Martin turned to Lord Cayvear. "Have you got a long stout timber we could use as a lever?"

The bat chieftain conversed quietly with a band of his followers. They saluted and winged off from the high galleries.

"Be lot quicker an more suproisful wi' a gurt lever," Dinny explained to Lord Cayvear.

There was not long to wait before the bats returned bearing a stout piece of wood.

Log-a-Log fondled it, with tears in his eyes. "It's the keel of Waterwing, my lovely boat!"

Sure enough, the stout curving timber was the original birchwood keel of Waterwing; the bats had salvaged it from the falls.

On Dinny's instructions, it was borne upward by an army of bats. They waited until he had clambered up and positioned himself at the hole, then slowly they fed the strong timber in, under the mole's guidance. When the timber was 199.

fixed to Dinny's satisfaction, he wedged it on either side and underneath with three rocks. Then the mole slid back down to his friends. Martin looked up; what Dinny had accomplished was a deep hole beneath the light shaft, with the boat keel sticking out of the excavation at a slightly upward angle.

Log-a-Log scratched his chin. "What happens now, Dinny?"

"Hurr, now 'ee baths fly oop thurr soilent loik and perch on yon lever's end."

Lord Cayvear began signaling his legions. Two by two the bats flew silently as cloud shadows, then perched on the end of the lever.

When eight of them were perched securely, the keel grated, moving fractionally downward. They shifted and tightened clawholds.

Two more bats landed on the keel. It stayed still.

Yet another two landed. This time it moved visibly.

Dinny turned to the a.s.sembly. "Hoo arr, arf duzzen more'll do *ee. Best coom out o* way whurr it be safer."

Another two bats had landed, then another two. There was more shale and rock sliding down as the final two bats landed on the end of the overcrowded keel, proving Dinny's calculation totally accurate.

Suddenly the hole gave way and collapsed, pushed outward by the keel bearing down. The entire rock face shifted under the leverage. Bats flew in all directions. Through the dust the small shaft of light widened into a hole as big as a fair-sized cave entrance.

There was a screeching and hooting, and through the debris Martin glimpsed a huge tawny owl winging its way west then south.

Amid the rubble of the landslide, the bats raised a sibilant cheer. Dinny was carried above them up the scree to the opening, Martin and Log-a-Log helping to bear their friend.

The three travelers were breathing deeply in the cool sweet evening air when Lord Cayvear flapped up gracefully. He bowed deeply.

"My thanks to you and your friends, Martin. Against the bigeyes we were totally helpless, totally helpless."

"I know, Lord Cayvear," Martin nodded understandingly.

200.

"Even we could not have fought off a tawny owt that size-he was a real monster. Well, thanks to our Dinny, we can continue the quest and your tribe can live in peace and safety."

Log-a-Log offered some good advice. "What you must do is to bar the entrance with wood and make a door. Leave some small holes in it, and station sentries night and day. Then if any large birds try to roost, you can push them off with spears and long poles. I will tell you how this door can be made."

For the first time Martin and Dinny looked over the edge to the outside world below. There was nothing to see except heavy gray evening mist in layers on the ground.

Martin stepped back from the edge. "We couldn't attempt to climb down there at night, Din. Let's stop here with our friends tonight and continue the quest tomorrow. Oh, Dinny, if only Gonff had been here to see this."

201.

The escapers ran toward the outer gates in the perimeter walls, hotly pursued by Cludd, Ashleg and a band of soldiers.

Tsarmina, keeping her usual vigil at the upstairs window, had armed herself with bow and arrow in the hope that she might spot Argulor disposing of Fortunata's remains.

When the hubbub broke out down on the parade ground; without hesitation she fitted an arrow to her bow and took aim at Gingivere's back. Coggs slipped from Gingivere's pawhold. He rolled into a ball, hitting the parade ground harmlessly. Gingivere bent to pick him up, as Mask dashed up behind to see if he could help.

The Queen of the Thousand Eyes had already loosed the deadly shaft. As Gingivere picked Coggs up, he heard Mask grunt behind him. Thinking the otter was urging him to hurry, the wildcat dashed for the gates with his precious burden. He knocked the bar aside and pushed one gate open.

