Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two
The table sat on the beach halfway between Salamandastron and the tideline.
On the landward side of the table sat Urthblood, with Ramjohn at one paw and Matowick at the other. Behind them, nearly a hundred Gawtrybe archers stood in a neat rank, bows and quivers at the ready.
Across from the Badger Lord sat Tratton, the two royal bodyguards on either side of him no less tensed and ready than the Gawtrybe facing them ... or the nearly three hundred searat fighters lined up along the water's edge at his back.
The table represented an invisible line of demarcation. The woodlanders would stay to one side of it, the searats to the other. These were the terms which had finally lured Tratton out of the Wedge and into face-to-face negotiations with Urthblood: that they would meet on open ground halfway between mountain and surf, and that the Searat King would be allowed to bring ashore as many of his troops as he felt were necessary to ensure his personal safety. Urthblood did not flinch at these conditions, not even when that number turned out to be nearly the entire fighting crews of both the Darksky and the Wavestrike.
Those fighters had landed first, of course, along with Captains Voccola and Werrlich. If it came to a battle, the two commanders would be far more diligent in urging their troops to fight to the death if they themselves stood on the front lines. Tratton was not about to let either of them sit this out on the comparative safety of their ships while he ventured into a potential trap.
With these logistics worked out ahead of time, the searat army came ashore and took up their positions without incident. Several trips were needed by Tratton's full complement of available landing boats to ferry all the searat soldiers onto the beach, and the task took up most of the morning. Only when their full strength was in place did the ratlord deign to join them. Their formidable ranks parted to allow Tratton and his bodyguards to pass through them, and the sea tyrant warily strode forward to accept the seat offered him by Urthblood.
"An impressive force you have brought with you, Majesty," the badger observed. "I trust you feel sufficiently secure?"
Tratton eyed the Gawtrybe lined up behind Urthblood. "My rats here might outnumber your squirrels three-to-one, but I am well aware of their skills with bow and arrow. And I have seen with my own eyes what your seagulls can do to my ships. I hardly think you have anything to fear from me under the present circumstances."
"Then we understand each other perfectly. But let us not talk of such unpleasant possibilities, for I hope such things are now in our past. I know you would not be here unless you were genuinely interested in a truce. If you and I can work out a meaningful accord that leads to a lasting peace, there will be no need for my gulls to attack your ships ever again."
"That would be .. good, yes." Tratton could not allow himself to relax, not even in the face of Urthblood's accommodating demeanor. Or especially in the face of it. Tratton was a creature of treachery, who practiced it himself and expected it from those around him as a matter of course. He knew quite well that his red-armored adversary would not flinch from such methods either, and that he must remain on guard for any deception or trickery that Urthblood might have in mind, no matter how subtle. But, if this were all some elaborate trap, Tratton could not yet perceive how it might spring, other than a brute force attack by the badger warrior. Certainly, Urthblood could have had his gulls attack and burn the two wooden warships at any time before now; it would have been an easier thing to do while they carried their full crews, who could be dispatched along with their vessels in one fell swoop. Which was one reason Tratton had brought most of those rats ashore with him. If Urthblood tried anything, it would not be a simple matter of burning his enemy alive aboard their ships. The fighting force Tratton had at paw might just be enough to overwhelm the Badger Lord and slay him. Urthblood might still resort to treachery, but if so it would be at his own peril - and Tratton wanted to make sure the badger knew it.
"You have had ample opportunity to read over the copy of the treaty I had delivered to you yesterday, I trust?"
"I have," Tratton nodded. In truth, he'd had Korba read it to him aloud, in the event that Urthblood might have treated the parchment with poison in a bid to cut the head off the Searat Empire that way. Korba was still alive come morning, so either it was a very slow-acting poison or else such an assassination attempt was not to be part of Urthblood's strategy this time.
"And do you find the terms agreeable, Your Majesty? I tried to address all the concerns Viceroy Korba has raised in our numerous discussions. If there are any details with which you find fault, I can have another draft prepared."
