreat. Far speedier than any of the Trident-rats, Ublaz raced on with one thought uppermost in his mind. Had Rasconza secretly sent a force round in a wide sweep, to gain control of the palace? He had left it with only Sagitar and the remaining Monitors to guard it.
The first wild rush of the Wave Brethren subsided to a steady lope as, still yelling bloodcurdling cries, they continued in Ublaz’s wake. Rasconza jogged along in their midst, a villainous smile fixed on his wily face as he called out to Groojaw and Buckla.
‘Haharr, lookit ’em go, like frightened chicks with an eagle on their tails. Run, Mad Eyes, run, y’swab!’
The steersrat Guja, who had not been privy to his leader’s plans, looked questioningly over at the fox. ‘But Cap’n, why aren’t we chargin’ faster? We could’ve beaten ’em in an open battle with our numbers!’
Rasconza winked craftily and chuckled. ‘Aye, may’ap we would, matey, but it would’ve been a great slaughter an’ who knows ’ow many of us would’ve fallen to those long tridents. My way’s better, Guja; now we’ll ’ave the mighty Emperor just where we want ’im, outsmarted an’ isolated!’
Ublaz was astounded to find his palace unharmed. Monitors held open the gates as he hurtled in ahead of his pawsore followers. Straight through to the throne room he hastened, to find Sagitar and a Monitor called Flaggard surveying the harbour from the window. The pine marten slowed, regulating his breath, allowing himself a brief smile of relief.
‘So, the seascum did not attempt any attack here. How foolish of Rasconza, he might have taken this place in my absence.’
Sagitar pointed down to the deserted jetty. ‘Sire, after you had left a small force of them sailed in to the jetty aboard the vessel Freebooter. They have made it seaworthy again. They towed away all the ships that were docked there, from right under our noses. Lord, they laughed at us and waved their swords in the air. It was as if they knew that we could not desert the palace and go outside to do battle with them.’
Ublaz dismissed the Monitor with a nod, then poured wine for Sagitar. His mind was forming a plan even as the wine gurgled into the two goblets. Sagitar looked slightly bemused that her master was not angry. He gazed at the empty harbour and nodded.
‘The fox has won a battle, but I will win the war. Come!’
Rasconza and his vermin stood on the rocks, a safe distance away from the rear of the palace. Guja the steersrat perched on top of a rocky outcrop, his keen eyes watching the high back wall of the building.
Then Rasconza addressed his captains and their crews.
‘Ole Mad Eyes is trapped like a rat in ’is own cage now, buckoes, he ain’t got nowheres t’go. We got the ships, so we rule the seas. We got the island too. Looks like we’re in charge as long as Ublaz is bottled up in there. Any signs o’ movement, Guja?’
Shielding his eyes, the steersrat peered towards the wall. ‘Nah! . . . Wait! Aye, there ’e is, ole Mad Eyes ’isself, an’ the rat Sagitar too if’n I ain’t mistaken. Hah! Sagitar’s got a bow an’ arrow. Look out, she’s about to shoot!’
Rasconza flicked his favourite dagger high, catching it as it spun downward. ‘Hoho! They kin fire shafts all day, we’re well out o’ range!’
The arrow cut the air in a high arc, dipping to hit the ground far short of the Wave Brethren.
Rasconza nudged a couple of rats. ‘They ain’t shootin’ to slay nobeast, that’s some kind o’ message. Go an’ fetch it, mates, we’ll see wot Ublaz has t’say.’
Rasconza read aloud the message written on a parchment attached to the arrow.
‘The five ships you have are useless without rudders and tillers. I still hold the timber stock needed to repair them. At dawn tomorrow I will meet you where this arrow fell to earth. I will come alone, unarmed, ready to reach an agreemen
t. My compliments to your skill as a leader and an adversary. I do not wish any further enmity to you; we will make peace and rule together.
Ublaz’
Rasconza tied a red silken kerchief to a speartop and waved it back and forth, signalling agreement to the meeting. As he did so, he said to his captains, ‘So, wants to talk peace, does ’e? Haharr, I’d trust that ’un like I’d trust you lot with a keg o’ grog. But never fear, buckoes, I knows wot Mad Eyes is up to, an’ I’m ready!’
Ublaz tied his green silk kerchief to Sagitar’s bow and waved heartily in reply as he gave instructions to his Chief Trident-rat.
‘This time there will be no mistakes. You have your orders.’
Sagitar averted her eyes from the mad hypnotic stare. ‘Sire, your orders will be carried out.’
The pine marten continued waving the kerchief, his voice laden with menace.
