Brigadier Shawarran pulled his boot on just as Colonel Nateem entered his tent. "If I ever find the sadistic ... cobbler ... who made these ... accursed things, I'll force him to march a hundred leagues in them." He slammed his left heel on the ground and sighed. "So what news have you, Nateem?"

"Your gamble seems to have worked. Our food is gone, but the soldiers are eager to fight. Even our slaves seem impatient for the anticipated victory."

He nodded. "The reports about our army's success helps. Everyone is expecting little opposition, though I wonder what has happened during the usual two-week lag in communications from the north."

"Our soldiers moved into their final staging areas during the night. If our turncoats show up at dawn, we can storm the gate and the battle should end in less than ten minutes. Our ship will be entering port at the same time, which puts the defenders between our two forces."

"You've done well, Nateem." Brigadier Shawarran stared up at the starry sky, pleased that it promised good weather. He then turned to his second, "By the way, did you find an assignment for Captain Purrnella that keeps her out of trouble?"

xxxxx

Captain Purrnella's mood matched the predawn sky. She anticipated an opportunity at combat, but drew an unappealing assignment. She understood the reason for keeping her off the ship. The port authority's paranoia regarding species other than ferrets would put them on alert if her unit joined that force. Purrnella didn't argue about missing that duty, the Brigadier's subterfuge made sense to her on a tactical level.

However, she expected to lead a unit storming the main gate or one of the town's dozen Peace Enforcer's stations. In the confusion combat created, she could bloody her claws. The idea of close quarter combat with untested fighters appealed to her.

The only thing keeping her claws off Colonel Nateem's throat was his rank when he announced her mission. "How can you put me in such a low-risk support role? My experience in combat makes me more valuable attacking the port than scavenging supplies."

Colonel Nateem's voice remained calm despite the proximity of her claws to his neck. "Your tendency for overindulging in mayhem could cost us valuable allies. If a soldier from your unit kills one civilian, you better have a dozen witnesses to justify it. If you're the one who does the killing, I doubt that will save your hide."

Each time she thought about the slight, her anger grew. Yesterday, she spent hours sharpening her claws in anticipation. She even tested them on an unsuspecting slave passing her tent. So much blood pleased her, and she did let him live. Though based on the Colonel's comments, her fun may have cost her any chance at combat.

She climbed down from the hill overlooking her assigned section of the town. Her unit milled about the carts, acting as if they won some grand prize. Each time she heard one of the soldiers comment about their easy assignment, her claws slid out. When one rat called their role vital, her tail slashed the air behind her. Bad enough she commanded a unit of reluctant warriors, but when she learned she had to guard a contingent of slaves, she almost refused the assignment.

Two of the slaves had their backs to her, unaware of her approach. She couldn't resist the opportunity. Her claws extended to their full length. A quick swipe wouldn't disable them, but it would satisfy her urge to draw blood. She approached them with all the stealth inherent to her breed. Her paws swiped at their backs, missing them.

It seemed inconceivable. Then she discovered the reason. Her mind remained so focused on the two young slaves that she never saw the other slave standing behind her targets. Now the two young voles stood behind the slave overseer, no doubt expecting her to protect them from her wrath.

"How dare you interfere, Wobbles. I catch two lazy slaves nattering and you intervene."

"If you harm them, where will we get replacements? We need these two if we are to complete our mission."

Wobbles pushed the two youngsters further behind her. Wobbles approached Captain Purrnella, in a submissive posture. No doubt hoping to defuse a tense situation.

She considered her options. Purrnella thought of pushing past their perceived protector and battering the two slaves. It would at least provide her some entertainment. She knew Wobbles couldn't stop her if she attacked the two young voles; it was her right as the ranking officer. Maybe targeting Wobbles would provide a better object lesson. Then she had an idea. It made her purr.

"I will give you a choice, Wobbles. When this day ends, you may either surrender those two to my idea of an appropriate punishment, or you can give them a public flogging as a reminder to the others that I will not tolerate laziness. Either way, these two will be spending the next few days in the infirmary, if I am feeling generous."

Purnella enjoyed watching Wobbles squirm. She guessed both options did not appeal to the squirrel. If she got to select the punishment, Purrnella expected at least one less slave before morning. The other alternative would make Wobbles an outcast among her fellow slaves, even though they knew she had no option.

Wobbles never got a chance to respond. Several signal flags snapped up along the hillside. Purrnella saw the flags, pivoted on her heel, and shouted orders to her unit as they prepared for the upcoming battle. Slaves slipped into their harnesses as they pulled their carts, following the soldiers. Purnella led the charge over the hill separating them from the town. Her first objective, a building Colonel Nateem identified as a large boarding house.

