44: The Beckoning Hand of Fate
Lin took Tam's advice to heart. Over the next week, as those creatures who wished to join the squirrelmaid in her cause gradually drifted into Sweethaven from all corners of the island, she spent her time among the new recruits and the families of those who lived close by. Each morning, often accompanied by Tam, Slarave, Takora, Ruglar, or another of her close allies, she would do the rounds of the makeshift camp just outside the village, speaking with any and all who desired to do so. Many of those who approached the squirrelmaid wished to ask her questions of her mission; how would it be performed? Would there be any slaves in the vermin stronghold? How would Lin's fleet make its way around the village by sea to land safely without being seen? Would they have allies in the squirrels still free? How long did she think the conflict would last?
Lin found herself answering each question from some point of a brief outline of her plan. Much of the approach to the island would depend heavily upon the sparrows and what information they could glean on scouting forays. The young gull, Unglak, might also be tried as a scout on the advance. Once they landed on the island she believed they would be able to free the slaves and if there were any squirrels or escaped slaves at large on the island they would most certainly join them. Their offensive move would have to be scouted out and planned on the information collected, but she had some rough ideas as to possible attack strategies. She hoped it would all be over in one decisive surprise battle, but if it wasn't she wasn't sure how long the fighting could go on.
As the days passed, the black squirrelmaid's predictions to Tam began to prove astonishingly accurate, even to her. Ruglar assured her that he would have a hundred and sixty-three otters ready for battle by the time the fleet sailed. Hedgehogs came flooding in by the day, and Takora estimated from the reports he'd been receiving from the messengers that a hundred and eighty and some would have arrived in Sweethaven by the army's departure. It was expected, by Foremole Grundee's report, that forty-one moles would be joining Lin, and Viski promised twenty-six sparrows and forty-nine others.
Of these others Lin – and her non-Volkendian friends – were stunned at the number of vermin among them. Rats were extremely common, with a good number of ferrets, weasels, and stoats mixed in among them. There were even three foxes and, two days before the departure, a pine marten arrived in the camp. His name was Zarmon, and though his sly-looking eyes made Lin's flesh crawl, his deep, mellow voice – even in only the few words he spoke – put her at ease. Without asking him anything, she knew this was a creature she could trust and rely upon.
One morning six days after her talk with Tam, Lin finished her rounds of the camp somewhat earlier than she'd expected. Deciding to spend some extra time with the families of those who would be accompanying her – she usually visited them in the afternoons – she headed into the town accompanied by one of the foxes, a vixen called Vittonae. The two kept up a rapid conversation concerning military tactics, for Vittonae was no mean fighter and knew her share of warrior lore. However, as Lin had been warned by the oldest fox, Bannaru, she quickly discovered that the redgold vixen was both impudent and brazen. The pair chafed and humored each other in turns as they made their way into Sweethaven.
They stopped at the house of one of the vixen's friends, a middle-aged ratwife named Gogra. The former corsair was raising three lively youngsters of her own, and her husband, Rapp, was joining Lin on her mission. He was visiting the town forge to have a chip in his blade repaired and Gogra had her paws full trying to cook a plump little grayling and handle the three little ones at the same time. Vittonae promptly rounded up the trio – for all her sauciness she loved babes with a passion – and herded them outside for a game. Lin moved to help Gogra with the cooking.
The ratwife gave her a gap-toothed grin. "Ah, thankee kindly, pretty 'un." She chuckled, her plump stomach shaking. "Me tail! Those li'l rips coul' run der stripes of'n a badger!"
Lin picked up a knife from the table; Gogra had dropped it a moment before as she'd attempted to chase the little ones away from the candied nuts intended for stuffing the fish. She began slicing the onion and carrots set on a plate, also intended for stuffing. "They do seem a pawful. Are you going to get somebeast to help you with them while Rapp's away?"
"Ya, me neighbor, Jakaline – she's an 'edge'og – is gonner 'elp me. Tabot – dat's 'er 'usband – is goin' wid ya, an' since she don't got no little 'uns she'll stop in wid me durin' de day." Gogra dimpled as she began mixing honey and breadcrumbs together in a bowl, together with a bit of flour and some dried herbs. "Jakaline's a goodbeast, dat 'un."
