42. The Paths and the Plans

"Seeing a good bowbeast of mine stone dead brushes me the wrong way, Ubel." The weasel about whom Ulakhai Stonestrength spoke, Mousebane, or, more precisely, the heap of broken bones left of him after falling from the castle wall, was indeed one of his more promising archers under Ulakhai's command until the last night.

The sorcerer peered askew at Ulakhai. "You cannot be implying that I have something to do with this death. Unless, of course, Mousebane was the archer who tried to kill me and my curse had finally caught up with him."

This was said loud enough for all of the surrounding vermin to hear and Ubel was rewarded with fearful whispers. Even Ulakhai looked uneasy. The big mustelid was intelligent enough to believe in prophecy, farsight and magic, but not nearly knowledgeable enough to guess their limits.

"Who can say now," he grumbled. "Still, he's the third beast this moon we shall sorely miss upon reaching Southsward."

"Fights and accidents happen." Ubel shrugged. The white ferret was actually in agreement with Ulakhai: so many deaths in so little time bode ill, but the first two were the work of Rugger the Black. The fox provoked one vermin into a duel to death, and accused the other of trying to murder him in the night, an accusation that was most likely false. Ubel wanted the insolent fox to keep his bloodthirst in check as much as anybeast, but he had neither a reliable way to control him nor the desire to admit that. "Have no worries. With our numbers the problem will be not winning the war but dividing the loot."

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"Methinks, I can count nine scorebeasts firmly on my side, and five will stick to Ulakhai, countin' his little pet and other newly-baked ones. Bloody little ticks." Eikeru Manybattles' swishing tail betrayed her agitation. She was not entirely keen on meeting Enjo Greencloak alone amidst huge rocks that littered the shore southeast of the castle. The pirate captain's impressive physique made her feel vulnerable and nervous even when they were supposed to be conspiring on the same side. In close quarters like these he probably could break her neck with a mere swipe of his huge paw before her blade was halfway out of its sheath.

"That be fourteen." Enjo counted quickly enough. "Out of what, thirty?"

"The rest are riff-raff, noses to the wind, ready to jump on the side that gains the upper paw, as always." Eikeru spat. "Why do ye worry so much, won't we have plenty of beasts behind us with all the corsairs?"

Enjo looked away, at the black sea beyond the silvery-white ice crust that bounded the shores of Ergaph and at the moon low over the waves. "All the corsairs? Buckoes from me dear Sea Princess are mine to command, yes. All the others who're goin' to like the idea of plunderin' fabled Southsward and join our little adventure? Ye think they're goin' to help me seize the kingdom? Did ye forget already what we, corsairs, say: every cap'n is a king on his own ship at sea?"

"Of course I didn't! But aren't they…"

"Yeah, they will follow old me right into the teeth of the abyss 'cause they know me an' me luck, an' cause I always shared loot fair and square. But once the country is ours, once they see that a throne ain't a thing that can be shared, d'ye think they'd bow to me? Cap'ns, who stand as high as meself at the helms of their ships, and the crews who follow their cap'ns? Fat chance!"

Enjo leaned forward, closer to Eikeru, his surviving eye glinting as darkly as the fake one. "To tell you the truth, me old fighter, I don't think ye'd like bowing to me too. But we have a way share a throne after all, ain't we? A king still needs a queen, ain't that right?"

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Captain Ulakhai looked more sinister than usual, the dim candlelight casting hues of crimson on his ochre fur, his claws steepled as he stared at the beast who brought him the news. "So, the two filthy rats are getting next to each other."

The young stoat with reddish coat and self-inflicted double scars on both cheeks bowed. "Can't tell that for sure, Master. Only followed Eikeru to the place they met, never got close enough to listen. Forgive me."

"You did well enough by trailing Eikeru without being spotted." Ulakhai did not sound as if he was pleased, though. "Were they to catch you eavesdropping, your corpse would be of no use to me, Zerwik."

"Yes, Master." The stoat bowed again.

"If they meet again, I can be sure they're walking the same path."

"And that means you're going to walk the same path as Ubel?"

"A good guess. Sky above, you're learning. Alone I'd never have strength to match this rat alliance. The witless rabble does not like me and this won't change any time soon. Thus allying with Ubel until Southsward is ours and the rats are dealt with is the obvious strategy. But..." Ulakhai made a dramatic pause, "…perhaps not the only strategy."

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The bowstring still thrummed angrily as the heavy bow clacked against rocky ground

Belk the Warrior did not have a habit of taking his anger on mindless objects, but now he felt a strong urge to kick the weapon away. Not like it was going to serve him anymore. What good was a bow when he couldn't even draw it properly? He raised his left paw to look closely at the trembling fingers – even that simple movement caused pain.