All moved through the sleeping town. Purrnella's claws flexed as she pointed at the main door. Perhaps a fool would think themselves some great hero and challenge her. She would welcome such heroics since she could then bloody her claws without disobeying her direct orders not to kill any of the civilians.

xxxxx

Chitter and Narkade finished a hearty breakfast and held their mugs high enough that the bartender noticed them. Draedin's mate strolled over and poured each of them a hearty portion of apple cider before she moved to the next occupied table. Chitter added his empty plate to the stack of dirty dishes sitting on the table's edge.

"I got to see your performance yesterday, Narkade. You do have talent. Even after seeing you do it, I'm still fascinated how a squirrel went from playing a cringing mouse slave to vixen warrior and back during that show."

Before Narkade could answer, glass from the door panels as well as splintered wood filled the air. Five large rats stormed in, armed with various weapons. Their shouted orders became part of the bedlam erupting in the common room as the other customers either screamed or dove under their table.

The ferret bartender grabbed his club and jumped over the bar. His life ended before his feet hit the floor. A well-aimed bolt from a crossbow pierced his heart and his lifeless body rolled to the middle of the floor. While one rat reloaded his crossbow, an additional five beasts entered.

Draedin's mate lunged for the body of the dead ferret. Two rats raised their swords. Only the intervention of a female wildcat prevented her death. The wildcat delivered a solid kick to the lady's shoulder, sending her skidding across the floor until her back banged into the wall. By then, the rest of the Inn's terrified staff had assembled in the kitchen doorway.

From his seat, Chitter watched the invaders. Sometimes a merchant saw more than any trained warrior. He noticed the uniformity of their garments, which meant these were soldiers, not some sea-borne collection of pirates. He watched as the intruders took up a station that allowed them to both cover and support each other without any words being spoken. They moved so well Chitter knew these beasts had trained for this mission, which told him this was no raid.

His ears told him even more. As a merchant who frequented this part of the continent, he recognized the major regional dialects. He also knew many of the ones used by sailors visiting the town. This one remained unknown to him.

Narkade slid his paws off the tabletop. Chitter tried stopping his friend without any success and they found themselves staring down the length of a crossbow bolt. The ermine's blank expression made Chitter stutter as he hissed in a louder than desired voice.

"Narkade, put your paws back on the table, but do it very slowly. These bandits will shoot anyone that gives them the slightest reason to do so."

The wildcat turned from the lady proprietor. She approached their table without interfering with the ermine's line of fire. None of the other patrons, workers, or raiders moved. For several long seconds the wildcat scrutinized them. When the wildcat spoke, she did so in a low voice that held a note of menace, her full attention focused on Narkade.

"Your friend is right. It would be safer if you kept both paws on the table at all times. My unit is under strict orders not to kill unless provoked and you saw what happened to that fool with the club. So tell me the truth, are you armed?"

"I have a short sword about my waist and a dirk in my left boot," said Chitter. "My friend is unarmed. I'm going to put both on the table."

As Chitter's right paw dropped below the table, the ermine shifted his aim towards him. His paw came up with the sword and dropped it on the table. Another move below the table and a small knife joined it. The wildcat's voice purred, but her claws remained visible.

"Are those all your weapons?"

Narkade snapped off a less than polite answer, which raised the hackles of several nearby invaders. When one moved towards them, an upraised paw from the wildcat had him retreat. The wildcat pulled the table away from their bench, scattering the dirty crockery.

"Frisk these two squirrels. Let me know if either one has a weapon."

Chitter stood, keeping his arms away from his side. A glance at Narkade had his friend imitating his stance. A rat patted them down, relieving them of their purse. The wildcat did nothing more than growl and the rat returned their property.

"They held nothing back, Captain."

The wildcat's expression became that of a pouting child as she waved the two squirrels back into their seats. She made no move to return the table to its proper place. The wildcat examined her claws as she stepped away from them.

"Pity neither of you tried holding back a weapon. Your deaths would serve this town well as an object lesson to any other fool that thought about defying us."

A sharp whistle from the wildcat had half of the remaining rats following her outside. As the intruders exited, a contingent of five beasts entered the room. Like the soldiers, they wore uniforms, but of an inferior quality and a different color. Unlike the other raiders, they carried no weapons. Chitter guessed they served the others.

Two adult mice and two vole children darted through the common room. The mice ran up the staircase towards the upper floors. The vole children entered the kitchen area. Nobody within the common room interfered.

The kitchen door swung open and the voles relayed sacks of food through the door. When the mice returned, they carried bulging sheets. Some of the ornate pewter candlesticks from the upstairs hallways stuck out of their improvised sacks.

The four moved under the directions of another beast that intrigued Chitter. This fifth one might be a squirrel of many years as evidenced by her grey muzzle, but her stubby tail confused him. Chitter wondered if she was some unknown species native to whatever land these intruders called home.

Though this strange creature dressed like the other workers, she appeared to have some command latitude. None of the soldiers contradicted her as she shouted orders to the other four. It made him wonder if her loyalties were to these soldiers or her fellow slaves. Perhaps he could use that divided allegiance against this enemy.