of ruling Kotir alone?"
Fortunata got in ahead of Ashleg. "There has never been a more capable ruler
than you, MUady. On my oath as a healer, it was not I who arranged your title
list."
Tsarmina rubbed her injured paw thoughtfully. Behind her, Ashleg's wooden limb
made nervous little shifting noises.
"What have you got to say for yourself, marten?"
"Your Majesty, I thought that—"
Tsarmina's snarl overrode Ashleg's nervous muttering. "Thought? Who gave you
permission to think? Get out on that parade ground this instant!"
The unhappy Ashleg stumped out, knowing it was useless to plead or argue.
Tsarmina halted the march on its next circuit. They ground to a halt in front
of the marten. She called out to Cludd, "Keep Ashleg in front of the army.
First rank, point your spears at that marten. All of you, remember this: I am
no longer called Daughter of Lord Greeneyes. That title is dead. It will be
replaced by the name Tsarmina the Magnificent."
At a wave of Cludd's spear the army chanted aloud,' 'Tsarmina the
Magnificent!"
Ashleg looked around nervously. He was standing out in front of a rank of
gleaming spearpoints, all pointed at his body. The marten gathered his cloak
up, knowing the cruel command that was imminent. Tsarmina's snarl cut cross
his thoughts. "At the double. Carry on!"
Fortunata stood to one side, knowing that a careless word could have placed
her alongside the hapless marten.
Ashleg tried not to think. Desperately he dragged himself along in a frantic
hop cum hobble, in front of the lethal spears. Madly he tried to gain a little
ground, only to realize that he was hard put to keep what lead he had from the
relentlessly double-marching soldiers.
Tsarmina laughed mockingly and she dug Fortunata in the
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ribs. "Ha, thumpitty clump, eh, fox. How long d'you reckon he'll last?"
"Not long at that rate, MUady. Look at him trying to keep ahead of those
spears. Ashleg mightn't be too bright, but at least he's obedient and loyal."
Tsarmina sighed moodily; her fun had been spoiled. "Hmm, you're right, I
suppose. Tell Cludd to call a halt."
Fortunata waved a signal to the stolid weasel Captain. Cludd halted the troops
at the very moment Ashleg fell face forward on the gravel, his tortured body
unable to travel another pace. He was sobbing pitifully for breath.
Tsarmina prowled purposefully out in front of the ranks, ignoring Ashleg, who
was dragging himself painfully toward the indoor coolness of the entrance
hall. The wildcat Queen faced her command as they stood in the gravel dust
with heaving chests.
"Look at you. See how you have grown fat and lazy, slugs, worms! As from
today, all of this will change. Believe me, or die. Mice, two silly little
mice, have escaped my prison. Together with a rabble of woodlanders, they have
made fools of you all."
Nervous paws crunched the gravel as Tsarmina's fury and scorn lashed them.
"I'll take revenge for the insult to my majesty. Mossfiower will be drenched
in the blood of any creature who will not obey me, whether it be a woodlander
or a soldier of Kotir!"
Fortunata shuddered inwardly at the mad light that shone in Tsarmina's eyes as
her voice rose in the sunlit stillness.
"Cludd, Ashleg, Fortunata, you will split the army four ways. Take a group
each. I will stay here to guard Kotir with •flic remainder. You will go into
the forest and hunt out every last woodlander. Take them prisoners. Any that
resist, kill. Kotir will grow strong again with prisoners to serve it. We will
enslave them. The flatlands to the west will be cultivated and farmed. My
father was too soft with those creatures. They took advantage of his good
nature in letting them live outside the walls in a settlement. That's what
encouraged them to desert: too much freedom. Well, I'll tell you all right
now, no more settlements. It'll be the cells for them this time; separate
cells, punishment, that's what they'll be here ;for. We will hold their young
as hostages. To stop any upris-
?'
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ing, they will toil from dawn to dusk—or their families will starve. Go now,
and remember, this time there will be no failure."
There was a hurried clanking and stamping from the already armored and kitted
troops. Orders were called amid wheeling and marching. In a short time
Tsarmina stood alone on the empty parade ground, staring at a single fallen
spear.
Whoever had dropped it would be far too scared to come back and retrieve it.
She stooped and picked up the weapon as something whooshed by close overhead.
Argulor!
As big and powerful as she was, Tsarmina did not wait around to challenge the
eagle. Taking a swift run, she vaulted through a ground-floor window, using
the spear shaft as a pole. Peering out, she saw Argulor circle away to his
perch, well out of arrow range.
The wildcat Queen was glad that no one had witnessed her retreat.
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Chibb the robin watched the little procession of woodlanders marching
southward. He had no doubt that they were coming to visit him. They were
carrying food. If they were not coming to see him, then what right did they
have wandering about Mossfiower carrying bags of candied chestnuts? . He was
different from other birds. For the sake of his little fat stomach, Chibb had
overcome all barriers. Greed was the ooe motive that drove him to sell his
spying skills to others— greed, tempered with wisdom. Chibb would never sell
his services to Kotir, as he had narrowly escaped being eaten by weasels and
such on more than one occasion.
The woodlanders used Chibb whenever they had cause to, Sometimes to locate a
missing young one, more often than nott to find out what was going on in other
parts of the forest. Chibb did not come cheaply, however. The fat robin had a
fondness amounting to a passion for candied chestnuts.
He watched the party below him: Martin, Lady Amber and
a young Loamhedge mouse called Columbine were in the lead; Gonif and Billum
the mole trailed behind, both carrying small barkcloth bags of candied
chestnuts. Chibb could not take his bright eyes off the bag that Gonif was
bouncing play-fully in his paws.
"Ha, candied chestnuts, eh, Billum. What's the good of giving these to old
Chibb, just for a skinny bit of spyin'?
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I'll bet me and you could scoff these between us and get their spyin' done for
*em easy enough."
The trusty mole caught the bag in midair as Gonff tossed it. He crinkled his
velvet face in a deep chuckle.
"Ho hurr hurr! Liddle wunner they send oi t'keep watch on 'ee, you'm a
villyen, Maister Gonff. Keepen 'ee paws outten 'ee chesknutters, or oi tells
Miz Bell offen 'ee."
Gonff threw up his paws in mock horror and ran to catch up with Martin,
complaining aloud. "The nerve of Billum! Fancy not trusting honest old
Gonff—me, that was sent on this mission specially to keep an eye out for
greedy moles. I'll bet I end up getting scragged by you lot, trying to keep
those chestnuts safe. There's no room for an honest thief these days."
Martin chuckled as he watched Columbine from the corner of his eye. The pretty
young fieldmouse was laughing merrily, obviously taken by Gonff's roguish
charm. Martin encouraged her by putting in the odd word or two on his friend's
behalf.
"Be careful of that fellow, Columbine. He's not one of your Loamhedge order.
If you don't watch Gonff, he'll steal the whiskers from under your nose."