"That will not be necessary. These terms are ... agreeable." Tratton almost said "generous," but in case these proceedings were genuine, he knew better than to concede too much. The language of the accord was simple and straightforward, with no loopholes or hidden traps that Tratton could detect. Korba had read the entire document twice all the way through, and then Tratton had meticulously perused it himself, handling it with tongs so that the parchment never came into contact with his skin or fur. As for the content of the treaty, it did indeed encapsulate and formalize everything Korba had told Tratton they'd discussed in Salamandastron, with no confused wording and no surprise, last-moment additions or changes. If Urthblood truly meant to abide by these terms, it would be the best possible outcome for the Searat King. Short of total and decisive military victory, of course, but since that lay nowhere within his grasp, this was the next best thing.
"Very well then." Urthblood nodded to Matowick, who produced another parchment, unrolled it and slid it across the table toward Tratton. "In anticipation of your acceptance, I had another copy of the treaty prepared, so that you will have your own to take back with you to Terramort. I would strenuously encourage you to post it someplace where all your officers can see it, so that they too will be aware of these terms, and will be less likely to inadvertently violate them in the future, thus straining our new peace. We want to get started on the right foot, do we not?"
Urthblood's pointed tone strongly hinted at something that remained unspoken, a heavy awkwardness that hung in the air above the table between them. Tratton didn't need to be told what the badger was obliquely referring to, although the comment made him burn with curiosity all the more to know what had happened with Kothar, and just what Urthblood had been up to during his absence. These were questions, however, that Tratton dared not ask.
The searat ruler regarded the document the squirrel had pushed toward him; one of his bodyguards held the first copy that had been delivered to the Wedge the evening before. "Which one is mine?"
"It will not matter, once both our signatures are affixed to the bottom of each one. Both are identical. However, you may wish to take a few minutes to read this second copy through and satisfy yourself that this is the case."
After a moment's hesitation, Tratton whispered a few hushed instructions to the bodyguard on his right, who unrolled the parchment and held it down flat so that his sovereign could examine the document without touching it. Then, to the surprise of many, Tratton withdrew a pair of reading spectacles from his tunic and balanced them on the bridge of his snout. The pirate king kept himself in such fine physical shape that it was easy to forget just looking at him that he was no youngbeast.
Tratton pored over the second treaty line by line, carefully analyzing and weighing each and every word. Yes, it was the same accord he'd read the previous night - if not word-for-word, then close enough that his memory detected no difference. Just to make sure, he had his guards produce the first scroll and unroll it so he could compare the two side by side. As far as he could tell, they were indeed identical. If Urthblood hoped to trick him into signing something he'd not fully read, no evidence of such a ploy was to be found by Tratton's scrutinizing eye.
"You are satisfied they are the same, Your Majesty?"
"I am."
"Then let us tarry no longer, and proceed with the signing." Urthblood pushed a pen and inkwell across to Tratton; the quill sticking up out of the small black pot was that of a seagull. "Captain Scarbatta donated a wing feather for this ceremony, to symbolize that his kind too will abide by these terms. You first, Your Majesty."
Tratton ignored the proffered writing instrument. "I brought my own pen and ink." Again, his bodyguards produced what their lord needed. Taking great care to allow only his pen tip to touch the parchments, Tratton scrawled his signature on the appropriate line of first one treaty then the other. "There. Your turn, My Lord."
With the ghost of a smirk on his face over Tratton's slight of diplomatic etiquette, Urthblood expediently used the seagull quill to add his own signature to the two documents, making no effort to keep his paw from coming into contact with the parchment ... which was just as well, since his missing paw forced him to use his left one. His writing came out surprisingly legible.
"There. It is done." The badger replaced Scarbatta's tailfeather pen in its pot. "May this usher in a new age of peaceful coexistence and cooperation between the searats and the creatures of the lands. Which copy did you prefer, Your Majesty?"
Tratton pointed to one at random, since it didn't seem to make any difference. One bodyguard retrieved it from the tabletop, carefully rolling it up to avoid smudging the fresh inks and tying it with a length of cord.
"I would invite you inside to sample the hospitality of Salamandastron, but I appreciate that your cautionary nature will not allow that. However, before you return to your ship and depart for Terramort, there is one more small matter that bears discussion ... "
Tratton froze, even as he forced his voice and expression to remain formally civil. Was this the expected trap about to spring? "Yes, My Lord?"