"How did you and Rapp come to Volkendo and settle down here?" Lin asked, adding the chopped vegetables to the bowl at Gogra's request.
"Purdy simple, really. Our ship – Knifewave, it were – wrecked on der reefs 'round dis island. We both got washed up 'ere, 'long wid a few slaves an' a couple o' our crewmates. We'd never 'ad a stomach for some o' der stuff most corsairs do, 'though we liked the loot we got an' we 'ad it pretty easy on the 'ole. So when a pack o' otters an' 'ege'ogs shows up, armed ter der teeth, an' us widout any weppings twixt der lot o' us, we surrendered. Dey put us on a trial an' we were allowed ter live in der town in 'ouses they provided, but we was watched. Most o' our mates didn't make der test an' were taken somewheres – not sure where. Rapp an' me an' our messmate, Gritch – 'e's a stoat – passed der test an' were allowed ter settle down." Gogra shrugged. "'Bout der same fer ev'ry vermin dat winds up 'ere."
Lin's curiosity was aroused. "Do you have any idea where the others go?"
Gogra shrugged. "I've picked up bits 'ere an' dere, but nodin' fer sure."
"What do you think, though?" the squirrelmaid pressed.
"Yer a persistent 'un, ain't ya?" Gogra grinned. "Well, I'll tell ya wot I t'ink. When I were still a liddle 'un, I remembers stoppin' at two islands. Dey must 'ave been one round island at one time, but der seasons 'ad worn a channel down der middle an' created two. Any'ow, dere were a bunch o' oder vermin dere, rats an' weasels an' ferrets an' such. I t'ink we took on about a dozen onter der crew, but I'm not sure." She began busily packing the fish with the prepared stuffing. "I t'ink dat's where dey're sent; ter de twin islands."
"How far is it from here to those two islands?" the black squirrelmaid asked curiously.
"Well . . . I'm not 'zactly sure, but from wot I recall, it'd be 'bout three 'r four days sailin', mebbe more. Why?"
"Oh, no reason. Just curious," Lin replied blithely, a vague idea forming in her mind. "I'd never thought about where the other vermin went, that's all."
Gogra gave her a sideways look that suggested she thought there was more to the squirrelmaid's probing questions, but if her thoughts ran along such paths she made no further comment. Instead, she and her woodlander friend chatted amiably about one thing and then another as they finished stuffing the fish and made up a small tray of hazelnut buns for the little ones.
Lin was about to inquire into making a cool drink for the noontide, for the summer days on Volkendo were by no means mild, when there was a sudden explosion of loud whooping from outdoors. Both Gogra and Lin went to the door to investigate the sudden outburst of festivities.
Vittonae was sitting in the scant shade cast by the overhang of the roof at the near-noon hour, looking quite frazzled but pleased. The three young ratbabes were having a wonderful time twirling curious devices and hurling them at the stone wall at the rear of the spacious back garden. Each was made of a paw-sized stone tied to an arm's length of sturdy twine. The three youngsters were whirling these much in the same way a slinger would throw a sling, but they released them as if they were bolas. These crude-looking objects whipped through the air for all the world like little comets with string tails to crash into the stone wall twoscore paces away. Despite their youth the trio were astonishingly accurate, striking almost every time the targeted areas they called out.
"Dat dark rock!"
"Der dead vine!"
"I'za gonna 'it der likkle brown bit!"
Lin watched the stones flying through the air with amazement. "What in the name of fur are those things?"
Gogra and Vittonae both chuckled. The vixen explained. "'Tis a modified corsair trick. The real thing is called a fire swinger. They're big boulders, 'bout the size o' a shrew's 'ead, an' they're bound with strong rope or vines an' 're dipped in oil or bound 'round with canvass or bracken; sometimes, if'n either o' these're used, they're soaked in oil, too. Then they're lit an' the hurler swings it 'round their 'ead an' releases it in the direction o' the target. 'Tis as easy as throwin' a sling."