The woodlanders flooded in. Ferdy and Coggs were pa.s.sed from paw to paw until they were out of the danger zone. Freed of his burden, Gingivere turned to see his rescuer staggering slowly across the parade ground as the Kotir soldiers closed in on him. With a fearsome cry and a bound, Gingivere was at Mask's side. Holding him up, he supported the injured creature through the gate, while the otters and squirrels stood fearlessly in line on the open parade ground, driv- 202.

ing Cludd, Ashleg and the soldiers back to the barracks under a hail of arrows, javelins and rocks.

Tsarmina joined Cludd in the main hallway with a band of reinforcements at her back.

"Come on," she shouted furiously. "They're easily outnumbered. We're not going to retreat from our own parade ground. Get out there!"

Cludd was enraged at being taken by surprise on his own territory. With a bellow he dashed, recklessly out into the open.

Encouraged by Queen and Captain, the forces of Kotir flooded out across the open ground. Madly Tsarmina raced ahead of them, spurred on by her own fury.

Skipper and Lady Amber decided it was time to make a tactical withdrawal. Their mission was accomplished as far as getting the escape party out of Kotir was concerned; besides, the woodland troops were far outnumbered by the hordes of Tsarmina's soldiery. The far side of the parade ground was black with soldiers who swarmed forward regardless of missiles. The woodlanders fired a parting volley then ducked out behind the doors.

"Lively now, mates," Skipper roared. "Follow Gingivere and Mask. Make sure they get home safe. Amber and me'll slow 'em up a bit here."

As the gates opened outward, it was but the work of a moment for the otter and the squirrel to place two sizeable wooden wedges beneath each gate and bang them home firmly with rocks.

Thinking ahead, Tsarmina guessed that the gates would have been barred to slow her progress. Standing on the backs of several soldiers, she sprang up, gained a clawhold on top of the gates and vaulted over with great agility. Tearing out the wedges with feverish energy, she pulled the doors open.

The woodlanders had had no time to cover their tracks, so it was plain to see which route they had taken. Tsarmina pointed east into Mossflower. "Follow me, stay together and obey my commands. We might not catch them, but there's an even chance these tracks may lead to their hideout!"

203.

Deep in the woodland shade, Mask and Gingivere were traveling slowly. The otter was breathing, laboriously, often halting to lean against trees, but he insisted on walking unaided.

Gingivere was puzzled and concerned for his rescuer. "Mask, what's the matter, friend? Are you hurt?"

The strange otter gave a wry grin and shook his head. "I'm all right. Listen, that must be Skipper and the crew coming this way."

The otters were boisterously recounting their victory over Kotir.

"Ha, soldiers! Vermin, more like."

"Aye, it took two score our number to make us back oif, eh, Skip."

"I must have used two pouches of rocks on their thick skulls."

"Hoho, I could throw one of 'em further than they could hurl their own spears."

"What a bunch of blunderers! Good job they've got the cat to lead 'em, or they'd be lost in their own headquarters."

"Hey, you two. What are you doing hanging about here?" Skipper bounded up, twirling his sling. "Mask, me old ship.-mate. You did us proud back there."

"I think he's been hurt," Gingivere whispered in Skipper's ear.

Mask straightened up and began walking doggedly forward. "Leave me alone, I'll be all right."

"Look, Skip, it's his back!" Bula pointed to the wet patch spreading across Mask's cloak.

Mask staggered a few paces, then fell heavily.

Skipper dashed across and knelt by Mask. Gently, he drew back the cloak to reveal the broken arrow shaft protruding from the otter's gray fur. Tsarmina's arrow had found its mark, not in Gingivere as she intended, but deep in the back of Mask.

Skipper supported the wounded otter's head as he said encouragingly, "Hold on, matey. We'll get you back home atid patch you up in a brace of shakes. Strike me colors, one measly arrow isn't going to stop a freebooter like you."

Mask shook his head, a slow smile playing on his lips. "Someone at the gates of Dark Forest must have put my name on that arrow. At least I made it back into Mossflower.''

204.

Hot tears sprang into Skipper's brown eyes. "Don't say that, messmate. It wouldn't be the same without you."

Mask leaned close to Skipper's ear. "Do me one last favor, Skip."

"Anything. You just name it."

