Part 3 (1/2)

The s.h.i.+p Seascarab rode at anchor in the bay as four longboats were beached above the tideline. The pirates had come ash.o.r.e. Surrounded by his savage ragtag crew, Cap'n Tramun Clogg strode into Fortress Marshank. Badrang had the way lined with heavily armed soldiers. They gripped spears tightly, scowling at the ill a.s.sorted mob from the Seascarab.

With a great clatter of clogs Tramun hauled out his cutla.s.s and roared playfully as he made a mock dash at Badrang's soldiers. They drew back in alarm and Clogg winked roguishly at them.

”Haharr, caught yer nappin' there, mateys. You've all gone soft playin' at bein' landlubbers. Ho there, Frogbit, Nipwort, an' you, Fleabane. Been a bit o' water pa.s.sed under the keel since we sailed t'gether. Yore lookin' plump an' prosperous these days.”

Swaggering up to the Tyrant's wooden longhut, Clogg booted the door. ”Anyone 'ome t'receive a pore seadog who's down on his luck?”

The weasel captain Hisk swung the door open and announced in a dignified manner, ”Enter, Cap'n, my master awaits your pleasure.”

”Oh do 'e now, well ain't that pretty!” a searat called Oilback sn.i.g.g.e.red at Hisk.

36.

Badrang knew he was playing a dangerous game, but slyness and treachery had always been the order of the day between himself and Clogg. The idea was for neither stoat to show he was afraid of the other and to keep up a pretence of being old friends. With this in mind Badrang rushed at his former partner, hugging him tightly as he dropped into corsair slang.

”Well well, burn me bilges if it ain't Cap'n Tramun Clogg. How are yer, ye ole wavedog?”

Tramun pounded the other's back, grinning widely. ”Badrang, me messmate, stripe me but yore lookin' fit as a fish an' spry as a wasp. Oh, it is good for me ole eyes t'see ye agin, me 'earty. Look wot I've brought fer you!”

At a signal from Clogg two searats upended a cask upon the table. They smashed in the head and scooped out two beakers, which they presented to the stoats. Badrang brought the drink swiftly to his mouth, halting slyly as Clogg took a great gulp of his. It flowed down through the pirate stoat's chinplaits as he swigged noisily.

”Damson wine, matey. The best on earth-an' all fer me 'n' you!”

Badrang took a drink that was more of a sip than a gulp. ”Prime stuff. You allus knew a good barrel o' drink, you rascal.”

Clogg released Badrang and slumped down in the Tyrant's thronechair, resting his clogged footpaws noisily on the tabletop.

”Just like in the ole days, eh?”

Badrang seated himself on the edge of the table, smiling. ”Aye, just like in the ole days, mate!”

”Ow long is it since we was last t'gether, d'you reckon?” Clogg took another swig, grinning and winking.

Badrang took a sip, pursing his lips. ”Too long, I'd say, Tramun. It's good to see you agin.”

They continued to play the game, this time with 37.

Clogg's paw straying close to his cutla.s.s, while Badrang toyed with the bone handle of a long skinning dagger.

”I recalls when we was last together, you left me stranded on a reef whilst you sailed off wid twoscore slaves, half o' which was mine by rights.” Now the pirate's voice began to carry a menacing undertone.

Badrang's face was the picture of injured innocence. ”Me sailed off 'n' left you? More the other way round, as I recall. There was a mighty storm an' we were blown off course. My vessel was wrecked an' the slaves lost, all of 'em. When you never turned up to 'elp me, I trekked off overland an' ended up in this place.”

In a trice the time for merriment and reminiscence was over. Clogg hurled his beaker at the wall and stood up.

”Aye, an' lookit you now, Lord Badrang if yer please! Surrounded by a fine fortress an' a pa.s.sel o' slaves, I'll wager. Well, I wants what's due ter me, I've come fer my share!”

