Triss. Part 17

"We don't know if they're on our trail or not. This drizzle should blur our tracks, Triss. I 'ope it keeps up."

The squirrelmaid indicated the trees ahead. "When we get to those, I'll shin up one and scan the land."

Riggan did not stop or even pause to check the pawprints. She knew she was on the right trail.

Kurda clipped a thistle bloom with her blade edge. "Vorto, ven ve find dem you do nothink, surround dem and leave der rest to me. I vill show dem how I deal mitt runavay slave thieves, long and slow I show dem, yarr!"

Vorto could tell by the look in Kurda's red eyes that she meant every word of it.

On reaching the tree fringe, Triss dropped her foodpack and went up the trunk of a sessile oak with all the skill of a born climber. Vaulting and swinging, she pa.s.sed the middle branches and was soon up in the topmost boughs. Shogg craned his neck back and looked up to where she perched on a high limb.

"Wot's the word, mate, any signs o' the vermin?" His worst fears were confirmed as Triss called down, "Aye, I can make out Kurda with about a score of Rat-guards coming this way fast. It looks like Riggan slave-catcher is leading themno wonder they got onto us so quick!"

Shogg bit his lip with worry, Every slave at Riftgard knew the name and reputation of Agarnu's relentless tracker. None had ever escaped Riggan.

" Tis bad news for us, mate. The only thing we can do is t'keep runnin' until they're so far from their ship that they gets tired o' chasm' us an' turns back, maybe."

As Triss began climbing down the oak, she suddenly noticed another squirrel climbing alongside of her. He was a jolly-looking, fat beast, his shoulders crossed with webbing that was stuffed tight with hard green pinecones. She nodded to him; he nodded back and struck up a conversation.

"So you're going to run for it. Well, good luck to you, good luck, that's what I always say."

Triss noticed that there were many more fat squirrels, all climbing down from neighbouring trees. She arrived back on the ground accompanied by roughly fifty of the creatures.

Shogg bowed politely.

"Good day to ye, friends!"

The one who had spoken to Triss was obviously their leader. He shook rainwater from his huge bushy tail. "Good, what's good about it? Nothing good about sitting up in a tree getting drenched, that's what I always say!"

Now that she knew the squirrels meant them no harm, Triss felt a lot more at ease with them. She spoke to the leader. "I'm sorry for trespa.s.sing in your wood, but we'll be gone right away. Sorry we can't stop to talk."

Tossing up a pinecone and catching it without even looking at it, the squirrel remarked, "No hurry. I'm Whurp, Chieftain of the Coneslingers. You don't have to run if you prefer walking, that's what I always say."

He tossed the pinecone high, shook paws with them both, and caught the cone before it fell. Triss was impressed.

"I'm Triss, and my friend's called Shogg. We really do have to go, Whurp. There's not much use walking with those Ratguards hard on our paws. We need to run."

Whurp tossed his pinecone, batted it with his tail and caught it one-pawed as it bounced off the sessile oak. "Oh, don't fuss yourself about a few rats, Triss, we can snarl them up here for a good while. You and Shogg follow my daughter Burnby, she'll lead you through the woods and out the other side. We'll see to the rats for you. Rats are bad creatures, that's what I always say."

Shogg noticed the thong wound about Whurp's paw. "I see ye carry slings. What d'ye throw from them, cones?"

Whurp tossed the cone he was toying with to Shogg. "Aye, cones just like that one, good and hard, quite sharp, too. They wouldn't kill a beast, we're not in the business of slaying any creature. Only use them in defence of our territory, that's what I always say."

Shogg took out his pouch of slingstones from Peace Island. "These are some stones I was given to use by a friend, far across the seas from here."

Whurp took the pouch and opened it, pouring forth into his paw the bluey-green, sharp-edged stones. His eyes lit up. "From far across the seas you say, Shogg. Wonderful, beautiful treasures like these, and you waste them by throwing them away with your sling? Never throw away precious things, that's what I always say!"

