"Let me liddle niece Tingle give a song!" Jurkin called.
Tagg joined the rest in encouraging the young hogmaid. "Aye, come on, Tingle, give us a song!"
Tingle obliged shyly. She had an unusual soft husky little voice.
"Old places I traveled long seasons ago,
Kind faces of friends I have seen,
What's 'round the riverbend, dear I don't know,
'Tis a land where my heart's never been.
Will I sit in the shade of tall willows above,
If I gaze in the stream may I see,
There standing beside, the one that I love,
Or all sad and alone must I be?
The tears I have shed here are mingled and gone,
Through waters which flow without end,
And I must drift, ever seeking that one,
Waiting there 'round some far riverbend."
Tingle threw her apron up over her face and scurried off amid hearty applause and shouts of "More! More!"
Jurkin mopped his eyes with a spotty kerchief and sniffed aloud. "That's me favorite song. Ain't she a luvly singer!"
"She certainly is," Tagg agreed, "and that song was beautiful!"
Jurkin stowed his kerchief away quickly. "Aye, an' guess who wrote it? That plum-faced oaf Robald. Wonders never cease, eh? Where'd a fool who's never 'ad a fight in 'is life get the brains to write summat like that? Hoho, Nimbalo, changed yore tune agin? Now yore weepin'!"
The harvest mouse glared at the big Dillypin hog. "No I wasn't, I was sneezin'. Jus' some cider went down the wrong way. So wipe that stoopid grin off'n yore face or I'll do it for yer, big as ye are!"
Jurkin held up his paws, feigning terror. "No offense, matey, don't start slayin' anybeast, we're 'avin' a good time. Cummon, Tagg, are ye goin' t'get up an' give us a song or a dance, matey?"
The otter shook his head ruefully. "Where I was brought up, singing and dancing were the last things anybeast was called on to do. I'm only good at the use of weapons, or at using my body as a weapon. 'Tis what I was trained for."
Jurkin waved a paw airily. "Then show us a bit o' that. Stand clear, Dillypins, give my mate Tagg a bit o' room!"
The otter expelled a great sigh and shrugged. "All right, then, if you really must. Keep your eyes on my blade."
Tagg whipped out the beautiful knife and began twirling it with one paw. It spun until it was nought but a shining blur.
"Heyya hupp!"
As he shouted, Tagg struck the spinning blade with his other paw. It flashed off and stuck deep in the cabin wall. With an enormous somersault he was alongside the wall, pulling the knife out almost on the instant it struck. The blade began twirling again. This time he was facing Nimbalo as his paw shot out. The harvest mouse yelled, throwing himself flat on the deck. A concerted "Aaahhhh!" arose from the hedgehogs, who thought Nimbalo had been slain. With a powerful leap, Tagg was at Nimbalo's side, helping him up. The harvest mouse patted his chest, throat and both ears, thoroughly shaken.
"Wh-where's the blade?"
Tagg threw back his head and laughed. "I don't know. Ask Jurkin."
Looking mystified, Jurkin scratched his headspikes. "I dunno, mate. Where'd it go?"
Tagg pointed downward. "Look between your footpaws!"
The blade was there, still quivering. Jurkin jumped back a pace. "Seasons o' spikes'n'stickles, 'ow did ye do that?"
Tagg whipped the blade free and resumed spinning it. His paw flicked out and everybeast ducked. He chuckled. "Where is it now, eh?"
They looked between their footpaws, at the deck and the cabin wall. Jurkin narrowed his eyes. "Stuck in somewheres."
Tagg turned slowly so they could all see. "Aye, stuck in the back of my belt where 1 always keep it. Never mess with a blade, unless you've spent fifteen seasons learning how to use one. Now I'll bid you all good night!"
He strolled out onto the deck and found a quiet place to sleep. Nimbalo swaggered out in his friend's wake, but not before saying, "Good, isn't 'e? That's me matey Tagg. I taught 'im all 'e knows!"
