Sawney put his footpaw in Gruven's face as he tugged the knife free from the ground. He held it out to the otter. "Take it and kill him, Tagg. He just tried to kill you!"
Tagg shook his head. "Gruven's probably killed me a thousand times in dreams, but he'll never get the chance to do it while he's awake. Why should I kill him? He amuses me. Besides, I'm still hungry."
He went back to his food. Sawney raised the knife to slit Gruven's throat, but suddenly burst out laughing. "Hahahahaha! He amuses you, that's a good one, hahahahaha! What a Taggerung our clan has, and he's still hungry? Hahaha!"
He took his footpaw from the stoat's face, leaving him to crawl off defeated but still alive. Sawney sat down beside Tagg. "I've never known a beast like you, my son, but you should learn to obey me, you impudent riverdog. When are you going to do as I say, eh?"
Tagg tore a leg from the roasted bird and gave it to Sawney. "Next time you give me an order, I promise. Tell me, though, have we ever been inside a building, I mean a real big place, built of reddish stone, with other otters in it, like me?"
Sawney stared at him oddly. "Never! No, we've never been in such a place!"
Tagg sat back, his food forgotten. "What about a mouse warrior, a real tough-looking beast, wearing armor and carrying a great sword, said his name was Deyna? Did we ever meet a creature like that?"
Sawney felt a twinge of his old pain griping in his stomach. His previous good mood began to dissolve. "An armored sword-carrying mouse named Deyna? What's the matter with you, son? Are you losing your mind?"
Tagg lay down and yawned. He gazed up at the sky. "No, it was just a dream I've been having."
Sawney hurled the roast woodpigeon leg into the fire. "A dream? I had a dream the other night, I dreamt I jumped off a cliff and flew, aye, flew like a bird! Who can say what rubbish and nonsense comes into a beast's mind when he's weary and sleeping? You're tired, Tagg. Go into my tent and get yourself a proper sleep, one without stupid dreams!"
Antigra sat watching her son eat. She was angry, but scared and relieved that neither Sawney nor the Taggerung had killed Gruven, who seemed to be taking the whole episode with sullen indifference. Antigra served him mint tea, sweetened with honey.
"You did wrong shouting out like that, my son. The same blade that took your father's life nearly slew you too."
Gruven spat gristle into the cooking fire. "What d'you expect me t'do, go an' thank them for sparing me?"
Antigra put a paw about his shoulder. "We must wait and bide our time until the right moment."
"You've been sayin' that for as long as I can remember," Gruven snarled, pushing aside his mother's paw. "I'm sick of waitin'. The right moment is now!"
"Wouldst thou tell me what moment that would be, Gruven?"
Mother and son glanced up, startled to see Grissoul the Seer standing close by. Guilt was all over Antigra's face, but Gruven replied with a surly scowl, "None o' your business, slybrush. What are you sneakin' around for? Did Sawney send you to spy on us?"
Shaking her numerous bracelets of coral, bone and silver, the vixen rolled her unstable eye in what she imagined was a friendly smile. She sat down between them. "Bold words for one who almost lost his life today. Did thou not teach thy son any sense, Antigra?"
The stoat mother smiled ingratiatingly. "All I could, but wisdom only comes with age. Mayhap you'd like to give Gruven some advice. Who knows, he might listen to one as wise as you, Grissoul. I will pay you for it. Wait!" Antigra went to her tent and brought out four dove eggs in a clay bowl, which she gave to the Seer. "I know you are very partial to these. They are fresh. My son is dining on the one that laid them."
The vixen pierced one with her tooth and sucked its contents down. She stowed the other three in her pouch. "Thou knows my weakness, stoat. The eggs are good. Hearken now, both of ye, an' listen to me. I saw ants this morning, fighting among themselves on their own anthill. I have seen other things of late. The omens are not good for the Juskarath. If I were thee, Gruven, I'd do nought to anger Sawney. His stomach is troubling him again; 'tis a dangerous sign. Make thy peace with Sawney Rath, be one of those in his favor. Mark my words, it could save both thy lives."
Gruven sniffed contemptuously, but his mother jabbed him with a stick of firewood. "Listen to the Seer's advice. What should we do, Grissoul?"
The vixen pointed to the remains of the roast dove. "Take thou a sling an' stones, Gruven, go out into the woodlands an' slay a pair of doves. I'll take them to Sawney as thy peace offering, an' praise thee to him as a good hunter an' a loyal clanbeast. He'll listen to me. Heed my advice, both of ye!" Grissoul rose to take her leave.
Gruven snorted. "Why should you care about us? You only came 'round here to see what you could get. Four dove eggs just for a pile of mumbo jumbo about ants an' the state o' Sawney's gut. Not bad, eh?"
The Seer gathered her painted cloak about her, staring down at the stoat and shaking her head pityingly. "Thou art a bigger fool than I thought thee to be, Gruven. I care for this Juska clan, not just two stoats. I can tell what is in thy heart, but if thou try to take vengeance on Sawney or the Taggerung, 'twill be the death of thee an' thy mother. My task is to stop our Juskarath being torn apart by strife. Sawney's moods, thy bad temper, they affect all. Where would I go if there were no clan to protect me? Get some sense into thy stubborn head an' heed my words!"
When the vixen had departed, Antigra brought a throwing sling and pouch of stones from the tent. "Do as she says, son. It's good advice."
Gruven spat into the fire and listened to the sizzle it made. "I'm not crawlin' back beggin' for Sawney Rath's favor, or that otter who thinks he's a Taggerung. Leave me alone. I'm tired, wanderin' Mossflower all night an' half the day."
Antigra lost her temper. She lashed the empty sling across Gruven's back. He winced but did not stir.
"As lazy as your father, that's what you are! I'll go and kill two doves myself, you bone-idle beast!"
Gruven called after her as she strode angrily off into the woodlands north of the camp. "Then go. I'm not scared of Grissoul, Sawney or anybeast!"
Cool shades of early evening fell upon the tent as Grissoul shook Tagg gently into wakefulness. "Come. Thy father wishes thee to attend him."
The otter sat up and stretched, flexing his lean sinewy frame. Taking a dipper of water from a nearby pail, he drank some and poured the remainder over his head. A good dreamless sleep had refreshed the Taggerung.
"What's that old ferret up to now, Grissoul?"
"He is about to deal with the runaway, an' he wants thee to witness the punishment."
Felch had his paws upstretched, bound to the thick bough of a beech tree. All the Juskarath vermin were assembled there on their Chieftain's command. Sawney stood impatiently twirling his favorite blade, the knife with the amber handle. He watched as the crowd parted to allow his Seer and the Taggerung through.
"Ah. So, did you have a good sleep, my son?"
Tagg noted the curious gleam in Sawney's eye. "Good enough, thankee. What are you going to do to Felch?"
Sawney licked the knife blade, tasting its cold steel. "I think I'll skin him alive. He'd make a nice tent flap, eh?"
A stricken silence fell upon the clan. Nobeast had ever imagined such cruelty, but they all knew their Chieftain was capable of it. Felch moaned pitifully. Though Tagg was horrified at the suggestion, he knew enough not to show it. Sawney watched him closely, waiting for a reaction.
A careless smile showed on the otter's face. He nodded toward Felch, remarking, "A stringy old worthless hide like this? I don't think it'd be worth your time and trouble."