"I regret to inform you of an unfortunate incident that took place in lower Mossflower while your Viceroy and I were in negotiations. This was what forced me to depart in such haste. It seems some of your searats took part in an attack on my shrew garrison down there."
"Oh?" Tratton waited for Urthblood to go on, but the badger simply stared at him, his dark and unfathomable eyes penetrating past the rat's diplomatic demeanor with a cold intensity that demanded an answer. "I know nothing of this, My Lord," Tratton said at last in his most dismissive tone. "I never ordered such an attack."
Urthblood's piercing gaze relaxed, and in one horrible moment Tratton realized the trap had been sprung.
"Of course you knew nothing of it, Your Majesty. For you to have engaged in such a treacherous attack while we were in the midst of good faith negotiations would be grounds for abrogating any treaty and resuming the war - right here and now, if necessary."
Although Tratton held himself perfectly at ease, he felt sure that Urthblood could see him squirming inside. "I can assure you, My Lord, those rats were acting on their own, and initiated their operations without my prior knowledge. I trust your losses were not too serious?"
"Serious enough to warrant discussion here. But, now that you have confirmed my suspicions that those renegade rats were operating without your authority, I am greatly relieved. In fact, to demonstrate my dedication to our new relationship, and in the spirit of cooperation that I hope will flourish between us in the seasons ahead, I have done you the favor of taking care of this problem for you."
"Taking ... care of it?"
"Yes. I appreciated that having to discipline your own rats for causing an incident which might have jeopardized these negotiations would put you in an extremely awkward spot, so I took it upon myself to relieve you of this burden. Consider it a gesture of good will."
"What ... exactly ... did you do?"
"The renegade searats who perpetrated this transgression were based out of a coastal encampment of yours to the south, below Mossflower. I assume you are familiar with it: several simple wood buildings and a short dock, on a narrow beach backed by a mountainous inland region. Yesterday, I dispatched my gulls to attack that facility, just as my shrew garrison was attacked. I am happy to report that all those buildings are now burned to the ground, the pier is destroyed, and the two ships docked there - one warship and a larger cargo vessel - were sunk, along with a small boat that was surely of no consequence. Your problem is thus solved."
Tratton forced his expression to remain cool and civil even as he seethed inside. He'd known all along that Kothar's gambit might cost him if things went awry, but he'd hoped the price would not be so steep. The loss of the Keelfang was bad enough, but the true body blow was the mining camp itself, and the freighter. That cargo ship was due to have picked up an entire season's quota of metal ores, material crucial to Tratton's ambitions of building more vessels like the Wedge. Now it was lost, along with the mine that would have provided boatloads more of that precious resource in the seasons to come. And then there was the Fleetrunner that Urthblood had dismissed as inconsequential; without that, Tratton might never know what happened between Kothar and the Northland shrews. He could certainly not count on Urthblood to provide a trustworthy account of those events.
"There is no need to thank me, Your Majesty. What I did, I did in the interest of peace. Fifty of my Gawtrybe squirrel archers are on their way down to the site as we speak, to take care of any survivors. I passed them yesterday on the Goodwill - they make excellent progress. My birds are flying cover for them, and will of course notify me at once if they should encounter any ... difficulties."
Urthblood's veiled meaning was crystal clear. Tratton dared not move to stop those squirrels before they reached the mining site, or Urthblood would know of it - and would take action to protect his troops. The Searat King felt he'd lost enough in this affair; he didn't need to add another of his warships to that list.
"Now, it seems to me," the badger rumbled on, "that the losses I incurred as a result of this incident entitle me to some manner of compensation. I helped you by taking care of your disobedient underlings whose foolhardy actions might have destroyed any chances for peace. I think it would be only proper for you to repay my gesture with one of your own."
"I would like nothing better," Tratton bit off. If Urthblood's notion of a "favor" was his annihilation of the searat mining camp, Tratton would delight in answering in kind ... all in the name of peace, of course. Unfortunately, he very much doubted circumstances would allow him such an opportunity, now that the accord had been signed. "What did you have in mind?"
"Just a small matter that was not addressed in the main treaty. Your slaves, Majesty."
"That was addressed in the treaty, My Lord. Article Four, if memory serves me correctly ... "
"That provision only prohibited the collection of new slaves from vessels boarded at sea or from the lands. It did not cover the slaves you already hold in bondage. I must insist that they be freed. All of them."