"Promise me that you won't tell little Spike and Posy about this. Say that Uncle Mask has gone to live far away."

Skipper wiped Mask's brow gently with his paw. "On my affidavit, brother."

The gray otter nodded slowly. His curious eyes clouded over as he lay back peacefully and went limp.

Skipper stood up. He sniffed, grubbing grimy paws against his eyes. "Listen, crew. We're taking him back to the River Moss. He liked it there. We'll stow him under a willow on the bank, and that way he'll always be near the sound of the water he loved. Tie some slings together and make a stretcher, mates."

Gingivere stepped forward. He picked Mask up from the earth, holding him firmly in his strong paws.

"Please let me have the honor of carrying him. He rescued us from Kotir prison. Ferdy, Coggs and myself, we owe him our lives."

Skipper turned away. "So be it."

Thus pa.s.sed the Mask, the strange one who lived alone in Mossflower, the otter who was master of many disguises.

205.

Dawn had scarcely broken when Log-a-Log put the finishing touches to the main frame of the gate. Martin peered down from the edge of the hole in the mountainside, holding tight to Dinny beside him.

"So, this is what the other side of the mountain looks like, eh, Din."

"Ho urr, baint much to be seen tho, Marthen."

The sloping side of the mountain was visible, but beyond that the bottomland was a bed of thick white mist, as far as the eye could see.

Lord Cayvear joined them.

"What lies below, I do not know," he told them. "Thank you, Log-a-Log. Thank you for your good work. Soon my tribe will be safe once more. We will be complete masters of all Bat Mountpit, Bat Mountpit."

Log-a-Log patted the heavy timber frame, made mainly from the wreckage of Waterwing.

"Aye, no sign of that owl now, though this gate should keep it away. That, and a few sharp prods in its feathery bottom. Don't like owls myself."

The sun was up and shining brightly within an hour, but instead of clearing the mist it seemed to make it thicker. Martin and his friends were eager to continue the quest. Politely they refused entreaties from the bats to stay as long as 206.

they wished, though with a tinge of regret because of the kindness and hospitality shown them by the tribe of Bat Mountpit.

Lord Cayvear presented them with haversacks of fresh food and drink. The great bat stayed inside the darkness of the exit hole with his tribe, away from the glaring sunlight.

Martin shook him heartily by the paw. "Now, put that barrier up as soon as we leave. Better safe than sorry, my friend."

The little bats clung to Dinny. "Fly back through the earth and visit us one day, visit us one day," they begged.

The mole was visibly moved. "Doant 'ee fret, little bat uns. Thiz yurr mole'll see 'ee sumtime."

Log-a-Log gave final instructions as to the care and main" tenance of the gate. All three then stood for a moment in the awkward silence that often marks the parting of friends. Martin was about to say that Gonff would have composed a ballad for the occasion, but he turned away with a sigh. Adjusting the sword hilt about his neck, he faced the outer world.

They began the sloping descent with Lord Cayvear's whispered farewell in their ears.

"Our spirit flies with you. May you find what you quest for, what you quest for."

The going proved not too difficult. They dug their paws into the loose scree and shale, half-walking, half-sliding.

"If only Gonff were here," Martin could not help remarking. "He'd remember the exact words of the Skyfurrow poem. Let me see, now. 'Land lost in mist and gray-brown treachery1-or something like that. I can't recall it properly."

Dinny braked himself against a boulder. "Nay, nor do oi. Proper owd pudden 'eads us be, hurr hurr."

Log-a-Log took a chunk of rock and tossed it outward. It fell down into the mist, vanishing completely.

"Usually some kind of swamp or marshland under mist like that. We'd best keep our wits about us down there," he warned.

It was midday when they finally reached the bottomland. The mist was dense and high above their heads. It blocked out the sky, leaving the travelers in a world of swirling fog. Dark squelchy moss and slimy weeds carpeted the ground, 207.

dotted with wide areas of evil-smelling fungus. Here and there rivulets ran, as if trying to find a way out of this oppressive region.

Dinny gazed into the mist. "Yurr, be that summat moven over yon?"

They stopped to peer. Log-a-Log rubbed his eyes. "It might be. Then again, it might be the mist playing tricks. If you let your imagination run away with you, ail sorts of shapes start popping up."