Ungatt Trunn acquired a new enemy on the night that Groddil made his escape from the underground cavern. Battered, bleeding and totally exhausted, the fox was swept out into the sea. He floated awhile, letting the tide sweep him along, half dead, but half alive. He had craftily hung back in the blue tunnel, letting Fraul run eagerly in front of him. Straight into the spider crabs.

The stunted fox clung to a piece of driftwood, salt water stinging his eyes as he was swept south on the current. He watched Salamandastron recede and swore to himself that he would return one day. Outwardly Groddil shivered with the cold, but inside he was burning with the unquenchable fires of vengeance.

The following evening Ungatt Trunn presided over the trial of four Blue Horderats. These had been brought before him by Karangool, the only other fox serving in the Hordes beside Groddil. Karangool held the title of Captain in Chief in all the wildcat’s vast armada. Karangool was a disciplinarian; he lived by his master’s rules and laws. Very little aboard the ships escaped his keen notice.

He gave his evidence in a strange clipped voice. “Wharra these beast charge with, Might’ness? I tell you. They fish, keep fish themselfs, eat ’em!”

The four Horderats knelt before Ungatt Trunn, roped together by a thick line about their necks. He watched his spiders awhile, then turned to the rats as if noticing them for the first time.

“You know what you must do with any fish you catch?”

Karangool kicked the rat closest to him. “You, ansa!”

“Give ’em t’the cap’n o’ the fishin’ party,” the rat mumbled.

The wildcat’s voice carried no anger, nor any emotion whatsoever. “So you know my law. Why did you disobey it and eat the fish?”

Without any urging, one of the four stood up, his face a mask of sullen defiance. “’Cos we ’adn’t ’ad no vittles fer two days. We was ’ungry!”

Ungatt Trunn smiled, and the rat shuddered. He knew what was coming; he had witnessed that smile turned upon otherbeasts.

“Do I look fat and well fed? Does the Fragorl, or your captain? We are all hungry until proper foraging grounds have been found. But we do not steal food from the mouths of our comrades—that is why we are the Chosen Ones.” He beckoned the Grand Fragorl with his scepter. “Give orders to all my captains to assemble their creatures on the beach at high tide tomorrow. These four will be made an example of; my Hordes will witness their execution. Guards, take them away and watch them well. Karangool, stay. I would talk with you.”

When the guards, prisoners and Fragorl had departed, Ungatt Trunn questioned his Captain in Chief.

“What are they saying aboard my ships? Is it mutiny?”

“Might’ness, not yet. I whip ’em, work ’em ’ard, but no food? They talk, whispa, steal! Need food t’live!”

With all the sinewy litheness of a great cat, the Conqueror bounded from his throne and swept out of the room. “Follow me. I think I have the answer!”

Karangool was fairly quick on his paws. However, he had a job keeping up with his master as they bounded upstairs.

A guard captain was waiting at the stairhead. At Trunn’s nod, he fell in behind them.

*

Sailears pulled Stiffener out of the shaft of evening light which framed him in the window. “Hide yourself! Somebeast’s comin’!”

Stiffener stowed himself behind some of the older ones huddled in a corner. He heard the key grate in the lock. Torleep joined Sailears, and they stood together in front of the others as the door swung open. Threatening with his spear point, the guard captain jabbed at them.

“Back, you lot! Get back an’ stand still!”

Ungatt Trunn and the hard-faced fox walked in. Torleep took a pace forward, his voice shaking with indignation.

“I demand food for these hares. We’ve had nothin’ but one pail of water since we were locked in here. Disgraceful, sah!”

The guard captain struck him down with the spear butt. “Silence, longears. Lower orders do not speak in the presence of mighty Ungatt Trunn. I’ll slay the next beast that speaks without permission!”

Sailears and several others knelt down and began ministering to the fallen Torleep. Ungatt Trunn nodded toward the hares and smiled, raising his eyes at Karangool.

“Yes?”

The fox nodded, satisfied. “Yes, Might’ness!”

They swept out, the door slammed shut and the key turned.

Torleep sat up, rubbing at his swollen face. Stiffener hurried to his side as he murmured in a half-dazed voice, “Huh, what d’you suppose that was all about, eh?”

Woebee sobbed. “Oh, did you see how that villain an’ the fox looked at us? My blood fair ran cold, I can tell you!”

Stiffener helped Torleep up onto his footpaws. “Don’t blub, marm, it ain’t ’elpin’ anybeast. I’ve got a pretty good idea what they was sizin’ us up for, but we won’t be hangin’ around to find out the truth of it.” Unstowing the rope from where he had hidden it throughout the day, the old boxing hare began giving orders.

