Part 9 (1/2)
Triss traced the charted line, which had been marked out on the map. It came out of Riftgard fjord, straight into the sea, travelling due west, then taking a broad swinging curve southward. Farther down, land was indicated, but only one side of the coast. Then the route went south, taking a sharp dip east toward the land where it indicated what looked like a river running out across a beach. Triss sighed.
”Well, it all looks very nice, but how do we know where we are in relation to all this? We could be anywhere.”
Shogg, however, did not share her bafflement. ”See that compa.s.s drawn in the left corner there? The North Star's marked clear, right over the north point o' the compa.s.s design. 'Ere, wot's this? Is it a blot of rnk or a tiny island, just off the route line where it starts to bend south? Look.”
The squirrelmaid rubbed the dark speck with her paw. ”Could be a blot, I suppose, or it may be an island.”
Welfo moaned and rolled over. She was nearly falling from the bunk as Triss reached her and turned her back again. Wringing out the sc.r.a.p of cloth, the squirrelmaid wetted it again in a shallow dish of seawater and bathed her friend's face with it. Still completely out of her senses, the hogmaid licked at the salty dampness.
Shogg pursed his lips grimly. ”She's got to 'ave water soon, fresh water. We all need drinkin' water, or we'll per- ish afore too long. You tend to the pore creature, Triss. I'm goin' up on deck for a look about, see if'n I can fix our position.”
It was fully night, with just a sliver of moon, like a silvery nail paring, surrounded by stars in a cloudless sky. Shogg sat at the tiller, his head thrown back, exploring the countless points of starlight that dotted the velvet dark skies in dizzying numbers. After a while, the otter's neck began to ache, but he had made his decision. Pointing up at one bright, still jewel of the night, he spoke aloud to himself.
”That'n's the North Star, it's got t'be!”
Setting the tiller on course, he trimmed the single sail and began heading away from the star.
Triss tended to Welfo until the hogmaid lay still. So that she would not roll out of the bunk again, the squirrelmaid lay down beside her. It was not long before Triss closed her weary eyes and fell into a slumber. In her dreams she saw the sea, ever restless, wave lapping upon wave, murmuring with that soothing noise that only the vast deeps can produce. Gradually she realised that a voice was calling her, softly at first.
”Triss ... Trisscar, my daughter ... I see you.”
A squirrel and a mouse were floating towards her, their paws not touching the water, which flattened itself to make a path for them. Although she could not remember his face, Triss knew that the squirrel was her father. She called to him. ”Father . . . Father!” He smiled at her and pointed to the mouse.
Triss felt tears spill down her face as she heard herself saying, ”Trisscar, I am called Trisscar? I never knew ...”
The image of her father began to fade as he spoke again. ”Drufo would have told you .. . When the day came ...”
He faded altogether, and Triss was left alone with the mouse. She sensed immediately that this was no ordinary mouse. He was clad in s.h.i.+ning armour and held a won- drous sword, the like of which she had never seen. Not even among the best blades in Princess Kurda's armoury. The mouse had a kindly face, although Triss could see the light of a warrior s.h.i.+ning in his eyes. He reached out with the sword and touched her right paw gently with its tip.
His voice was warm and friendly, but stirring somehow. ”Trisscar, that is a name for a great swordmaid. Sleep, my little Trisscar. Sleep!”
Then the vision was gone and she descended into the comforting darkness of deep slumber.
It was bright day when she awoke. Welfo was still sleeping, but her breathing was shallow and laboured. Triss hauled herself stiffly from the bunk. Her mouth felt dry as a bone, her tongue swollen and awkward. Blundering up on deck, she stood dumbly, watching Shogg. He was sitting at the tiller, shredding the strands from a short length of rope. It was several moments before he realised she was there.
The otter blinked wearily. ”Jus' seein' if 1 could put t'gether a fis.h.i.+n' line. Don't know wot I'm supposed to use for bait. How's Welfo t'day?”
The squirrelmaid sat down beside him, drawing her ragged gown about her in the slight morning breeze. ”Hmm, what? Oh, Welfo, she's sleeping. What d'you think, Shogg, are we going to die out here on this great sea?”
The otter continued picking at rope strands. ”Where would ye sooner die, missy, back at Riftgard as a slave-beast, or out 'ere on the deep with me at yore side?”
Triss managed a smile. She patted Shogg's paw. ”I'd rather not die, if it's all the same to you, mate!”
The otter put aside the piece of rope. ”Aye, I want to live, too, y'know. That's why I've set us a course by the North Star. We'll see if that dot on the map's a blot or an island.”
Triss stared up at the bright morning sky. ”But how can you do that? There's no stars about now,”
Shogg explained. ”I located the North Star last night, sailed through the dark with it t'guide us. Right up till 'twas startin' to dawn. Sun rises in the east, don't it? That's 'ow I fixed me position. With a bit of luck we'll find yore blot, missy, never fret.”