Lin watched Vrak, the eldest of the three ratbabes, hurl off another missile with a squeal of glee. Her black eyes were shining. "Have these fire swingers ever been used without being lit?"
Gogra shrugged. "D'know. Why?"
"If a score of beasts knew how to use them and were in a good line of fire . . ."
Vittonae suddenly caught on. "They'd do a good peck o' damage to any buildin's in their way, an' anybeast, too!" She jumped up. "What d'ya say we go an' round up a couple o' beasts to 'elp us out with tryin' it?"
"Tryin' wot?" Gogra hadn't yet figured out her two friends' train of thought.
Lin explained. "If the fire swingers weren't lit but were thrown accurately, they could really wreak havoc in a densely populated town. They'd be a great party-opener for an assault on the village on Tarenta."
Gogra blinked slowly, processing this. "Me Rapp knows all dere is ter know 'bout fire slingers; if'n ya want ter try dem out, ya'll want ter talk ter 'im. 'E'll 'elp ya."
Her squirrelmaid friend shook her paw energetically. "Thankee, my friend, thankee kindly!"
Gogra grinned even as she tried to extract her paw from the powerful grip. "Ah, no problem t'all, missie; 'tis a pleasure t' be 'elpin' ya. Now off with ya an' go find me Rapp! Ya'll get nothin' done loiterin' about 'ere 'till yer fur turns grey!"
A short time later, after the squirrelmaid and the vixen had bid their ratfriend goodbye and had vanished down the street in the direction of the camp, Gogra peeked into her oven to check on the fish, shaking her head and smiling to herself. "Seasons, sometimes even grown beasts be'ave like liddle 'uns if'n dey've found somethin' ter rouse 'em!"
††
By early afternoon a fair-sized audience had gathered to watch the performance put on by those experimenting with the possible weapon. Many were clamoring for a chance to try one of the queer-looking things, and Lin was beginning to choose those whom she thought would be best fit for the task. Burly otters and hedgehogs were her first choices, but a number of sturdy-looking squirrels and many of the stronger vermin who offered services found their way into the group who stood about the pile of rocks and rope. Only two or three of the moles seemed at all interested in trying out the experimental weapons, but those who did volunteer were gladly included among the swelling band. Their black-furred commander knew the power hidden behind the short, stocky stature of the blunt-clawed creatures.
Doogy and Ruglar had joined Lin at the mark scored in the sand, behind which all those not throwing the big missiles were required to stand. The highland squirrel watched with fascination as a brawny young sea otter whirled a large rock about his head and suddenly whipped the projectile off. It sailed through the air in a graceful arc, crashing down to earth an extraordinary distance away. He whistled in admiration. "By the rocks! Those things go further 'n any sling or arrow Ah've e'er seen in me life!"
"Aye, that was a good throw," Ruglar agreed. "I must say Grawn is one o' the best slingers in me circle, but those things go far!" He pointed. "Look, can ye see the numbers o' 'em out there?"
Shading her eyes with her brush, Lin nodded. "Aye, they're getting thick. Maybe we should call a halt to bring them back. T'would save more rope from being cut."
She expected this to take some time, for the missiles were both heavy and numerous, but a small group of the Volkendians saved both the squirrelmaid and all those assisting her by rolling out from somewhere a fair-sized cart. Four of the strongest otters grabbed the shaft and crossbars, and the helpers piled in, whooping as they rode off down the beach in fine style. A score of others ran after them, laughing, and the collecting of the swingers – with so many willing paws and a vehicle strong and large enough to carry them all – made the task go at a rapid pace. Even so, it took three trips and a fresh team of pulling otters before all the missiles were all heaped into a pile behind the mark. Lin warmly thanked the otters and questioned them about their vehicle as the group of well over twoscore creatures who had been picked to wield the swingers went back to their practice. Her questions were technical; what did they use the cart for? How well did it run over rough terrain? Was it easy to maneuver?