“It’ll be dark soon an’ Brog will be waitin’ down below with ’is otters. Sailears, is there any way we can jam that lock so they can’t come bargin’ in ’ere?”

“Give me a tick an’ I’ll think of somethin’, Stiff.”

“Right y’are, marm. I’ll make the line fast an’ watch at the window fer Brog an’ the crew. Torleep, if yore feelin’ better, line ’em up in order t’go. Oldest an’ shakiest first, fittest last. We can lower the first lot, second lot can shin down without ’elp.”

Sailears had a brainwave about the lock. “Woebee, give me that necklet you’re wearin’, please.”

The fat old hare clapped a paw to her neck. “You can’t have this. It was left to me by my mum, an’ Grandma had it before her. ’Twas always in our family, an’ I won’t give it up. Not my necklet, ’tis far too precious t’me!”

Sailears slapped Woebee’s paw aside and wrenched the necklet off, losing one or two beads in the process. “Don’t be so silly, marm, this is a matter of life an’ death, d’ye hear? An’ it could mean your life or death. Anybeast got a bit o’ fluffy cloth about them?”

“Here, take the corner of my shawl. Itchy fluffy old thing, I never liked it really.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll need to borrow the pin you fasten it with—looks good and pointy.”

Using the pin, Sailears poked the homely knitted shawl end into the keyhole, popping in a bead here and there. She went at it until the lock was packed tight with fluffy shawl and slippy beads.

“There now, try turnin’ a blinkin’ key in that lot, wot!”

Day’s final sunrays melted scarlet and gold into the western horizon; a pale sliver of silver crescent moon was visible in the deep dark blue sky. Suddenly the great heron Rulango filled the window space.

Stiffener breathed a sigh of relief. “Good to see you, mate. Is Brog an’ the crew down there?”

One emphatic nod, and the heron flew off.

The boxing hare spat on his paws and rubbed them. “Right, miz Woebee marm, step up ’ere. Yore the first!”

As soon as the rope end encircled her oversized waist, Woebee went into a wailing panic attack. “Oh oh, I’ll never make it, I’m not goin’, I’ll slip an’ fall, I know I will! No no no, I’m not goin’, I’ll stay here! Oh me, oh my, oooooounh!”

Torleep bristled at Stiffener. “I say, old chap, did I see you strike that lady? Bad form, sah, jolly bad form!”

Stiffener patted Torleep’s chin, none too gently. “Now now, don’t go off the deep end, ole feller, I didn’t ’urt ’er, ’twas just a tap in the right place. ’Twas either that or leave ’er be’ind. You wouldn’t like one, too, just to ’elp y’down an’ save yore nerves, sah?”

Torleep assisted Stiffener and Sailears to lower Woebee’s limp bulk down on the line, woffling away. “See what y’mean, sah, very good, slides down easy, don’t she, wot! No bally need for that sort o’ thing with me, y’know, don’t mind heights at all, not one little bit. Paw over paw, wot, that’s me, old chap, turn a bally squirrel green with envy, rappellin’, abseilin’, call it what y’will!”

A tug on the line told them Brog was ready for the next escaper. Things went smoothly for the next hour or so. Stiffener had got all the oldest ones down and half of the fitter ones when Torleep held up a paw of warning.

“Hist, it’s those two beasts from down below, Ripthing an’ his confounded brother!”

Stiffener froze. He could hear the voices. “That’s torn it. They’ll see them goin’ by their window!”

Torleep listened more carefully. “Hang on, they ain’t below, they’re at the blinkin’ door!”

Ripfang’s voice could be heard clearly from beyond the door. “Oh, very good, Doomeye, wot a clever brother I got, eh? Steals the key off the guard cap’n an’ now ’e can’t even open the flamin’ door wid it! Cummere, let me try!”

There followed a deal of poking, scratching and some very colorful language. Doomeye could be heard giggling.

“Heeheehee, yore good at this, ain’tcher? Now you’ve got three beads an’ some damp fluffy ole blanket. Any more in there, Rip?”

“Look, shut yer stoopid gob an’ gerron lookout, willya? The guard cap’n might come back at any time now. Yore the one who started this, you woggle-’eaded wipesnout!”

“Who, me? I never said a scringin’ word!”

“Oh, didn’t yew? Let’s go an’ ’ave a look at those longears, ’e says. Me’n’you’ll pick out a nice fat ’un, ’e says. One of Karangool’s cap’ns told me they’re goin’ to the cookin’ pots tomorrer, that’s wot you said, blither’ead!”

“Let me ’ave anudder go. I’ll turn the key!”

