‘The postern gate,’ whispered Roamer. ‘I’ll go first.’
Gently, he eased back the bolts. As he opened the door, the Red Lancer standing guard outside spun round with a cry of alarm. ‘Who’s that? Why, Captain Roamer! What on earth are you – ’
Roamer slammed his fist into the sentry’s jaw and the mouse slumped to the ground. Using the guard’s own braces, Roamer swiftly tied his paws and ankles, and gagged him with the mouse’s own scarf.
‘They’ll soon find him. We must hurry!’
Roamer swiftly led Caladon through the dark streets until they reached the bright lights of Mankinoles. Plunging into the old clothes’ market, Roamer bought Caladon an ancient woollen cap, pulling it down so that it concealed the little mouse’s distinctive reddish-black fur. Hoping that no one would notice Caladon’s rich cloak, Roamer led him through the noisy streets towards the cardinal’s house.
But as they crossed the square, they saw Matthias hurrying towards them with Cranberry, Spital and Chowdmouse. ‘Roamer!’ cried the cardinal. ‘I’ve heard about the ruby. What a dreadful thing! We were coming to the harbour to see you off. But what are you doing here?’
‘Looking for you, Eminence.’ Roamer lowered his voice and in a few words explained what had happened. ‘I dare not take Caladon with me. Can you hide him?’
Cranberry and his friends were gazing in awe at the young king. ‘Us’ll hide him,’ said Chowdmouse huskily.
But Matthias shook his head. ‘Flambeau will turn the city upside down to find him. He would be safer away from Aramon.’
‘But where?’ asked Roamer. ‘And who would take him?’
Caladon had never been in Mankinoles. He was staring open-mouthed, revelling in the strange sights and enticing new smells. Catching sight of Casey and his friends, he said: ‘Who are they?’
‘Them’s the beavers,’ said Spital. ‘Packing up to go home. They got a schooner up by the water gate, on the Aramon River. When the tide turns – ’
‘Captain Roamer!’ exclaimed Cranberry. ‘Caladon could go with the beavers!’
‘Yeah,’ whispered Chowdmouse, wishing he had thought of it first.
The beavers were just heaving on their backpacks. Another minute and they would have gone. Roamer and Matthias hurried over to them.
‘Why, it’s the cardinal!’ cried Casey. ‘Come to say goodbye? Say, is that Cap’n Roamer with you? Hey, fellas, come an’ meet the cap’n!’
As the beavers crowded round, Roamer said: ‘The cardinal and I have a favour to ask. King Caladon is in danger. Will you take him to the mountains, and the protection of Lord Marengo and the eagles?’
‘Trouble with the Red Duke, huh?’ muttered Casey. ‘Well, I ain’t surprised. Sure we’ll take him. Where is he?’
‘I’m here.’ Caladon pulled off his cap, and the lantern-light fell on his reddish-black fur. Casey grinned a welcome. ‘Mighty proud to meet you, young sir. Say, you ever bin aboard a schooner? No? Well, I guess there ain’t no time like the present!’
Aboard the Avenger, Lukas was anxiously scanning the dockside. He was just about to send out a search party, when Roamer came running up the gangplank and ordered it pulled in after him. But scarcely had he joined Lukas on the quarterdeck than a dozen Red Lancers, led by Captain Balbi, swarmed on to the quayside. The sentry at the postern gate had been discovered and the furious Flambeau had wasted no time in ordering a search for the king, starting with the Avenger.
Balbi had not forgotten how Roamer had made a fool of him in front of Princess Tamina. Puffing himself up until his stomach threatened to burst his tunic, he squeaked: ‘Captain Roamer! This ship is under arrest, by order of Duke Flambeau! You must release King Caladon at once, and give yourself up!’
‘What’s he on about?’ asked Lukas.
‘No time to explain,’ muttered Roamer. ‘But Balbi thinks the king’s aboard, and we must make him believe it. His Majesty is asleep in his cabin,’ he shouted, ‘and under my protection! So get off the dockside!’
This was just what Balbi had been hoping for. ‘You will learn that you cannot defy my commands, Roamer!’ He grinned round at his soldiers. ‘Red Lancers, open fire!’
The sea-mice flung themselves flat as bullets whined through the rigging and thumped into Avenger’s side. As the Lancers hastily reloaded, Roamer yelled: ‘Starboard guns! Run out!’
