3. Doubt.

And so on the next day Marroch appeared again in the room dug beneath the roots of the huge pine, where Ewalt rested. This time another ferret followed, a female bearing clear familiar similarity to the warlord, but taller, with broader shoulders and brighter fur colors.

"Get us something to drink, Rowanbloom." After saying that, Marroch turned to Ewalt, who sat on the edge of his large bed, when he heard that somebeast is coming: "This is Kethra, my younger sister, if you haven't seen her before."

Kethra waved her paw to Ewalt. "Good to know you. Didn't think a preybeast can be this fierce, till seeing what you did to those trackers."

"If that was a compliment, I can only answer that neither did I think that a vermin can be so friendly." Ewalt knew that while he was in their power, those ferrets needed him, and he also knew that earning respect among vermin required bravado, so swallowing an insult, in case it was intentional, would be a bad move. But just as importantly, he instantly disliked Kethra. Her friendliness seemed faked in a clumsy and bumbling way to him.

But Marroch did not want any bickering, so before Kethra realized that she has been insulted, he cut them off. "Now that you've exchanged greetings, we can go to the point."

The ferret made a long pause, as if expecting Ewalt to ask a question, then moved one of the crudely made chairs that decorated the room closer to the bed and sat, before continuing. "As I said before, we have the common enemy. I know your story, Ewalt, and so does most of Ergaph. You're famous now. To Kunas's soldiers you're the bogeybeast, the avenger who will never stop hunting them, the Ghost of the Woods, who kills silently and disappears without trace. Many whisper that you can't be slain by sword or arrow. You've killed Kunas' own younger brother. Kunas promised your weight in silver to anybeast who brings you to him alive, but only the weight of your head to one who brings you dead. I believe he did so to show his soldiers that you are a living mouse, rather than a real ghost out of Hellgates, not just to have satisfaction of personally torturing you to death. But."

Marroch made a pause, to underline the importance of what he was going to say. "No matter how much you vex Kunas and his lickspittles, you cannot bring him down. You've already did your best to kill Kunas by himself, but wasted your shot, am I not right?"

Ewalt nodded, thought for a second then spoke. "I, however, don't believe you can give me a better shot at him. How many beasts you still have in your rout, a dozen? A score? A whole hundred won't be enough to break through Kunas' personal band of murderers at his tower, even if I somehow open the main gate of the Seacrag Castle for you. That if fate smiles on them, and they reach the castle without alerting Kunas' whole army."

"Sure, no one on Ergaph can scrape Kunas out of his castle by strength. And if even you gave up, this means no one can assassinate him by stealth too. But besides strength and stealth, there is also guile."

The ferret's words sounded smug, and Ewalt couldn't help but retort. "And does your "guile" go beyond arranging some treachery? Methinks Kunas had seen those many times already."

Marroch fell silent, staring at Ewalt as if wanting to drill a hole in him, but Kethra just laughed. "Ain't you a bold one? But no worry, I'd bet my teeth, that marten scumsucker won't see through brother's treachery, cause..."

"Be silent!" The ferret warlord took a deep breath, and continued in his normal tone. "We don't want our guest to know too much before he agrees to help us, don't we Kethra? Now, Ewalt – why don't you go ahead and say, how much you detest us, if you want to?"

"Sorry." The warrior mouse did not flinch before Marroch's stare. "I'm not a master of words, so explaining how much I detest you is not even possible. But I heard, that besides being a raider, a slaver and a killer, you are a pretty smart beast, Marroch of Whiteweir, so you should have realized himself – the sky will fall into the sea sooner than I'll call any of your kind my friend."

"Be assured, I detest you as well. Asking a mouse for help galls me, as does the very idea of relying on some outsider, because my own beasts are not good enough. "Friend?" Me, or any ferret of my blood, will let oneself be flayed bit by bit before accepting a mouse as a friend." However venomous his words were, the ferret's tone did not change. "But next to my hatred of Kunas that's nothing. So I'll employ you, and I'll let you into my plans, and I'll swear whatever oath you need to feel safe, until Kunas is dead and we part our ways. If your own hatred is as strong as mine, of course."

Ewalt was taken aback by apparent sincerity of these words. But he wasn't about to trust someone with Marroch's reputation so easily. "Well, we can talk about it. But not here. Once I fully recover, which must be in a couple of days, return me my weapons and let me leave your roof. Then, if you're serious, we can take a good, long walk in the forest, you and me, alone. Or perhaps Rowanbloom can be with us too."

"Are you outta your mind, you filthy wormtail?!" Kethra jumped up from her chair, grasping for a dagger, but Marroch seized her paw, before she could unsheathe the weapon.

"Why you won't try to think for a second! I'll need to trust him with my life anyway, does it matter when to start?"

"Hmph!" Kethra snorted, and sat back, paws crossed on her chest. At this moment, Rowanbloom walked in with a clay bottle of ale and three cups, and this discharged the tension somewhat. If the three beasts in the room could agree on anything at the moment, it was that having a drink would be nice.

After taking a small sip of ale, Marroch added. "And besides, sister, don't you remember that before becoming Ewalt the Ghost our guest was known as Ewalt the Earnest? I still remember how he and his comrades battled our late father. He is not the type to attack treacherously. Are you, Ewalt?"

The mouse screwed his face into a smile. "Warrior's honor and scruples… do you really think I could've survived alone for so many seasons sticking to them? Want to bet your tail on it?"

"You lost your gratitude with them, methinks, talking like that to beasts who saved your sorry hide." Kethra grumbled.

But Marroch remained silent for a time, before speaking slowly. "A poor bet that will be. But we'll have our walk, as you ask, nevertheless."

000000000000000

Face to face with Ewalt Marroch was wholly collected, but that didn't last long after he retreated to his own room of the underground dwelling. He paced back and forth across the small space, breathing heavily, as if the air suddenly became suffocating, until Kethra couldn't bear this anymore:

"Blood and thunder! Let me just go and split his stupid head, brother!"

"No!" Marroch knew that his sister is a straightforward beast who generally meant what she said. He looked around, as if suddenly remembering something, and asked. "Rowabloom can't know we killed moles that built this hideout, yes?"

Kethra shrugged. "No, that was seasons before we took her in, only we two are still alive from that time…"

"But she can figure it out. Or Ewalt himself…"

Kethra slammed her fists into the wooden table, now getting really angry. "By Vulpuz' bones, is that my big brother? You babbled how it's not your destiny to fall from his paw, and now you're tucking your tail?"

"Quiet!" Barked Marroch then added, returning to his normal outward calmness. "Others might hear too much. But you're right. He just wants to test my resolve, he has to."

"He's succeeding," muttered Kethra. Marroch just snorted, deciding not to argue the obvious. Ewalt the Ghost scared him, more than he thought possible. It was not even the warrior mouse's confidence and impudence. The ferret warlord couldn't get rid of the impression, that Ewalt looks at him with the same lack of any real passion he himself was noted for in dealing with woodlander slaves at the time of his youth, when his clan had a lot of them. In Ewalt's presence he felt like a fish on the cooking table, when the chef decides how to better carve it up.

But Marroch wouldn't have lived as long as he did, had he been unable to handle his own fear.