Chitter leaned onto the crossbar, his harness tightening around his shoulders. He maintained his steady pace, knowing he covered more ground if he didn't overexert himself. Around the next bend, the sign he expected appeared, telling him how far he was from his destination.
A dozen paces beyond the sign, the hard-packed earth turned into a stone road. He evaded the many work crews repairing the thoroughfare after a hard winter by keeping close to the middle of the road. His pace increased thanks to the smooth surface and the downhill gradient.
An hour later, he approached the town's outskirts. He diverted course to circle the buildings since that route remained less traveled at this hour of the day. It took time traveling through a congested area and he wanted to rest before the market opened. On the far side of the town, he turned down a familiar street.
A series of miniature fortresses lined each side of the wide lane. Armed sentries patrolled the walls, each wearing the colors of their particular employer. Guards at the gate stood straighter as he made his way pass them. A few even waved, hoping to catch his attention.
The first two fortresses remained shut, though the placard by the gate announced they were open and accepting new business. The guards at the next fortress motioned him to keep moving, which he did. He continued down the avenue. At the sixth fortress, the sign by the gate displayed a familiar stripped color scheme. He made for its entrance, passing a pair of armed sentries who made no move to stop him.
Once he entered the fortress, he turned left. Chitter passed a small cottage, taking no notice of the ferret that entered the building. He came to a long building, which had a series of open bays. The first four he found occupied and barred by a closed gate. The fifth one stood empty.
He maneuvered the cart into the stall, stopping when the crossbar reached the far wall. Chitter removed his harness and grabbed the wooden chocks resting against the wall. Just as he braced the wheel, he heard a familiar voice call him by name.
Three ferrets approached. The one in the middle wore the attire of a wealthy aristocrat and carried no weapon. The other two looked like the kind of beast best avoided if you intended living. They moved to flank him. One held his sword at the ready while the other rested his paw on his axe. Chitter glanced at the horizontal crosswalk halfway up the wall where another armed sentry kept watch. The guard's crossbow rested on his shoulder, but his eyes watched him.
His paw stayed away from his sword. He reached into his shirt pocket and tossed the copper coin he placed there earlier. The dapper ferret caught it in midair and placed it in his pocket. The two guards retreated. They moved behind the aristocratic ferret and sheathed their weapons.
"Chitter, my word, I expected you a lot sooner. It's been four months since last you visited our fair city. I do hope that full cart does not mean you intend robbing honest merchants of their last copper."
"As tight-fisted as this town's merchants are, Draedin? I'll be lucky if I get enough money to replace these worn sandals, let alone show any profit."
The ferret pulled a white kerchief from his sleeve and waved it in the air. The two guards standing next to him withdrew and the third one continued patrolling the catwalk. The aristocratic ferret extended his paw and Chitter shook it.
"Let's conclude our business in my office like civilized beasts. Your merchandise is safe at my warehouse."
They walked back to the first building he saw when he entered the property. As they passed the occupied bays, he noticed the empty wagons. He counted the days he traveled on his fingers. Something was wrong, and he had to know.
"I thought the open air market was held every seven days. If my count is correct, it opens tomorrow. Those empty wagons worry me. Did I miss it?"
"Your count is correct. Those wagons belong to merchants here to buy, though I think they might be disappointed by the meager selection. Most of the local farmers lost their crops due to a harsh winter. Those still trading reported an increase in banditry and are reluctant about traveling beyond their homesteads. Rumor has it somebody struck a place west of here and left nothing behind but the bodies of the landowner and his family. Our Peace Enforcers said the farm reminded them of a field after an infestation of hungry locusts."
"That might explain the resistance I ran into while camping near one of the outlying farms. I swear that stoat intended having me mounted on his pitchfork. He didn't start talking like a reasonable fellow until he had me unarmed and treed. Never apologized, just ordered me off his land."
While they chatted, Draedin filled out the billing for his service. Chitter dropped the required coins on the counter and took his receipt. Their business finished, Chitter reached for the doorknob. However, the ferret called him back to his counter.
"If you don't mind a bit of friendly advice, I suggest you visit the bathhouse before making any sales pitch. The stench is most offensive."
"Has the town decided to beautify the place by burning that hovel of yours to the ground? Between ticks in the bedding and watered-down soup, I decided I must've fallen asleep at the local prison."