The soldiers froze in horror as twelve long cannons rumbled into view. ‘Gun-crews, stand by!’ roared Roamer. With a squeal of terror, Balbi fled, closely followed by his troopers.
‘Just as well,’ said Lukas, as the red cloaks fluttered away up Vittles Lane. ‘Our guns ain’t loaded. But what in the world’s going on?’
‘Tell you later,’ said Roamer. ‘Get the ship underway!’
At Lukas’s command, sea-mice swarmed up the rigging and out along the dizzy heights of the yard-arms. At the cry of ‘Anchor’s a-weigh!’ the sails thundered down, Lukas spun the wheel and Avenger glided out of the harbour.
Meanwhile, Spital was leading Caladon and the beavers along deserted back-alleys, Cranberry and Chowdmouse bringing up the rear. Cardinal Matthias had gone home, not wishing to draw attention to the beavers’ party by his presence. But they met no one. Reaching the narrow river which flowed through Aramon, they followed it to the water gate on the eastern edge of the city. Moored at the quayside was the beavers’ schooner, the Eaglet.
‘All clear!’ called Spital. The beavers hurried aboard and began setting the sails. In a moment, the tide would turn and the powerful current would carry the schooner upriver. Caladon hurried eagerly up the gangplank. Suddenly, he stopped, turned back and held out his paws to his three faithful friends. ‘You three risked your lives for me tonight. I shall never forget that.’
‘When will you come back, your Majesty?’ asked Cranberry.
Caladon had not thought about that. Now he did. ‘By next spring, I shall be fully grown. Well, almost. That’s when I’ll come back and I’ll bring Lord Marengo and the eagles. Together we’ll kick out my uncle!’
‘We’ll be almost grown-up too,’ said Spital. ‘Can we fight for you?’
‘I’ll fight,’ whispered Chowdmouse bravely, secretly hoping he wouldn’t have to.
Caladon smiled. ‘There will be fighting, I’m afraid. Not just against my uncle and his Red Lancers but against Malatesta, too, I expect – and you three must be my personal bodyguard.’
‘Come aboard, sir!’ called Casey. ‘The tide’s turned!’ The beavers cast off the moorings, the breeze filled the sails and the Eaglet surged out into midstream. The three mice waved until she slipped beneath the water gate and was swallowed up in the darkness.
‘Personal bodyguard!’ grinned Cranberry. ‘Cor! I can’t wait till Spring!’
Part Two: The Lord Of Shadows
11. Storm
Aboard Night Crow, Malatesta was sunning himself in a deck chair, watching the sea-rats trimming the sails to the wind, scrubbing the decks and cleaning the big guns. The Ermine Lord was feeling pleased with himself. His mission had been a brilliant success, and he could look forward to a rich reward from the old Black Widow, to add to his already vast fortune.
Of course, those foolish mice would never spot the imitation ruby; and it would be amusing to see what Ravanola would do with that interfering tamarin, now trussed up and locked in the hold. As for Roamer, Malatesta expected him to race to the princess’s rescue like the fool he was. That was why the Ermine Lord had taken her with him and as soon as Avenger was sighted, Malatesta knew exactly what he was going to do.
In her damp, foul-smelling prison, Tamina had long given up the struggle to free herself. The stoats had tied her up so tightly she was quite unable to reach the little dagger hidden in her left boot. As she lay helpless, wondering what would happen to her in Salamex, she heard Scratchfur’s voice calling from the crow’s-nest: ‘Sir! Strange sail on the eastern horizon!’
Malatesta clapped a telescope to his eye and saw a tall white pyrami
d. The ship was moving swiftly, and, as Malatesta watched, more sails were spread high on the masts: top-gallants and royals, to give the ship yet more speed.
‘It’s the Avenger!’ yelled Scratchfur. Tamina’s heart leapt but the Ermine Lord’s next words made her blood run cold. ‘Gweir! You’re good at raising storms. Sink that accursed pirate!’
Gweir smiled at the thought of Roamer’s death. Raising his staff, he once more invoked Pythius, the Snake-god. As he chanted his spell, the eastern horizon grew dark, curving bands of rain and hail poured to the sea, lightning lanced down and the air quivered to peal after peal of thunder. Malatesta laughed; for through his telescope, he could just make out the Avenger running helplessly before the storm before the darkness blotted her out.
