251.

clutching his sling in one paw and his sword hilt in the other. Agonizing moments stretched away; still there was no sign of movement. The friends began to think that their suspicions had been groundless. Night had fallen and it was quite warm; there was not even a breeze to disturb the loose sand.

The fire burned lower.

Despite himself, Martin began to feel sleepy. He fought to keep his eyes open. Dinny's soft snores reached his ears, Gonff was lying too still to be fully awake.

"I say, did you fellahs do a bunk from the jolly old sea rats?" a voice said softly in Martin's ear.

"No, we've come all the way from Mossf-" Martin answered in a dozy murmur.

He sprang up, whirling his sling.

Lying amongst them by the fire were three hares.

The warrior mouse was shocked and angry with himself. "Stand up and fight, you dirty sneaks!" he challenged them.

The nearest hare held up his paws to show they were unarmed. His companions smiled innocently at the travelers.

"h.e.l.lo, chaps. I'm Trubbs."

"I'm Wother. Capital W and an O, dontcha know."

"I'm Firing. Double F, no E. Howja do."

The sling dropped from Martin's paw. "Er, very well, thank you. How did you get here?"

"Oh, this way and that, old chap."

"Dodge and weave, y'know."

"How the d.i.c.kens do we ever get anywhere?"

Dinny scratched his nose and stared hard at the sand-colored hares. It was hard to distinguish them from their background.

"Drubbs'n'oo, did 'ee say?" he asked sleepily.

"No, no. It's Trubbs, old sport."

"Wother, at y'service."

"Haha, then I've got to be Ffring, I suppose."

Gonff took the initiative. He saw immediately that the strange trio were friendly. He made a deep bow.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm sure. My name is Gonff, Prince of Mousethieves. This is our leader, Martin the Warrior. Here we have Young Dinny, the world's best digger, with the latest addition to our little band, Log-a-Log, a shrew and an excellent boat builder."

252.

Paws were shaken warmly, then the three hares were invited to sit by the fire with the travelers. It amused Martin and his friends how the hares spoke in turn.

"Well, well. This is comfy. Tell us all about yourselves."

"Rather! What neck of the old county are you bods from?"

"Live far from here, do you?"

Martin explained the nature of their quest. At the mention of Bella's father, Boar the Fighter, a twinkle pa.s.sed between die eyes of the hares. The warrior continued the tale up until the time they had found the rat on the sh.o.r.e.

"Well, that's our story," he concluded. "Now, what's yours? How do you three come to be out here in the middle of nowhere next to a fire mountain?"

"Actually, that'd be telling."

"Er, haha. I second that, old bean."

"Oh yes, quite."

Getting a straight answer from either Trubbs, Wother, or Ffring was difficult, to say the least. Gonff tried the casual approach.

"Well, you can either stay here with us, mateys, or be off about your business. WeVe got to get a proper night's sleep so that we can climb that mountain tomorrow."

The three hares shuffled about a bit, then their tone became more businesslike.

"Ah, the mountain . . . Actually, we've been sent down here to you."

"To lead you to the mountain, y'see."

"Would you mind awfully coming along with us?"

Log-a-Log clapped Ms paws in delight. "Haha, now you're talking."

The hares wiggled their long ears appreciatively.

"Yes, I suppose we are talking, really."

"Never alone, though. Always together, you'll notice."

"Silly, really, I suppose. Do hope you'll forgive us, what?"

"Mateys," Gonff chuckled, "we'll forgive you anything if you can take us up that mountain."

"Hmm, it's not actually up, don't you see."

"No, it's sort of under, doncha know."

"But we are glad you're coming with us, chaps."

Dinny scratched his head. "Ho air, us'ns be a-commen with *ee awright. But who'm sent *ee for uz?"

253.

"You'll soon see."

"I'll say you will."

"Most definitely."

Martin kicked sand on the fire to extinguish it. "Righto. Lead on, Trubbs, Wotherand Ffring."

"Oh, I say. Good show. Let's all go together."

"One never leads, triple initiative, what?"

"Jolly good idea, chums."