Like twin specters, the rocks loomed up out of dawn mist. Tagg woke to the sound of Jurkin calling orders.
"Bring 'er in portside there an' make fast for'ard an' aft!" He presented Tagg and Nimbalo with a bag each. " 'Tain't much, some leftover allfruit duff an' a flagon o' cider apiece. Stir yore stumps, mates. Let's go an' find yore vermin tracks, see which ways they're bound."
They leaped ashore onto the base of the two great limestone rocks protruding out of the woodlands. Making their way around the huge monoliths, they entered the deep, silent tree cover. Sunlight pierced the leafy canopy, turning the ground mist into golden tendrils amid the dark green shadows. Jurkin took the center, with Tagg and Nimbalo ranging out either side of him. All three were accomplished hunters and trackers, their paws making no sound as they trod carefully, avoiding dead twigs or anything that could crack or rustle underpaw. No words were exchanged; keeping each other in view, they communicated silently by head and paw gestures. Ranging between the trunks of mighty oaks and lofty elm, spreading beech and stately poplar, Tagg kept his eyes riveted on the ground and his ears alert. Through fern beds, loam and moss-carpeted sward they went, until both river and tall rocks were well behind them. The distant trilling of a tree pipit caused the trackers to halt and listen carefully. The little bird sounded either angry or upset. As three heads turned in the direction of the birdsound, Jurkin pointed and Nimbalo wordlessly mouthed, "Over there!"
Tagg pointed to himself, indicating that he would go ahead and his friends follow a short distance behind. Drawing his blade, the otter clamped it between his teeth and vanished into a low clump of brush. He wriggled swiftly through a broad swath of rosebay willowherb and into the base of a small spreading buckthorn, where he crouched, still as a rock. Peering through the leaves, he found himself looking at the back of a small hedgehog, trimly outfitted in a bright yellow smock and green apron. Tagg reached out and tugged the apron strings lightly. Turning around, the little hogmaid took one look at the tattooed otter holding a blade in his clenched teeth, and screamed.
"Mammeeeeeeee! Daddeeeeeeee!"
Tagg struggled through the buckthorn as everybeast arrived on the scene at a run, Nimbalo and Jurkin from behind and the hogmaid's parents from the front. Jurkin recognized them and shook his quills impatiently.
"Tell liddle miss fussyfrills to put a cork in that wailin', willyer? We're trackin' vermin!"
Smothering her daughter's tearful face in her billowing dress, the mother stared haughtily down her snout at Jurkin. "Tut tut, I might have known it. A Dillypin!"
Her husband, a little fat fellow, peeped out from behind her and repeated, "Dillypin!"
Jurkin spread his paws wide, gesturing at their surroundings. "What'n the name o' spikes'n'stickles are Forthrights doin' in this neck o' the woodlands?"
The mother patted her child's back soothingly. "This is our summer woodland domicile, away from hot sun and open country, if that's any business of yours, Jurkin Dillypin. And as for hunting vermin, how can you possibly be doing that by bringing one along with you? Great tattoo-faced savage with that sword in his mouth, frightening the life out of our little Pecunia. You should be ashamed of yourself!"
The husband popped out and echoed, "Ashamed of yourself!"
She tugged his snout sharply. "Silence, Merradink. I'll deal with this rabble."
He retreated behind her voluminous dress. "Yes, Campathia dear."
Nimbalo pointed at Campathia. "Are you ole Robald's sister or summat like that, marm?"
She gave him a look that would have frozen custard. "I most certainly am not! We are the southern Forthrights. Robald is one of the eastern Forthrights, an indifferent bunch. They are sadly lacking in personal tidiness, not like us!"
Merradink's head poked out again. "Not like us!"
Tagg felt the discussion was getting them nowhere. He became forcefully polite with the prissy Campathia. "Begging your pardon, marm, I am no vermin, despite my appearance. I apologize for upsetting your little one, I didn't mean to. Now, just answer my questions and we'll be on our way and leave you in peace. Have any vermin, with tattoos like mine, passed this way? If so, when and where?"