Tratton digested this wordlessly. Would he be willing to release all his slaves? In truth, he had no problem with that at all, in principle. He already got along fine without them on Terramort and in all of his more important naval craft; it would simply be a matter of cleansing his lesser frigates, galleons and work camps of the chained rabble. A few of his commanders who'd grown overly dependent on that forced labor might grouse a bit, but none would defy a direct order from the throne - not after the way the last officers' rebellion had turned out. Tratton would almost be glad to be rid of them.
For Urthblood, however, this would be no small matter. For him to gain the freedom of every woodland slave in the searat realm would grant him the status of the grand liberator of these times, elevate him in the eyes of every Mossflowerian and Northlander and Southswarder who cherished such things. The badger knew exactly what to ask for, in terms of what would inconvenience Tratton least while bolstering Urthblood the most.
For this very reason, he must not appear too willing to concede this point. Urthblood obviously viewed this as a major demand, or else he would not have taken such pains to maneuver the discussion to this juncture. And it could not be denied that giving up all his slaves would lead to at least some slowdowns in his various schedules. So, he was not entirely feigning hardship when he answered, "This is quite a thing you ask of me, My Lord."
In an abrupt change of subject, Urthblood said in an almost musing tone, "I am sure that if my squirrels reach the site south of here and succeed in capturing any of those rats alive, none will claim you were aware of their operation against my forces in Mossflower. I should say, however, that your cooperation in the matter of releasing your slaves would go a long way toward my overlooking any doubts that may come to light over just how independently those rats were acting."
Tratton chewed this over. Yes, there was always a chance that some of Kothar and Gormillion's rats would allow themselves to be taken alive, and a chance that they would reveal under interrogation that they had in fact been in communication with Tratton. Was Urthblood actually saying he would violate the accord they'd just signed and resume the war if the slaves were not freed? That was certainly what it sounded like, although of course the badger warrior had tactfully avoided coming right out and saying it.
"I am certain none of my rats would make such an erroneous claim, even if they fancy for some reason that such a thing is what you want to hear. But to liberate every slave in my empire at once ... that will pose undeniable hardships ... "
"I can appreciate that. Which is why I am prepared to offer a most generous countercompensation to ease your transition to an all-rat kingdom, while keeping it just that. I have even prepared an addendum to the main accord to make it official." Another nod from the badger, and Matowick produced two more sheets of parchment from a sheaf and slid them across the table toward Tratton.
The sea tyrant regarded the paper for a moment without reaction. He didn't think he would survive anymore of Urthblood's "generosity," and wondered what this latest overture would cost him. Nevertheless, he put on his glasses once more and perused the short document.
When he was finished, he glanced up at Urthblood in surprise. "Your rats? You want to give me your rats?"
"It seems only fair, since I am asking you to give up a large segment of your labor pool. And I did not think you would trust any of my other creatures."
As if I can trust your rats either, Tratton thought. This had to be some kind of trick, a way for Urthblood to get his armed troops aboard Tratton's vessels. Well, he would nip it in the bud before it got out of paw. He would not be maneuvered into another trap.
"I'm afraid I cannot allow your armed soldiers aboard my warships, My Lord. That simply would not do."
"Then disarm them, if it pleases you to do so. I am granting them to you as reserve labor, not as fighters."
This surprised Tratton. "It would be necessary to restrict them to certain parts of the ship."
"There is nothing in the agreement prohibiting that."
It was clear from the way Matowick and Ramjohn were staring at Urthblood that this issue was as much a surprise to them as it had been to Tratton himself. Could it be that Urthblood had not discussed this matter with any of his captains before officially presenting the proposal? Might the badger's rats be sitting inside Salamandastron this very moment, unaware that their master was bartering them away in exchange for the slaves?
Tratton re-examined the situation from all angles. If he agreed to take Urthblood's rats aboard his ships, that might provide insurance against the badger having his gulls fire anymore searat vessels ... unless these rats were not his trusted soldiers after all, but just some rabble Urthblood wanted to be rid of. Either way, be they rats or no, he would not trust them anymore than he trusted his slaves ... and that was all the freedom he was prepared to give them as well.