‘Fail me this time and your trident shall be fixed to the jetty, Sagitar. With your head mounted upon it!’
40
IT TOOK QUITE some time for the Abbot to muster up his courage and uncover his eyes. Lowering the blanket slowly, he peeped out at the head of Lask Frildur protruding through the smashed panel of the cabin door. Durral sat fascinated with horror, staring at the big lizard’s head, until gradually the truth dawned upon him. There was no foul-smelling breath, the mouth was loosely open and the reptilian eyes were glazed over, half closed. Then the old mouse heard the drip drip onto the floor from a hideous slash beneath the scaly chin, right across the neck . . .
The Monitor General was dead!
Durral began to shake all over, his frail body quivering with relief. Slowly he rose and ventured towards the door.
‘Hello, is anybeast out there?’ he called.
A low, hoarse voice answered. ‘Ahoy, mouse, ’tis yer old messmate Romsca. Open the door!’
Fearfully, the Abbot shifted the table that had been wedging the door. Trying not to look at the slain monster he unbarred the shutter, pulling inward. Hampered by the weight of the Monitor the door sagged open; Durral hurried past the dead lizard, out onto the open deck.
Romsca sat with her back to the mast, a cutlass clutched loosely in her paws. With an effort she lifted her head and smiled weakly at the Abbot. ‘You ain’t goin’ t’start callin’ me yore child, are yer?’
Durral shook his head numbly, trying to ignore the scene of carnage around him. Deadbeasts were draped everywhere on the silent ship as it ploughed the watery wastes – from the masts, over the rails and on the deck, from stem to stern. Waveworm resembled a floating slaughter house. Romsca’s head fell forward and the cutlass slipped from her grasp, her voice half chuckle, half gurgle.
‘Pretty, ain’t it? There’s only you’n’me left, Durral.’
Hurrying to the corsair’s side, the Abbot cradled her head, using the blanket he had brought with him as a pillow.
‘Friend, you’re hurt!’ he cried.
Romsca’s head lolled against Durral’s stained habit. ‘Aye, that’s the truth, bucko, but I fixed ole Lask good’n’proper, didn’t I! Aaahhh! Don’t move me, there’s only this mast holdin’ my back t’gether . . .’
Durral tried to glance over the ferret’s shoulder at her back. She winced and shook her head slightly. ‘Don’t look, you don’t wanna see wot that lizard’s claws’n’fangs did ter me, mate. Now lissen careful, ’cos there ain’t much time. Let go of me easy like, an’ make yer way t’the tiller. She’s still ’eaded due west, so take a stern line an’ lash ’er steady. Go on, Father Abbot, do like I say!’
Making Romsca as comfortable as possible, the old mouse eased himself away from her and scurried aft. Taking the stern rope he tied it to one side of the gallery rail, looped it several times round the tiller and tied the other end to the opposite rail, lashing the ship on course, due west. Then he went on a tour of the vessel. Stumbling over a slain Monitor and two searats he found glowing embers in the brazier in Lask’s cabin. He added wood, lamp oil and sea coal and soon had a fire rekindled. First he put on some water to heat, then hunted around until he found an old canvas and some blankets. It was still drizzling lightly when he returned to Romsca; she had dozed off. Durral made a lean-to with the canvas and covered the corsair ferret with blankets to keep her warm, then he resumed his search of the ship.
Noon found the sky darkening. Bruised purple clouds hung over the oily foamless swell of billows, and now the drizzle had turned to steady rain. It was still warm, though, and steam rose from Durral’s fur as he bustled out to Romsca with food and drink.
The corsair opened her eyes feebly. ‘Yore a good creature, but an ole fool. Take care o’ yerself. I ain’t worth it, my string’s played out.’
Durral cradled Romsca’s head as he ladled soup into her mouth. ‘I’m afraid it’s only dried fish and ship’s biscuit with some water, but ’tis the best I could do, friend. You saved my life, and you were good to Viola too. Without you we would both have fallen victim to those lizards long ago. Drink up, now.’
Romsca turned her mouth away from the ladle. ‘Water, just give us a drop of water, matey. I’m parched.’
The Abbot carefully guided a beaker to her mouth. Romsca sipped the liquid and winked faintly at him. ‘You ’earken t’me, Durrall, y’could never sail this tub back ter Mossflower, but she’s bound due west, and with luck y’ll landfall at the isle of Sampetra. I’ve got mates there, tell ’em yore my pal. ’Tis yer only chance, may’ap they’ll ’elp you.’
