21. Plans and Preparations.
Ubel Fireeyes had a nagging feeling that he might be overlooking something important. Sure, for now all the main threads were interweaving just like he wanted. But a mortal creature can never foresee all. The white ferret took his runny red eyes off the blue fire, dancing in the copper brazier before him. What became a sharp reminder of fallibility was his namesake. Ubel's eyes, like his ears, had exceptional sensitivity, but this was a double-edged sword, as every bright and sunny day reminded the ferret. Now, after exposure to the heat of Kunas' pyre, they became more irritable than ever, refusing to go back to normal. Ubel heard that a similar eye condition tormented some of his ancestors to the point, when they were unable to live under the sun at all. That was just what he didn't need at the moment.
The ferret carefully wiped moisture from his eyes with a piece of cloth and turned back to the fire. There will be a time to reexamine his plans. Now he had a straightforward task, and one to which self-doubt could be most detrimental.
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Captain Enjo Greencloak woke up far before the sunrise. For a time, the rat corsair kept staring up in the pitch darkness of his cabin, thinking about the dream he just saw – again.
"Weitla!"
"Yes, Cap'n?" The captain's personal mousemaid slave awakened immediately upon hearing his voice, as usual.
"Make some light. Then go, call Silverbrush to me. Find some good plum wine and pickled mussels for us too."
Weitla did everything demanded of her swiftly and neatly, again, as usual. Before the captain could even start getting irritated, a couple of lamps were illuminating his cabin, cups, a big bottle of wine and a plate of mussels were on his table, and Silverbrush the vixen sat on the other side of that table, yawning and sleepy.
These two creatures were a peculiar sight next to each other. Foxes towered over rats, normally, but Captain Enjo was an exceptionally big grey rat, so big, that most corsairs were convinced he had the blood of legendary greatrats in his veins, while Silverbrush was rather petite for a vixen, so her captain actually stood taller than her. Enjo looked the very image of a savage pirate – burly, shaggy, unkempt, elaborate tattoos on paws, ears and even tail, an awful scar running down through the left side of his face and empty eyesocket, to continue on his chest. Silverbrush tried her best to appear as a gentlebeast – even when being summoned to her captain in the middle in the night, she took a second to brush her whiskers and smoothen her beautiful silvery-grey fur, and the idea of marring herself with tattoos, piercings or other tasteless corsair adornments was abhorrent to her.
"I need yer advice, so wake up and listen." Enjo's voice was gravely serious and Silverbrush indeed felt the lingering traces of her sleep instantly dispelled.
"Yes, Cap'n?"
"I'm dreamin' the same dream, night after night." The vixen couldn't help but look stunned, but Enjo, deep in his own thoughts, did not notice that, before Silverbrush again donned her mask of composure and patience. Captain Enjo Greencloak always scorned superstitions of common vermin, and laughed at omens, signs and dreams, at least when he was in private.
"I see meself, and me old Sea Princess strugglin' through a great maelstrom. Worse than anythin' I've seen when awake! But we survive, and I see a green, sunny, warm coast at the bow. Then, I am on a throne, in the middle of a big castle, so pretty an' fancy, ye won't believe, an' many woodland creatures are bowin' an' grovelin' before me. Then I am on a high seat in a garden in bloom, feastin' with ye, and me crew, and other beasts on fruit, an' berry, an' all sorts of roasted bird I've never tasted. An' the strangest thing is, me old wound is gone!" Enjo rubbed the scar, splitting his face. "I'm feelin' like a youngbeast again in that dream! So, ye tell me – why I'm seein' all this?"
The captain grasped his cup of wine, and drank greedily, not noticing that some of it spills on its fur:
"What's the matter? Ain't ye the wisevixen here?"
"But Cap'n," Silverbrush's voice betrayed her uncertainty, "you know, that I'm not a…"
"Do ye think me brains rotted already?!" Cups and dishes on the table shook and clattered, as Enjo slammed his own cup on it forcefully. He lowered his voice:
"Do ye think I can forget who ye are, me beauty? Fraud ye may be, but a cub of old brood, a heir to old lore, ye still are. So tell me: why I'm seein' that blighted dream again an' again? What's wrong with me?"
Silverbrush silently cursed her misstep. Now she had to think quickly. Despite an illustrious career of fooling beasts into thinking that she had powers of magic and fortune-telling, there was no doubt in her mind that prophetic visions and dreams are real. But was one of them, which Enjo was most likely seeing now, enough to overcome his lifelong convictions? With her mother's milk, the silver vixen took in a simple tenet that served her family well through countless generations: no vermin will ever value a honest advice over confirming his own opinions and prejudices. Telling Enjo her real thoughts, trying to convince him that omens do exist, could fracture in minutes the fragile trust she nurtured for many seasons. An alternative emerged from Silverbrush's fertile mind, also dangerous, requiring to touch a sore spot, but allowing her to risk only fleeting anger, rather than long-term alienation.
"My Cap'n," she licked her lips nervously, "that is not too hard to tell, I'm just afraid you might take offence."
