Root laughed and gave Martin a huge wink. "Bless yer life, matey, he's fine.
Little thief, stealin' our riverwater like that. Here, he's comin' around
now."
A moment later Gonff was spluttering and shaking indignantly. "Root, you great
clodhopping water monster, I'm sure you took the long way around to get here.
Have I coughed all that water back? Yuk! Bet I lowered the river level by a
foot or two, matey. Oh, hello Martin. Well, how d'you like Camp Willow?"
Martin had not looked at his surroundings. Now that the danger was past, he
took stock of where they had beached. It was a large, sandy, shelf like area,
the roof of which was a mass of gnarled willow roots. Phosphorescence from the
swift-flowing water palely illuminated the cave system of the underground
bank. A canal ran through the middle of Camp Willow, emanating out of the
gloomy darkness of hidden caves and bolt holes in the rear.
Skipper watched proudly as Martin gazed about. "You won't find no better
'ccommodation for an otter anywhere, Martin. Camp Willow was built by otter
paws."
Martin nodded shrewdly. "A right fine job they did of it, too, Skipper."
The Skipper of otters swelled out his barrel-like chest.
"Andsome of you to say so, mate, but belay awhile and I'll call muster."
It soon became apparent that three of the crew were dead, possibly four;
nobody could account for the fact that a young female called Spring was
missing. Skipper's face was grim as he called two young males, Duckweed and
Streamer, to search the river for the missing one. With barely a ripple, the
two plunged back into the water and were gone.
Martin and Gonff were given rough barkcloths to dry themselves. They sat upon
the bank with the otters around a bright
60
fire, eating thick wedges of carrot and parsley bread, which they dunked in a
steaming bowl of river shrimp and bulrush soup, seasoned with fiery
ditchnettle pepper. It was delicious, but extremely hot.
The otters munched away happily, laughing at the two mice and calling out old
river proverbs.
*'Haha, don't taste no 'otter to an otter, matey."
"The more 'otter it is, the more 'otter otters likes it."
Martin and Gonff swigged cold water and laughed along with the crew.
Not long before they settled down to sleep, Duckweed and Streamer returned.
They emerged, dripping, into Camp Willow. Between them they were supporting
young Spring. Streamer had removed the arrow from Spring's back. Fortunately,
she was not badly hurt.
Skipper was delighted to see her, and he dressed the wound carefully. "Ho,
'tis me, little matey Spring. Never you fear, young un. If they gave you an
arrow, we'll pay 'em back with a shower of javelins. You get some vittles and
a good rest. \bu'll be right as a river rock tomorrow."
Spring told them what had happened.
"When I got hit I didn't swim away for fear of leavin' a blood trail in the
water, so I swam a little ways then laid under a bush hangin' over the bank. I
slapped a good pawful o' mud on my wound to stop the bleedin' and lay waiting.
I knew Skip wouldn't leave me long afore he sent help. I was that close to
some of those vermin sittin' on the bank that I could have reached out and
laid a flipper on 'em. They were all talkin' about somethin' called a
Gloomer—said that the cat had sent messengers to Kotir to fetch this Gloomer
thing."
Skipper patted Spring. "Well done, matey. You get some sleep now, and don't
fret your 'ead about nothin'. Old Skip'11 take care of it."
Root struck his thigh with a heavy paw. "Ha! The Gloomer—I might've knowed it,
Skip. What'll we do now?"
The fire burned low in the Stickle dwelling as Goody tidied around before
going to join Ben outside. It was a peaceful Spring night. Ben knocked his
pipe out on the gatepost. "Should be a fair day on the morrow, old girl." ;
They both stood nodding. Suddenly Goody threw up her
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paws. "Well, in the name of Stickles, will you just look at those two liddle
'ogs a layin' there."
Ferdy and Coggs had really taken their sentry duty to heart. They had rigged
up a tent from a blanket and branches. Nearby lay a jug of strawberry cordial
and a half-finished apple pie which they had requisitioned from Goody's
cupboard. The two little hedgehogs lay with their arms about each other,
snoring uproariously, cooking pot helmets askew, mouths wide open.
Ben chuckled fondly. "I do believe we'll sleep sounder in our beds, Goody, k
no win' we've got these two terrors to guard us through the night."
As Goody folded the blanket away, Ben carried Ferdy and Coggs inside.
Still asleep, Ferdy waved his stick. "Who goes there? I'll fight the six of
you!"
11
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At Kotir, Fortunata was also sleeping peacefully, until the banging of
spearbutts against her chamber door brought her yawning and shuffling from her
bed.
"Who's there? Go away and see Ashleg about it, whatever it is."
Brogg and Scrait stood aside as Cludd, the weasel Captain of the guard, kicked
the door open. "Come on, fox. You're Granted by Queen Tsarmina. She's camped
by the River Moss."
Fortunata rubbed her injured rump. "Couldn't Ashleg go? Fin injured."
* Cludd's stolid face was expressionless. "No, the Queen wants you there by
dawn. You're to bring the Gloomer with you. Brogg and Sc rat I'll lend a paw."
' Fortunata recoiled with fright and distaste. "The Gloomer! 1 thought that
horror had died years ago or gone away." Cludd pointed his spear at the vixen.
"Come on now, no nonsense. Ifou know what Milady's like if you disobey her
orders. We'll make sure Gloomer's well secured."
-'• Fortunata had no choice. In a foul temper, she followed the three soldiers
down corridors and flights of stairs to the «ery bowels of the fortress.
*• Far beneath the cells there was an underground cavern and
• great lake. The only one who ever went down to the lake Was the guard who
was detailed to feed the Gloomer. Once
63
a week he would take down the refuse from the barracks, leaving it a
respectable distance from the post to which Gloomer's long chain was attached
at the lake's edge.
Verdauga had captured Gloomer and brought him to Kotir long ago. The monster
water rat was robbed of normal sight after years of swimming in the dark murky
waters of the lake. It had little hearing and no speech at all. None of this
mattered while it still possessed the instincts of touch and smell; the
Gloomer was a killer, savage and mindless, particularly when there was fresh
meat to be had.
Fortunata was frightened; this was no place to be in the night hours. Gingerly
she picked up the chain. The rattling iron links echoed eerily around the cold
musty cavern, and what little courage the fox had failed her. She dropped the
chain, looking imploringly toward Cludd. "I'm only a vixen. This will take a
creature strong and brave as a Captain of the Guard."
The obvious slyness of the remark did not escape Cludd, yet he swelled
slightly at the flattery. Taking the chain firmly, he nodded at the others.
"Right. Stay out of the way and leave this to me. I know how to deal with
Gloomer."
Tugging hard on the rusty chain, Cludd splashed it up and down in the water as
he pulled. The underground lake rippled, and there was an audible gasp of
shock from the three onlookers as the Gloomer's monstrous head appeared from
the depths like the worst kind of vision from a bad dream. The eyes were
staring, sightless white marbles veined with blood-red streaks, the snout