There had been no time for the buccaneers to take in the sails; the wind had hurtled out of nowhere and blasted them in seconds, leaving them flying in tatters. ‘Get below, all of you!’ yelled Roamer. But as his mice scuttled for the hatches, Lukas and Ben, their backs bent to the wind, struggled to the quarterdeck where Roamer was wrestling with the wheel, trying to hold the ship on course.
‘Us’ll stay with you, zur!’ cried Ben. But even their combined strength could not hold the wheel. ‘No use!’ said Roamer. ‘We’re being driven south instead of west, but we can’t fight this storm! Let her go!’
The three mice leaped away and clung for dear life to the stern railings. The wheel spun wildly and the ship heeled over, water pouring across her bows as she plunged into a deep trough between mountainous waves. With the deck tilting perilously, the mice struggled back to the wheel, striving to hold it, though it twitched and tugged at their paws; but the wind was behind them now, they held the wheel steady at last, and the mastheads, which had been dipping almost to the water, slowly rose again.
All day and well into the night, Roamer and his faithful friends held the ship on her southerly course. But by midnight, they were exhausted and Rio, staggering up to the quarterdeck, reported that the ship was leaking badly and the crew were labouring at the pumps. Roamer knew they could not go on much longer.
‘Look, Captain!’ Lukas was yelling above the roaring wind. Directly ahead, white water was foaming above a long, submerged reef. If Avenger struck that, they were finished.
The three sea-mice hauled at the wheel but the wind was too strong, and the ship ploughed on. At that moment, Roamer and his companions tasted death on the salty spray that was lashing the deck.
‘Zur! Look there!’ Directly above, the clouds had parted to reveal a brilliant star. Suddenly, its beams streaked down, turning the Avenger’s bows to silver; and, as Roamer stared in wonder, the ship swung away from the reef and they saw, low on the horizon, a distant island.
‘That’s Coriander!’ shouted Lukas.
‘And that were the star of the Lord o’ Light,’ said Ben. ‘Reckon he’s saved us.’ Roamer felt relief and gratitude flooding through him. He stared back at that black, churning reef. Never had he and his crew been so close to death.
As dawn broke, the battered Avenger limped into Coriander Bay. The storm had carried away her topmasts, she was leaking like a sieve, her crew were bruised, battered and exhausted. But they were alive; and their determination to recover the ruby and rescue their princess was as strong as ever.
When the buccaneers had wearily dragged themselves ashore, the tamarins took over the ship. They sailed her round to a narrow creek and let the tide carry her onto the beach. For many days and nights, the air rang to saw and hammer as the tamarins laboured to repair the damage, while the weary crew lay beneath the palm trees, recovering their strength and gorging themselves on grilled fish, sweetcorn, mangoes and melons.
‘Where do you suppose Malatesta will have taken Tamina?’ asked Roamer. It was his second day on the island. Trying to ignore his bruises and aching limbs, he had climbed to the chief’s treehouse and the two of them were squatting on the rush mats, sipping mango juice.
‘To the House of the Snake,’ came the grim reply. ‘The empress’s palace. The city of Kalamaris lies on the slopes of a steep hill. The palace stands at the top.’
‘Tell me about the city. Everything you know. Draw me a map, if you can. As soon as my ship’s ready and my crew have recovered, we sail for Kalamaris. When next you see us, old friend, I pledge my word that we shall have Tamina – and the ruby!’
Before leaving Aramon, Roamer had ordered his crew to scour the dockside stores for black sailcloth and paint. When Avenger finally sailed out of Coriander Bay, she had been transformed. Black sails hung from her spars, and Rio’s skilful carpentry had disguised her sleek lines so that her fore- and after-decks stood higher than before. Her proud name had been painted out and replaced with ‘Scorpion’, a name, so Tia-roa assured Roamer, that was used by several ships in the empress’s fleet. A week later, as a full moon climbed the sky, the Scorpion was creeping towards the enemy coast.
They could have arrived sooner. But Tia-roa had told Roamer something that had fired the sea-mouse’s imagination. Though winter would soon hold Carminel in its icy grip, the Empire of Salamex blazed with summer heat; and upon this very night, the lights in the sky that marked the Lord of Light’s birthday also appeared over Salamex. There, they were taken as a sign of the Snake-god’s power and the city celebrated with a riotous Carnival of Masks. The mean, twisting streets were bright with coloured lanterns and the stoats and sea-rats, all wearing masks, danced and drank the night away.