But the main thing here was to agree to the release of the slaves and thus satisfy Urthblood's primary demand. Perhaps this swapping of woodland rats for the slaves was a mere face-saving incentive, so that Tratton could surrender his captives and look like he'd be getting something in return. The main thing he'd be getting - the thing that had compelled him to voyage here from Terramort in the first place - was an end to this war, with his empire still more or less intact. Barring some last-moment treachery on Urthblood's part, it was looking as if he would walk away with just that. The terms of the main treaty were indeed more generous than he'd had any reason to expect, and giving up the slaves would be a minor nuisance in comparison.
Tratton read the rider to the treaty a second time. It was even more straightforward in its language and wording than the parent document, and quite a bit shorter too. But something caught his eye that he had missed before.
"My Lord, what of this phrase promising me 'all rats in your domain?' What exactly does that mean?"
"Just what it says, Your Majesty - if you release your slaves, you will receive the rats of the lands in exchange."
"That sounds almost like a hostage exchange."
"My rats are not hostages," said Urthblood. "They are beasts in my service, and will follow my orders - even if those orders are to follow your orders."
Tratton could scarcely believe what he was hearing. "But, you just said, 'the rats of the lands' ... "
Urthblood nodded. "In the interests of peace, this is the sacrifice I am willing to make. Sign that agreement, and the rats of the lands will be delivered to you to strengthen your realm. This way, all rats will have a single, unified empire to call their own, apart from the creatures of the lands. Your kingdom, and my dominion, side by side - the two great powers in this part of the world, coexisting in peaceful cooperation, bolstering each other and each respectful of the other's sovereignty."
"All rats, you say?"
"Will become your subjects, yes. A realm of rats for the seas, and a realm of woodlanders for the lands."
"And if some choose not to join in my realm?"
"I can be very persuasive, Your Majesty. As you yourself should realize by now."
Tratton read the agreement a third time. He could find no hidden trap, and nothing that would contradict the main accord. And, since it was abundantly clear that Urthblood would not let him leave this table until the slaves' release had been secured ...
"Very well," Tratton said. Again producing his personal inkwell, he took his pen in paw once more ...
00000000000
When the Wedge, the Wavestrike and the Darksky sailed from Salamandastron that same evening on their way back to Terramort, over a score and a half of Northlander woodland rats helped Tratton's rowers in the galleys of the frigate and galleon. This went a long way toward making up for the nearly threescore oarslaves who'd been liberated from their chains and released into the custody of the Badger Lord. Those gaunt and whip-scarred creatures could not fathom this abrupt reversal of their fortunes as they found themselves inside the mountain fortress being lavished with their first real baths in seasons and a spread of food the likes of which they had never dared hope to see again in their lives.
Tratton had his copies of the two agreements, and Urthblood retained the others, all signed with Ramjohn and Matowick as witnesses. For the first time in history, a Lord of the Mountain and a great Searat King had formally acknowledged each other's legal sovereignty and recognized the rightful power each exercised over their respective domains. Never before had two such mighty rulers, at such deadly odds, worked out an agreement which would allow them to exist side by side in peace, however wary and uncertain that peace might be. Neither leader suffered under the illusion that there would not be some inevitable rough spots and bumps in the road on the way to the normalization of relations; it would, for example, take upwards of a season for Tratton to spread the word to all of his ships and islands that all slaves were to be released, and that every officer of the searat empire must now abide by the provisions of the accord. But since this was something totally new and without precedent, leeway would naturally be given to overlook any unfortunate incidents that transpired along the path to a permanent peace.
Amongst the guardians of Salamandastron, reservations ran rampant. Many had assumed that these negotiations could not possibly result in any kind of real treaty, that the Searat King would never sit across the bargaining table from Urthblood. The way Korba had been dragging out these talks and so obviously stalling at every turn made it seem as if Tratton did not take them seriously, if he was even out on that steel ship of his at all. Even those who'd thought something might come of Urthblood's diplomatic overtures had been totally caught off guard by the exchange of the woodland rats for Tratton's slaves. This development sprang wholly unanticipated from these discussions, a stormpowder keg dropped by Urthblood into his own captains' laps as much as Tratton's. And the reverberations of that decree had barely begun to make themselves felt - at Salamandastron, and throughout the lands to the north, east and south.
