Romsca slammed the door and stood grinning at the lizard. "What are you bellyachin' about now, scaleface? There ain't a wave out there t'day! It's smooth as a babe's fur!"
The Monitor's head shook spasmodically. He had to wait for his teeth to stop chattering so that he could talk. “L-l-look, half of my Monitorz dead, frozen, iz no warmth, iz only d-d-death for uz unlezz zun shinez again!"
Romsca waved a paw on high. "Oh, well, why didn't yer say, matey? I woulda tole the sun t'come out an' shine all day if yer'd mentioned it!"
The dark muddy eyes of Lask Frildur glared hatred at the corsair. "Emperor Ublaz will hear of thizz inzult, ferret!" he spat.
The corsair ferret captain laughed harshly. "Lissen, dead'ead, yer out at sea, in blue water! There ain't a thing you, me or the Emperor can do about the weather, get that inter yer thick skull, lizard! We're all in the paws o' fate, see, and luck'n'judgement is all I got. Right now I don't know if'n we be sailin' south, east or north. No stars, sun or wind, just fog everywhere, an' it ain't my fault!"
Lask buried his huge head in frost-numbed claws. "You loze the way, the ship iz lozt!"
Romsca's voice dripped sarcasm. "Clever ole reptile, the acorn's finally dropped, eh! Right, matey, 'tis about time yer realized, none of us might get out o' this liddle fix alive, an' I doubts if I could make it over t'this Mossflower shore an' then back to Sampetra, 'cos I ain't 'alf the cap'n that Conva was. Aye, Conva, now there was a stoat wot knew 'is way about the seas. But where is Conva now, eh? Prob'ly rottin' in some dungeon 'cos yer precious Emperor didn't like 'is face!"
"Land ho to starboard an' clearin' weatheeeeer!"
Rubby's shout from his position as lookout in the bows sent Romsca hurtling out on deck as Waveworm's vermin crew yelled in joy and relief.
"Land ho! We made it, mates, land ho!"
The shoreline could be seen through the thinning mists and pale watery sunlight. Romsca vaulted nimbly up to the bowsprit beside the jubilant Rubby.
"Haharrharr! We did it, Cap'n! Ain't it a pretty sight?" Rubby cried.
The ferret narrowed her eyes, peering hard at the rocky coast. "Aye, any land's a pretty sight, mate, even if it ain't Mossflower."
Rafglan, searat bosun of the Waveworm, scrambled up beside them. "If this ain't Mossflower, then where'n the name o' blood'n'fangs are we?"
As she stared at the approaching land, realization dawned on Romsca. "This is far north, where we slew the otters, all for those accursed Tears, on our last voyage. Hah! I know where Mossflower is from 'ere. Bladetail, bring'er 'alf round t'port! Ship those oars, mates! Rafglan, break out sails! Step lively now, buckoes, we'll beat down the coast south'ard to Mossflower an' the sun!"
By midday a stiff breeze had sprung up. Waveworm had left the foggy regions far in her wake. The sun was out, though the weather remained brisk and nippy. Romsca helped Bladetail at the tiller as the vessel chopped and crabbed against the white-crested coastal rollers. The corsair ferret watched the rocky coastline.
"Another few days an' we'll be keepin' our eyes peeled fer that freshwater stream runnin' out o'er the shores. That's 'ow I'll know MossflowerI remembers that stream well, mate."
The for'ard cabin door slammed open and Lask Frildur stumped heavily out, still swathed in wrappings, but with a glint of the old imperiousness back in his eye.
“ You, Romzca! Make arrangementz for my ten dead Monitorz!"
In a flash the corsair had drawn her curved sword. She let go of the tiller and approached the Monitor General, a tic in her left eye quivering with rage.
"It's Cap'n Romsca t'you, an' I've got a ship t'run on yore Emperor's orders! My crew's got other things t'do, so go an' give yore commands to yer own kind. You've got enough livin' lizards to shove ten o' their dead mates overboard. Don't try pushin' me round, Lask, I warn yer. I'm in command on this ship!"
Lask Frildur bared his lethal yellowed teeth at the corsair. “I hear you, Romzca. You are in command . .. until we reach the land of Mozzflower!"
The corsair roared at the Monitor as he strode away to his cabin. "Until we reach Mossflower, eh? The day ain't dawned yet when Romsca the corsair is afeared of a lizard! Just you give the word when yer ready, an' I'll show ye the color of yer insides!''
Ever since the lizards had begun to show their weakness at sea, the ferret had grown in confidence.
Bladetail nodded in admiration of his captain. "Haharr, that's the stuff, Cap'n. Let's 'ear yer brag, go on, like you do in the tavern at Sampetra."
Romsca felt her good humor return. Waving her curved blade she danced around the welldeck, throwing out the traditional corsair challenge while the crew cheered her on.
"I'm the babe of a bloodripper,
Born in the teeth of a gale,
I'm the one who wields the sword,
An' makes the foebeast wail.
I'm as sharp as the reef rock,
I carry death in me paw,
Go where I like, slay who I will,
That's the corsairs' law!
Blood's me favorite color,
I'm swifter'n lightnin' aye,
Stand out me way, stand out I say,
Step aside now, or die!
'Cos I'm the spawn o' nightstorm,
An' death sails in me wake,
I sheath me blade in innards,
An' what I want, I take!
Come one, come all, I'm waitin',
I'll flay yer carcass bare,
So everyplace I go they'll say,
'Ahoy, you bold corsaaaaaaiiiiiirrrrr!' "
Lask Frildur crouched over the charcoal embers in his cabin, listening to the roistering sea vermin applauding Romsca. The Monitor General also heard the dull booming splashes as his lizards jettisoned their companions' dead bodies astern into the restless sea. Lask gritted his teeth until they hurt, muttering, "Enjoy yourzelf, corzair! One day I will danze on your grave!"
Evening came with long rolling purple clouds tinged beneath with gold from the setting sun. Waveworm beat a course slowly south, following the darkened coastline which led to Mossflower country.
Chapter 12
Night brought with it the rain, drizzling at first, then a distant rumble of thunder and a faraway lightning flash that illuminated the dark horizon. Grath Longfletch shook water from her eyes as the rain increased. Her little longboat rode the rollers bravely, tacking south down the coast. The otter sat astern, guiding the small tiller lightly, watching the prow plunge up and down as it met each wave's onslaught. Easterly wind buffeted the boat's single square sail, pasting its middle to the slender rowan mast then pulling it away, allowing the canvas to flap wetly, driving the frail vessel towards the rocky shores.
Knowing it was dangerous to be caught out in a storm on a coastline peppered with reefs, Grath steered for the shore, silently hoping that her boat would not encounter any hidden rocks. She leaned on the tiller and let the sail blow full out. Sideskipping the eastering wind, her longboat skimmed the floam-flecked wavetops, running for shore like a swift to its nest. Thunder boomed and in the lightning flash that followed Grath saw the covesmall, shingled and dead ahead. Rain-battered but exhilarated, the soaked otter clung tight to the tiller, sending her craft straight as one of her arrows, prow on into the cove and safety from the storm.
Leaping into the shallows Grath grabbed the headrope and began pulling her boat up the tideline, when a cheery voice rang out above the gale.
"Lend a paw there, y'slab-sided shellackers, give the beast some 'elp t'beach that craft!"
A lantern glimmered high in the cliff surrounding the place, and ten or more small raggedy furred creatures and brightly colored headbands came dashing down and seized the headrope. With their aid Grath soon had the boat high and dry above the tideline. The small fat creature carrying the lantern approached her. He was obviously the leader; he carried a small rapier tucked in his waistband. He held out a paw to the otter.