Among the treasures stowed in the Avenger’s hold were several bolts of multi-coloured silk. Ever since leaving Coriander, the sail makers had been busy, stitching gaudy costumes. As the ship glided into the harbour and dropped anchor, the mice saw that the city was ablaze with coloured lights, and music and laughter sounded clearly across the still water. Roamer ordered the cutter to be launched and called the twenty sea-mice of the landing-party to the ship’s side.
Each mouse was dressed in silken shirt and trousers, their brilliant colours merging and rippling in the lantern-light. To complete the disguise, every mouse wore a snake’s head carnival mask, made of dyed sail-cloth, with jewels for eyes and small slits to see through. Each mask had a red strip stitched across the top so that the mice could recognise each other.
‘You all know what to do,’ said Roamer. ‘But remember: Tia-roa told me that though the palace gardens are open tonight, the ways into the palace itself, the House of the Snake, are guarded.’
‘By the Ermine Guard, Captain?’ asked Cheesemite. ‘We can deal with them!’
‘No. They are guarded by the empress’s spiders.’
‘That’s all right! Who’s afraid of them?’ Cheesemite’s voice sounded bold, but his eyes had lost some of their sparkle. Most of the landing-party looked subdued. No one liked the idea of taking on the spiders.
‘You should be afraid of them!’ said Roamer. ‘They’re as venomous and deadly as their mistress, so be very careful. But the Lord of Light saved us from drowning, and his star will be watching over us tonight. Have you all got pistols and knives?’ Twenty snake-heads nodded. ‘Wish us luck, Lukas. If we’re not back by dawn, raise the anchor and sail home.’
‘If you ain’t back by dawn, I’ll give this devil’s city a couple of broadsides, then lead the rest of the lads ashore! We’ll find you, wherever you are!’
Roamer laughed. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that! Now, is the cutter ready? Then let’s go!’
12. The Blind Spot
‘Ermine Guards to starboard, zur!’
Even on land, old Ben liked to use sea language. As he and Roamer climbed the steep main street of Kalamaris, they were uncomfortably aware of several Ermine Guards to their right, prowling through the noisy carnival crowds.
Getting ashore had been easy. Several parties of masked sea-rats were rowing in from ships in the harbour, so nobody paid any attention to the Avenger’s cutter. It seemed that the whole city was dancing, some in couples, several in long chains, dipping and swaying through narro
w, lantern-lit streets. Most dancers were masked, like the sea-mice, with silken snake-heads, though some of the richer stoats were showing off with vulture masks festooned with real feathers. But as Roamer and Ben slipped through the crowds, and began to climb towards the palace, they spotted several more Ermine Guards. They were not masked, or joining in the fun, but still, silent, and watchful.
Meanwhile, the crew were taking up their positions. On street corners or outside noisy taverns and bars, the sea-mice joined in the dancing and laughter. But they were careful not to stray too far from their agreed places, knowing that Roamer and Ben would need them later to cover their retreat to the cutter with Princess Tamina and the ruby.
In the palace garden, a band of sea-rats was playing loud music; masked revellers were dancing, or sauntering across the lawn and down the shadowy grassy paths. As Roamer and Ben wandered casually through the unguarded gates, they noticed that every entrance to the palace was barred by a spider of Ravanola’s bodyguard. Of the empress herself, there was no sign.
‘Them spiders are unarmed,’ whispered Ben.
‘You think so? Each one has enough poison to kill our entire crew.’
Ben and Roamer ambled round the garden, talking and laughing while studying the palace defences. Around its edges, the building was only a single storey high, but its white walls rose sheer, with no footholds. At last, they came to the rear of the building. Nobody else was about. Light flooded through an open archway, but the spider-guard’s shadow lay long across the grass.
As they turned another corner, Roamer stopped abruptly and dragged Ben into the shadow of the wall. ‘I’ve found it! The blind spot! Every wall has an arch, every arch has a spider, and every corner is a sharp angle except this one! It’s curved – probably because the garden slopes away so steeply here, down that bare slope to the trees, and the wall follows the curve of the ground. Where we are now, the spiders can’t see us! And another thing; every corner has one of those stone gargoyles sticking out from the top of the wall. They’re all in the shape of a spider, did you notice? This curve has one as well. Get your rope ready, Ben. We’re going up!’
The Ruby of Carminel Page 5