Matowick and Mattoon stood at the plateau crater rim, gazing out to sea. The crimson sunset silhouetted the receding sails of the Wavestrike and the Darksky; the Wedge cut too low a profile to be visible any longer from this distance. Soon even the tall masts of the two traditional sailing ships would dip below the evening ocean horizon, and the searats' extended visit here would be but a memory.
"There goes half my platoon," the weasel captain lamented into the onshore breezes. "Havin' Lorsch an' Cermak's rats bolsterin' my thinned weasel ranks since last summer gave me a full-strength squad, but now it's gutted just as surely as it was by Urthfist's sword when he an' his mad hares cut down near half my regular troops. I'd suspect Lord Urthblood was plannin' on mergin' my brigade with one o' th' others, 'cept th' most logical one'd be Cap'n Saybrook's otters, an' they got reassigned up north again."
Matowick shot Mattoon a sideways glance. "Oh, is that what you heard?"
"Well, that's what 'is Lord told us. Why? You hear somethin' diff'rent?"
"Lord Urthblood only told us they were returning to the Northlands - he never said it was at his orders." Matowick returned his gaze to the rippling scarlet sheet spread out before them. "They quit."
"What?"
"Resigned. Every last one of them. Tardo told me - he was there when it happened. That stuff the gulls dropped on the enemy shrews was poison vapors of some kind, and once Saybrook got a good look at what it had gone to them - and to the otters they had with 'em - he apparently decided then and there to have nothing more to do with Urthblood anymore ... and got all his otters to go along with him." The squirrel's eyes slipped toward Mattoon once more. "I've heard rumors you may've known something about that weapon even before Lord Urthblood used it. That true?"
The weasel hung his head, unable to meet Matowick's gaze. "I knew he was testin' somethin' on those searat prisoners that was makin' 'em die horribly, but 'is Lordship discouraged too many questions bein' asked. Never knew 'xactly what it was ... or that he'd ever use it this way."
"Well, he used it all right, and now it's cost us our otters. Not that we'll need them anymore for defending Salamandastron, or the inland waterways, now that we're at peace." Matowick almost sniffed that last word in disdain.
"You don't reckon Tratton's gonna keep up his end of th' deal?"
"I don't know. All I know is there'll be Hellsgates to pay if he doesn't."
"Did you have any notion he was gonna give up all our rats t' get them slaves free?"
"No, I didn't. That came as a complete surprise to me ... or perhaps I should say shock. I never imagined he'd throw anything like that into the deal."
"Yah, well, all I c'n say is those were some mighty unhappy rats who boarded them two pirate ships ... an' with no weapons, no less. If it wasn't fer yer squirrels marchin' 'em out to th' landin' boats practically at swordpoint, an' Urthblood standin' over 'em too, I don't rightly know if they woulda gone, orders or no."
"Well, from what I hear, that's just the beginning of it. The rats stationed here at Salamandastron were good enough for getting the slaves off of those two warships, but Tratton's got enough beasts in bondage to fill this mountain. Lord Urthblood told Tratton he'd deliver all his trooprats from the Northlands by mid-autumn, and even hinted that he might give the searats civilians as well."
Mattoon's eyes widened. "Can ... can he do that?"
"He's Urthblood. When did you ever know him not to do something he set his mind to? But it'll be a whole new alignment of our forces, and their mission. A large part of their duty has always been to stand against searat incursions. Now they're gonna have their paws full rounding up other rats to give to those very same searats. It's ... bizarre. And it'll take some getting used to."
"But all good fer th' gander if it keeps th' peace, huh? Well, at least we got near two hunnerd o' Tardo's shrews t' make up fer Saybrook's otters an' my rats. We're still well-defended here, if war breaks out again."
"And Scarbatta's gulls. I think they were the main thing that got Tratton to the negotiating table. He didn't want to lose anymore ships ... or to have a squadron of bomberbirds appearing over Terramort dropping flaming oil and vitriol. Or something even worse."
"What was it like, sittin' across from Tratton?" Mattoon asked.
Matowick shrugged. "He's just a rat."
"Yeah," Matton said skeptically. "An' Urthblood's just a badger."