"Go on." Enjo waved his paw, as the mousemaid silently refilled his cup. "I swear by the ocean's salt and Sea Princess' keel, no harm will come to ye."
Silverbrush nodded and cleared her throat before speaking:
"Dreams often reveal a creature's heart's desire, one that he does not admit to others or even himself. From your dream, it is clear to me, Cap'n, that you still cannot forget your old defeat at the northern coast, where you lost your eye. But if you cannot take revenge, because the foes are too many, and no corsair crew will dare to go where even you had lost a battle once, how can you wash away the shame? In your dream you answer to yourself: by winning such a mighty victory, that its glory will redeem any earlier defeat. Brave the difficulties, conquer a kingdom for yourself, make its creatures kneel, and the taste of final triumph will make your forget your scars! And if you wonder, why this dream started plaguing you now, what happened in the castle up there might have sparked your desires, my Cap'n. What you want might be already in your claws!"
The vixen tried her best to guess what Enjo might have wanted to hear, but still half-expected an outburst. It did not come.
"Kingdom, ye say." The huge rat flexed his long, yellow claws, then used one of them to pierce a piece of mussel. "Indeed, I wondered if I should try take Ergaph for meself, after seein' that bastard Kunas dead, but me bones would like a warmer, richer land! Then I heard that the bunch of blighters that took over now promises their scum a new land to plunder, and I wondered, when they'll come to jolly me, askin' for ships."
He sent the shellfish into his mouth, swallowed it and washed down with more wine, before continuing:
"Yarrgh, asking first what land they have in mind ain't going to hurt me much. I've seen the lot of 'em in my dream, after all!"
This time it was Silverbrush who reached for her cup, because her mouth suddenly turned dry.
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Before midday, Ubel and Eikeru already were sitting in the same cabin, the white ferret explaining his meticulously laid plans to Enjo, the Sea Princess' stoat first mate Barkface, and Silverbrush. Weitla the mouseslave was here as well, serving food and drinks.
Before the disk of sun touched the tip of the castle's main tower on the western side of the bay, the sorcerer and the captain left, with Enjo's promise to give them an answer on the next day.
Silverbrush had a sinking feeling that taking time to consider the proposal was merely a ploy to secure better conditions in the deal by showing hesitation. She could not mistake for anything telltale signs of greed and ambition, that now consumed the rat and the stoat before her.
"What d'ye think, me mates?" Enjo raised his remaining eye, gleaming green, like the polished emerald orb, that replaced his lost one, from the big map, he was studying. "By all four winds, that Ubel Tearyeyes offers us a dream. An' sure, he knows more secrets of the seas, than I'd expect from a scrawny landlubber. But can he make good on his words?"
Barkface, who owed his corsair name to the disfiguring skin disease he suffered in his youth, scratched his crusty snout before answering. "Why not try and see, Cap'n. Mebbe he's no fake – knowin' that the Table Island has that hidden valley in the crater, now, I wonder how that can be without magic!"
"Bah! He could torture that outta some poor seabeast who found it just like we two did! Magic? Ye, of all beasts, should know better!" Barkface and Enjo Greencloak were together since their first days at sea, and in this case the rat referred to a certain misadventure of their youth, which they only survived because the island, on which their erstwhile captain left two young troublemakers, proved to be more than just a lifeless piece of rock.
The stoat shrugged, looking at the map, rather than at his captain. "Mebbe. But why not try?"
Enjo turned from him to the vixen. "And what will ye say?"
Silverbrush tried to meet his gaze to the best of her ability. Why her expression, her voice, were betraying her now, showing nervousness, when, perhaps for the first time in her dealings with Enjo, she intended to say what she sincerely believed to be the truth, if not the whole truth, instead of what was more likely to ingratiate her to the mighty captain?
"Maybe Ubel lies to you about his knowledge of southern currents, my Cap'n, maybe not. That is beyond my ability to tell. Either way, dealing with him is far too dangerous! I can smell treachery from him a mile away. He is the one who truly rules the castle now – just imagine how dangerous his mind must be to control all those fierce warriors!"
"Harrhahaha!" Enjo laughed heartily. "Yer Cap'n is no stranger to treachery, me pretty! Are ye tryin' to scare a hedgehog with a bare paw?!"
"An' that black rat, Eikeru," echoed him Barkface, "did ye saw how she looked at our Cap'n Enjo? Oh, I wonder if that ferret can control her for real!"
"Stop sweatin', little brushtail!" Enjo concluded. "Just make sure he doesn't slip me some poison, and before seasons turn twice ye'll be the royal advisor of King Enjo the First!"
He turned back to the map, tracing the ink shapes on the large piece of the bark parchment with his claws, almost as if he was caressing them. The fabled corsair paradise, made unreachable by fastest and most treacherous currents in all the oceans, the land of great plenty, and sheltered, unsuspecting inhabitants, Southsward. Enjo tried to sail there once, but was beaten back by waves and winds; he talked about it with crows and an osprey, but the birds could only tell him more about the flourishing land itself, not the ways to reach it without wings. Now, if only the white ferret did not lie about knowing the sea path to Southsward, and Enjo saw no reasons for him to lie, besides such unlikely one as a desire to kill himself in a particularly elaborate way by undertaking an one-way sea voyage, it was finally within reach. Yes, conquering the land of legend would be enough to wash away the bitter taste of any defeat!