Welfo appeared in the cabin doorway. She was s.h.i.+vering and could scarcely stand up. ”I'm thirsty ... so thirsty!”
Triss hurried to help her, murmuring to Shogg, ”Find water, if only for poor Welfo's sake!”
She hurried the hedgehog maid back to her bunk and laid her down, talking soothingly to her. ”There now, you have a little nap. We'll soon get you water. Let's take a look at that slingstone wound. Oh, it's looking much better today, I'll just bathe it with some seawater. There, that's nice and cool, isn't it?”
As Welfo's eyes were closing, she spoke to the squirrel-maid. ”Is your name Trisscar?” Triss was taken aback. ”Yes, it is, who told you that?” Welfo murmured as she sank into a daze, ”You did, last night. Trisscar, I am called Trisscar/ You said it out loud.” The dream came back to Triss as she stroked her sleeping friend's brow. Trisscar, that is a name for a great sword-maid! Trisscar, that is a name for a great sword-maid!
Redwall Abbey's twin bells pealed out to the new dawn. Down in the kitchens, Friar Gooch ceased ladling carrot and fennel sauce over a batch of mushroom pasties he was about to fold and crimp. Furrel, his faithful molemaid a.s.sistant, stirred a potful of hot honey ready for candying chestnuts. She allowed the ladle to rest, smiling fondly.
”Hurr, oi loikes ee bells, they'm wunnerful musick to start off'n a h'extra sunny mawnin'. Wot do ee say, zurr?”
Gooch nodded vigorously as he opened an oven door. ”I say you're right, friend, especially as 'tis the first day o' summer our bells are ringin' out for!”
Furrel almost tripped on her long cook's ap.r.o.n as she trundled swiftly to the kitchen door and called out. ”Ee zummer bee's yurr, joy an' 'arpiness to all!”
The Abbey bells began ringing out an extra peal, to welcome in the new season. Gurdle Sprink came bustling up from the cellar, puffing as he carried a small keg. Skipper, who was returning from his morning exercises, b.u.mped into the fat Cellarhog and relieved him of his burden.
”Belay there, mate, let me carry that for ye. Oh, summer's 'ere, joy an' 'appiness to all!”
Gurdle shook the otter's paw, returning the traditional greeting for the new season. ”Summer is 'ere, sir, aye, joy an' happiness to all, an' especially t'you, my big strong pal!”
Together they entered the kitchens, with the Abbot, clad in a fresh robe of clean linen, shuffling behind. Friar Gooch and Furrel met them, with much hugging, kissing, back-slapping and paw shaking as they exchanged greetings for the jolly occasion.
”Summer is here, joy and happiness to all!”
The Father Abbot's eyes gleamed with antic.i.p.ation. ”And what, pray, is in that delightful-looking keg?”
Skipper placed it on the table. Curdle took out his little screw tap and knocked it into the bung keg. Sister Vernal appeared with Malbun and Crikulus in tow. They carried a tray full of delicate rock-crystal beakers, tiny things, which tinkled as they touched.
Before Gurdle could answer the Abbot's question, old Crikulus chuckled. ”Wild-cherry-an'-redcurrant cordial, made on the final day of last summer. Good beast, Gurdle, I knew you'd bring it up from the cellars today!”
The Cellarhog looked slightly nonplussed that anybeast should know what his surprise offering was to be. He grumbled. ”Aye, brought it up 'ere, just like I do on the first day of every summer season.”
Abbot Apodemus placed a paw carefully around Gur-dle's spiky shoulders, smiling fondly. ”What would Red-wall do without you, my old friend? I'm sure this will be the nicest wild-cherry-and-redcurrant cordial ever tasted in our beloved Abbey!”
The Cellarhog blushed to his spiketips as he busied himself pouring the sparkling cerise-hued liquid into the gla.s.ses. ”Kindly said, Father Abbot, Well, 'ere's long life an' good fortune to us all!”
Memm Flackery came hurtling in and relieved Gurdle of two gla.s.ses, which she quaffed instantly. ”A jolly loud hoorah for summer, wot? Joy an' happiness to all you bounders, who never woke me t'say this was bein' served.
I say, Gurdy old lad, this is absolutely toodle pip, well done, sah. Congrats!”
Foremole Urrm scuttled in and seized the last gla.s.s as Memm was about to reach for it. ”Yurr gudd 'ealth, zurr an' marms, ee summer bee's yurr!”
Friar Gooch bowed to the Abbot. ”Brekkist in the orchard I think, eh, Father?”
Apodemus beamed. ”Why certainly, Friar, where else on such a day? I can't think of a more pleasant place!”
Memm Flackery interrupted. ”Only after you've sat in Great Hall an' dealt with those dastardly Dibbuns who are on Abbot's Report, sah, wot!”
The Abbot's face fell. He disliked dealing out sentences, particularly to Dibbuns. Skipper saw this and provided an instant solution to the problem.