Durral stroked the corsair’s tattooed paw. ‘Now, now, my child, none of that talk. You’ll live to see your friends again, I’ll make sure of it.’
Romsca smiled, her voice growing fainter as she replied, ‘I ’opes y’make it back to Redwall Abbey someday, it looked like a nice place t’be. Hmph, you won’t be bothered with types like me then, corsairs an’ searats an’ all manner o’ wavescum . . .’
She shuddered, and Durral drew the blanket up to her chin. ‘Hush, now, and rest, my child.’
As Romsca’s eyes closed, she murmured drowsily, ‘My child. I like that. Thank ye, my Father.’
Her head lolled forward onto the Father Abbot of Redwall’s paws for the last time.
Durral sat nursing the dead corsair until it grew dark, heedless of the rain that soaked him as Waveworm sailed silently westward on the drifting swell with its lone cargo. One old mouse.
BOOK THREE
When Tears Are Shed
41
VIOLA WAS WAKENED by the sounds of low voices nearby. It was Martin and Grath talking together. The logboat was almost stationary, bobbing in the warming dawn. Seaweed hawsers trailed limply along the boat’s sides, and the sealfolk were nowhere to be seen.
Martin stood in the prow, staring up at a mountain that reared out of the ocean. ‘Well, it’s big enough,’ he said, ‘but it doesn’t look like we can land anywhere. Why did the sealfolk slide off and leave us here, I wonder? It’s nought but a mountain thrusting up out of the water.’
Grath was as puzzled as the mouse warrior. ‘Maybe there’s somethin’ or somebeast here they wanted us t’see. Let’s use these broken struts as oars an’ paddle o’er there.’
Plogg poked his head from under the canvas awning. ‘Gwaw! I’m stiff as a board. Where are we?’
Welko thrust his head up alongside that of his brother, grinning. ‘Nice’n’warm, though,’ he said, ‘looks like it’s goin’ t’be sunny. I’m starvin’ – is that ole cooky awake yet?’
A long paw reached out and cuffed the shrew’s ear. ‘Ole cooky indeed, you graceless, scruff-furred wretch. I, sir, am Cleckstarr Lepus Montisle, of the far northern Montisles doncha know, an’ furthermore, young feller m’lad, I don’t well appreciate foul young blots like y’self snorin’ down my delicate ears all night. As for breakfast, ’fraid you’ll have to whistle for it. Clean out o’ grub, we are, wot!’
Viola shook her head in disgust. ‘Well, there’s a fine thing, those seals sliding off without so much as a by your leave, and us wi
thout a bite of food, floating around goodness knows where, with nothing to show for it but a hulking great mountain shoving itself out of the water!’
Grath could not help smiling at the complaining volemaid. ‘Well tut tut, missie, grab a cob o’ wood an’ start paddlin’. We won’t talk ourselves outta this fix, that’s for sure.’
The rock was massive: smooth-sided, high and impregnable, and there was no discernible opening in it. They paddled most of the day, skirting the stone monolith, searching for a place to land, but the quest seemed fruitless. Sometime around mid-afternoon they stopped to rest, sweltering under a hot sun.
Clecky gazed longingly at the clear blue sea. ‘Looks wonderful, don’t it? I say, chaps, if I don’t get something soon to wet my jolly old lips I might try a drink o’ that.’
‘I wouldn’t recommend it, seawater can be nasty stuff!’
Clecky nearly fell overboard with shock. A young female otter had slid gracefully into the logboat and was sitting beside him.
‘Who the flippin’ ’eck are you, miss, an’ where’s y’manners? Jolly well near scared two seasons’ growth out of me ears, poppin’ up like that! Kindly don’t do it again, bad form, wot!’
The little ottermaid smiled prettily, twitching her nose at them. ‘Beg y’pudden, sir, but what are you? You’re not an otter.’
‘Hmph, I should say not, m’gel. I’m a hare, actually. Name’s Clecky.’
‘Pleased t’meetcher, mister Clecky. I’m Winniegold of the holt of Wallyum Rudderwake. I ’spect the Hawm and his sealfolk brought you here to see us.’
Clecky twitched his ears rather irately. ‘Tchah! Well, if he did he never said anythin’ to us about it, blinkin’ feller should say where he’s takin’ a chap, instead of all this haaaawmin’ an’ haaaaarin’, wot wot!’
‘Excuse me,’ Martin interrupted, ‘but if you two could break off this pleasant conversation long enough, perhaps you, miss, could show us to the holt of your father Wallyum Rudderwake.’
The Pearls of Lutra Page 25