Stiffener signaled the next candidate for the line. “Come on, mate, move. Next one right be’ind—we can’t afford to ’ang about anymore. Shift yore paws there!”

Bang! Thud!

“Ahoy in there, git this rubbish out the lock’ole, or it’ll be worse for youse when we open this door!”

The banging of a spear butt against the heavy door timbers continued. Stiffener watched another hare disappear over the sill into the night, clinging tight to the rope. When he judged the hare was far enough down, he quietly called for the next one. A loud groan of frustration sounded from outside.

“Now lookit wot yer done, idiot, you’ve gone an’ broke the key off in the lock, yew senseless rat!”

“Well, ’ow was I t’know it’d snap, rusty ole key? Never mind, Rip, we kin batter the door down, eh?”

There were only three hares left in the cell now. Stiffener guided the next one onto the rope. An argument between the two searats was in full flow.

“Batter the door down? ’Ave yew got mud fer brains? Wot ’appens when the door falls off its ’inges, eh? I’ll tell yer wot, there’ll be two of us wid a spear apiece facin’ three score o’ beasts, ye slimebrained toad!”

There followed a scuffling sound and the clacking of spear staves as the pair turned on one another. Stiffener winked at Torleep. “We did it, mate. Come on, out ye go!”

“Wot, oh, er, after you, old chap.”

“Get a grip o’ that rope, Torleep, no time now for bowin’ an’ scrapin’. Out!”

The boxing hare watched the taut rope anxiously, waiting for Torleep to get far enough down it to let him take his leave of the hated prison cell. In the passage outside, the altercation between the two searats continued.

“Owow! Yew bit me tail. Savage!”

“Well, you shouldn’ta called me a slimebrained toad. Fancy callin’ yore own brother a name like that. Look wot you’ve done to me skull! Split it, see, that’s blood that is!”

Stiffener vaulted onto the sill, took a firm grip of the taut line and began his descent, with the quarrel still going on.

“Split yer skull? That’s only a scratch—there ain’t no blood at all, just a liddle bump! Doomeye, come back, where are yer off to?”

Doomeye scuttled off down the passage. He turned at the stairhead and stuck his tongue out. “Snagglefang!”

Stung by the reference to his single tooth, Ripfang brandished his spear and chased after his brother. “Right, that’s done it. There was no call fer that. I’ll crack yore skull good’n’proper when I get yer!”

Willing paws guided Stiffener to the ground, then Brogalaw was hugging him fiercely. “Good to see your ole face again, mate!”

The boxing hare looked about at his friends. “Thanks for yore help, Brog. I kept my promise to Lord Stonepaw. There ain’t a hare left on Salamandastron.”

“Oh, ’tis so sad. Our home is nought but a vermin den now!” Woebee wept into her apron.

Stiffener put a paw about her shaking shoulders. “There there, don’t take on so, marm, we’ll be back, I promise you. Sorry I ’ad to knock you out like that. ’Ope it didn’t ’urt too much, marm?”

The old harewife dried her eyes and sniffed. “You did the right thing, sah. I was bein’ very silly, carryin’ on like that. If I’d had enough sense I’d have hit me for such shockin’ behavior! Oh, isn’t it good that nice mister Brogalaw an’ his otters helped us like this!”

The sea otter Skipper bowed gallantly. “Thankee, marm, but may’ap we could carry on this discussion elsewheres. It don’t do to linger ’round ’ere. Durvy, take our friends t’the cave. Rulango, go with ’em t’see none get lost. Me an’ the rest o’ the crew will follow, wipin’ out our trail. See ye back at the holt, Stiff.”

With Durvy leading, Stiffener in the rear and the heron hovering overhead, the escaped prisoners scurried off toward the clifftops. Brogalaw and his crew began cutting bushy branches from the shrubbery growing out the rocks to erase the trail.

“Don’t leave a pawprint showin’ anywheres, mates, or those bluebottoms o’ Trunn’s will be payin’ our holt a visit!”

One of the crew stirred the captured sentries with his paw. Bound and gagged tightly, they rolled their eyes fearfully.

“Wot do we do with these two beauties, Brog?”

Brogalaw gnawed his lip thoughtfully. “I know they’re only vermin, but I ain’t never slayed an ’elpless beast afore an’ I’m not startin’ now. Leave ’em tied up ’ere. The moment we’re gone they’ll start breakin’ themselves loose. They can be Trunn’s problem—leastways that scum’ll know he’s not havin’ things all ’is own way when they makes their report. Right, let’s make a move, mates.”

The Hordebeasts wriggled furiously with their bonds, once Brog’s party had departed. But a sea otter knows his ropes. It would be some time before the prisoners could hope to be even slightly loose.