A good-looking bewhiskered sea otter in his prime appeared to be the spokesbeast and he answered all of her inquiries readily. They used the cart for all manner of odd jobs, from hauling fish and farm produce to pulling quarried stone from the mines inland. It had been used on all kinds of topography and, although it could ride somewhat roughly, they had never incurred damaged cargo or anything lost over the side. Depending on just how rough the terrain was and the weight of their cargo, the cart usually was quite manageable. "'Tis kind o' ye, miss, t' be thankin' us so profusely, but why the interest in the cart?" Tugrom finished, staring at the squirrelmaid with a somewhat puzzled expression.
"I'm hoping to use these swingers on Tarenta," Lin explained. "I thought we'd have to either assemble them behind the lines and carry them to position or else have a crew actually making them on the battlefield. But a cart would be much better and could carry more. Maybe several, even, for different uses." Her black eyes were beginning to shine, as they always did when she was coming up with a new idea.
"Like carrying the wounded?" the youngest otter, Deynul, queried.
"Or extra weapons, or tools, or supplies." Runlea, the only female otter in the group, was getting interested. "An' they could even be used as barriers, in a pinch. Y'know, tipped on their sides like big shields."
"Hey, Lin, there're a couple of creatures who want a word with you." Oakfur was bounding up, waving to attract his friend's attention. He wore a light green tunic given to him by one of the Volkendians and, with this garb bound by the typical white cord belt of a Foeseeker, he cut a handsome and somewhat quaint figure.
Lin waved back at her Foeseeker friend. "Who is it?"
"Farlig an' his mate want to talk to you about provisions. The Rose is supposed to be the ship with all the extra supplies, but there's either been a mix-up or they're not sure what they're supposed to bring or something." He shrugged. "Farlig said to tell you to put some wind in your sails 'cause he's got to get down to the supply sheds later this afternoon with the lists."
"Oh, great seasons!" Lin grumbled under her breath. To Tugrom and the other otters she reeled off a few rapid requests. "Could you all see what you can do about finding three other carts? It might be easier to just make a few new ones so they're easy to take apart and rebuild; if that's so, go ahead and get a few moles. They'll help. Sorry about this, I've got to go talk to Farlig." She waved to Ruglar as she headed off to join her friend. "Skipper, you're in charge of this slinger operation."
"All right, what's up?" she asked Oakfur as the pair loped off towards the docks. "I thought I gave Farlig a list three days ago."
"Something's wrong with it, I guess," Oakfur said with a shrug. "Anyway, the old spikybonce was insisting that he needed to talk to you about something having to do with cargo, or cargo space, or . . . I can't remember. I'm not even sure he told me."
"I guess I'll find out," the squirrelmaid muttered.
Farlig was a thin, pinch-faced hedgehog with scraggly spikes and small, shrewd eyes. A born arguer with a nasty temper, he never wasted a chance to wrangle with another over some little matter, or none at all. He stood at the head of the pier to which the graceful vessel Rose was moored, tapping his paw impatiently as his beady eyes scanned the harbor front. Behind him his mate, Thrafle, an easygoing otter with a plump waistline and a massive frame, lounged comfortably against a piling as if he hadn't a care in the world.
As Lin and Oakfur approached the pair, Farlig pounced on them. Waving a piece of parchment wildly about, he raved, "Four days! I've got four days t' git all o' this rot onter the Rose, an' yew ain't even givern me a proper list!"
"What's wrong with it?" Lin demanded with some heat.
"What? What?" spluttered the fuming hedgehog. "Everthin's wrong with it?" He shoved the parchment under the squirrelmaid's nose, pointing to a line on it. "See that? Bread won't last two days at sea, an' yew want me to pack a whole cabinful o' it! An' here!" Again he jabbed his paw at a certain point on the list. "Mushrooms! Bah! Those things rot faster'n fish in a ferret's belly at sea!" He rolled up the parchment and jammed it into his belt, glaring at Lin. "Now, if'n yew write out a proper list fer me, mebbe I can git all o' this rot onter me ship afore yew leave!"
Lin was fighting to control her boiling temper. Oakfur came to his friend's rescue. "If you'll give us the list, sir, we'll write out a new one and make sure there're no perishables on it."