"Best you not tell my mate such things. We can joke here, but that is one fiery ferret I married. Last fool that made a disparaging comment about her boarding house got run out of town. I tell you, seeing a lady badger running down the street screaming in fear, while my mate pursued her with a rolling pin sure provided some welcomed entertainment. Of course, bailing her out of jail proved expensive."
Chitter shouldered his travel pack and left the warehouse. He walked five blocks down and three more to his right before spotting his destination. A large hanging sign swung from a chain above the wooden sidewalk proclaiming the place as "The Exotic Nesting Nook." The building stood four stories high and with the exception of the port's fortification, dwarfed every nearby building.
As he approached, Draedin's mate rushed outside. She barred his approach. How did she know I was coming? I just arrive. Her sour expression let him know he had no chance at entering her establishment without first using the bathhouse. After an exchange of coins, Chitter relinquished all but one set of garments, knowing that everything would be cleaned and pressed within the hour and waiting for him in his room.
It took time filling the tub with enough hot water so Chitter could enjoy a good soak. He no sooner immersed himself when the door opened and a younger and smaller version of Draedin walked inside. The young ferret placed several towels within easy reach and handed him a cake of soap and a bottle of dipping solvent.
Chitter relaxed in the hot water, enjoying the sensation. Without opening his eyes, he spoke to his young attendant. "The candied chestnuts are in my backpack, upper left pocket, on the flap." He listened to the child rifle through the pocket and his excited squeal upon finding the candy. "So Tranasey, what's your pleasure?"
"I missed your last trip here because my auntie broke her leg and needed help with the farm. Please, sir, tell me all about where you come from?"
"I am nothing more than a humble merchant, living with my expectant wife, Highclimber. My home is a place of squirrels and otters, with the squirrels living in treetop drays and the otters occupying a communal hut built from logs by a wide stream. They fish the stream and we harvest the fields and trees. Everyone benefits."
Chitter enjoyed talking about the places he visited since Tranasey seemed enthralled about the world beyond his home. Whenever he finished one story, the fellow would beg for another. Since he made several trips here each season, he did what he could to stay on Draedin's good side by entertaining his son.
"Did you know my mate and I were orphans raised at Redwall? When we married, the two of us decided we would move to another village. Since we didn't care where we lived, we went wherever the next squirrel visiting Redwall called home."
"Redwall?" the surprised voice had Chitter open his eyes for a moment and the soap soon forced his eyes closed. He listened to a voice tinged with wonder. "The stories I've heard about that place. It must be great growing up in a home filled with different species. Only other creatures I ever see are the guests, and none of them talk to towel boys."
Another male voice intruded on their conversation. "If you're looking for information about Redwall, the best source comes from those that live there."
Chitter plunged under the water, rinsing off the soapsuds. When he surfaced, he squeezed the water off his facial fur while searching for the source of the new voice. At the opposite end of the room, another squirrel had entered the bathhouse. While the young ferret rushed about preparing another tub for their newest guests, Chitter called out to him.
"Narkade, I thought you were still living with your mother back at Redwall."
"Until six months ago, that was true. I ran off and joined a troop of squirrel thespians under the tutelage of a lady named Bushface. Mother's last message wished me good luck on this tour. We're performing for the next three weeks at the town's opera house, or what passes as such."
Both of them continued their animated conversation as they caught up on the latest news. When the water in Chitter's tub turned cool, he climbed out. After a vigorous shake and a good toweling, he dressed. He invited Narkade to dinner, which he accepted. As Chitter made his way to the Inn, Tranasey blocked his way. He might have protested, but the young ferret's face had such a worried expression that the words died unspoken.
"Be careful where you wander, sir. There are many in this town who speak of marauding rather than trading. They say ferrets should hold power with a sharp sword and not a dull coin."
Chitter ruffled the youngster's head fur. "I have heard such grumblings from some of the impoverished or the hot-headed drunks as they stagger from a tavern, Tranasey; it never goes further than talk."
The young ferret kept his voice low. "All I'm saying, sir, is that the Peace Enforcers have their paws full as it is. Between these bandits beyond the town limits and a series of murders within, there are many that don't take to outsiders like they did before."
xxxxx
A skiff pulled into the shelter of the cove. While its crew rowed the craft towards shore, one creature stood at the bow. When the keel grounded, he jumped into the knee-high water. He waded in from the sea, not caring about his wet legs. His purposeful steps took him to a nearby chair where his assistant waited with a towel and a pair of dry boots.