He pa.s.sed the pouch back carefully, but Shogg refused it. "Keep 'em, mate, as a gift from us. Look, we've really got t'go now. Nice meetin' ye, Whurp."

As Burnby led them off through the trees, Whurp called out, "Goodbye, friends, and good fortune go with you. I can't thank you enough for these stones. The Coneslingers will treasure them forever. A treasure of great worth is a treasure worth treasuring, that's what I always say!"

Burnby took Triss's paw, giving her a quiet smile. "I could tell you other things that my dad always says, but I'd need ten seasons to do it."

Triss squeezed her paw. "Thank you for your help, but can your dad really stop the Ratguards?"

Burnby plucked a gra.s.s stalk and chewed on it. "Ask yourself, Triss. Did you see us when you entered our forest? Did you even know all of us were watching you? Coneslingers are invisible when they want to bewe can defend our wood against any number. Shogg, follow behind me. Watch that willow branch, don't touch it!"

When the otter saw the thin cord holding a whippy branch strained in an arc, he understood. "Haharr, a trap, eh, that'd soon stop anybeast who didn't see it. A good idea, Burnby"

She nodded. "That's why you must follow directly in my trail. These woods are full of such traps, pits, catapults, nooses. But those rats won't be bothered by them."

Shogg looked puzzled. "Why's that, mate?"

Burnby chuckled. "Because my dad won't even let them get this far. Never let the foebeast enter your home"

Triss interrupted. "That's what he always says!"

Their laughter echoed through the trees as they strolled in leisurely fashion through the Coneslingers' wood.

Riggan halted at the tree fringe. Kurda came hurrying up with Vorto and the Ratguards.

"Dey go in dere, yarr?"

The slavetracker inspected the ground, then peered up into the trees, sniffing the air suspiciously. "Aye, yore 'igh-ness, they've gone inter these woods, but there's summat I don't like about this place. I ain't put me paw on it yet, but I'll find out."

She took a pace into the trees .. . and found out. Three iron-hard green pinecones. .h.i.t Riggan, one on the head, another on the paw, and a third in the throat. She toppled over, senseless.

Immediately the Ratguards threw themselves flat. Vorto placed himself in front of Kurda, shielding her. "Some-beast up in the trees is attackin' us, marm!"

Kurda signalled as she backed off. "Archers, shoot arrows at dem, slay der beasts!"

Four Ratguards set shafts to their bows. The first one fired off at a shape high in the trees.

Kurda popped her head up from where she was crouching. "Gutt, dat teach dem!"

Half an arrow, the pointed part, nicked her paw, and she yelped. "Yowch! Vot happen?"

The archer gasped in amazement at what he had seen. "Marm, somebeast up there in that tree, 'e caught me arrer an' snapped it in arf, 'e's throwin' it back!" He ducked as the feathered half bounced off his ear.

Vorto whispered orders to four Ratguards. "Crawl out an' git Riggan back 'ere. We need 'er."

The four began to crawl forward, but were peppered so hard with green cones that they were forced to shuffle backward, their shoulders, backs and behinds smarting furiously. His paws numbed by two more flying cones, Vorto dashed off to a small rise in the ground where Kurda was crouching.

"Yore 'ighness, I think we'd better retreat!"

The flat of Kurda's blade whacked him in the midriff. "Retreat? Vot you t'ink I am? De Princess of Riftgard does not run from sillybeasts who t'row pinecones. Ve stay here and teach dem lesson for insolence!"

She poked her head up and screeched angrily, "You hear dat, ve teach you der le ... Unkhh!"

A particularly fine specimen of the fir tree whacked solidly down between the Pure Ferret's ears, stunning her. This was followed by a matter-of-fact voice calling out, "Sorry, could you repeat that? I don't understand what 'Unkhh' is supposed to mean. State your intentions clearly, that's what I always say!"