"Sir! Hah! That's a good one!" Farlig shoved the list at Oakfur with bad grace, turning on his heel. "C'mon, Thrafle, let's git about doin' wot we can do without these stuffy bushtails!" He stormed off toward his ship, nose in the air.
Thrafle was slower to follow. He rose slowly from his comfortable perch, languidly stretching every limb. He winked at the two squirrels. "Don't mind Farlig, mateys. 'E's a good creat'ure, 'e just don't like showin' it." The big otter sauntered off after his captain.
Lin took a deep breath, still fighting her flaring temper. Oakfur tugged her paw. "C'mon, we'd better get over to the Dawn Queen to make out a new list in peace."
The squirrelmaid sighed as they headed toward the vessel. "Thanks for saving my line back there, Oakfur. If I'd said anything I'd have –"
Her friend cut her off with a wave of his paw. "Don't worry a thing about it, Lindenton Tarenta." He grinned. "I think I handle things like that better than you do."
"You're not far wrong there," Lin agreed wryly.
They made their way to the peaceful stern chamber where Tam and Lin had talked several days before. Lin fetched a piece of parchment and a fresh quill, and the two bent their heads over the list.
"Remember, we have no idea how long these things'll need to last," the squirrelmaid remarked as she checked the level of ink in the inkwell. "If this fighting lasts longer than I'm hoping it will or we're unable to get fresh supplies in after the fighting, these supplies'll need to hold out."
Oakfur nodded. "Got it. I'll read off the next thing on the old list, and if it's suitable we'll put it on the new list." He placed his paw under the first item. "Flour?"
Lin bobbed her head in the affirmative, writing it at the top of the new list.
"Apples?"
"If they're in barrels, then yes," the squirrelmaid replied, scribbling "apples" on the list and making a note beside it.
"Hmm . . . what's caracaska?"
"Caracaska? It's a kind of hard bread with all kinds of things baked into it. You soak it in water and eat it. Lots of that; that'll be good for eating on the march and it keeps well, too."
They continued through the listed items, a few being rejected and the rest being added to the new list. They were so engrossed in their task that they both jumped when a black head suddenly poked around the door. Lurri grinned at them. "We've all been wonderin' where you two were. C'mon down to the beach; it's eventide an' the cooks have a big brew goin' on the shore."
"Evening already?" Lin stared out the small window at the reddening rays of the setting sun. "But we only started a short while ago!"
"Then time must've been goin' slower outside 'n inside," the Foeseeker squirrel replied with a chuckle. "C'mon, hurry up! Those otters've cooked up some kind o' concoction called skilly 'n duff."
"What's that?" Oakfur looked blank.
Lurri shrugged. "D'know, some kind o' soup, I guess. They 'ave plums in one part o' it . . . I think it's in the duff. Any'ow, you two'd better hurry!"
"All right, all right, we're coming!" Lin grumbled with mock bad temper, pulling herself upright. "Think we're done with this list?"
Oakfur also rose. "Well, we've already gone through the old one once, so . . . yes, I suppose so. Want me to run it over to Farlig?"
"No, better have me do it." Lin grimaced, stifling a wry laugh. "I think he'd give you a tongue lashing into next season for not having it back to him sooner."
"Got it. We'll take it over together, then."
The squirrelmaid headed for the door. "Lurri, save us some of the . . . vittles, will you? We'll be over in a tick."
"Got it," Lurri replied, watching with a flicker of anger the retreating backs of Lin and Oakfur.
Oooh, what's this? Lurri is mad? C-: I think it's pretty obvious what's going on with him; guess!
Yeah, yeah, whine whine whine. This was a filler chapter – I know. I am planning on making it the last one for a while. I included a LOT of important info, so stop complaining. I was spoon-feeding you some great stuff.
Hehe, I loooooved the fire-swingers from Mariel of Redwall, so I made a revised version. Soooo much fun!
Anyhow . . .
Am working on the next chapter now! Consider yourselves lucky to be getting my first double update of all time!
~Foeseeker
