The mouse's name was Martin the Warrior. He had come from the northlands.
Scratch and his cohorts dragged Martin through the door of Castle Kotir, pulling him on a rope. They were careful not to get too close to him.
Splitnose had taken charge of Martin's sword. "Boy, oh boy, this is a real sharp stick you got there! Woo, woo, woo!"
"That sword is not yours," Martin said. "It belongs to me, as it belonged to my father. Do you know what happened to the last stoat who tried to take it away from me?"
Scratch tugged on the rope, tightening it around Martin's neck. "Shut your mouth," he said. Martin gasped for breath.
They led Martin up a staircase and down a hall. A pine marten with a wooden leg came out of a nearby door. "What've you got there?" he asked.
"We caught a mouse, Ashleg! Look at this thing he was carrying! Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck!" Splitnose twirled the sword around, accidently clipping off Scratch's whiskers.
"Gimme that!" Scratch growled. "A chucklehead like you should never be trusted around a high-class weapon." He snatched the sword from the stoat. Martin took advantage of the confusion to pull on the rope, causing Scratch to lose his balance and fall to the ground. Then he was off like a shot, running back across the hall to the stairs.
He might have actually managed to escape if he hadn't run into a fox, who was coming up the stairs at that very moment. Martin and the fox collided and fell to the ground. But the fox was quick on her feet, and she jumped back up and grabbed Martin. "What are you doing here, mouse?"
Scratch ran up to them. "We caught him trespassing. We were gonna show him to Lord Verdauga."
"Well, I'll take him up. I was headed that way anyway." She dragged Martin back upstairs to where Ashleg was.
"You're late, Fortunata," Ashleg said. "Old Greeneyes doesn't like to be kept waiting. Have you got his medicine?"
"Of course."
Ashleg opened the door and called out in an empty singsong dirge, "Oh, mighty Verdauga Greeneyes, Lord of Mossflower, Master of the Thousand Eyes, Slayer of Enemies, Ruler of Kotir…"
"Ah, give your whining tongue a rest, Ashleg. Is the fox here?" The imperious voice from within sounded hoarse but full of snarling menace.
"Yes, I'm here," Fortunata called in a wheedling tone. "I've got your sleeping potion, and I've got a prisoner."
"A prisoner?" Verdauga repeated.
Fortunata pushed Martin into the room ahead of her. "This mouse was caught within the bounds of your lands. He is a stranger and goes armed." Scratch marched in, placed Martin's sword on the floor, and marched out again.
Martin saw a cat lying on a four-poster bed. The curtains were open but his face was drawn. Verdauga Greeneyes had once been the mightiest warlord in all the land… once. Now his muscle and sinew lay wasted under the tawny fur that covered his big, tired body. The face was that of a wildcat who had survived many battles: the pointed ears stood above a tracery of old scars that ran from crown to whiskers.
Beside the bed were two chairs, occupied by Verdauga's two children. His son, Gingivere, had orange fur like his father, but his daughter Tsarmina had sleek dark fur like black ivory, except for her headfur, which was blonde. She was beautiful but evil.
"It is against my law to carry arms or to trespass on my domain," Verdauga croaked. "What is your name?"
"My name is Martin the Warrior," said Martin the Warrior. "I didn't know it was your land, cat. You have no right to imprison a freeborn creature."
Tsarmina leaped up. She drew her own sword and pointed it at Martin. "Ye insolent scum! Where did you steal that rusty relic?"
"Princess Tsarmina!" yelled the king. "I will not have you acting a fool. Now sit down."
"It's okay," Martin said. "The princess is just distraught. You should take her out to graze somewhere." Gingivere could not resist a small laugh at this. Ashleg and Fortunata gasped in shock.
"How dare you talk to me like that, ye luminous commoner!" Tsarmina swung her sword in the air.
"I didn't steal this sword," Martin went on. "My father Luke the Warrior gave it to me."
Verdauga drew in a sharp intake of breath. "Luke the Warrior was your father? Then you must have inherited warrior powers from him!"
"Rubbish!" Tsarmina sneered. "Mice can't be warriors. They're herbivores."
"I am a Warrior," Martin insisted. He picked up his sword. "Many's the enemy learned his lesson at the point of this sword- sea rats, mercenary foxes too." Fortunata winced.
"Well, then, I challenge you to a duel!" Tsarmina cried.
Martin felt bad for Tsarmina, because he was really good with swords and she was sweating profusely just from holding one up over her head. He didn't have anything against her, but for some reason she hated him. But she wasn't about to put her sword away, so Martin raised his sword too. "I accept your challenge, Princess!"
"I'm going to cut off your head and put it on my wall, rodent!" Tsarmina charged at Martin, sword in paw. Lots of sparks flew off their blades when they connected.
Martin swung at her and sheared off the blonde braid that ran down the cat's back. It fell to the floor.
"My hair!" she yelled. "It's my most cherished possession and you ruined it!"
"That's enough," said Verdauga. "Now, what shall we do with this mouse? Gingivere, have you nothing to say?"
Gingivere answered without raising his voice. "It would be unjust to punish Martin. He is a stranger and could not be expected to know of us or our laws. If it were my decision, I would have him escorted from our territory, then given his weapon. He would know better than to come back again."
"No! We can't let him go! We have to execute him for the audacity he has shown!" Tsarmina shouted.
Verdauga held up his paw for silence. "There are enough cowards in the world without killing a brave creature for so little reason. But he is a dangerous warrior, so we cannot allow him to leave this castle. It is my judgement that he be put in the cells. Ashleg, relieve him of his sword."
Ashleg obeyed. Suddenly, Tsarmina grabbed Martin's sword away from the pine marten, and cut it in half with her own sword. She picked up the broken sword handle. "Tie this around his neck. It will remind him that I am stronger than him."
Some guards came in to take Martin away to the dungeon. Martin tried to fight, but there were too many of them. The last thing he saw before the bedroom door closed was Tsarmina waving goodbye. "So long, mouse! Next time it won't be your sword that I cut- it'll be you!"
Verdauga coughed painfully and lay back on his bed. The excitement had worn him out. "I need my medicine."
"Here you go," Fortunata held out a beaker. "I mixed up an extra strong sleeping potion just for you."
Gingivere took the potion. He was the only one that his father trusted to administer his medicine. Tsarmina and Fortunata left the room together.
Outside in the corridor the cat gripped the fox's paw in her powerful claws. "Well, did you fix the medicine?"
"Aye. He's taken enough poison to lay half the garrison low."
Tsarmina pulled the vixen close, her eyes burning. "Good, but if he's still alive in the morning you had better prepare some poison for yourself. It would be a lot easier than facing me if you fail."
"I won't fail," Fortunata promised. "Verdauga will die, and since your brother gave him the potion, everybeast will think he's responsible. By this time tomorrow, you'll be the new queen of Mossflower!"