"You're hurrying too much, Master. Give your paw time to heal properly."

Belk turned to the creature who spoke these words, his rage truly flaring now, but when he saw her face he found himself unable to shout or curse. His upbringing did not let him. She was meaning well. Most likely.

To be honest, Belk did not entirely trust Ezri and her fellow black rats. He swiftly figured out that they have pledged allegiance because they were deathly afraid of what jerbilrats might do to them with their fearsome masters gone. And they had a good reason to be afraid.

Of course that meant that Ezri had a good motivation to do her best as a healer, and logically Belk knew that he has no reason to blame her for the state of his left paw. He knew that it was both dislocated at the shoulder and broken badly in his battle with Shlacht. Ezri treated his other wounds with obvious skill. It was not her fault she could not work miracles. Yet Belk could not banish a suspicion. "Once a traitor, always a traitor, born a rat, always a rat," he could hear in his mind whenever he saw Ezri or felt pain cramping his paw.

But out loud he said politely. "I'm grateful for your care, but how much time do I have left? The winter is coming to its end, the spring is the best time to travel the desert. If I'm to see Southsward before I get blind from old age, I need to hurry. And a great many dangers await travelers."

"You'll have us with you, Master." The rats weren't keen on parting ways with the only beast who seemed willing to offer them protection

"That's the part of the problem." Belk thought as answered, and thanks to that thought the answer sounded harsher than he liked. "You hardly are warriors enough to make up for my left paw. And stop calling me Master. Please."

"And I'd need warriors, if I'm right about what I'm going to face in Southsward."

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"Do you really think that going to Southsward is wise?"

Belk was caught completely by surprise by his wife's question. They were snuggling up to each other, trying to preserve a bit of warmth for the night – the caverns of jerbilrats protected their inhabitants from the worst of the weather, but as for cold, a burrow in the snow probably would have been a warmer shelter, and fuel for bonfires was as sparse in the wasteland as everything else useful. Myns seemed to be falling asleep and Belk was not yet on his own way to the land of dreams only because he had thoughts to ponder. Anyway, a question like this would have surprised him in any circumstances.

"What do you mean?" Belk resorted to an universal answer.

"Well, don't you see what I mean, Zarfayn said that we're going to bring his villain of a foster son what he desires. And he was sure about that, so very sure. He drank his own poison just to stop us, don't you remember?"

"My dearest wife, have no fear." Belk shifted under their blankets to embrace Myns and pull her even tighter to himself as he spoke, his voice barely above a murmur. "Zarfayn most likely was a real seer, yes, but he was insane, senile and twisted, his vision faulty. Why did he not simply command jerbilrats to kill travelers fitting our description otherwise?"

"But still, what if… what if he was right?"

Belk sighed quietly. "We don't know and won't know, and a true warrior does not abandon his quest and duty because of "what ifs". But even if he was right, I'm not going to stray from my path. Never. Do you remember how I and Rowanbloom argued over the old stories of Redwall?"

"A bit." Once Rowanbloom grew old enough to argue with her parents, she and Belk disagreed on just about everything and Myns was more interested in trying to keep peace within the family than in remembering exact topics of disagreement. Besides, she disliked hearing about trials and tribulations of warriors of days past ever since she married the Abbey Warrior of her day. "Rowanbloom had some strange thoughts about them, didn't she?"

"Yeah. In particular, she was obsessed with things that the spirit of Martin could have done better in her opinion. With all the misfortunes and evils that he could foresee and warn us Redwallers about, yet had not. You can say that she simply had no trust in Martin."

"And you do?" A hint of tension in the question was noticeable.

"What would you call a blind beast who fancies himself a better pathfinder than his sighted guide? Arrogant? Insane? Next to Martin we are naught but blind beasts."

"But…" Myns shivered slightly, "…but what if that beast feels sucking swampland under his footpaws and yet his guide still urges him ahead?"

Belk took his time with the answer and before he could say anything Myns spoke again. "I'm sorry, Belk. I shouldn't have asked. I must be only making it worse for you."

Belk kissed his wife lightly on the forehead. "What is destined to happen will happen. But I had not seen my death in the vision and Zarfayn had not foretold it either. Worry not. Whatever peril awaits us when we meet this Ubel in Southsward, I'll not rush into it blindly. And I have an idea how to obtain strength I might need against this peril."