Burnby led Triss and Shogg out at the far side of the trees that marked the Coneslingers' domain. She gestured eloquently at the open lands.

"There, my friends, you may go whichever way you please, I must return now and lend a paw to pin your foes down for a while. I'm rather looking forward to it. Bye bye!" She sprang up into the trees and was instantly gone.

The two friends waved, not knowing whether Burnby could see them.

"Goodbye, and thank you for your help!" Triss called. "Well, what do you make of that? What an easy escape! Burnby couldn't wait to get back to a bit of cone slinging. You'd never think it to look at hersuch a quiet, pretty maid, so reserved and well-mannered, but so warlike!"

Shogg fluttered his eyes. "Aye, a bit like meself: quiet, well-mannered, pretty. Ouch! Mind that speartip, mate!"

Triss chuckled. "Come on, you rogue, which way now?"

The drizzle had stopped, and sunlight was peeping out from between the clouds. Shogg shaded his eyes, gazing around.

"See that dip over there? I'm bettin' there's a stream run-nin' through it. So 'ere's wot I think we should do. We'll get our paws wet, follow the stream west. They're bound to get away sooner or later. Riggan'll pick up our tracks, ye can rely on that. But she'll only trail us as far as the stream, then she 'as a choice."

As they made their way to the dip, Triss echoed Shogg's words. "A choice. How do you mean?"

The otter gave a sly wink and explained. "Riggan's choice is simple, mate. Which way did we go after enterin' the water, west or east? Now ask yoreself, which way d'you suppose two runaways would go? East an' inland, or west an' back t'the sea, where there's a Freebooter ship loaded with vermin who'd slay ye as soon as look at ye, eh?"

The otter's canny scheme dawned on Triss. "Of course! She'll head east, that's the sensible choice. You mightn't be pretty and reserved, but you've got a shrewd head on your shoulders, mate. Come on."

Shogg's guess proved right. There was a thin stream winding through the dip, and it was quite shallow. They proceeded carefully, trying hard not to leave any telltale traces that the slavecatcher could follow. Both fugitives hoped fervently that Whurp and his tribe of Coneslingers would keep Kurda and her Ratguards pinned down for a long while: the longer the better, for the survival of Triss and Shogg depended upon it.

22.

Memm Flackery and Sister Vernal sat on two chairs close to the Abbey doors in Great Hall. A trolley served as their table. On it was toasted bread, a jar of comb honey, the first of that summer's strawberries, and a steaming pot of dandelion tea.

The Harenurse yawned. "Rotten old storm, hope we don't get another this season. There was one time last night when I thought the bloomin' roof was comin' in, the way that blinkin' thunder sounded!" She munched listlessly on her thick, honeyed toast.

Sister Vernal stopped herself from nodding off and blinked owlishly. "Up on our paws all night, with crying Dibbuns and others who wouldn't come down from the windows because they wanted to watch the lightning. Dearie me, I'm exhausted."

"Boom boom! Bangybangybang! b.o.o.booboooom!"

A herd of shrieking little ones dashed past, followed by Ruggum, Roobil and Turfee mousebabe, who were chasing them, pretending to be stormdogs. Memm and Vernal covered their ears.

"Boombangeeboom! I'm a t'under comin' to getcha! Boom!"

Little Dibbun maids squealed, running in circles with their ap.r.o.ns thrown up over their faces. "Yeeeek, it's a storm!"

Turfee waved two long cornstalks. He was the lightning. "Tish! Flash! Tish! Tish! I burn you tails off. Tish!"

Memm collared him as he dashed past for the third time. Sitting the mousebabe on her lap, she popped a strawberry into his mouth. "Be still, y'little bounder. Chew on that an' keep quiet, wot!"

Immediately she was surrounded by Dibbuns, clamouring aloud, "Wanna strawbee! Gimme strawbees, Memm!"

"Bo urr, oi'm gurtly 'ungered for strawbees, marm!"