Badrang leaped up, confronting his enemy eye to eye. ”I worked too hard to get what I've made 'ere, Clogg. Yore share is nothin' an' that's what y'll get!”

”Do yer hear that lads?” The pirate stoat drew his blade. ”Let's show this black-'earted swab that we ain't 'ere to beg. We've come to take a full complement of slaves to row the Seascarab from all three decks!”

With a wild roar, Clogg's crew unsheathed their weapons and stood ready for slaughter.

”Make a move an' yer Cap'n's a dead un!”

The Tyrant made his move like lightning. Kicking aside Clogg's blade, he grabbed the stoat's plaited beard. A dagger appeared in his other paw, dangerously close to Tramun's throat.

”This blade is poisoned. One nick is all it takes. Hisk!”

”The archers have surrounded these quarters, Lord,” the weasel Captain called from the doorway. ”They're standin' ready with poisoned shafts. None of this sc.u.m will leave alive.”

Clogg held up a paw to his crew. ”Wait, hold yer rush, lads. Put those carvers up.”

He was still smiling, but Badrang could sense the animal rage behind Clogg's grinning features as the pirate addressed him.

”You win, matey, though I never thought you'd use a dirty trick like poisoned weapons against an ole s.h.i.+pmate. Put up yore blade. I'll go peaceful like, back to me s.h.i.+p.”

Badrang stood at the main gates until every last corsair was out of his fortress. The Tyrant was satisfied he had outwitted his foe without bloodshed, which would have been considerable on both sides if a fight had broken out inside Marshank. The archers had their shafts trained on Clogg as he jabbed a warning paw at his enemy.

”That's twice you've crossed me, Badrang, but the third time I'll win. I'm goin', but ye can take an oath I'll be back, so don't rest easy, matey. One dark night I'll slip in when yore least expectin' it. Then I'll slit yer gullet, take the slaves an' burn this fancy place down round yore dead ears. That's a promise!”

Owing to the heightened tension and upset of the pirates' visit, it was not until late night that the prisoners were fed. Armed with a bowl of kitchen sc.r.a.ps and accompanied by Gurrad, a young male otter named Keyla stood dropping the leftovers through the grating to the prisoners below. Gurrad drew his cloak close against a chill breeze from the sea. He wanted to be back by the fire, eating roasted fish and drinking the damson wine that Clogg had left.

The rat shoved Keyla sharply. ”C'mon you, stir your stumps. It's cold out 'ere!”

Keyla shrugged as he sat down on the grating, poking sc.r.a.ps between the bars one bit at a time.

”Cold, sir? I think it's quite warm out here. Still, you 39.

do look a bit drawn and peakish. Maybe you're coming down with fever.”

”Fever? I ain't got no fever.” The rat shuddered and sniffed.

Gurrad was quite taken aback when the young otter stood up and tucked the cloak more snugly around him.

”You never know, sir. Those searats bring all kinds of illness ash.o.r.e with them. Why don't you take yourself indoors by the fire and have a nice beaker of wine? I'll see to these idiots. Huh, they're only making things harder for us other slaves, behaving the way they do. Dim-witted fools. You run along now, sir. I'll take care of feeding these three.”

Gurrad hesitated a moment then s.h.i.+vered as a fresh wind blew around him. That seemed to settle the issue.

”Listen, I'm getting inside where I'll be warmer. Don't be too long out here and report straight back to the compound guard when you're finished, d'you hear?”

Keyla threw the rat a smart salute. ”Don't you worry, sir. I need my sleep, I won't be long. Better hurry now, your eyes look a bit cloudy to me.”

Gurrad needed no further urging. He scurried off s.h.i.+vering and rubbing at his eyes, convinced he was sickening for fever.

Giggling quietly to himself, the otter pressed his face to the grating and called down, ”Felldoh, are you all right?”

The squirrel stood upon Martin's shoulders and drew himself up so he was close to the bars.

”Keyla, my friend, listen carefully. Here's what I want you to do.”