The squirrelmaid put aside her food. "You mean our eagle, Megraw? But, Grandpa, he can't fly!"
Gawjo's lazy hooded eyes flickered. "Are you sure, me young beauty? I've been watchin' yore eagle. There ain't a pinion feather missin' from his wing, an' 'tis not broken anywhere along its length, that wing. I've studied the way Megraw carries it, sort o' flopped down an' still. Now, I know more about fixin' injuries than mostbeasts, ask Torrab an' her crew. The fish eagle's wing's not broken, 'tis dislocated, where it meets the bird's body. I can reset the wing, put it back in its right place so he can fly again!"
"Do ye no say, Gawjo? Weel, ah'm willin' tae try et if it'll mek mah wing able tae fly again!"
Megraw had been standing near the cabin door, listening to what Song's grandpa was saying. He ambled in, his savage golden eyes flashing. "Ah'd like et fine tae get mah beak an' talons intae yon maggypies whit did this tae me. So, tell us the rest o' yer gran' plan, ye auld treehopper."
The creatures in the cabin crowded around the table as Gawjo Swifteye outlined his scheme, sketching on the tabletop with the point of his dagger. It was a risky proposition, calling for stout hearts and warriors who would not flinch from danger, but it was a good plan. Song watched her grandpa, the stern face and lazy eyes, deceptively quiet voice and perilous easygoing manner. Recalling Janglur Swifteye, her own father, she knew now where he had inherited his bravery and skill as a warrior. Pride flooded through the young squirrelmaid. Swifteyes were a breed of creatures to be reckoned with!
An otter and an aged mouse watched from the slave pens in the courtyard of Castle Marl, as the funeral procession of Queen Silth passed by. In the lead strode the Marlfox Lantur, clad in a purple velvet cloak, trimmed with silver. She wore a polished wood mask, with grieving features etched upon it. Behind her marched the elite guard, armored in shining black, purple pennants hanging from their spearpoints and shield bosses, blacked with firesmoke. Next came the palanquin, draped with white silk curtains, inside which rested the body of the High Queen Silth, founder of the Marlfox dynasty, wrapped tight in the cloth that had once masqueraded as the White Ghost. The entire thing was borne on the shoulders of threescore paw soldiers with bowed heads and measured steps. All around and about the procession, Athrak and his magpies flew, carrying weeping willow twigs in their claws and cawing harshly over the sound of musicians playing dirges on flutes in time to a steady drumbeat.
The otter shook his head in disgust, whispering to the old mouse, "Lookit that 'un walkin' in front, Lantur. Hah! She's laughin' behind that mask, matey, I'd wager a season's vittles on it. Wot a sham it all is! Everybeast on the island knows Lantur killed 'er own mother. Take my word fer it, cully, there ain't a beast walks under the sun wickeder'n a Marlfox!"
The aged mouse tugged his otter friend's whiskers. "Stow that kind o' talk, pal. If Wilce or Ullig 'ears you they'll 'ave yore 'ead for sure!"
Banks of torches blazed on the plateau at the lake edge where the bearers set the palanquin down. Musicians ceased their playing and Athrak's magpies fell silent as they perched on the nearby rocks. All that could be heard were the fathomless waters lapping at the steep island sides and night breezes causing the torchlights to whurr softly. The water rat Wilce stepped forward and presented Lantur with a scroll, specially written for the occasion. The Marlfox unrolled it ceremoniously and read its contents in a voice artistically choked with emotion.
"No more on our isle will your presence be,
Or your voice sound like some silver bell,
Like summer smoke, you have gone from me,
My grief is too mournful to tell.
Great High Queen Silth we commend you,
With loving care to the deep,
May the guardians of waters attend you,
In silent depths of sleep,
Knowing that I, who rule in your place,
Draw all of my wisdom from you,
May show to all, a merciful face,
To your memory, always true!"
Ullig the former Slave Captain took three paces forward, signaling with his spearpoint to the bearers standing immediately behind the palanquin. They lifted the rear carrying poles slowly as the music started again. Tilting at a forward angle, the palanquin was raised above the bearers' heads. White silk hangings at the palanquin's front blossomed out, and Silth's wrapped body slid with a dull splosh into the lake. The body had been weighted with stones, and sank down into the dark waters. All was calm for a brief moment, then the long sleek glint of pike flashed in the torchlight as the ever-ravenous predators rushed to the spot and shot down into the deeps, pursuing the grisly object. Lantur removed her mask, and spreading both paws wide over the waters she called out in a high-pitched whine, "High Queen Silth is dead!"
Immediately, Wilce and Ullig shouted aloud, "Long live High Queen Lantur! Long live High Queen Lantur!"
The cry was taken up by the attendant crowd of water rats until it became a chant. Lantur inclined her head to one side, smiling shyly as Ullig gestured for silence. "What can I say to you, my loyal subjects? I accept!"
Ullig and Wilce were about to lead the cheering when the logboat nosed up to the plateau and Mokkan leapt ashore.
Mokkan had been watching, as usual. He never made a move without first studying the situation shrewdly. From out on the lake he had seen his mother's body being committed to the deep. Making for those he knew to be the two main conspirators, Mokkan seized Ullig and Wilce by their throats. They blanched in fear. Mokkan spoke in a low grating tone, so none but the two water rats could hear. "So this is how you sell out behind my back. Shut up and listen hard. When I give you the nod, both of you get everybeast shouting. And here's what you'll shout..."
Lantur was beginning to feel uneasy. Of all her brothers and sisters, Mokkan was the slyest of Marlfoxes. She watched him carefully. He came to her, his face wreathed in smiles, and clasping her paws he shook them joyfully. "My little sister, High Queen Lantur, what a happy homecoming for me!"
Lantur tried to break Mokkan's grip on her paws, but he was far too strong. He clasped her more tightly.
"What fortune, that I should return the very moment you are proclaimed Queen. Alas, I knew our poor mother's days were numbered, but she'll rest peacefully, knowing she has you to rule in her stead. But wait. I brought back a thing of great beauty for our mother; it shall be my gift to you, High Queen. Here, let me show it to you!"
While he had been talking, Mokkan had maneuvered Lantur to the edge of the rock plateau. He called out to the rats who were dumbly sitting in the logboat awaiting orders. "Open the tapestry, spread it wide. Captain Ullig, tell your bearers to bring forward the torches. Let everybeast see the prize I have brought from afar to celebrate the start of High Queen Lantur's reign!"
The onlookers gasped in wonderment as the fantastically woven tapestry of Martin the Warrior was unrolled in the torchlight. All eyes were upon it when Mokkan made his move. With a quick flick of his paws he pushed Lantur into the lake. She screamed once, thrashing about in the wet shreds of her mother's shroud, which were floating up to the surface. Had she remained still, Lantur might have been pulled to safety. But anything that moved in the waters was fair game to the pike shoals that hunted there. The lakewater boiled briefly as the heavy predators struck, then Lantur was gone. Mokkan nodded to Wilce and Ullig, and they shouted as though their lives depended upon it, which indeed they did.