Samkim snuggled down in Thrugg's arms murmuring happily. "Oh, that's good. I was seeking you." He closed his eyes and went instantly into a deep sleep.
Back at the dormitory, Thrugg deposited him gently in his bed. "Strike me sails, he ain't no lightweight. All that carryin' has set me appetite off again. I'll just nip back down an' see if n that there soup tastes better with the pepper I added."
8
The moon over the dunes made hollows of darkness against the dun-colored sand, which stood out in stark relief, still radiating warmth from the hot day into the soft summer night.
At first Feadle thought his eyes were deceiving him, but as he peered into the moon-shadowed dunes he distinguished the smartly dressed figure of Klitch hurrying toward the camp. Filling his lungs with air, Feadle roared at the top of his voice. "Master, see, it's your son Klitch and he's alone!"
Roused rudely from his slumbers, the weasel Chieftain hissed upward at the hapless sentry, "Wormbrain! Couldn't you shout any louder to advertise our presence to the entire countryside?''
Sickear scrabbled for balance, wakened by the sudden shout.
Feadle steadied him as he whispered back in an exaggerated tone, "But, Master, you said to let you know"
A well-aimed pebble struck him stingingly on the eartip, followed by Ferahgo's voice, heavy with contempt: "Feadle, you useless toad, get down here. Sickear, you stay up there and keep your wits about you."
The Assassin sat with his son, apart from the rest and out of hearing. He nodded his head approvingly as Klitch made his
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report, then commented, "I knew there was something to those tales of a hollow mountain and the badger's treasure. But you say you didn't see any of it. How d'you know it's there, you sly young fiend?"
Klitch's blue eyes twinkled in the darkness. "Hah! It's there all right, you old murderer. That badger, Mara, she let slip about it in conversation. She'd know where the treasure of Salamandastron is hidden, mark my words."
"Where is she now?"
"Back in the dunes there with her friend, a hare name Pik-kle. Goffa's keeping an eye on them while I'm away. No need to worry, they were sleeping like babies when I left them to come here."
"Well done, Klitch. Now we know exactly where the mountain is. The next question is how to get in there and grab the treasure."
Klitch toyed with the sword that hung by his side. "It won't be easy. I've told you, the place is a fortress, besides which there's more than twoscore of haresproper battle-trained fighters, not like the helpless creatures we're used to. But the main one is that badger, Lord Urthstripe. I've never seen a beast so big and fierce. He's a real warrior. I'd hate to have to go up against him!"
Ferahgo's long skinning knife appeared under Klitch's nose. "You leave him to me, I've dealt with big badgers before. Oh, they're fierce fighters, sure enough, but they lack cunning and suffer from silly little things, like honor and conscience. Now you get off back to your new comrades and guide them over this way, to me. There's more than one way of frying a frog. Off you go, you young backstabber!"
Klitch vanished amid the night-washed dunes, unaware of the two shadowy forms at the side of a hill. Sergeant Sapwood and Big Oxeye had followed him. Though they had not heard what passed between Klitch and Ferahgo, they were not slow in realizing that the large vermin horde camped in the foothills spelled death and destruction. The young weasel loped past the pair, not knowing they were within a hairsbreadth of him. Oxeye hefted the light throwing lance, feeling its balance as he eyed the receding Klitch.
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"D'you know, I could pin the filthy little blighter through his neck from here, even though the blinkin' light's bad, wot."
The Sergeant restrained his friend's throwing paw. "Steady in the ranks, you'd blow the gaff. Now there's dirty work apaw, we've got ter use our brainboxes. I reckons if one o' us reports back to Lord Urthstripe, the other c'n follow yonder weasel an' watch out for new ^intelligence. You go back ter the mountain, and I'll foller the weasel."
"That's what 1 like about you, Sarge," Oxeye chuckled good-humoredly, "always ready to vote on a democratic decision, wot?"
Big Oxeye held up his paws defensively as Sapwood crouched into a sparring position. "Pax! I was only jokin'. You're quite right, of course. I'll go back an' sound the jolly old alarm at Salamandastron, and you stick close to young Pikkle an' Mara. We both know this country like the backs of our paws; shouldn't be any bother trackin' one another if we need to make contact. OK?"
After a silent shake of paws they split up, going their separate ways into the night-shaded dunes.
An early fly landed on Mara's eyelid. She shooed it off with a dozy paw as she awakened to peachgold dawn stealing softly over the sleeping dunes. The land lay in a pool of calm serenity; the sand, now still and cool, awaited sun-warmed day. Somewhere a lark began trilling as it fluttered its morning ascent into the airy heights.
Pikkle opened one eye and swiftly closed it again. "It's no use tryin' ter wake me up, I'm fast a bally sleep."
The badger maid gathered a double pawful of sand and began trickling it onto the tip of her friend's nose. He sneezed and sat up straight, his long ears springing to attention. "Is it that late already, by the fur! My old tummyclock tells me there should be brekkers around. Hope it's something nice, wot!"
Goffa pulled himself upright on his spear haft. "You ate it all last night, greedyguts!"
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"Greedyguts y'self, sir." Pikkle brushed sand from his coat. "I didn't notice you stintin' your belly when it came to puttin' food in it. Matter o' fact, I began to think you'd had news of a ten-season famine an' you were packin' it away just in case."
Goffa scowled nastily, testing his spearpoint. "You mind your mouth, you great overgrown rabbit..."
"Here, here, what's all this, friends fighting already?" As Klitch brushed past Goffa he dug an open claw in his back and shot him an angry glance. Turning to Mara and Pikkle, his eyes switched to open blue wonderment. "Now then, pals, what's all the quarreling about?"
"No quarrel really." Pikkle laughed. "I merely made inquiries about breakfast. Old Goffa must've got out the wrong side of the sandhill this mornin*he accused me of scoffin' all the rations last night. Blinkin' cheek! Do I look like a scoffer, Klitch? Go on, be honest, don't spare m'feelin's."
The blue-eyed weasel upended the empty haversacks. "Actually you do, Pikkle, but it's no use falling out over it. The point is that we've run out of food."
Mara licked sand grains from her dry lips. "Not even an apple and I've got a dreadful thirst!"
She thought for a fleeting moment of the cool dark dining room inside the mountain, the tables laid with plain wholesome food and flagons of cold cider, greensap milk and mint tea. Thrusting the memory from her mind, she looked around. "Well, I only know the country north and west of here. It's much the same as this: mountains, foothills, dunes and sandhills running to the shores. We won't find much food in that direction. What about that way, down south?"
Klitch shook his head. "That's the way we came up here. There's a broad stream in the far south, but between that and here there's a big area of swampland that we had to skirt. The place is overrun with big toads, and it's a pretty bad bet, I'd say."
Pikkle's stomach made a loud audible growl. He patted it. "Yes I know, old lad, but you'll just have ter wait until we find some tucker. Come on, chaps. Anybeast got an idea