Log-a-Log poured water onto the ingredients and set the sh.e.l.l on two stones over the flames.

"Aye, but there's no telling with sea rats. They're savage 244.

and cruel. Maybe that one did something to offend his Captain. I've seen them laughing and drinking together, then suddenly fighting to the death next moment over some silly little incident."

Night fell purple and gray in long rolling clouds; a stiff breeze sprang up from seaward as the four companions stood for a moment in silence around the pitiful canvas-wrapped figure in the small grave Dinny had dug in the sand. After the brief ceremony, they watched as the mole filled in the hole, decorating the mound with colored seash.e.l.ls he had found. "Baint much, but far better'n sea ratten ud do furr 'ee." Salamandastron flared crimson against the dark sky as Gonff began to sing, Always the tide comes flowing in. Ever it goes out again. Sleep 'neath the sh.o.r.e evermore, Free from hunger and pain. Morning light will bring the sun; Seasons go rolling on. Questing ever far from home, For Salamandastron.

Log-a-Log shivered. He turned to the hut. "Come on, you three. That soup should be ready now."

Martin bowed his farewell to their benefactor and followed the shrew inside.

"Aye, life must go on," he agreed. "A dry place to sleep, a warm fire, some food and a night's rest is what we all need. Tomorrow we go to the fire mountain."

Far to the northwest of Camp Willow, the moles were making ready within sight of the river bank. The great tunneling was about to begin.

Chibb watched them from a plane tree. The feathered spy was now in semi-retirement. He had ama.s.sed a considerable store of candied chestnuts for his services. Still, he thought, there was no harm earning the odd extra nut by standing guard here.

245.

Foremole and Old Dinny paced and measured, mole digging terms were bandied about freely.

"Needen furm ground. Roots t'make shorin's too, urr."

"Ho urr, good down'ards gradin' t'make waiter flow roight."

"An* rockmovers, Billum. *Ee be a gurt rockmover."

"Aye, but moind 'ee doant crossen no owd tunnellen. Doant want fludd goen wrongways, hurr."

Above in the trees, Amber's crew were dropping down timber for the sluicegates.

"Mind out below!"

"Tip that end up, Barklad."

"Come out of the way, young un."

"Right. Let 'ergo!"

On the ground, Loamhedge mice were stripping, cleaning and jointing the wood. Abbess Germaine rolled up her wide sleeves and joined in with a will.

"Columbine! Here, child, sit on the end of this log and keep it still," she called out. "I'll mark it here, where the joint should be."

" 'Scuse me, Abbess. Where do we put these pine branches?" a strong young mouse asked.

"Take them over there. Mr. Stickle has his little ones pulling the bark and twigs oif all the new wood."

"Hey, Ferdy, I think I might like to be a carpenter instead of a warrior. What about you?" Coggs decided.

"Oh, I'm going to be a warrior carpenter, Coggs. Posy, will you stop carving patterns and strip that bark."

"Ooh, look! Here's Mix Bella with some big stones. My, isn't she strong!" Posy exclaimed.

"Can I put these stones here, Spike? Whew! I'll have to go back for more now. I saw Goody coming through the woods-I think it's beechnut crumble and elderberry fritters for lunch."

"Hurray, my favorite!" Ferdy said delightedly.

"Don't forget to wash those paws in the river before you eat." Bella reminded them.

"But, Miz Bella, all us workbeasts get mucky paws." Coggs protested. "Shows weVe been working hard."

"Oh, and what about littlebeasts? They get mucky paws 246.

just playing. You scrub 'em with some bank sand, young Coggs."

The woodlanders stood by after lunch until Old Dinny was brought to the spot where the tunnels would begin. Three young champion digging moles were there-Billum, Soilflyer and Urthclaw. They stood respectfully to one side as Fore-mole escorted Old Dinny forward. Billum presented the ancient one with a beakerful of October ale. He quaffed most of it in one gulp. Emptying the rest on the ground where the work was to take place, Old Dinny recited, Moles a-tunnellen, deep an' far. Moles a diggen, urr that we are.

Foremole nodded approvingly. Old Dinny was quite a solemn mole versifier. He raised a gnarled claw to the three champions. They went to it with a will amid loud cheers. Other teams would follow up, widening and shoring in their wake.

The great tunneling of Mossflower had begun!

Hidden by a screen of leaves in a high elm, a woodpigeon was witness to a very strange scene in the woods south of Kotir. Tsarmina, armed with a bow and arrows, was talking to the surrounding foliage.

"I know you're there, brother. Oh, it's no use hiding. The Queen of the Thousand Eyes will find you, you can be sure."

The woodpigeon remained perfectly still. No point in offering a handy target to a wildcat with bow and arrows, he decided, even if she were looking for someone else.

"Come on out, Gingivere. Show yourself. This is between me and you."

Silence greeted the challenge. Tsarmina smiled slyly.

"Think you're clever, don't you? Haha, not half as clever as your sister. I know your little game. I'll find you!"

The wildcat Queen continued padding through the still forest, sometimes hiding behind a tree, often doubling back on her own tracks, always on the alert.

247.

Brogg and Ratflank were sitting in the larder. As Captains, they decided it was their prerogative to sample some of the remaining rations. The two officers stuffed bread and guzzled cider from a half-empty cask.

There was a knock at the door. Hastily, they swallowed and wiped their whiskers. Brogg stamped about kicking sacks and checking casks as he called out, "Yes? Who is it?"

"It's Squint the stoat, Cap'n," a thin reedy voice piped back at him.

The pair relaxed.

"Come in, Squint. What d'you want?" Brogg asked.