"Thanks for meeting me, old friend. Shipboard business took a little longer than I expected. Fortunately, outstanding issues have been resolved."
"Everyone will be pleased, Brigadier. I had your command staff gathered when I saw you in the boat, sir. You can give them the good news."
Brigadier Shawarran marched across the seashore. His friend, Colonel Nateem, followed a pace behind him. They continued through the camp until they reached his command tent, which hid the entrance to a deep cavern lit by several lanterns. Brigadier Shawarran approached the long table where his officers stood at rigid attention. With a sweep of his long cape, he took his accustomed place at the head of the table. Everyone sat.
He got right down to business. "I have just spent the last day speaking with the Admiral and every ship's Captain. What they tell me isn't good. Four of our troop ships are still missing and presumed lost with all paws after that storm we encountered. We lost five of our six merchant vessels, meaning we have no supplies beyond whatever we can commandeer. The ship's food supplies are no better and will be exhausted in four days, and that's if we deny the oar slaves their rations."
There was a momentary silence as everyone assessed the information. From a point halfway down one side, a large sea rat rose. He waited until the Brigadier acknowledged him.
"Our forces are not that much better off, Brigadier. If we hadn't gone to half rations when we first landed some six weeks ago, and if our foraging parties hadn't found some supplies by raiding the nearby farms, our only remaining option would be a forced reductions in our slave population."
A female stoat jumped to her feet. Her hackles rose as she stared at the other officer. The two of them remained locked in their staring contest until the Brigadier asked for her report. The female stoat's hackles lowered when she turned away from the sea rat. She checked a paper in front of her before addressing him.
"As much as we need food, we also need those slaves. Without them, most of our army would be assigned to other duties, reducing our effective fighting force by more than half. If we go into combat, it will be with less than fifteen hundred effective soldiers."
The wolf nodded. "According to the tally sheets, we departed with a force of eight thousand warriors and a thousand slaves. Our losses have reduced our warriors to three thousand, but all our slaves survived. These slaves might be placid now, but if even one dies and the rumor starts about a new food source, there would be a revolt. We cannot afford such a distraction when we are so close to launching our offensive."
An ermine sitting next to the snarling stoat raised his paw. When the Brigadier acknowledged him, he gave his report. "While you were gone, sir, another launch delivered the report we have been expecting. General Zavallin's forces initiated their offensive three weeks ago. They are meeting stiff resistance, but our forces are advancing on the first of two primary objectives. We have our go for the conquest of Ferretville."
A general air of celebration swept through the assembled officers until Shawarran slapped his paw on the table. The officers quieted as he read the various reports sitting by his chair.
"Our soldiers are ready, how goes our efforts at conquering the port?"
Colonel Nateem opened a folder by his seat. He read the pages within while the room waited for his evaluation. The stoat rose, walked to the map and took hold of the pointer.
"Both our strategies have gone better than expected. Our primary plan relies on a dissident squad of guards within the fortress. They are scheduled to have morning gate duty in three days and promised they would keep the gates open, no matter what. With your permission, Brigadier, I will inform them we intend commencing our attack that morning."
"You said both our strategies. You never said anything about an alternative."
Nateem smiled. "Our losses required a reevaluation of our original battle plan. When we received word that our attack could begin, I sent a skiff offshore to the anchored merchant vessel, ordering him into our cove. We can hide five hundred fighters within the ship. The revised plan has those soldiers attacking the main gate from within the fortress at the same time as we launch our frontal assault. If the dissidents fail to show, or the gates are closed, we still have a viable backup."
Shawarran nodded. "The port is protected by a civil police force, not a standing army. Most are armed with nothing more lethal than a wooden stick. Once we have secured the gates, resistance will quickly collapse."
When a female stoat wearing the insignia of the medical unit glanced his way, Colonel Nateem answered her unasked question. "The worse case scenario has us losing three or four hundred and having another hundred needing the services of our medical staff. This port city anticipates an attack from the land and has all its defenses designed to repel such an attack. Our forces will be behind them; it should be a short battle."
As he stood, everyone at the table came to attention. "Put everyone back on full rations. In three days, we either feast on the larders of Ferretville or the meat of our slaves."