As they started toward the mountain, the three hares produced strangely shaped sh.e.l.ls. They blew into them simultaneously, making a treble note not unlike that of three small trumpets. The sound echoed across the stillness of the sh.o.r.e. Immediately the scene lit up like daylight as a huge blast of flame rose from, Salamandastron. A voice like thunder on a hot noon boomed out with an immense rumble.

"Come in peace to the mountain of fire lizards!"

Hearing the gigantic sound effect, Log-a-Log threw himself facedown upon the sand with both paws over his ears, but the hares seemed hardly to notice it.

"Oh, golly. Old Log-a-Thing's fallen over."

"Must be in a blue funk about the boomer, eh."

"I expect so. Up you get, old fellah."

It was a narrow pa.s.sage between the sand and the rocks; they went in single file. At the end was a small cave. Trubbs tugged at a concealed cord. They had to jump aside as a stout ladder clattered down from the darkened recesses overhead.

"Right. Up you go, laddie."

"No, no. After you, old chap."

"Oh really, I insist."

Martin jumped up to the rungs of the ladder. "I'll go first, if it'll save you three arguing."

"What a spiffing idea."

"Sensible chap, what?"

"Rather. Indeed he is."

At the top of the ladder they found themselves in a broad upward-running pa.s.sage hewn into the living rock. The ladder was hoisted and they walked up the steep incline, lit by torches at regular intervals in wall sconces. From somewhere above there was a steady roaring sound.

254.

"Wot be that gurt noise, maisters?" Dinny asked curiously.

"Could be the jolly old fire lizards."

"Then again, it might not be."

"You'll soon find out, old fellow."

Five flights of stairs hewn into the rock, one more cave and another steep corridor led them to their destination.

The very heart of Salamandastron!

Bane the fox came down the dusty road from the north with his band of mercenary plunderers.

They numbered about sixty in all, mainly foxes, with a scattering of rats and weasels-a motley group, part tramp, part scavenger, mostly thieves. All were well armed and capable, despite their ragged appearance. Food they had in plenty: fish, birds, and vegetables to cook with them. By craft, guile and murder they had crossed the boundless northern lands, seeking warmer climes and easier living.

Bane was weary of living on his paws, always on the move. He was on the lookout for some fat prosperous little community where he could hold sway without much argument.

Then he spotted Kotir. A grand ruin that had seen better days, but the possibilities were there. Backed by woodland, fronted by flatland, practically skirting a road used by travelers-it was a dream come true.

Leaving orders for his band to camp in the ditch at the roadside out of sight, Bane circled Kotir by himself to spy out the lie of the land. The more he saw of Kotir, the more he fancied it. There would be no more winters in the freezing northlands once he gained entry to this place.

Striding purposefully around the woodland edge at the south side, he practically b.u.mped into Tsarmina returning from the forest. It would have been hard for a bystander to tell who was the more surprised, the fox or the wildcat. As Tsarmina quickly nocked an arrow to her bowstring, Bane's paw shot down to the curved sword he wore at his side. There was a moment's silence as they both stood still, gathering their wits. Finally Bane c.o.c.ked a paw toward the fortress.

"Whose place is this?"

"It is mine. Who are you?" Tsarmina demanded haughtily.

255.

"They call me Bane. I'm a fighter, but if there's an easier way of getting what I want I'll always try it."

"Hmm, a fighter. My name is Tsarmina, Queen of the Thousand Eyes. That is my headquarters; it is called Kotir."

"Thousand Eyes," Bane said thoughtfully. "There was only ever one with that name, old Verdauga Greeneyes. He was a wildcat, too."

"Yes, he was my father."

"Was?"

"Verdauga is dead now. I alone rule here. If you want, you may come into my service. Kotir is in need of fighters. Are there any with you?''

"Sixty in all. Trained warriors-foxes, rats and weasels."

"I don't trust foxes. Why should I trust you?"

"Ha, who trusts who these days?" Bane snorted. "I'm not particularly fond of wildcats. I've fought alongside your father, and against him, too."

"No doubt you have, but that is in the past now. You say you have threescore warriors at your command. What would be your terms if you came to serve Kotir?"

"Make me an offer."