The stoat entered. He stood to attention before his superiors. "I followed Her Majesty, just like you told me to, Cap'n Brogg."

"Well, where did she go?"

"South into Mossfiower. She took a bow and arrows with her. I kept well out of sight and watched. Funny though, she kept ducking here and bobbing there, hiding behind trees and so on."

"What for?"

"Her brother-you know, Gingivere. She kept calling out his name. Went on like that for ages. I thought I'd better come back here and report to you."

Ratflank wiped a crumb from his paw. "You did well Squint," he began.

Brogg silenced him. "You keep quiet. I'm giving the orders around here."

He turned on the unfortunate stoat. "You thought you'd better come back and report, eh? Who told you that you had permission to think? D'you realize that you've left your Queen out there alone in the forest, at the mercy of any roving band of woodlanders?''

"But Cap'n, you told me to-"

"Silence! Speak when you're spoken to, stoat. Now you get back out there on the double, me bucko, and don't come back until Milady does, and that's an order!"

Squint stood bewildered until Ratflank joined in the chastis.e.m.e.nt.

"You heard Captain Brogg. On the double now. One-two, one-two, one-two. Step lively, Squint!"

248.

The stoat double-marched backward out of the larder. Brogg and Ratflank fell back upon the sacks, laughing.

"Hohohoho, proper thick'ead, that one. Hey, it's not too bad this officer lark, Brogg."

"I'll say it isn't," Brogg agreed. "Keep the troops on their mettle while I inspect the larder, eh?"

"Righto, Captain Brogg. I'll go up and turn them all out for an arms inspection and chuck a few in the guardhouse for having dirty spears. You keep checking round here."

"Heeheehee. That's it, Captain Ratflank. You make 'em jump."

When his companion had gone, Brogg rooted about under some sacks. He came up with a stone jar half-full of strawberry jam. Upending it on his snout, he smacked the bottom with his paw to free the sticky sweet. Some of it actually went down his mouth; the rest stuck to his nose and whiskers, and he gave a jammy giggle.

"Heehee, hmmmm, mmmmm. Too good for the troops, this stuff!"

Squint dashed heedlessly through the woods, pushing aside bushes, cracking twigs and branches as he followed the trail.

Tsarmina was not aware that Brogg had ordered her to be followed. Stealthily she slipped behind an outcrop of furze, fitting the arrow to the bow as she followed her pursuer's noisy progress.

"Come to me, Gingivere," Tsarmina crooned softly under her breath. "Run quickly! Your sister awaits you."

Squint ploughed headlong past the furze bush. The string tw.a.n.ged mercilessly.

He lay facedown with the arrow protruding from the back of his neck. Tsarmina stood over the fallen stoat, her mad eyes seeing only what they wanted to.

"There's an end to it, brother. You'll never trick me again!"

249.

34.

The gourds of water had been lashed to both ends of a stave; any other food that could be packed was carried along. The four travelers had a new spring to their step, now they were free from hunger and the mountain was much nearer.

Since early morning they had been on the move, glad to be away from the hut and the memory of its dead occupant. The going was easier and lighter; the weather stayed fine. Late afternoon found them seated by a shallow rock pool.

Log-a-Log munched a biscuit, keeping a weather eye on a crab lodged beneath a rock.

"I don't like those things. You never knew when one's going to do a quick scuttle at you."

Gonff wiggled his paws in the sun-warmed shallows. "Oh, I don't know. I quite fancy another dancing lesson, if our friend there is in the mood."

They laughed at the thought of their last encounter with a crab.

Martin glanced up at Salamandastron. "Look, you can just see the light faintly. Whatever it is must burn continuously. D'you suppose it is a fire lizard, Din?"

"Hurr oi doant be a-knowen of such creat'res. Burr, foir dargons, indeed. Wot moi owd granfer'd say of 'em oi doant know.' *

"Nor do I, but one thing I do know," Log-a-Log said, 250.

nodding toward the mountain. "That place is all that stands between sea rats and the land. They fear it and hate it."

Gonff dried his paws. "Then why don't they go around ft?"

"Because it's there, I suppose." Log-a-Log shrugged. "It stands as a challenge. The ship I was on avoided it like the plague. But not Cap'n Ripfang, master of the vessel Blood-wake; he's the most black-hearted sea rat of 'em all. Rip-fang's had many battles around Salamandastron. They say he swore a mighty oath never to rest until he rules that mountain."

Martin stood, stretching his limbs. "But what's up there? What do they fight against?"

Log-a-Log shook his head, "Some say one thing, some another. Fire dragons, armored monsters or phantoms that can strike a creature down without touching it, who knows?"

"There'll only be us to find the truth," Gonff remarked, shouldering the supplies. "What chance do monsters stand against a Prince of Mousethieves, a warrior and a champion digger, not forgetting a shrew like yourself, matey. Come on. Let's get going."

Toward evening, with the mountain burning bright above them, Martin first noticed they were being watched.

"Do you see anything, Gonff?" he asked, when he'd told his companions.

"No, matey, but I know what you mean. I can feel the hairs on my neck rising. What about you, Din?"

"Ho urr, moi diggen claws be a-tellen me summat, tho* wot it be oi doant know.''

Log-a-Log was in agreement, too. "Aye, just a sort of feeling really. D'you see that lump of something or other out by the tideline? I could swear it moved a moment ago."

"Don't stare at it," Martin warned them. "Keep going. Shortly we'll make as if we're camping down for the night, but we'll He down with paws to weapons, keeping our wits about us. Then let them make their move."

The travelers chose an open spot away from the rocks. They lit a small driftwood fire and lay around it, feeling very vulnerable.

Martin kept his eyes slitted against the guttering fire.