Looking at him, Silverbrush clasped her paws behind her back to keep them from shaking. Perhaps she was less devoid of Seer talents that she believed herself, or perhaps her upbringing endowed her with a special survival instinct, but deep down in her gut she was certain that, by tying his destiny to that of Ubel, Captain Enjo Greencloak committed the worst mistake in his life.
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At about the same time, Ubel and Eikeru were sitting in the king's chamber within the tower. More accurately, Ubel was sitting, sipping strawberry cordial and looking through his records, while Eikeru paced angrily before his table.
"You seem unduly upset."
"Easy for ye to say! Ye weren't the one who had to ogle that overgrown furbag of a captain, smile at him, and joke with him. I felt like a tavern wench!"
The ferret looked up from the writing. "I am, again, sorry you had to play this distasteful role. When both sides know, that they treat in bad faith, the best way to lure the other side into an agreement is to present a false weakness, an angle that ostensibly can be used to double-cross us, before we double-cross him. Like a rat who seems smitten with Enjo's manly charms. Do not worry, if all goes according to the plan, you will be able to remind him of today when twisting a knife in his body part of your choice."
Eikeru crossed her paws on her chest, calming down. "Ye really have meltwater for blood."
"Thanks for the compliment." Ubel refused to be provoked. "Now, Eikeru, if all of the far-ranging patrols return, we'll have almost four hundreds and four scores of able-bodied fighting beasts at the ready."
"And we said, that we can muster six hundreds."
The white ferret nodded. "So I need to ask for your help again. Take good, loyal, talkative soldiers with you, set forth from the castle, travel around tribes and settlements that bow to us, recruit as many able-bodied rats and mustelids as you can, even youngsters who will grow into adulthood by the next summer. Promise them glory, plunder, a land where rivers flow with honey, well, you know their hearts better than me."
Eikeru chuckled. "Hah, all that worthless scum and milksops will run to join the army ahead of their own hides! Maybe their better half will even shape up into real fighters, if we spread them among the old paws, and have a season to toughen the lot of 'em. With so many of our beasts dead, there'll be enough weapons, that's for sure, but will there be enough food to feed those mouths, at least till summer?"
The white ferret smiled thinly, and pointed at the parchments, laying on the table. "Do not worry. I, Ubel, already know how much food our army will need, and how to keep enough of it in our stores."
Eikeru found herself licking her front teeth, as she walked down the stairs, and promptly closed her jaws shut. A beast in her position could not afford having telltale signs of evil anticipation. Much less showing them just when her main foe bought her act. Well, she spoke nothing false, technically, and that probably helped. But thinking that she is going to merely pretend conspiring with Enjo, just because of some annoyance... that was going to be Ubel's downfall one day.
Ubel allowed himself a full smile, after Eikeru walked out. He didn't need any sort of prophetic powers to tell what the black rat is thinking. When two of your allies are certain to turn on you in the end, what can be better than putting them in the same boat, while making one believe that you trust her, and another that he already has the best possible mole in your camp and doesn't need more of them?
A few minutes later, the white ferret was giving instructions to Sheska the weasel:
"Starting the day after tomorrow, take threescore of guards, and pick the real bullies, those who aren't going to spare the rod. Take all of our slaves, except for castle servants and the best craftsbeasts. Our new corsair "friends" will send some experienced shipwrights who will tell you which trees are fit for ship construction. Your tasks is to organize and oversee logging. Cut the rations for all slaves working on it by third. If you have any questions, you should ask them right now."
The weasel fidgeted from paw to paw, clearly confused:
"But my Lord, slaves are already eatin' just enough to not starve. If I make them work this hard, and eat less, many will die. Most of 'em, probably!"
"Is that doubt in your voice?" Ubel sneered. "It seems, you are questioning my judgment. Tell me, foolish weasel, if we are to leave Ergaph behind before the start of next summer, will we need these slaves to work the fields?"
"No, my Lord."
"And can we take all those slaves with us?"
"Ummm… no, my Lord?"
"Exactly. Then is it not better to let them die, doing their last service to us? More efficient than simply slaughtering them, and less likely to create... detrimental impressions."
"You're a most wise beast, my Lord!" Sheska's voice shook with admiration, as she bowed deeply. "Forgive me, yer lowly slave, for doubtin' yer decision!"
Ubel found himself savoring the moment. Somehow, this was more fulfilling than watching a dozen woodlander slaves plead for their lives. But overdoing it right now would be, what was just said… detrimental, for a beast in his position.
"I will forgive you this one time. But you, as the beast who swore to be my strong right paw by your own will, must always keep in mind: if my real right paw were to doubt me, I, Ubel, would rather cut it off, than suffer such indignity." He flexed the thin wrist of his actual limb. "Ask me freely, if you fear to misunderstand exactly what I am commanding you to do, but if you cannot figure out why I am commanding you to do something, just remember, who you are, and who I, Ubel, am!"