"You nebber sayed pleeze. Can I hab a strawbee, pleeze!"

Memm and Vernal emptied the bowl as they dished strawberries to the open-mouthed infants. Vernal threw up her paws wearily. "Go and play now, they're all gone!"

Ruggum folded his paws defiantly and faced up to her. "Urr miz, uz be a goin' to ee h'orchard an' picken more!"

Memm fixed him with her severest Harenurse stare. "Oh, no you don't, young sah, you're not to go outside, any of you. It's drizzlin' heavy out there. Go an' play!"

Ruggum held his ground, returning her stare with what he thought was his fierce moleface. "Ho, do ee say so, marm, well let oi tell ee. Grizzle doant bee's a botheren us'n's, we'm gurt tuff h'aminals, burr aye!"

Memm moved her chair so that its back was against the door. She wagged a warning paw under Ruggum's snout. "Well, tough or not, you ain't gettin' by me, master Rug-gum, so you can go off into the corner an' bally well grizzle about that. Now, that's my final word on the subject. Wot!"

"Ahem, permission to get by, marm, if'n ye please!"

Memm looked up to see Skipper and Log a Log standing there. The otter Chieftain and the Guosim leader were heavily armed. Skipper carried a sling and stone pouch, a newly tipped javelin and the sword of Martin across his back. Log a Log carried a sling and pouch alongside his shrew rapier, with a small bow and quiver of arrows in addition.

Ruggum s.n.a.t.c.hed up one of Turfee's cornstalks. "Oi bee's a c.u.mmen too, zurrs!"

Log a Log whipped out his rapier and pointed at the stairs leading down to Cavern Hole. He yelled urgently, "A big rat with a bag of of strawberries just ran down there. We can't 'ave that, can we? Get 'im!" strawberries just ran down there. We can't 'ave that, can we? Get 'im!"

Whooping and roaring, the Dibbuns tore off in pursuit of the imaginary villain. Memm moved her chair and opened the door to allow them outside.

"I say, old lad, that was pretty crafty, wot. Don't suppose you'd like to stay indoors an' entertain a flippin' herd of wild infants. Vernal an' I could get a bit o' shuteye." say, old lad, that was pretty crafty, wot. Don't suppose you'd like to stay indoors an' entertain a flippin' herd of wild infants. Vernal an' I could get a bit o' shuteye."

Skipper touched his rudder politely. "Sorry, marm, we got other business to attend."

Vernal watched the two warriors heading for the main gates. "Business to attend, hmm, wonder where they're off to?"

Skipper and Log a Log made rapid progress into Moss-flower, unburdened by cloaks and wearing only short tunics. They conversed little, each keeping well-trained ears and eyes on their surroundings as they pressed on through the trees. There were no unusual sounds, just the steady drip of rainwater from leaf, bush and fern. Skipper nodded at an old aspen tree on the edge of a small clearing. It had been broken in half, pale sappy wood showing white against its green background. Log a Log noted it, pointing briefly at the sky and making a quick moonlike circle with one paw. Both knew that the tree had been brought down by lightning in the previous night's storm.

Reaching the point where they had been attacked by the crows, they halted. Now they spoke, keeping their voices very low and standing close together. "No crows t'day, Skip, must've moved on to better shelter."

"Aye, mate, I don't smell nothin' odd, like the Abbot said Crikulus was talkin' about in 'is sleep. Let's listen."

The otter and the shrew stood still, only their eyes moving as they honed in their keen senses to the woodlands. However, neither could feel anything amiss.

Log a Log spoke. "Best split up, Skip. You go this way, I'll go yonder. Give a cuckoo call if ye find anythin'."

They went their separate ways like two silent smoke wraiths.

Skipper was casting about close to a ma.s.sive old oak when he came across some familiar objects: the cloaks and lanterns belonging to Malbun and Crikulus. The big otter did not disturb them. Bending low, he sniffed his find, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"Cuck-oo! Cuck-oo!"