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Kethra could say one good thing about her first taste of Salamandastron hospitality: the food was top notch even if regretfully devoid of meat or fish. But another thing that every fatigued traveler desires, rest, was not for her so far. Aldwin's news clearly caused much consternation and the badger ruler immediately called a small council consisting of herself, the tall hare commander and another hare, old and wizened, whom others called the head quartermaster. The travelers were called before it one by one for so-called questioning. Kethra had another word for that, interrogation, but for all of her belligerent nature, she was simply too exhausted to protest. Not physically exhausted. Or not only physically, at least. For about a season the thought that getting to Salamandastron will somehow set things right helped her to get out of her bed in the morning, and now she was in Salamandastron, and nothing was right.

She looked at Suran, who dozed off on the bench, his back against the wall. If only she could be this calm when their fate was decided behind closed doors by creatures most of whom clearly despised their kind. To think of it, their woodlander companions who sat to the left of her also seemed tense, except Rowanbloom who had trouble keeping her eyes open and head straight.

Steps on the stone stairs leading above woke up Suran and made the sleepy squirrel almost jump. All the eyes in the small hall, followed Captain Aldwin, as he walked in the small room and sat on a bench heavily. Nobeast dared to ask the news. Most of the beasts present could see that the news weren't too good from the captain's bearing alone. While they marched together, Aldwin always seemed to be on fire, always vigorous, but now he moved like the weight of the whole mountain was on his shoulders.

Aldwin picked up a half-empty jug of beer from the table and swiftly made it entirely empty, before speaking. "Kethra. You and your beasts are free to go, if you wish. You'll have your weapons returned, and you'll have provision too."

For a second the ferretmaid felt relief, but only for a second. "We didn't come here just to get away with our bloody hides."

"Yes." Ewalt chimed in. "What did you decide? Would your Long Patrol help to free Ergaph?"

Aldwin slowly shook his head. "You're missin' the bloomin' point, aren't you all? We're on the brink of war here. If Heddin, by chance, got somethin' broken in that hard head of his, the whole Axehound clan will definitely come to Salamandastron, seekin' to spill blood for blood. Even if he didn't, there is no tellin' what they might do. A fivescore of Long Patrol hares would be plenty enough to crush even five hundred vermin, and I recon by your account there must be fewer of them remaining. As fate has it, we also have a Riftguard ship caught in our harbor due to winter, whose captain might be persuaded to make a dangerous voyage with a fivescore of hares on board. But we cannot part with half of our strength!"

"And… and what are we gonna do? What?" Kethra wanted to sound full of rage, but her voice ended up weak and cracking.

"You can wait here until the whole mess is sorted out, which might take us well into summer even if the worst won't come to the worst. And hope the brigadier and the quartermaster won't convince my Lady to appease Warchief Willag with your hides."

"That won't do." Rowanbloom was awake and alert by now. "Don't you remember, the army won't wait for us on Ergaph until the next autumn! They'll be far on their way to Southsward."

"You're sayin' this based on flippin' what, the words of one mouse who is supposed to have overheard somethin', but is not even present to testify, and your own premonitions? Don't look at me like that, I'm just retellin' you the brigadier's words, the short of it."

Suran was quick to catch the implication. "And who does rule here, pray tell me, your badger lady or that stiff-necked brigadier?"

Aldwin looked at the fox harshly, but wasn't too quick to admonish him. This vermin struck uncomfortably close to home.

"…your visions made our hares protect worthless vermin villains and brought us to the very confounded edge of war with our old friends, Milady! Why in all the seasons could all your ghost badgers not just tell us to free that island and be done with it?!"

"Be careful, Brigadier Greyfield." In Violet Wildstripe's company Aldwin had easy time forgetting that badgers are supposed to be fierce, wrathful and imperious. Even now there was only a hint of a deep, threatening growl in her voice, yet a hint was enough to made everybeast remember the stories of the rulers of old. "You may question me all you want, as long as we're in private, but do not insult those who passed before me."

Aldwin thought for a moment that the brigadier looked as if he was about to have a stroke. Or to do something insane, like defying his ruler then and there. But Greyfield only swallowed and bowed. "Forgive me, Milady Ruler. I indeed was… careless."

Aldwin chased the fresh memories away and answered sternly. "A foolish question, and anybeast to ask it with deeds instead of words would be a blinkin' fool. As is anybeast insulting Lady Violet in my presence."

"So," Ewalt chimed in before Suran could reply, and the mouse's voice rose as he spoke, "you're saying that your Long Patrol would give no help?"

"Well." Aldwin turned to him. "I'm not. I have an idea how to give your cause at least some help. And maybe, if you have a bit of blinkin' patience and stay here till tomorrow morning, my Lady would agree with it. "